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It stood
there stark, dismantled, de-humanized, in the midday heat. Here was
nothing to charm the eye or conjure up visions of past glory; nothing
elegant or romantic; nothing savouring of grim warlike purposes. It was
a modern ruin; a pile of rubbish; a shameless, frivolous skeleton.
Those hastily built walls and staring windows wore an air of faded
futility, almost of indecency--as though the mouldering bones of some
long-forgotten lady of pleasure had crept out of their tomb to give
themselves an airing in the sunshine.
Mr. Heard, after glancing at what remained of a pretentious facade,
stepped within.
Deep shade was here, in those of the chambers whose roofs remained
intact; shade, and a steamy heat, and the noxious odour of some mineral
product--the healing waters. He strayed in the twilight through halls
and corridors, past ample saloons and rows of cells which had
apparently served for convenience of disrobing. Everywhere that noisome
smell accompanied his footsteps; the place was reeking with it.


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