Against the white brick walls these objects showed to great advantage, were perhaps works of art of a sort. So the gallery owner seemed to think. And the receptionist with her frosted blond hair, her half-moon glasses, her low melodious voice, welcoming Eric and Marya to browse.

They walked slowly, rather numbly, through the exhibit. Staring. Examining. Reading the captions alongside the instruments. The iron mask, for instance, had an interesting history. It was used to punish heretics and subversives, enemies of the Roman Catholic Church. The victim was locked in the mask and chained in the sun so that gradually, by degrees, the metal heated and, by degrees, his brains began literally to boil. Marya would have liked to know how long it took before death occurred, or the merciful loss of consciousness, but the caption did not provide this information.

The spike collar was used for the same general purpose but it allowed onlookers the opportunity to bet on how long the victim could remain standing. So long as he was on his feet, evidently, the spikes touched his throat only lightly; when he grew weak—staggered—fell—the spikes penetrated his skin.

As for the “fighting slave collar”—it was made of iron, with a small ring through which the slave owner’s chain might be secured; the slave was therefore on a leash and could be prevented from escaping. Marya had not known that American slave owners pitted their strongest slaves against one another, following the principle of the dog- or cock-fight. But she supposed, if the stakes were high enough, the fights were worthwhile.

The chastity belt, or girdle, drew Marya’s particular attention. It resembled armor, which of course it was, except for the absurd little spikes pointing outward. There was a narrow, a very narrow, slot for urination; defecation must have been a more serious problem—Marya could not see how it was possible. And what if the hapless woman were pregnant without anyone knowing, before the contraption was fitted in place; what if both husband and “trusted friend” disappeared with the keys. . . . She wondered too whether it had been simply a point of honor for a wife to submit to the chastity belt: did a woman do so graciously and willingly? did she concur in her imprisonment? The thing was not only rather comically grotesque, it was highly unsanitary.

Eric was examining the cloverleaf, a device of which he had never heard. It was fairly simple, a matter of mechanics: the victim’s arms and legs were clamped into the rings so that he was bent double and forced to die within a few hours, depending (according to the gallery note) on his degree of obesity.