I'm sure," replied Mr. Pawley. "I should value that, sir."
Parslewe rose from his chair and left the room. I heard him climb the stair to his library on the next floor of the tower. Mr. Pawley looked at me. It was a peculiarly scrutinising, appraising glance—it gave me an idea that the man was wondering how much he could get out of me in the way of information.
"A very clever and learned gentleman, Mr. Parslewe," he observed. "Uncommon!"
"I agree!" said I.
"Makes a man like me—just beginning to take an interest in these things, do you see—feel that he knows—ah, nothing!" he said.
"I quite understand you," I assented.
"And what a—yes, you might call it—wealth of curiosities he's gathered about him," he continued. "Odds and ends of all sorts. Now, there's an object that's attracted my attention—a very pretty article!"
He rose suddenly, and walking across to the sideboard, picked up the copper box, holding it to the light, and examining it with exaggerated admiration.
