ndance had fastened cords to her ankles and secured the other ends
to iron rings in the stone floor.

My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous preparations, and yet I
was held by the fascination of horror, and I could not take my eyes
from the strange spectacle. A man had entered the room with a bucket
of water in either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They
were laid beside the wooden horse. The second man had a wooden
dipper--a bowl with a 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 in his hand, which even in my dream filled me with a
vague feeling of familiarity. It was a leathern filler. With horrible
energy he thrust it--but I could stand no more. My hair stood on end
with horror. I writhed, I struggled, I broke through the bonds of
sleep, and I burst with a shriek into my own life, and found myself
lying shivering with terror in the huge library, with the moonlight
flooding through the window and throwing strange silver and black
traceries upon the opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed relief to feel
that I was back in the nineteenth century--back out of that mediaeval
vault into a world where men had human hearts within their bosoms. I
sat up on my couch, trembling in every limb, my mind divided between
thankfulness and horror. To think that such things were ever
done--that they could be done without God striking the villains dead.
Was it all a fantasy, or did it really stand for something which had
happened in the black, cruel days of the world's history? I sank my
throbbing head upon my shaking hands. And then, suddenly, my heart
seemed to stand still in my bosom, and I could not even scream, so
great was my terror. Something was advancing toward me through the
darkness of the room.

It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks a man's spirit. I
could not reason, I could not pray; I could only sit like a frozen
image, and glare at the dark figure which was coming down the great
room. And then it 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 husky
voice.

"Oh, Dacre, I am glad to see you! I have been down into hell. It was
dreadful."

"Then it was you who screamed?"

"I dare say it was."

"It rang through the house.