might have been the name, and not the face, which was
familiar to him. What do you think?'

'I couldn't say. To the best of my belief it was after turning the
portrait in his hands that he nearly dropped from his chair. The name,
you know, was written on the back.'

'Quite so. After all, it is impossible to come to any resolution in a
case like this. I hate melodrama, and nothing strikes me as more
commonplace and tedious than the ordinary ghost story of commerce; but
really, Villiers, it looks as if there were something very queer at the
bottom of all this.'

The two men had, without noticing it, turned up Ashley Street, leading
northward from Piccadilly. It was a long street, and rather a gloomy
one, but here and there a brighter taste had illuminated the dark houses
with flowers, and gay curtains, and a cheerful paint on the doors.
Villiers glanced up as Austin stopped speaking, and looked at one of
these houses; geraniums, red and white, drooped from every sill, and
daffodil-coloured curtains were draped back from each window.

'It looks cheerful, doesn't it?' he said.

'Yes, and the inside is still more cheery. One of the pleasantest houses
of the season, so I have heard. I haven't been there myself, but I've
met several men who have, and they tell me it's uncommonly jovial.'

'Whose house is it?'

'A Mrs. Beaumont's.'

'And who is she?'

'I couldn't tell you. I have heard she comes from South America, but,
after all, who she is is of little consequence. She is a very wealthy
woman, there's no doubt of that, and some of the best people have taken
her up. I hear she has some wonderful claret, really marvellous wine,
which must have cost a fabulous sum. Lord Argentine was telling me about
it; he was there last Sunday evening. He assures me he has never tasted
such a wine, and Argentine, as you know, is an expert. By the way, that
reminds me, she must be an oddish sort of woman, this Mrs. Beaumont.
Argentine asked her how old the wine was, and what do you think she
said? "About a thousand years, I believe." Lord Argentine thought she
was chaffing him, you know, but when he laughed she said she was
speaking quite seriously, and offered to show him the jar. Of course, he
couldn't say anything more after that; but it seems rather antiquated
for a beverage, doesn't it? Why, here we are at my rooms. Come in, won't
you?'

'Thanks, I think I will. I haven't seen the curiosity-shop for some
time.'

It was a roo