were polished and placed like jewels of great price in their
descriptive setting. And they were jewels. He had mined them out of
strange places in that ancient town. He had taken his time and in
digging for his beloved facts, he had found many an unexpected wonder.

Knowing his father as he did, Warren could see the story told by Ivan
as plainly as though he had been present. One thing made him smile as
he recalled it. His father would not use a typewriter, and anything
written in his strange, cramped hand would look suspicions at once.
And he knew, too, that his father would resent even the touch of
strangers on the beloved pages. He smiled a little bitterly.

"Go on, Ivan," he said. "Let's hear it all."

"A detachment of soldiers came down the street," said Ivan, rubbing his
lame muscles, "and as they came they looked through every house. I
suppose they were on the lookout for troops of our soldiers. When
they reached this place, your father met them at door and talked a
moment with the officer in charge. Of course Evelyn and I did not know
what they said, but the officer grew angry and your father just stood
there and smiled and shook his head. Then Evelyn went to your father
and as soon as the officer saw her he bowed very low, and in English
said, 'Prettee, prettee.' Evelyn came back to us and took the baby
from Jack.

"Then the door slammed, and we heard the big bolt fall, and your father
dragged that big chest across it and came in as pleased as could be.
He said, 'There, I have settled that! Such impertinence! They wanted
to search my house!'