" In an angle of the Stone Hall was the Iron Hold, a chamber containing a vast assortment of fetters and handcuffs of all weights and sizes. Apart from everything else, this meeting of ours is a breach of a good rule. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. There were two of them. I had a hunch. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. My janizaries are without. ’ Alderley glanced round the bedchamber. He filled his pipe slowly. Besides, he might hear things. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue.
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