which, as I expected, came from under a door, and listened. Someone was plainly moving about inside; but though we listened for what seemed a quarter of an hour, but must in reality have been less than a minute and a half, we could hear no voices.
"Whoever he is, he's alone—that's certain," whispered my companion. "Open the door softly, and we'll creep in upon him."
In answer, and little by little, a cold shiver running down my back lest it should creak and so give warning to the person within, I turned the handle, pushed open the door, and we looked inside. Then—but, my gracious! if I live to be a thousand I shall never forget even the smallest particular connected with the sight that met my eyes.
The room itself was a long and low one; its measurements possibly sixty feet by fifteen. The roof—for there was no ceiling—was of wood, crossed by heavy rafters, and much begrimed with dirt and smoke. The floor was of some highly polished wood closely resembling oak and was completely bare. But the shape and construction of the room itself were as nothing compared with the strangeness of its furniture and occupants. Words would fail me if I tried to give you a true and accurate description of it. I only know that, strong man, used to the horrors of life and death, as I was, what I saw before me made my blood run cold and my flesh creep as it had never been made to do before.
To begin with, round the walls were arranged, at regular intervals, more than a dozen enormous bottles, each of which contained what looked, to me, only too much like human specimens pickled in some light-coloured fluid resembling spirits of wine. Between these gigantic but more than horrible receptacles were
