nner, too, was
immensely improved. His tone was almost gentle. Nevertheless, there
was a perplexed frown upon his forehead and an anxious look in his eyes.

"Business all right, I hope?" Burton asked him, after he had welcomed
his late employer, installed him in an easy chair and pushed a box of
cigarettes towards him.

"It is better than all right," Mr. Waddington replied. "It is
wonderful. We have never had such crowds at the sales, and I have taken
on four more clerks in the house-letting department."

Burton laughed softly. The humor of the auctioneer's position appealed
to him immensely.

"I am making money fast," Mr. Waddington admitted, without enthusiasm.
"Another year or two of this and I could retire comfortably."

"Then what," Burton asked, "is the worry?"

Mr. Waddington smoked vigorously for a moment. "Has it ever occurred
to you, Burton," he inquired, "to ask yourself whether this peculiar
state, in which you and I find ourselves, may be wholly permanent?"

Burton was genuinely startled. He sat looking at his visitor like one
turned to stone. The prospect called up by that simple question was
appalling. His cigarette burned idly away between his fingers. The
shadow of fear lurked in his eyes.

"Not permanent?" he repeated. "I never thought of that. Why do you
ask?"

Mr. Waddington scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was not a graceful
proceeding, and Burton, with a sinking heart, remembered that this was
one of his employer's old habits. He scrutinized his visitor more
closely. Although his appearance at first sight was immaculate, there
were certain alarming symptoms to be noted. His linen collar was
certainly doing service for the second time, and Burton noticed with
dismay a slight revival of the auctioneer's taste for loud colors in his
shirt and socks.

"It was yesterday afternoon," Mr. Waddington continued. "I was selling
an oak chest. I explained that it was not a genuine antique but that it
had certainly some claims to antiquity on account of its design. That
seemed to me to be a very fair way of putting it. Then I saw a man, who
was very keen on buying it, examining the brass handles. He looked up
at me. 'Why, the handles are genuine!' he exclaimed. 'They're real old
brass, anyway!' Now I knew quite well, Burton, that those handles,
though they were extraordinarily near the real thing, were not genuine.
I opened my mouth to tell him so, and then, Burton, do you know that I
hesitated?"