I had looked to enter a prison; but, if that were a prison, then were lack of liberty shorn of half its terrors. The cabin was not large, but one more artistic in effect was never built. Hung all round with poppy-coloured silk, the same material made curtains for the bunk—which seemed of unusual size, and furnished with sleep-bespeaking mattresses. It was employed also for the cushions and covering of the arm-chair and the couch, and to drape the dressing- glass and basin which were in the left-hand corner. It seemed, indeed, that the whole room was a harmony in scarlet, with a scarlet ceiling and scarlet hangings; but the luxury of it was unmistakable, and the feet sank above the ankles in the soft Indian rug, which was ornate with the quaint mosaic-like workings and penetrating colours of all Eastern tapestry. For light, there was an arc-lamp, veiled with gauze of the faintest yellow; and upon the table in the centre stood a decanter of wine and a box of cigars. The room would have been perfect but for a horrid blot upon it—a blot which stared at me from the outer wall with bloodshot eyes and hideous visage. It was the picture of a man's head that had been severed from the body; and was repulsive enough to have been painted by Wiertz himself. The picture almost terrified me, but I thought, if no worse harm befall me what odds? and I sat down all wondering and dazed, and drew a cigar from
