re stony broke," he went
on, frankly. "And everyone _does_ know, anyhow, that we'd be in the deuce
of a hole without the tourists' shillings which pour in twice a week the
year round. You see, each object in the collection helps bring in those
shillings; and 'loss of use' of a single one would be a real deprivation.
So it's fair and above board. But thus far, I've paid my premium and got
no return, these last three years. Our tourists are so disgustingly
honest, or our burglars so clumsy and unenterprising, that, as you say
in the States, 'there's nothing doing.'"

As he talked Dick Annesley-Seton sauntered about the immense room into
which they had come from the state banqueting hall, switching on more and
more of the electric candle-lights set high on the green brocade walls.
This was known as the "green drawing room" by the family, and the "Room
of the Miniatures" by the public, who read about it in catalogues.

"Come and look at our white elephants," he went on, when the room, dimly
and economically lit at first, was ablaze with light; and Mr. and Mrs.
Nelson Smith joined him eagerly. Constance followed, too, bored but
resigned; and her husband paused before a tall, narrow glass cabinet
standing in a recess.

"See these miniatures!" he exclaimed, fretfully. "There are plenty more,
but the best are in this cabinet; and there's a millionaire chap, in New
York--perhaps you can guess his name, Smith?--who has offered a hundred
thousand pounds for the thirty little bits of ivory in it."

"I think that must have been the great Paul Van Vreck," Knight hazarded.

"I thought you'd guess! There aren't many who'd make such an offer. Think
what it would mean to me if it could be accepted, and I could have the
handling of the money. There are three small pictures in the little
octagon gallery next door, too, Van Vreck took a fancy to on a visit he
paid us from Saturday to Monday last summer. We never thought much of
them, and they're in a dark place, labelled in the catalogue 'Artist
unknown: School of Fragonard'; but _he_ swore they were authentic
Fragonards, and would have backed his opinion to the tune of fifteen
thousand pounds for the trio, or six thousand for the one he liked best.
Isn't it aggravating? In the Chinese room he went mad over some bits of
jade, especially a Buddha nobody else had ever admired."

"He's one of the few millionaire collectors who is really a judge of all
sorts of things," Knight replied. "Bu