that he possessed in that room what the collectors of two
continents desired, who felt them buzzing outside like wasps against a
closed window, took a special pleasure in the scoffs of the advanced
crew. They supplied an agreeable acid amid a general adulation that
bored him.

To-night the presence of the pictures merely increased the excitement
which was the background of his mind. He talked about them a good deal
at dinner, wondering secretly all the time, what it would be like to do
without them--without Flood--without his old butler there--without
everything.

Douglas came down late, and was very silent and irresponsive. He too was
morbidly conscious of the pictures, though he wished his father wouldn't
talk about them. He was conscious of everything that meant money--of his
mother's pearls for instance, which she wore every evening without
thinking about them. If he did well with the pictures on the morrow she
might, perhaps, justly keep them, as a dowry for Nelly. But if not--He
found himself secretly watching his mother, wondering how she would take
it all when she really understood--what sort of person she would turn
out to be in the new life to which they were all helplessly tending.

After dinner, he followed his father into the smoking room.

"Where is the catalogue of the pictures, father?"

"In the library, Duggy, to the right hand of the fire-place. I paid a
fellow a very handsome sum for making it--a fellow who knew a lot--a
real expert. But, of course, when we published it, all the other experts
tore it to pieces."

"If I bring it, will you go through it with me?"

Sir Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't think I will, Duggy. The catalogue--there are a great many
marginal notes on it which the published copies haven't got--will tell
you all I know about them, and a great deal more. And you'll find a
loose paper at the beginning, on which I've noted down the prices people
have offered me for them from time to time. Like their impudence, I used
to think! I leave it to you, old boy. I know it's a great responsibility
for a young fellow like you. But the fact is--I'm pumped. Besides, when
they make their offer, we can talk it over. I think I'll go and play a
game of backgammon with your mother."

He threw away his cigar, and Douglas, angry at what seemed to him his
father's shirking, stood stiffly aside to let him pass. Sir Arthur
opened the door. He seemed to walk uncertainly, and he stooped a