ent. Seven dollars--why it's worth
fifteen if it's worth a cent. Ain't it, Hashmi?"

"Of a surely, yes," said the Jap, with an inscrutable smile.

"But he'll let you have it for just a little more than the wholesale
price in Japan, mind you--in Japan!" cried Ikey. "Seven dollars. Think
of it!"

"What about your commission?" asked Thad, with a grin.

"A mere nothing--I must live, you know," and Ikey shrugged his
shoulders. "Do you want it, Dunk? Why don't you fellows pick out
something? You'll wait until they're gone and be kicking yourselves.
They're dirt cheap--bargains every one. Look at that vawse!" and he held
up another to view in the pencil of light from the flash torch.

"It would do for crackers, I suppose," said Andy, doubtfully.

"Crackers!" gasped Ikey. "Tell him what it is for, Hashmi. I haven't the
heart," and he pretended to weep.

"This jar--he is for the holding of the petals of roses that were sent
by your loved ones--the perfumes of Eros," murmured the poetical
Japanese.

"Oh, for the love of tripe! Hold me, I'm going to faint, Gertie!" cried
Bob. "Rose petals from your loved ones! Oh, slush!"

"It is true," and Hashmi did not seem to resent being laughed at. "But
it would do for crackers as well."

"How much?" asked Andy.

"Only five dollars--worth ten," whispered Ikey.

"Well, it would look nice on my stand," said Andy weakly. "I--I'll take
it."

"And I guess you may as well wish me onto that dead ancestor jar," added
Dunk. "I'm always getting stuck anyhow. Seven plunks is getting off
easy."

"You will never regret it," murmured Ikey. "Where is that paper, Hashmi?
Now don't you fellows let anyone else in on this game until I give the
word. I'm taking care of my friends first, then the rest of the bunch.
Friends first, say I."

"Yes, if you're going to stick anybody, stick your friends first,"
laughed Dunk. "They're the easiest. Go ahead, now you fellows bite," and
he looked at Bob, Thad and Ted.

"What's this--a handkerchief box?" asked Ted, picking up one covered
with black and gold lacquer.

"Handkerchief box! Shades of Koami!" cried Ikey. "That, you dunce, is a
box made to----Oh, you tell him, Hashmi, I haven't the heart."

"No, he wants to figure out how much he's made on us," added Andy.

"That box--he is for the retaining of the messages from the departed,"
explained the Japanese.

"You mean it's a spiritualist cabinet?" demanded Thad. "I say now, will
it do the rappi