"Precisely. But this gentleman buys only this that are not for sale."
It sounded dazzling and she wavered. "I don't know—you were only to put a price on them—"
"Let me see him look at them first; then I'll put a price on them," he chuckled; and without waiting for her answer he went to the door and opened it. The gesture revealed the fur-coated back of a gentleman who stood at the opposite end of the hall examining the bust of a seventeenth century field-marshal.
The dealer addressed the back respectfully. "Mr. Moffatt!"
Moffatt, who appeared to be interested in the bust, glanced over his shoulder without moving. "See here—"
His glance took in Undine, widened to astonishment and passed into apostrophe. "Well, if this ain't the damnedest—!" He came forward and took her by both hands. "Why, what on earth are you doing down here?"
She laughed and blushed, in a tremor at the odd turn of the adventure.
"I live here. Didn't you know?"
"Not a word—never thought of asking the party's name." He turned jovially to the bowing dealer. "Say—I told you those tapestries'd have to be out and outers to make up for the trip; but now I see I was mistaken."
Undine looked at him curiously. His physical appearance was unchanged: he was as compact and ruddy as ever, with the same astute eyes under the same guileless brow; but his self-confidence had become less aggressive, and she had never seen him so gallantly at ease.
"I didn't know you'd become a great collector."