IN FRONT OF THE IRON MAIDEN.
Mr. Ch. Goole. So this is the Iron Maiden! Well, I expected something rather more dreadful-looking. The face has really quite a pleasant expression. [Disappointedly.
Mrs. Ch. G. (with subtler appreciation). Oh, but I think that makes it so much more horrible, don't you?
Mr. Ch. G. Well, I don't know—perhaps. But there ought to be a wax figure inside it. They ought to have wax figures on most of these things—make it much more interesting!
Mr. Frivell (who is close by). I quite agree with you, Sir—indeed, I would go farther. I think there should be competent persons engaged to provide practical illustrations of all the more amusing tortures—say from three to five every afternoon. Draw all London!
Mrs. F. (horrified). FRED, you know you don't mean it! And besides, you would never get people willing to be shut up inside that thing!
Mr. F. My dear, I'm perfectly serious, as I always am. And as to not getting subjects, why—(He beckons to one of the Boy-Messengers in waiting, who advances). Look here, my lad, you seem a bright intelligent youth. Would you mind just stepping inside and allowing us to close the door? We won't detain you an instant.
Mrs. F. What a shame, FRED! Don't think of such a thing, there's a good boy! Say no—and I'll give you sixpence!