Sanderson, roaming around the professed archæologists, took the bronze from her hands.
"I'll tell you where you've seen it, Mrs. Stewart. It's engraved in Egerton's Private Collections of Great Britain. I picked that up the other day—first edition, 1818. I dare say the book's here. We'll see."
Sanderson took a candle and went glimmering away down the long, dark room.
"What can this be?" asked Mildred, taking up what looked like a glass ball.
"Please stand over here and look into it for five minutes," returned Davison, evasively. "Perhaps you'll see what it is then."
He somehow wanted to get rid of Mildred's appraisal of his goods.
"Mr. Davison, your glass ball has gone quite cloudy!" she exclaimed, in a minute or two.
"That's all right. Go on looking and you'll see something more," he returned.
Presently she said:
"It's so curious. I see the whole room reflected in the glass now, but it's much lighter than it really is, and the windows seem larger. It all looks so different. There is some one down there in white."