Tales of Terror and Mystery
The Leather Funnel
AfterlongtossingIfellasleep.LetmetrytodescribeasaccuratelyasIcanthescenewhichcametomeinmydreams.ItstandsoutnowinmymemorymoreclearlythananythingwhichIhaveseenwithmywakingeyes.Therewasaroomwhichboretheappearanceofavault.Fourspandrelsfromthecornersranuptojoinasharp,cup-shapedroof.Thearchitecturewasrough,butverystrong.Itwasevidentlypartofagreatbuilding.
Threemeninblack,withcurious,top-heavy,blackvelvethats,satinalineuponared-carpeteddais.Theirfaceswereverysolemnandsad.Ontheleftstoodtwolong-gownedmenwithport-foliosintheirhands,whichseemedtobestuffedwithpapers.Upontheright,lookingtowardme,wasasmallwomanwithblondehairandsingular,light-blueeyes—theeyesofachild.Shewaspastherfirstyouth,butcouldnotyetbecalledmiddle-aged.Herfigurewasinclinedtostoutnessandherbearingwasproudandconfident.Herfacewaspale,butserene.Itwasacuriousface,comelyandyetfeline,withasubtlesuggestionofcrueltyaboutthestraight,stronglittlemouthandchubbyjaw.Shewasdrapedinsomesortofloose,whitegown.Besideherstoodathin,eagerpriest,whowhisperedinherear,andcontinuallyraisedacrucifixbeforehereyes.Sheturnedherheadandlookedfixedlypastthecrucifixatthethreemeninblack,whowere,Ifelt,herjudges.
AsIgazedthethreemenstoodupandsaidsomething,butIcoulddistinguishnowords,thoughIwasawarethatitwasthecentralonewhowasspeaking.Theythensweptoutoftheroom,followedbythetwomenwiththepapers.
