” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Oblige me by acting under my guidance in the matter, Sir Rowland. A man as rich as you are ought to have a thousand-ton yacht. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. As it is not, however, our intention to furnish a complete catalogue of these curiosities, we shall merely mention that in front of them lay a large and sharp knife, once the property of the public executioner, and used by him to dissever the limbs of those condemned to death for high-treason; together with an immense two-pronged flesh-fork, likewise employed by the same terrible functionary to plunge the quarters of his victims in the caldrons of boiling tar and oil.
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