They hurried through the great Cathedral, seeing vestments three hundred years old; through the fruit and fish markets; and then to the place which the guide plainly regarded as the champion attraction of the town—the prison. It was a gloomy building, entered through a big courtyard where snowy-white geraniums bloomed in startling contrast to the grim stone walls. Within, they glanced at the room where trials were held; and then were conducted along dim corridors and into a cell where an unpleasant iron framework was fixed above a bare iron chair.
“De garotte!” announced the guide, proudly. “Where dey put to death de murderers!” He sat down in the iron chair, and obligingly put his neck in the clutch of the grisly collar, to show how it worked—whereat Mr. Linton uttered an ejaculation of wrath, and hastily removed his daughter.
“Do they really kill people there?” Norah asked, wide-eyed. It did not seem easy to realise.
“They do—but there’s no need for you to look at the beastly place!” said her father, indignantly.
“Well, it looked awfully tame,” said Norah. “I suppose I haven’t enough imagination, daddy. It was rather like the arrangement they put to keep your head steady in a photographer’s!”
Jim and Wally came out, followed by the guide, who looked rather crestfallen.
“Unpleasant beast!” remarked Jim. “He’s been showing us a collection of knives and scythes and other grisly weapons, with dark and deadly stains—says various ladies and gentlemen used them to slay other ladies and gentlemen! First you see the garotte, and then what brings you to it. It puts you off murdering any one, at all events in Las Palmas!”
“It makes me feel like murdering the guide!” said Wally. “I never saw any one gloat so unpleasantly!”
They left the prison and rattled back into the main streets of the town. Spanish girls in graceful mantillas looked down upon them from upper windows; and once Norah declared that she saw a Spanish cavalier serenading one, with guitar all complete—which seemed unlikely, even in Las Palmas, in broad daylight. The streets were narrow and dirty, the cobblestones unbelievably rough. At top speed the little carriages bumped over them, their occupants bouncing hither and thither, and suffering many things. They rejoiced unaffectedly when at length they halted, and set out on foot to explore the business part of the town.
The shops were full of fascinating things, to unaccustomed eyes, and their owners did not wait for people to enter, but came to the doorways, or even out into the streets, begging them to buy; each pointing out how much more excellent was his shop than that of his neighbour. Whether they succeeded or failed in making a sale, they were always exquisitely polite.