Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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With incense rising to his nostrils and the noisy clangour of bells in his ears, Alan was led, powerless, although resisting, to the open doorway. The steps inside were heated until they blistered his feet, and the pain caused him to mount higher where he hoped to get relief. When he reached the topmost step, and stood in comfort, realizing that it was cool, the door below swung to. He was alone, and saw that he was standing in the head of the idol, looking through its gaping jaws into the heart of the fire. Then suddenly he felt a jolt beneath him, and realized that his ankles were encased in iron bands. Again the idol’s body shook, and he was thrown on his belly. Slowly the slide was coming into position; another convulsive move of the idol, and he was half way down it, and smiled as he saw in imagination a tank of water below him in place of the fire, and himself in a bathing suit, ready to descend the water chute!

Slowly, slowly he began to slip, and wondered why he did not go faster. He tried to kick his feet and so enable himself to get over with death—but the iron anklets were holding him fast, and he knew he would reach the flames only when his torturers desired it. The heat was now unbearable; the flames were leaping up toward him; he already felt upon his cheek their fiery breath. His arms were stretched out before him, and he was at too great an angle to draw them up. Then came a feeling of excruciating agony, an agony almost unbearable. His fingers had reached the fire! powerless to take them out, he writhed round and round in a vain endeavour to obtain relief. No sound came from between his clenched teeth to express the pain he was enduring.