Part 17 (2/2)
They were then led along the pa.s.sage, through a door at its end, up steps and through another pa.s.sage, winding up in a room all draped in black, which was dimly lighted by a solitary candle placed within a human skull resting on an old-fas.h.i.+oned coffin, which looked as if it may have been made to fit the princess, judging from its size.
Beyond this was a low table provided with an arrangement of ropes attached at one end to a post at the other to a large wooden jackscrew.
It was a wicked-looking engine.
Alice shuddered.
”We have fallen into the hands of a bunch of yellow fiends,” she thought. ”I wonder if there is anything too wicked for Dr. Garshaski to do?”
The two masks now seized the princess and laid her down upon the table on her back.
They then proceeded to tie her hands to the ropes attached to the post, while her feet were made fast to those attached to the screw.
The brave little woman never let out a whimper--never said one word.
”You see, Alice,” said the doctor, taking his place beside her. ”Don't you think of interfering, or you shall get your dose.”
”You yellow fiend!” breathed Alice, feeling that such cruelty was beyond endurance. ”Wouldn't I like to have the turning of that screw with you on the table! How dare you resort to such barbarous methods as this?”
”Have a care!” hissed the doctor. ”That's the rack--the old-fas.h.i.+oned rack, such as your white holy men used to resort to when they wanted to make a man holy in some other way than his own. It is still in use in China for extorting confessions from thieves. Nice contrivance, isn't it? But its use has been by no means confined to the Chinese.”
”What you allude to happened two hundred years ago, and you know it,”
retorted Alice. ”It takes yellow fiends like you and your friends here to torture a woman in these days!”
”Bah! They would rack people to death for religion's sake to-day if they dared,” answered the doctor.
”But you have your warning, so heed it,” he added, and advancing to the princess, he again asked her if she was ready to reveal the secret.
”Never!” she cried. ”You can torture me all you will, but you will never learn from me that which will place in your hands what I choose shall belong to my husband, Ah Lung.”
”Ah Lung is not your husband nor will he ever be unless you yield to my request,” declared the doctor.
She gave him one look and turned her head away.
”Give the screw a twist!” cried the doctor, and the old Chinaman obeyed, the two masks standing on each side reciting something in old Chinese which Alice could make nothing of.
Skeep Hup bore the pain thus inflicted unflinchingly.
She shut her eyes, set her lips, and never uttered a sound.
”Will you tell?” demanded the doctor.
No answer.
”Give it another turn!” he thundered.
The screw was turned again.
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