Sucks books

All had faded away even before
the axes began to swing on the basement door which had the
appearance of a storeroom for the shop above.
The flimsy outside door went down quickly. But it was only a
blind. Another door greeted the raiders. The axes swung noisily
and the crowbars tore at the fortified, iron-clad, "ice box" door
inside. After breaking it down they had to claw their way through
another just like it. The thick doors and tea chests piled up
showed why no sounds of gambling and other practices ever were
heard outside.
Pushing aside a curtain we were in the main room. The scene was
one of confusion showing the hasty departure of the occupants.
Kennedy did not stop here. Within was still another room, for
smokers, anything but like the fashionable place we had seen
uptown. It was low, common, disgusting. The odour everywhere was
offensive; everywhere was filth that should naturally breed
disease. It was an inferno reeking with unwholesome sweat and
still obscured with dense fumes of smoke.


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