"The linoleum," I said, with a wave of the hand.
"Very much worn," said Mr. Bennett.
I called his attention to the piece under the bed.
"Not under there," I said. "I never walk on that piece. It's as good as new."
He made a note. "What else?" he said.
I showed him round the collection. He saw the Louis Quatorze curtain-rods, the cork bedroom suite, the Cæsarian nail-brush (quite bald), the antique shaving-mirror with genuine crack—he saw it all. And then we went back into the other rooms and found some more things for him.
"Yes," he said, consulting his note-book. "And now how would you like me to buy these?"
"At a large price," I said. "If you have brought your cheque-book I'll lend you a pen."
"You want me to make you an offer? Otherwise I should sell them by auction for you, deducting ten per cent commission."
"Not by auction," I said impulsively. "I couldn't bear to know how much, or rather how little, my Georgian bureau fetched. It was there, as I think I told you, that I wrote my Guide to the Round Pond. Give me an inclusive price for the lot, and never, never let me know the details."