“And before the house was used as a school, it was called the House of the Blind Camel.”
“The House of the Blind Camel!” I repeated excitedly. “By Jove, St. Hilary, does that mean you have stumbled on one of the twelve landmarks?”
“Patience. Look at your photograph again. What else do you see in the background of the fourth hour?”
“A well,” I answered promptly. “If you have found the well, there can be no doubt.”
“And I have found the well. Look at the photograph. What is the design of the beading round the curb?”
“A looped wreath with pomegranates between each loop.”
“The well in the school garden has a beading of the same design. But study the photograph a moment–look carefully at the second and third pomegranates from the left. Do you notice anything peculiar?”
“No, I see nothing peculiar about them.”
“The more we study the history of this clock, Hume, the more I am impressed with the fact that the eye is a most unreliable organ. We rarely see a thing as it actually is; we see it as we expect it to be. Take the magnifying-glass and look at those second and third pomegranates carefully.”
“I see now,” I cried. “They are not pomegranates; they are two rosettes.”