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"Yes: the war had then been in progress four years, and many brilliant victories had been won, the greatest of which was probably the Battle of Blenheim." "Quite so," murmured Eastford. "It was the English," Casper cried, "That put the French to rout; "But what they killed each other for, "I never could make out." The officer looked up in astonishment.
Seven years later, when the war ended, I got leave of absence and came back to Elsengore for Gretlich Seidelmier and the hour-glass." As the lieutenant ceased speaking, Eastford thought he heard again the explosion under the tower, and started to his feet in nervous alarm, then looked at the lieutenant and laughed, while he said:
Presently he took the glass from the table and examined it with some attention. He thought at first its frame was ebony, but further inspection convinced him it was oak, blackened with age. On one round end was carved rudely two hearts overlapping, and twined about them a pair of serpents. "Now, I wonder what that's for?" murmured Eastford to himself. "An attempt at a coat of arms, perhaps."
"Lieutenant, I was startled by that noise just now, and imagined for the moment that I was in Brabant. You have made good your claim to the hour-glass, and you are welcome to it." But as Eastford spoke, he turned his eyes towards the chair in which the lieutenant had been seated, and found it vacant. Gazing round the room, in half somnolent dismay, he saw that he was indeed alone.
That night in his room Bertram Eastford wrote busily until a late hour. When his work was concluded, he pushed away his manuscript with a sigh of that deep contentment which comes to a man who has not wasted his day.
At his feet was the shattered hour-glass, which had fallen from his knee, its blood-red sand mingling with the colours on the carpet. Eastford said, with an air of surprise: "By Jove!" The young naval officer came into this world with two eyes and two arms; he left it with but one of each nevertheless the remaining eye was ever quick to see, and the remaining arm ever strong to seize.
Eastford watched the ever-increasing heap at the bottom, rising conically, changing its shape every moment, as little avalanches of the sand fell away from its heightening sides. "There is no need for you to extol its antiquity," said Eastford, with a smile. "I knew the moment I looked at it that such glasses are rare, and you are not going to find me a cheapening customer."
I have but a few moments to stay. I have come for my hour-glass, if you will be good enough to let me have it." "Your hour-glass?" ejaculated Eastford, in surprise. "I think you labour under a misapprehension. The glass belongs to me; I bought it to-day at the old curiosity shop in Finchmore Street."
It always does this, and, of course, I cannot remedy the matter because the glass is hermetically sealed." "Well, I don't want it as a timekeeper, so we will not allow that defect to interfere with the sale. How much do you ask for it?" The dealer named his price, and Eastford paid the amount. "I shall send it to you this afternoon." "Thank you," said the customer, taking his leave.
The tiny stream of sand suddenly ceased, but resumed its flow the moment its owner jarred the frame, and continued pouring without further interruption. "That is very singular," said Eastford. "How do you account for it?" "I imagine it is caused by some inequality in the grains of sand; probably a few atoms larger than the others come together at the neck, and so stop the percolation.
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