“But why to me?” I asked, in bewilderment. “Why of all the human race to me?”
“Because you were in the fit mental state to receive the impression. Because you chanced to own the mirror which gave the impression.”
“The mirror! You think, then, that it was Mary’s mirror—that it stood in the room where the deed was done?”
“I am convinced that it was Mary’s mirror. She had been Queen of France. Her personal property would be stamped with the Royal arms. What you took to be three spear-heads were really the lilies of France.”
“And the inscription?”
“‘Sanc. X. Pal.’ You can expand it into Sanctae Crucis Palatium. Some one has made a note upon the mirror as to whence it came. It was the Palace of the Holy Cross.”
“Holyrood!” I cried.
“Exactly. Your mirror came from Holyrood. You have had one very singular experience, and have escaped. I trust that you will never put yourself into the way of having such another.”