“Julian, please, let’s go to your place. Even two Cabinet Ministers took to their heels, grinning insincerely. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. 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. A robbery has been committed, and your master suspects this lad as an accessory to the offence.
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