|It doesn’t look quite as large as you’d expect it to. It’s about ten feet high, and rather narrow. There is a long padded bench that leads to a pair of wooden planks which, when closed, form a circular hole. At the top, a sharp, angled blade glints in the moonlight.
A man stands nearby, in frilly and foppish clothing, and he looks at you contemptuously. He glances at your head as though assessing it, and then looks down at the basket on the other side of the bench. “I suppose it will fit,” he murmurs. His hand rests on the blade-dropping lever, which is next to the pulley that will lift the blade again and reset it back into its place.