The faint greenish patina that covered it could have been painted only by the hand of the greatest artist of them all, Time.
A book-case occupied the northern space, between the windows.

It, too, was crammed with scientific reports, oddments of out-of-the-way lore, and travels.

But here a profusion of war-books and official documents showed another bent of the owner's mind.

Over the book-case hung two German gasmasks.

They seemed, in the half-dusk, to glower down through their round, empty eyeholes like sinister devil-fish awaiting prey.
The masks were flanked by rifles, bayonets, knives, maces, all bearing scars of battle.