It is all very odd, certainly. Do you mind
showing me the watch?'
He detached it from his waistcoat, chain and all,
and passed it to me without a word. The case was
of gold, very thick and strong, and singularly en-
graved. After closely examining the dial and observ-
ing that it was nearly twelve o'clock, I opened it at
the back and was interested to observe an inner case
of ivory, upon which was painted a miniature por-
trait in that exquisite and delicate manner which
was in vogue during the eighteenth century.
'Why, bless my soul!' I exclaimed, feeling a sharp
artistic delight--'how under the sun did you get
that done? I thought miniature painting on ivory was
a lost art.'
'That,' he replied, gravely smiling, 'is not I;
it is my excellent great-grandfather, the late Bram-
well Olcott Bartine, Esquire, of Virginia. He was
younger then than later--about my age, in fact.
It is said to resemble me; do you think so?'
'Resemble you? I should say so! Barring the
costume, which I supposed you to have assumed
out of compliment to the art--or for vraisemblance,
so to say--and the no moustache, that portrait is
you in every feature, line, and expression.'
No more was said at that time. Bartine took a
book from the table and began reading. I heard
outside the incessant plash of the rain in the street.
There were occasional hurried footfalls on the side-
walks; and once a slower, heavier tread seemed to
cease at my door--a policeman, I thought, seeking
shelter in the doorway.
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