Sir Amery was anything but explicit with regard to those designs, merely stating that they were so loathsome in what they suggested that it would not do to describe them too closely.
How the things had been made was, as he put it, “anybody’s guess.” The spheres, he told me, had been found at the site of dead G’harne-the first intimation he had offered that he had actually found the place-buried beneath the earth in a lidless stone box which had borne upon its queerly angled sides certain utterly alien engravings. They measured about four inches in diameter, and, though he had been unable to positively identify the material from which they were made, he was able to say that it appeared to be some unknown combination of calcium, chrysolite, and diamond-dust. One day, shortly after I had settled in, Sir Amery showed me a pair of strangely beautiful pearly spheres. I accepted, for I saw the perfect chance to get a little of that peaceful quiet which I find particularly beneficial to my writing.
This invitation was a thing strange in itself, as he was one who had spent months in absolute solitude in various far-flung desolate places and liked to think of himself as something of a hermit. He had been back only a few months when he suddenly left London and invited me up to his cottage, isolated here on the Yorkshire Moors, to keep him company.
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