Down in the basement, or crypt, he stood before the lions of Assur-Banipal, and talked at length. She said she had read Byron’s “Sardanapalus,” and he told her how those detestable linguists, the Greeks, had altered the name, and how the Assyrian legends of a great warrior and sovereign had become twisted in the Hellenic after-version to depict a sublimation of debauched effeminacy and luxury run mad. She listened with her shoulder against his--but now he had other auditors as well. “Excuse me, sir,” the urgent and anxious voice of a stranger said close behind him, “but you seem to be extraordinarily well posted indeed on these sculptures here. I hope you will not object to my daughter and me standing where we can hear your remarks.” Mosscrop turned, and saw before him an elderly man, with a mild expression, and hair and beard of extreme whiteness. He was soberly attired, and carried in his hand a broad-brimmed hat of woven white straw. He bowed courteously, and indicated by a gentle gesture the young lady standing at his side. “I should delight, sir, to have my daughter be privileged to profit by your remarks,” he repeated, and bowed again. The daughter was a dark, well-rounded girl, dressed with much elegance. Her face was strikingly Oriental in type, with coal-black tresses drawn low over the temples, and a skin of a uniform ivory hue. She said nothing, but looked at Vestalia’s hair. Mosscrop spoke somewhat abruptly. “You are certainly welcome, but it happens that I have finished my remarks, as you call them.” “That is too bad,” replied the stranger, with a sigh of resignation. “I overheard enough to convince me that they were first-rate. It is our misfortune, sir, mine and my daughter’s, to have arrived too late. I presume, sir, that you have given special attention to this branch of study?” The Professor of Culdees nodded briefly. “And may I take the liberty of inquiring, sir,” the old man persisted, “whether you are professionally engaged in transmitting to others the knowledge which you have thus acquired?” A stormy grin began twitching at the corners of Mosscrop’s mouth. He nodded again. “My purpose in putting the question is not one of idle curiosity, sir,” the other went on. “My life-long desire to visit Europe, and behold its venerable ruins and its remarkable accumulations of objects of historical and artistic interest, has attained fulfilment at a period, unfortunately, when the burden of my years, while not incapacitating me from the enjoyments of the mind, renders me less capable of searching out new information than I should once have been. It also, I see only too clearly, unfits me to act as a guide and interpreter, amid these treasures of the storied past, to a young mind so much fresher and more eager than my own. I recognise this, sir, frankly, and I should be glad to discuss some possible arrangement, with the proper persons, by which my deficiencies might be supplied in this connection.”