, where every jar and bookcase
and table, and every rug and jar and ornament seemed to be a thing
apart, preserving each its own individuality.

"Anything fresh lately?" said Villiers after a while.

"No; I think not; you saw those queer jugs, didn't you? I thought so.
I don't think I have come across anything for the last few weeks."

Austin glanced around the room from cupboard to cupboard, from shelf to
shelf, in search of some new oddity. His eyes fell at last on an odd
chest, pleasantly and quaintly carved, which stood in a dark corner of
the room.

"Ah," he said, "I was forgetting, I have got something to show you."
Austin unlocked the chest, drew out a thick quarto volume, laid it on
the table, and resumed the cigar he had put down.

"Did you know Arthur Meyrick the painter, Villiers?"

"A little; I met him two or three times at the house of a friend of
mine. What has become of him? I haven't heard his name mentioned for
some time."

"He's dead."

"You don't say so! Quite young, wasn't he?"

"Yes; only thirty when he died."

"What did he die of?"

"I don't know. He was an intimate friend of mine, and a thoroughly
good fellow. He used to come here and talk to me for hours, and he was
one of the best talkers I have met. He could even talk about painting,
and that's more than can be said of most painters. About eighteen
months ago he was feeling rather overworked, and partly at my
suggestion he went off on a sort of roving expedition, with no very
definite end or aim about it. I believe New York was to be his first
port, but I never heard from him. Three months ago I got this book,
with a very civil letter from an English doctor practising at Buenos
Ayres, stating that he had attended the late Mr. Meyrick during his
illness, and that the deceased had expressed an earnest wish that the
enclosed packet should be sent to me after his death. That was all."

"And haven't you written for further particulars?"

"I have been thinking of doing so. You would advise me to write to the
doctor?"

"Certainly. And what about the book?"

"It was sealed up when I got it. I don't think the doctor had seen it."

"It is something very rare? Meyrick was a collector, perhaps?"

"No, I think not, hardly a collector. Now, what do you think of these
Ainu jugs?"

"They are peculiar, but I like them. But aren't you going to show me
poor Meyrick's legacy?"

"Yes, yes, to be sure. The fact is, it's rathe