The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. To settle things, you know. "Caught!" shouted the head-turnkey. "I've set a trap for him. Dump and the village authorities, it was agreed to lock up the prisoner in the cage. .
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