Then they explored the rambling conservatories and broken-down stables which, after a bit of restoration, might hold a car. From here they descended into a dingy abyss of basements. The cold down here was a shock to Vera and she stood looking round on stony emptiness. There were gray walls with rings in them; a ceiling of granite with rusty hooks imbedded in the stone. “What are the rings for?” Vera questioned. “I believe, miss, that this was once a torture chamber. The prisoners were fastened to those rings in the wall, their arms outspread, and then they were ‘persuaded’ with the help of the old forge there.” The woman nodded to a corner where stood an ancient fireplace—similar to the type used by a blacksmith. The back had collapsed inward amidst a mass of bricks and oddly colored red-brown ash. At the back of it was a black square denoting the flue. Projecting from the side was the curved handle that had once worked the bellows.
