A divan, half concealed by some rich colored tapestry, occupied the window-seat. The walls were covered with things of unusual interest—old musical instruments, bits of valuable plate, and specimens of various enamels, for Danforth was a collector of no mean order. On each side of the fireplace stood a suit of Japanese armor. Little carved ivory figures crowded the mantlepiece. The book-case of black oak, bearing a date of the middle ages, with monastic facings, was filled with rare volumes. The centre table alone showed evidences of work; books of reference and written manuscript covered it. A number of quill pens were standing upright in a silver box filled with shot.
Hart could not conceal his interest. He was closely examining one of the ivory carvings when Danforth, who had returned from a trip to the other room, spoke to him.
"Have a glass of wine, Mr. Hart," he said.
He extended a yellow, Venetian glass; two dragons were on each side for handles, and the golden wine seethed and bubbled from the bottom of it. Hart took it very gingerly. He had never touched champagne before, but the taste was not objectionable, and as Danforth
