Omaha daily bee., 1922-01-01
The Married Life of
Helen and Warren

way through another marble hall,
down staircase TO curious secret
door.
Here he paused 10 light a lantern.
and they wound down deep spiral
steps 10 heavy iron door that
guarded a cavelike corridor.
The lantern Pickering in the sep
'ulchral darkness, they stopped 10
follow the guide into the first dun
geon cell, Cruelty small, Il was
barely high enough to stand upright,
A stone slab had been the prison.
cr's bed. There was no window. not
even crevice for light or air.
How could they live herei" shud-
dered Helen. ITS like a tomb
The guide explained that the
prisoners were practically buried
alivc-most OF them going insane
before death released them.
II was in the next dungeon that
] ord Byron had had himself locked
for "a hours, that he might write
more realistically his celebrated
poem, Marine Faiero.'
The lantern. held close TO the
wall, showed the signatures OF many
prisoners carved in the stone. Only
the Gordon" in Byron's name could
be traced, the rest having been cut
away by pilfering souvenir fields.
Here, also, was the famous in
scription which the guide. translated,
God Preserve Me From Ny
Friends-From My Enemies / Can
Defend Myself"
Even more gruesomc was the tor
ture chamber. The walls still held
the rusty iron rings by which the
unfortunate victims were strung up.
Often they were suspended by their
feet, released when unconscious only
to be revived for further torture.
The guide, sensing Helen's avid
interest in the narrowing, expatiatcd
on all the sinister details.
To the stone bench in the corner
the prisoner was chained for the
Water Drip torture. The unceas-
ing drip, drip on the head was the
most dreaded of all slow, heinous
deaths.
The curious stone posts and frag-
ments Of chains were remnants of
other instruments OF torture, long
since removed. One CHASTITY method
was to bind the wretched victim to
the floor and leave him to be de-
voured by the rats, which infested
the damp, filthy dungeons.
| Mice, cheerful party grunted
Warren. Had about enough?"
when the guide had exhausted the
horrors OF that chamber.
1--WE want to see it all while we're
here" insisted Helen, with feminine
fascination for the gruesome.
Another row OF cavernous dun
geons ended in the execution cell.
In the stone wall was the recess for
the guillotine, where, during the
reign of terror, countless political
prisoners had been beheaded
The lantern, held over the floor
beneath. showed the three holes
where the blood drained off. Nearby
was the trap door, now Sealed,
through which the headless bodies
were dropped at night into the canal
below.
"Quick and convenient" was War
ren's comment. "Just chuck 'em
into the drink. Well, we're about
fed up with horrors. Let's dig out
OF here"
Back through the long corridor to
the iron door, up the spiral steps
and out from the mouldy darkness
into the welcomed light and air.
Come on, let's breeze over to
Quadri's," as they crossed the Piaz-
zetta. Wonder if they can shake
up a dry Martini? Guess we can
stand good stiff drink after that
dose Of gloom" ;.
Dear. I wouldn't have missed it
for anything. Think of all the
famous prisoners that have been il
those dungeons! And that awful
torture chainber!"
"Huh, wouldn't do to peeve the
bosses in those days" shrugged
Warren. "Those bloodthirsty old
crooks ran their wards with an AK.
If you didn't corie across with the
divvy - the chopping block for
yours! Our politicians wouldn't
have been in it with that bunch of
cutthroats." :"
"Oh, wait-don't-you'll step en
itw Helen clutched his arm.
"Eh? What's struck you now"
Its a caterpiller! Give me your
cane"
On the stone pavement, almost
under Warren's foot, crawled furry
caterpillar. The cane being too un-
wieldy. with an ever-adaptable hair
pin Helen lifted the coi1ing worm
and gently placed it in sheltered
crevicc.
"Can you beat ita' snorted War.
rem, contemptuous1y. You fairly
ate Up the line OF CORY dope that
guy handed out The more he
piled on the agony, the better yon
liked it. Yet you throw fit #
anybody steps on a bugl Huh,
you're blamed tender-hearted, you
are!'
Next week: "A Sleepless All
Night Trip"
Copyright, 1921, by Mabel Herbert
Harper.) -.