Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. “What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. Fifty in advance. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell.
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