The door opened, and the discussion between the government and the opposition in his mind ceased to consider the untimeliness of the visit, for here, in the visitor himself, stood another problem. He was a young man in military costume, his uniform being that of an officer. Eastford remembered seeing something like it on the stage, and knowing little of military affairs, thought perhaps the costume of the visitor before him indicated an officer in the Napoleonic war.
“Good evening!” said the incomer. “May I introduce myself? I am Lieutenant Sentore, of the regular army.”
“You are very welcome,” returned his host. “Will you be seated?”
“Thank you, no. I have but a few moments to stay. I have come for my hour-glass, if you will be good enough to let me have it.”
“Your hour-glass?” ejaculated Eastford, in surprise. “I think you labour under a misapprehension. The glass belongs to me; I bought it to-day at the old curiosity shop in Finchmore Street.”
“Rightful possession of the glass would appear to rest with you, technically; but taking you to be a gentleman, I venture to believe that a mere statement of my priority of claim will appeal to you, even though it might have no effect on the minds of a jury of our countrymen.”
“You mean to say that the glass has been stolen from you and has been sold?”
“It has been sold undoubtedly over and over again, but never stolen, so far as I have been able to trace its history.”
“If, then, the glass has been honestly purchased by its different owners, I fail to see how you can possibly establish any claim to it.”
“I have already admitted that my claim is moral rather than legal,” continued the visitor. “It is a long story; have I your permission to tell it?”