He walked straight to a corner of the exhibition booth, beside a person-high green box. The surface of the box flickered with a faint magical glow, looking like some kind of protective seal.
Devereux raised a hand, his fingertips brushing gently across the surface of the box. With his movement, the surface of the box began to dissolve slowly, the green light turning into countless delicate threads like yarn slipping off a loom, and dissipating into the air.
At last, all the threads contracted into an exquisite hairpin, falling steadily into Devereux's palm.
Chapter 347