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f mind. He came forward to meet me, as I gave his man my hat and stick, and we shook hands heartily. I was glad to see him, and I think he was glad to see me. He was looking in excellent health, and brown from the voyage over. "It's plain to see that the trip did you good," I said. "Yes," he agreed; "I never felt more fit. But come along; we can talk at table. There's a little difficulty I want you to untangle for me." I followed him upstairs to his study, where a table laid for two had been placed near a low window. "I had lunch served up here," Vantine explained, as we sat down, "because this is the only really pleasant room left in the house. If I didn't own that plot of ground next door, this place would be impossible. As it is, I can keep the sky-scrapers far enough away to get a little sunshine now and then. I've had to put in an air filter, too; and double windows in the bedrooms to keep out the noise; but I dare say I can manage to hang on." "I can understand how you'd hate to move into a new house," I said. Vantine made a grimace. "I couldn't endure a new house. I'm used to this one--I can find my way about in it; I know where things are. I've grown up here, you know; and, as a man gets older, he values such associations more and more. Besides, a new house would mean new fittings, new furniture--" He paused and glanced about the room. Every piece of furniture in it was the work of a master. "I suppose you found some new things while you were away?" I said. "You always do. Your luck's proverbial." "Yes--and it's that I wanted to talk to you about, I brought back six or eight pieces; I'll show them to you presently. They are all pretty good, and one is a thing of beauty. It's more than that--it's an absolutely unique work of art. Only, unfortunately, it isn't mine." "It isn't yours?" "No; and I don't know whose it is. If I did, I'd go buy it. That's what I want you to do for me. It's a Boule cabinet--the most exquisite I ever saw." "Where did it come from?" I questioned, more and more surprised. "It came from Paris, and it was addressed to me. The only explanation I can think of is that my shippers at Paris made a mistake, sent me a cabinet belonging to some one else, and sent mine to the other person." "You had bought one, then?" "Yes; and it hasn't turned up. But beside this one, it's a mere daub. My man Parks got it through the customs yesterday. As there was a Boule cabin
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