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. The skipper, Van Galgebrok, affirmed to me,—nay, gave me the additional testimony of two of his crew,—that he was thrown overboard. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. ” She said under her breath. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music.
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