hall-seat that Pontius Pilate sat in when waiting for an audience with
the first of the great Teutonic barons. The treaty between the Romans
and the Teutons was signed on that table over there,--the one you have
so judiciously selected, I perceive. Of course, you know that _this_ was
the Saxon seat of government. Charlemagne lived here with all his
court."

They tried not to look impressed, but rather overdid it.

"That's the sort of a story you fellows always put up, you skinflints
from Boston. I'll bet my head you _are_ from Boston," said Mr.
Rocksworth shrewdly.

"I couldn't afford to have you lose your head, Mr. Rocksworth, so I
shan't take you on," said I merrily.

"Don't get fresh now," said he stiffly.

Mr. Riley-Werkheimer walked past me to take a closer look at the seat,
almost treading on my toes rather than to give an inch to me.

"How can you prove that it's the genuine article?" he demanded curtly.

"You have my word for it, sir," I said quietly.

"Pish tush!" said he.

Mr. Rocksworth turned in the direction of the banquet hall.

"Carrie!" he shouted. "Come here a minute, will you?"