At each revolution, a bell above rang once.

The monk seemed as if his whole soul was bound up in the huge revolving drum and the bell worked by it.
We took this all in at a glance, somewhat vaguely at first, for our lives were at stake, and we were scarcely in a mood for ethnological observations.

But the moment Hilda saw the cylinder her eye lighted up.
I could see at once an idea had struck her.

"This is a praying-wheel!" she cried, in quite a delighted voice.

"I know where I am now, Hubert--Lady Meadowcroft--I see a way out of this! Do exactly as you see me do, and all may yet go well.