(_A SKETCH AT THE COLLECTION OF INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE._)

SCENE--_The Maddox Street Galleries. A large and appropriately
lighted room. Upon walls of a sombre crimson, various
Implements of Torture are arranged with considerable taste,
and an eye for decorative effect, the central space being
reserved for more elaborate contrivances in wood and iron.
Visitors discovered inspecting the Exhibition by the aid of
the excellent Catalogues, with the subdued appreciation of
persons conscious that they are spending a very pleasant and
profitable afternoon._

_Mr. Charnelhouse Goole_ (_as he enters, to Mrs. C.G._). Now, my dear,
the first thing I want to see is that Iron Maiden there's so much talk
about. I wonder whereabouts it is!

_Mrs. C.G._ I think _that_ must be it, up at the other end of the
room. But don't you _think_, dear, it would be nicer to see the
_other_ things first, and keep that for the _last_?

_Mr. C.G._ (_struck by the refinement of this suggestion_). Well,
upon, my word, AMINA, I almost think it would!

_Mr. Frederic Frivell_ (_to his wife, whom he takes a marital pleasure
in shocking_). What fun those old fellows must have had in those days,
mustn't they?

_Mrs. Frivell_ (_a serious lady_). I don't think fun is at _all_ the
right word, FREDERIC. I do _wish_ you wouldn't take these things so
lightly. I'm sure it's melancholy enough to look at all these horrid