{"id":"01KG8AKX4S8ED9WVB9HBB9TT43","cid":"bafkreig6rnvpnrqwmbqt2deyjl6rvaa2sxapmamh66xfb5pdviah5trapy","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":9145,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":9073,"text":"So making no doubt we were off for a ramble, perhaps to Apsley House,\r\nin the Park, to get a sly peep at the old Duke before he retired for\r\nthe night, for Harry had told me the Duke always went to bed early, I\r\nsprang up to follow him; but what was my disappointment and surprise,\r\nwhen he only led me into the passage, toward a staircase lighted by\r\nthree marble Graces, unitedly holding a broad candelabra, like an elk’s\r\nantlers, over the landing.\r\n\r\nWe rambled up the long, winding slope of those aristocratic stairs,\r\nevery step of which, covered with Turkey rugs, looked gorgeous as the\r\nhammer-cloth of the Lord Mayor’s coach; and Harry hied straight to a\r\nrosewood door, which, on magical hinges, sprang softly open to his\r\ntouch.\r\n\r\nAs we entered the room, methought I was slowly sinking in some\r\nreluctant, sedgy sea; so thick and elastic the Persian carpeting,\r\nmimicking parterres of tulips, and roses, and jonquils, like a bower in\r\nBabylon.\r\n\r\nLong lounges lay carelessly disposed, whose fine damask was interwoven,\r\nlike the Gobelin tapestry, with pictorial tales of tilt and tourney.\r\nAnd oriental ottomans, whose cunning warp and woof were wrought into\r\nplaited serpents, undulating beneath beds of leaves, from which, here\r\nand there, they flashed out sudden splendors of green scales and gold.\r\n\r\nIn the broad bay windows, as the hollows of King Charles’ oaks, were\r\nLaocoon-like chairs, in the antique taste, draped with heavy fringes of\r\nbullion and silk.\r\n\r\nThe walls, covered with a sort of tartan-French paper, variegated with\r\nbars of velvet, were hung round with mythological oil-paintings,\r\nsuspended by tasseled cords of twisted silver and blue.\r\n\r\nThey were such pictures as the high-priests, for a bribe, showed to\r\nAlexander in the innermost shrine of the white temple in the Libyan\r\noasis: such pictures as the pontiff of the sun strove to hide from\r\nCortez, when, sword in hand, he burst open the sanctorum of the\r\npyramid-fane at Cholula: such pictures as you may still see, perhaps,\r\nin the central alcove of the excavated mansion of Pansa, in Pompeii—in\r\nthat part of it called by Varro _the hollow of the house:_ such\r\npictures as Martial and Seutonius mention as being found in the private\r\ncabinet of the Emperor Tiberius: such pictures as are delineated on the\r\nbronze medals, to this day dug up on the ancient island of Capreas:\r\nsuch pictures as you might have beheld in an arched recess, leading\r\nfrom the left hand of the secret side-gallery of the temple of\r\nAphrodite in Corinth.\r\n\r\nIn the principal pier was a marble bracket, sculptured in the semblance\r\nof a dragon’s crest, and supporting a bust, most wonderful to behold.\r\nIt was that of a bald-headed old man, with a mysteriously-wicked\r\nexpression, and imposing silence by one thin finger over his lips. His\r\nmarble mouth seemed tremulous with secrets.\r\n\r\n“Sit down, Wellingborough,” said Harry; “don’t be frightened, we are at\r\nhome.—Ring the bell, will you? But stop;”— and advancing to the\r\nmysterious bust, he whispered something in its ear.\r\n\r\n“He’s a knowing mute, Wellingborough,” said he; “who stays in this one\r\nplace all the time, while he is yet running of errands. But mind you\r\ndon’t breathe any secrets in his ear.”\r\n\r\nIn obedience to a summons so singularly conveyed, to my amazement a\r\nservant almost instantly appeared, standing transfixed in the attitude\r\nof a bow.\r\n\r\n“Cigars,” said Harry. When they came, he drew up a small table into the\r\nmiddle of the room, and lighting his cigar, bade me follow his example,\r\nand make myself happy.\r\n\r\nAlmost transported with such princely quarters, so undreamed of before,\r\nwhile leading my dog’s life in the filthy forecastle of the Highlander,\r\nI twirled round a chair, and seated myself opposite my friend.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJSA71QVQSMQ91CQK3MDT","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKX4SMGAN0RTB5G8A3FBQ","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKX4SQJ2890S5GCHW5ZPE","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.609Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:32.735Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}