“You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. Her skin prickled. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. She opened the door with a neon colored key.
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