Lamps' at the office, and
I can't keep away from it. I slip it into my drawer if any one comes
in, like an office boy reading the Police Gazette. All the time I am in
the streets I am looking at the buildings, and, Burton, this is the
extraordinary part of it, I know no more about architecture than a babe
unborn, and yet I can tell you where they're wrong, every one of them.
There are some streets I can't pass through, and I close my eyes
whenever I get near Buckingham Palace. On the other hand, I walked a
mile the other day to see a perfect arch down in South Kensington, and
there are some new maisonettes in Queen Anne Street without a single
erring line."

Burton poured himself out a glass of wine from the bottle which his
companion had ordered.

"Mr. Waddington," he said, "this is a queer thing that has happened to
us."

"Not a soul would believe it," the auctioneer assented. "No one will
ever believe it. The person who declared that there was nothing new
under the sun evidently knew nothing about these beans!"

Burton leaned across the table.

"Mr. Waddington," he continued, "I was around at Idlemay House this
morning. I went to see what had become of the flower-pot. I found the
little room swept bare. One of the workmen told me that the things had
been stolen."

Mr. Waddington showed some signs of embarrassment. He waited for his
companion to proceed.

"I wanted the rest of those beans," Burton confessed.

Mr. Waddington shook his head slowly.

"I haven't made up my mind about them yet," he said. "Better leave them
alone."

"You do know where they are, then?" Burton demanded breathlessly.

The auctioneer did not deny it.

"I had them removed," he explained "in a somewhat peculiar fashion. The
fact of it is, the new tenant is a very peculiar man and I did not dare
to ask him to give me that little tree. I simply did not dare to run
the risk. It is a painful subject with me, this, because quite
thoughtlessly I endeavored to assume the appearance of anger on
discovering the theft. The words nearly stuck in my throat and I was
obliged to lie down for an hour afterwards."

Burton drew a little breath of relief.

"I wish I'd asked you about this before," he declared. "I should have
enjoyed my luncheon better."

Mr. Waddington coughed.

"The beans," he remarked, "are in my possession. There are only eleven
of them and I have not yet made up my mind exactly what to do with
them."

"Mr. Waddington