Where the coved portion flowed into the perpendicular of
the wall there was a broad moulding, like a plate rail, which
acted as a support for the hanging pictures.
Watson counted four of these pictures. Instinctively he felt that
they might give him a valuable clue as to his whereabouts. For,
while his mind had cleared enough for him to feel sure that he had
truly come through the Spot, he knew nothing more. Where was he?
What would the pictures tell?
The first was directly before his eyes. In size perhaps two by
three feet, with its greater length horizontal, it was more of a
landscape than a portrait. And Watson's eagerness for the subject
itself made him forget to note whether the work was mechanically
or manually executed.
For it revealed a girl--about ten or twelve--very slightly draped,
enjoying a wild romp with a most extraordinary creature. It was
this animal that made the picture amazing; there was no subtle
significance in the scene--there was nothing remarkable about the
technique. The whole interest, for Watson, was in the animal.
It was a deer; perfect and beautiful, but cast in a Lilliputian
mould. It stood barely a foot high, the most delicate thing he had
ever looked upon. Mature in every detail of its proportion, the
dainty hoofs, the fragile legs, smooth-coated body, and small,
wide-antlered head--a miniature eight-pointer--made such a vision
as might come to the dreams of a hunter.
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