Plote was sleeping or deaf. “We banished his experiments to here in the basement from then on. "Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him. 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. "Won't you be persuaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. I hope we may never find her again.
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