High on opposite sides of the walls of the nave Jane and Peripatetica had observed two ornate glass and gilt coffins. The one on the left contained the half-mummy, half-skeleton of a man. A young, beardless 152face it was, the still fair skin drawn tight over the features; the still blond hair clustering about it in curls of dusty gold. The fleshless visage was handsome, and though strange and ghostly, not repulsive. The skeleton body was clothed in velvet and gold, and the bony, gloved fingers clasped a splendid silver-scabbarded sword; an empty dagger case was hanging from an embroidered baldrick across the dead man’s breast. He lay on his side in an uneasy attitude, looking through the transparent pane of his last home toward the opposite crystal sarcophagus. This opposite coffin contained a half-mummied, half-skeleton woman—a woman also young and fair-haired; artfully coiffed, her tresses wrapped with pearls. Neither was her face repulsive; some strange process had preserved a dry whiteness in the skin stretched smooth and unwrinkled upon the bones and integuments, though all the flesh was gone. She too was clothed in gold and silk in a fashion centuries old. Through the lace of the sleeves showed the white polished bones of what must once have been warm rounded arms. She too was gloved; she too crouched upon her side uneasily, but she did not face her companion. Her head was thrown back as if in pain; and plunged through the pointed silk corselet—just where there must once have beat a young heart—was the gold-handled dagger from the empty dagger case hung to the embroidered baldrick. Who were they? What tragedy was this? why did they lie here in their crystal sepulchres—was it the record of some strange crime, preserved with meticulous care for all the world to see? 153The Spider could not tell. They had always been there. He did not know their names or their story. He could not refer to anyone who did. Baedeker was equally indifferent and uncommunicative; he made no mention of them. Hare was silent. Sladen ignored them. No questioning of guide-books or guides ever unravelled that mystery. From the temple of Diana the Spider led Jane and Peripatetica through more narrow, crooked streets thronged with rough, fierce Syracusan children, to see the Sixteenth Century palace of the Montaltos, now fallen on grimy days. The windows with their ogives and delicate twisted columns were crumbling, and the noble court—through which silken guests and mailed retainers had passed to mount the great stairs and throng the long balconies—was now full of squalid, squalling populace, and flocks of evil-savoured brown goats being milked for the evening meal.