the other by doctors. Men of these professions wear mourning for the deaths which they cause.
Behind the sheriff, on the edge of the flat stone under the seat,—with a writing-table near him, a bundle of papers on his knees, and a sheet of parchment on the bundle,—crouched a secretary, in a round wig, with a pen in his hand, in the attitude of a man ready to write. This secretary was of the class called keeper of the bag, as was shown by a bag at his feet. These bags, employed in former times in law-suits were termed bags of justice. Leaning against a pillar with folded arms was a man clothed entirely in leather,—the hangman's assistant. These men seemed as if they had been fixed by enchantment in their funereal postures round the chained man. No one of them either spoke or moved. A fearful silence brooded over all.
What Gwynplaine saw was a torture chamber. There were many such in England. The crypt of Beauchamp Tower long served this purpose, as did also a cell in the Lollards' prison. A place of this nature is still to be seen in London, called "the Vaults of Lady Place." In this last-mentioned chamber there is a grate for the purpose of heating the irons. All the prisons of King John's time (and Southwark Jail was one) had their chambers of torture.
The scene which is about to follow was in those days a frequent occurrence in England, and might even be repeated to-day, since the same laws are still unrepealed. England presents the curious spectacle of a barbarous code of laws living on the best of terms with liberty. We confess that they make an excellent family party. Some distrust, however, might not be undesirable. In the case of a crisis, a return to the penal code would not be impossible. English legislation is a tamed tiger with a velvet paw, but the claws are still there. Cut
