“Did you put something alive in there?” Francis asked.
“Of course not,” said Mavis. “Why?”
“Well, I saw something move, that’s all.”
They all crowded around and peered over the glass walls. Nothing, of course, but the sand and the grass and the shells, the clinkers and the dahlias and the little suspended tin goldfish.
“I expect the goldfish swung a bit,” said Bernard. “That’s what it must have been.”
“It didn’t look like that,” Francis answered. “It looked more like—”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know—get out of the light. Let’s have another squint.”
He stooped down and looked again through the glass.
“It’s not the goldfish,” he said. “That’s as quiet as a trout asleep. No—I suppose it was a shadow or something.”