“Where do we take her?” asked one. “To the conference chamber,” said the other. Dido wished furiously that while talking to the Woodlouse she had had the sense to ask him to cut through the rope that tied her wrists. But perhaps he wouldn't have had the courage, she thought. Poor little weasel, he seemed to have had all the spunk drained out of him. The two men climbed a flight of stairs—this was very uncomfortable for Dido, since the edges of the stairs caught her on heels and thighs—and carried her into a large, well-lit room, where they let go of her so that she fell on the floor. “Stand up,” said one of the men. When Dido did not do so immediately, he kicked her. “Do as we say, or you'll get worse than that!” Angrily, Dido scrambled to her feet. She might have said something that would certainly have led to trouble, but at that moment three people came into the room and climbed onto a platform that was between Dido and the immense window, and she was so startled and interested by their appearance that she held her tongue.
