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“I have never tested myself in that direction.”
“Then we shall test you to-night. Might I ask you as a very greatfavour, when you occupy that couch to-night, to sleep with this oldfunnel placed by the side of your pillow?”
The request seemed to me a grotesque one; but I have myself, in mycomplex nature, a hunger after all which is bizarre and fantastic. I hadnot the faintest belief in Dacre’s theory, nor any hopes for success insuch an experiment; yet it amused me that the experiment should be made.Dacre, with great gravity, drew a small stand to the head of my settee,and placed the funnel upon it. Then, after a short conversation, hewished me good-night and left me.
* * * * *
I sat for some little time smoking by the smouldering fire, and turningover in my mind the curious incident which had occurred, and the strangeexperience which might lie before me. Sceptical as I was, there wassomething impressive in the assurance of Dacre’s manner, and myextraordinary surroundings, the huge room with the strange and oftensinister objects which were hung round it, struck solemnity into mysoul. Finally I undressed, and, turning out the lamp, I lay down. Afterlong tossing I fell asleep. Let me try to describe as accurately as Ican the scene which came to me in my dreams. It stands out now in mymemory more clearly than anything which I have seen with my waking eyes.
There was a room which bore the appearance of a vault. Four spandrelsfrom the corners ran up to join a sharp cup-shaped roof. Thearchitecture was rough, but very strong. It was evidently part of agreat building.
Three men in black, with curious top-heavy black velvet hats, sat in aline upon a red-carpeted dais. Their faces were very solemn and sad. Onthe left stood two long-gowned men with portfolios in their hands, whichseemed to be stuffed with papers. Upon the right, looking toward me, wasa small woman with blonde hair and singular light-blue eyes—the eyes ofa child. She was past her first youth, but could not yet be calledmiddle-aged. Her figure was inclined to stoutness, and her bearing wasproud and confident. Her face was pale, but serene. It was a curiousface, comely and yet feline, with a subtle suggestion of cruelty aboutthe straight, strong little mouth and chubby jaw. She was draped in somesort of loose white gown. Beside her stood a thin, eager priest, whowhispered in her ear, and continually raised a crucifix before her eyes.She turned her head and looked fixedly past the crucifix at the threemen in black, who were, I felt, her judges.
As I gazed the three men stood up and said something, but I coulddistinguish no words, though I was aware that it was the central one whowas speaking. They then swept out of the room, followed by the two menwith the papers. At the same instant several rough-looking fellows instout jerkins came bustling in and removed first the red carpet, andthen the boards which formed the dais, so as to entirely clear the room.When this screen was removed I saw some singular articles of furniturebehind it. One looked like a bed with wooden rollers at each end, and awinch handle to regulate its length. Another was a wooden horse. Therewere several other curious objects, and a number of swinging cords whichplayed over pulleys. It was not unlike a modern gymnasium.
When the room had been cleared there appeared a new figure upon thescene. This was a tall thin person clad in black, with a gaunt andaustere face. The aspect of the man made me shudder. His clothes wereall shining with grease and mottled with stains. He bore himself with aslow and impressive dignity, as if he took command of all things fromthe instant of his entrance. In spite of his rude appearance and sordiddress, it was now _his_ business, _his_ room, his to command. He carrieda coil of light ropes over his left fore-arm. The lady looked him up anddown with a searching glance, but her expression was unchanged. It wasconfident—even defiant. But it was very different with the priest. Hisface was ghastly white, and I saw the moisture glisten and run on hishigh, sloping forehead. He threw up his hands in prayer, and he stoopedcontinually to mutter frantic words in the lady’s ear.
The man in black now advanced, and taking one of the cords from his leftarm, he bound the woman’s hands together. She held them meekly towardhim as he did so. Then he took her arm with a rough grip and led hertoward the wooden horse, which was little higher than her waist. On tothis she was lifted and laid, with her back upon it, and her face to theceiling, while the priest, quivering with horror, had rushed out of theroom. The woman’s lips were moving rapidly, and though I could hearnothing, I knew that she was praying. Her feet hung down on either sideof the horse, and I saw that the rough varlets in attendance hadfastened cords to her ankles and secured the other ends to iron rings inthe stone floor.
My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous preparations, and yet Iwas held by the fascination of horror, and I could not take my eyes fromthe strange spectacle. A man had entered the room with a bucket
of waterin either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They were laidbeside the wooden horse. The second man had a wooden dipper—a bowl witha straight handle—in his other hand. This he gave to the man in black.At the same moment one of the varlets approached with a dark object inhis hand, which even in my dream filled me with a vague feeling offamiliarity. It was a leathern filler. With horrible energy he thrustit—but I could stand no more. My hair stood on end with horror. Iwrithed, I struggled, I broke through the bonds of sleep, and I burstwith a shriek into my own life, and found myself lying shivering withterror in the huge library, with the moonlight flooding through thewindow and throwing strange silver and black traceries upon the oppositewall. Oh, what a blessed relief to feel that I was back in thenineteenth century—back out of that medieval vault into a world wheremen had human hearts within their bosoms. I sat up on my couch,trembling in every limb, my mind divided between thankfulness andhorror. To think that such things were ever done—that they _could_ bedone without God striking the villains dead. Was it all a fantasy, ordid it really stand for something which had happened in the black, crueldays of the world’s history? I sank my throbbing head upon my shakinghands. And then, suddenly, my heart seemed to stand still in my bosom,and I could not even scream, so great was my terror. Something wasadvancing toward me through the darkness of the room.
It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks a man’s spirit. I couldnot reason, I could not pray; I could only sit like a frozen image, andglare at the dark figure which was coming down the great room. And thenit moved out into the white lane of moonlight, and I breathed once more.It was Dacre, and his face showed that he was as frightened as myself.
“Was that you? For God’s sake what’s the matter?” he asked in a huskyvoice.
“Oh, Dacre, I am glad to see you! I have been down into hell. It wasdreadful.”
“Then it was you who screamed?”
“I dare say it was.”
“It rang through the house. The servants are all terrified.” He struck amatch and lit the lamp. “I think we may get the fire to burn up again,”he added, throwing some logs upon the embers. “Good God, my dear chap,how white you are! You look as if you had seen a ghost.”
“So I have—several ghosts.”
“The leather funnel has acted, then?”
“I wouldn’t sleep near the infernal thing again for all the money youcould offer me.”
Dacre chuckled.
“I expected that you would have a lively night of it,” said he. “Youtook it out of me in return, for that scream of yours wasn’t a verypleasant sound at two in the morning. I suppose from what you say thatyou have seen the whole dreadful business.”
“What dreadful business?”
“The torture of the water—the ‘Extraordinary Question,’ as it was calledin the genial days of ‘Le Roi Soleil.’ Did you stand it out to the end?”
“No, thank God, I awoke before it really began.”
“Ah! it is just as well for you. I held out till the third bucket. Well,it is an old story, and they are all in their graves now anyhow, so whatdoes it matter how they got there. I suppose that you have no idea whatit was that you have seen?”
“The torture of some criminal. She must have been a terrible malefactorindeed if her crimes are in proportion to her penalty.”
“Well, we have that small consolation,” said Dacre, wrapping hisdressing-gown round him and crouching closer to the fire. “They _were_in proportion to her penalty. That is to say, if I am correct in thelady’s identity.”
“How could you possibly know her identity?”
