At least here she was safe. Sheppard was enabled to take possession of the premises. She felt like a dried-up old woman. As Mrs. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss. Rollo barked. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. 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. .
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