Marjorie puckered her brow. Peter instantly formed the opinion that it made her distinctly more lovely than ever. “It stood about so high,” she declared with an appropriate gesture, “and was made as far as I could judge of some kind of metal—copper I should imagine from the color. Of course, being over 300 years old it was much darker and blacker than the beaten copper work that we see now.” Here came more brow-puckering, to Peter’s secret delight—Mr. Daventry, it must be remembered, had a keen eye and the soundest of discriminating tastes. “The next part is harder to remember,” continued the charming chronicler, “but I think I’m right.” She thought for a moment and then went on. “In the top left-hand corner there was Mary’s Lion and in the right-hand corner the ‘fleur-de-lis.’ At the bottom of the screen—on the right——” “Forgive me, Miss Lennox,” said Peter under the influence of a sudden impulse, “it’s awfully rude of me, I know, but let me see if I can finish the description for you—just a fancy of mine—that’s all.” Miss Lennox looked very surprised and a little disdainful, but, “Go on then,” was all she permitted herself to say. Thus encouraged, Peter did so. “At the bottom,” he declared oracularly, “were the Leopards and Lilies of England.” A pair of wonderful blue eyes seemed suddenly to become more wonderful. With the wonder of amazement. “You’re right—absolutely right,” she said. “Where and when did you see Uncle’s screen?” But Peter proceeded with the assurance of the conqueror. “In the center,” he said, “were the words, ‘Jesus Christ, God and Saviour.’” He paused and with his eyes invited her corroboration. But this time Marjorie corrected him—_very_ disdainfully. “Oh no,” she remarked—“in the center were two words in Latin. They had been scratched, or inscribed perhaps is the happier word, with a sharp-pointed instrument—at least that’s what it looked like. The two words were ‘_Timeo Danaos_.’” Here she stopped as all good story-tellers should when they have scored a good point. “Translate, Mr. Bathurst,” said Goodall with the suggestion of a grin, “my classics are rusty.” “‘_Timeo Danaos_,’” repeated Anthony, “‘_et dona ferentes_’—which being interpreted means, ‘I fear the Greeks especially when they bring gifts.’” “What the deuce are Greeks doing on this screen?” grumbled Goodall. Anthony shook his head. “Can’t see for the moment, I admit. Anything else, Miss Lennox?” Marjorie nodded her little head in the affirmative. “Yes,” she said, “right underneath the two words—almost exactly in the center of the screen—was a big fish.” “A fish?” queried Anthony, wrinkling his forehead, “what sort of a fish?” Marjorie shook her head. “Just an ordinary fish—that’s all I could say about it. All the animals—the Lion, and the Leopards and the Fish—and the flowers too, were done in a kind of repoussé work—you know what I mean—they stood out as it were away from the surface of the screen itself.”