Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. 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. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. In this way, more than a month passed over. Do you accept it?" "Dear Thames!" "Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love. You will find the proof in McClintock's safe.
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