“Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me. His statement was treated with derision.
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