Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. He thanked God for this talent of his. "My child!" he groaned faintly. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents.
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