The Prince and the Colonel, one after the other, were subjected to
a long and particular interrogatory: the Prince alone; but
Geraldine in the presence of the Prince, so that the President
might observe the countenance of the one while the other was being
warmly cross-examined. The result was satisfactory; and the
President, after having booked a few details of each case, produced
a form of oath to be accepted. Nothing could be conceived more
passive than the obedience promised, or more stringent than the
terms by which the juror bound himself. The man who forfeited a
pledge so awful could scarcely have a rag of honour or any of the
consolations of religion left to him. Florizel signed the
document, but not without a shudder; the Colonel followed his
example with an air of great depression. Then the President
received the entry money; and without more ado, introduced the two
friends into the smoking-room of the Suicide Club.

The smoking-room of the Suicide Club was the same height as the
cabinet into which it opened, but much larger, and papered from top
to bottom with an imitation of oak wainscot. A large and cheerful
fire and a number of gas-jets illuminated the company. The Prince
and his follower made the number up to eighteen. Most of the party
were smoking, and drinking champagne; a feverish hilarity reigned,
with sudden and rather ghastly pauses.

"Is this a full meeting?" asked the Prince.

"Middling," said the President. "By the way," he added, "if you
have any money, it is usual to offer some champagne. It keeps up a
good spirit, and is one of my own little perquisites."