"I am coming back already," he declared faintly. "Thank Heavens! Mr.
Waddington, your room is charming, sir. Japanese prints, too! I had no
idea that you were interested in them. That third one is exquisite.
And what a dado!"
"Hewlings himself designed it for me," Mr. Waddington observed, with satisfaction. "There are several things I should like you to notice, Burton. That lacquer-work box!"
Burton was already holding it in his fingers and was gazing at it lovingly.
"It is perfect," he admitted. "What workmanship! You are indeed fortunate, Mr. Waddington. And isn't that Mona Lisa on the walls? What a beautiful reproduction! I am saving up money even now to go to Paris to see the original. Only a few nights ago I was reading Pater's appreciation of it."
He rose and wandered around the room, making murmured comments all the time. Presently he came back to the table and glanced down at the sheets of manuscript.
"Mr. Waddington," he said, "let me take these to my friend. I feel that the last few hours must have been a sort of nightmare, and yet—"
He drew out a little box from his waistcoat pocket and peered inside.
He was suddenly grave.
"It was no nightmare, then," he muttered. "I have really taken a bean."
"You took it not a quarter of an hour ago," Mr. Waddington told him.
Burton sighed.