“I am no believer in miracles myself,” said James Dodson. “I have no faith in ghosts, spiritualism and sea-serpents either. But it is clear to my mind that that two hundred pounds has got to be found somehow; yet it looks as though a miracle _will_ have to happen before it turns up.” “And the hours are so brief,” said the old man in his impotence. “Each day is beyond price; the great Achilles grows frail.” For a space Dodson was plunged in deep thought. He was not of the mettle that yields lightly to despair. “By the way,” he said, “what was that very funny-looking old volume I saw on the table in your little room--you know, the funny old volume that seemed to have its pages scrawled over in red ink? Well, now it has struck me that those pages--I didn’t look at them carefully--were of the finest vellum of the sort they don’t make now-a-days. If that is the case a dealer might be willing to pay a good price for it, if the red scrawl was nicely cleaned off.” At these words, uttered with singular carelessness, the old man staggered back against the counter of the shop. He trembled in every limb, his face was piteous to see. “You mean the Book of the Ages,” he said. His voice seemed unrelated to anything in nature. “I don’t know what you call it,” said Dodson, “but it looks very heavy and well-bound, and I dare say it is valuable in its way. Vellum of the old monastic sort fetches a rare good price now-a-days if you know where to take it. I shall send a chap with a handcart for it to-morrow, and he shall take it to Temple and Ward, the dealers in Bond Street, and we will see what can be raised.” “The Book of the Ages!” said the old man hoarsely; “the Book of the Ages!” “Yes,” said Dodson indifferently, “the Book of the Ages--rather a good name for it. If that vellum is as old as I think it is, and that red scrawl is nicely got off, and the edges are trimmed, and the surface is cleaned up a bit, there may be money in it. People do buy such rum things now-a-days by way of curios, and they don’t seem to mind paying fancy prices for them either.” “The Book of the Ages!” the old man repeated. In his peering eyes were a horror and a consternation that were truly dreadful, yet they were totally unnoticed by his visitor.