We were conducted along a stone passage and down a spiral staircase, the weapons of our guards clanking dismally as they struck the stone steps. At the bottom of the staircase we proceeded along another passage, which was lighted by a few feeble lamps, while water trickled through the roof in such a manner as to suggest that we were passing under some canal. At the end an iron door barred the way. This the sergeant of the guard unlocked and threw open, disclosing a large room with a vaulted stone roof, lighted only by two small grated windows some twelve feet from the ground. The atmosphere was rank, while moisture was everywhere--on the walls, floor, and even on the top of a massive oak table, the polish of which was cut and scraped till it resembled a butcher’s block. As our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light we perceived that the room was a torture chamber. In one corner stood a ponderous rack, its rollers still glistening with a coating of oil. Other instruments of torture were placed round the walls in an orderly manner, showing by their brightness that they were still kept in use. I must confess the sight turned us, though we had never yet had accounts of prisoners of war being put to the torture. We were not left long in suspense, for the soldiers, having carefully searched us (though they left us our money), went out and locked and barred the door. Left to ourselves, we began to discuss our situation. Escape from this horrible hole was out of the question, but we began a tour of the room to ascertain our bearings. "I almost wish that we had given the burgomaster our parole," remarked Felgate dolefully. "To eke out an existence for a few months, or even weeks or days, in this den would almost drive one to madness." "What do they mean by putting us in here?" asked Drake. "Surely they don’t mean to put us to the torture as if we were political prisoners?" "I don’t think that," I remarked, "otherwise those rascals would have relieved us of our money." "Well, they took my knife," grumbled Felgate. "Ah! What fools these Dutchmen are! Look! Why should we not take some small articles that might aid our escape?" He pointed to the walls, where hung several small knives. We immediately secured one each, and in addition concealed a few iron spikes under our clothing, chuckling to ourselves at the folly of our captors in searching us before we were left alone amid so terrible yet useful an array of instruments. Then, having completed our inspection, we seated ourselves on the framework of the rack, relapsing into a silence that was broken only by the occasional scamper of a swarm of rats across the floor, and the rippling of a stream of water outside the thick stone walls of our prison.