t
silence at the pulpit, where a gentleman of commanding presence and
sparkling pince-nez was delivering a species of chant. Behind a gold
curtain at the end of the room mysterious forms flitted to and fro.
Archie, who had been expecting something on the lines of the New York
Stock Exchange, which he had once been privileged to visit when it was
in a more than usually feverish mood, found the atmosphere oppressively
ecclesiastical. He sat down and looked about him. The presiding priest
went on with his chant.

"Sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen--worth three
hundred--sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen--ought to bring five
hundred--sixteen-sixteen-seventeen-seventeen-eighteen-eighteen
nineteen-nineteen-nineteen."

He stopped and eyed the worshippers with a glittering and reproachful
eye. They had, it seemed, disappointed him. His lips curled, and he
waved a hand towards a grimly uncomfortable-looking chair with insecure
legs and a good deal of gold paint about it. "Gentlemen! Ladies and
gentlemen! You are not here to waste my time; I am not here to
waste yours. Am I seriously offered nineteen dollars for this
eighteenth-century chair, acknowledged to be the finest piece sold
in New York for months and months? Am I--twenty? I thank you.
Twenty-twenty-twenty-twenty. YOUR opportunity! Priceless. Very few
extant. Twenty-five-five-five-five-thirty-thirty. Just what
you are looking for. The only one in the City of New York.
Thirty-five-five-five-five. Forty-forty-forty-forty-forty. Look at those
legs! Back it into the light, Willie. Let the light fall on those legs!"

Willie, a sort of acolyte, manoeuvred the chair as directed. Reggie van
Tuyl, who had been yawning in a hopeless sort of way, showed his first
flicker of interest.

"Willie," he observed, eyeing that youth more with pity than reproach,
"has a face like Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy, don't you think so?"

Archie nodded briefly. Precisely the same criticism had occurred to him.

"Forty-five-five-five-five-five," chanted the high-priest. "Once
forty-five. Twice forty-five. Third and last call, forty-five. Sold at
forty-five. Gentleman in the fifth row."

Archie looked up and down the row with a keen eye. He was anxious to
see who had been chump enough to give forty-five dollars for such
a frightful object. He became aware of the dog-faced Willie leaning
towards him.

"Name, please?" said the canine one.

"Eh, what?" said Archie. "Oh, my name's Moffam