He pointed to a small engraving inscribed, "Bronze statuette of Augustus. _Very rare._" "But some fellow's been scribbling something here," continued Sanderson, turning the book around to read a note written along the margin. He read out: "'A forgery. Sold by Lady Hammerton to Mr. Solomons, 1819. See case Solomons _versus_ Hammerton, 1820.'" The turning of the book showed Mildred a full-page engraving entitled, "The Gallery, Hammerton House." It represented a long room somewhat like the one in which they stood, but still more like the room she had seen in the crystal; and in the middle distance there was a slightly sketched figure of a woman in a light dress. Half incredulous, half frightened, she pored over the engraving which reproduced so strangely the image she had seen in Maxwell Davison's mysterious ball. "How funny!" she almost whispered. "You may call it funny, of course, that Lady Hammerton succeeded in cheating a Jew, which is what it looks like," rejoined Sanderson, bent on hunting down his quarry; "but it was pretty discreditable to her too." "Not at all," Maxwell Davison's harsh voice broke in. "That was Solomons's look out. I sha'n't bring a lawsuit against the fellow who sold me that Augustus, if it is a forgery. A man's a fool to deal in things he doesn't understand." "What is this glass ball, Mr. Davison?" asked Miss Moore, in her turn taking up the uncanny thing Mildred had laid down. "It's a divining-crystal. In the East certain people, mostly boys, look in these crystals and see all sorts of things, present, past, and to come." Miss Moore laughed. "Or pretend they do!" "Who knows? It isn't of any interest, really. The things that have happened have happened, and the things that are to happen will happen just as surely, whether we foresee them or not." Miss Moore turned to the Master. "Look, Master--this is a divining-crystal, and Mr. Davison's trying to persuade me that in the East people really see visions in it." The Master smiled. "Mr. Davison has a poor opinion of ladies' intelligence, I'm afraid. He thinks they are children, who will believe any fairy tale." Davison had drawn near to Mildred as the Master spoke; his eyes met hers and the impassive face wore a faint, ironical smile. "The Wisdom of the West speaks!" he exclaimed, in a low voice. "I'd almost forgotten the sound of it." Then scrutinizing her pale face: "I'm afraid you've had a scare. What did you see?" "I saw--well, I fancy I saw the Gallery at Hammerton House and my ancestress, Lady Hammerton. It was burned, you know, and she was burned with it, trying to save her collections. I expect she condescended to give me a glimpse of them because I've inherited her mania. I'd be a collector, too, if I had the money." She laughed nervously. "You should take Ian to the East," returned Davison. "You could make money there and learn things--the Wisdom of the East, for instance." Mildred, recovering her equanimity, smiled at him.