museum would be gone. But this is all old history. I only remind the
reader of what he knows already. I began to bring all my powers, and the
force of the scientific world in Oxbridge, to bear in opposition to the
purchase of the MS. I pulled every wire I knew, and execration was
heaped on me as a vandal, though I only said the University money should
be devoted to other channels than the purchase of doubtful MSS. I was
doing all this, when I was startled by the intelligence that Dr. Groschen
had suddenly come to the conclusion that his find was after all only a
forgery.

The Book of Jasher was a Byzantine fake, and he ascribed the date at the
very earliest to the reign of Alexis Comnenus. Theologians became fierce
on the subject. They had seen the MS.; they knew it was genuine. And
when Dr. Groschen began to have doubts on Aulus Gellius, suggesting it
was a sixteenth-century fabrication, the classical world 'morally and
physically rose and denounced' him. Dr. Groschen, who had something of
the early Christian in his character, bore this shower of opprobrium like
a martyr. 'I may be mistaken,' he said, 'but I believe I have been
deceived. I have been taken in before, and I would not like the MS.
offered to any library before two of the very highest experts could
decide as to its authenticity.' People had long learnt to regard Dr.
Groschen himself as quite the highest expert in the world. They thought
he was out of his senses, though the press commended him for his honesty,
and one daily journal, loudest in declaring its authenticity, said it was
glad Dr. Groschen had detected the forgery long recognised by their
special correspondent. Dr. Groschen was furthermore asked to what
experts he would submit his MS., and by whose decision he would abide.
After some delay and correspondence, he could think of only two--Professor
Girdelstone and Monteagle. They possessed great opportunities, he said,
of judging on such matters. Their erudition was of a steadier and more