[100]on commission. Well, it stuck in Bostock's shop—in his window and out of his window—for twelve months and more, and then one day the landlord of the Reindeer saw it and he bought it for six shillings, because his public-house was in it. He was half-drunk. Mr. Bostock charged me eighteenpence commission, and I bought you two neckties with the four and six, and I said nothing because I didn't want your feelings to be hurt. And that reminds me, last week but one they took the landlord of the Reindeer off to the lunatic asylum.... So, you see!
Carve. (Serious, preoccupied.) And where's the picture now?
Janet. I shouldn't be surprised if it's in the private bar of the Reindeer.
Carve. I must get hold of it.
Janet. Albert, you aren't vexed, are you?
Carve. (Forcing himself to adopt a light tone.) How could I be vexed with two neckties to the good? But don't do it again, Jane. I shall go round to the Reindeer this morning and have a drink. If that picture ever found its way to a Bond Street expert's, the consequences might be awkward—devilish awkward. Because it's dated, you see.
Janet. No, I don't see. I shouldn't have said
[101]a word about it, only I wanted to save you from being disappointed later on.
Carve. (In a new casual tone.) Just get me my cash-box, will you?
(Janet at once produces the cash-box from a drawer.)