She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. There was no one else in the doorway. 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. Her pa was only the smithy. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay.
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