“I’ve been away,” said Mr. Lane. “Been taking a bit of a holiday.”
“Lucky to be you, sir, to ’ave the money to spare,” said Mr. Dobb. “Why, I ain’t seen you, come to think of it, not since the morning you bought that antike chair off of me. I ’ope you never repented that antike bargain, sir?” he asked, with tremulous lips.
“Well, I must say it didn’t turn out quite as I expected,” admitted Mr. Lane; “but I’m not grumbling.”
“Spoke like a sportsman!” declared Mr. Dobb.
“Funny thing, when I took that stuffing to bits,” observed Mr. Lane. “You’ll never guess what I found hidden in the seat?”
“Bag o’ gold!” suggested Mr. Dobb.
“No. An old book!”
“Never!” breathed Mr. Dobb, incredulously.
“It’s a fact!” asseverated Mr. Lane. “Believe me or believe me not, there was a big, old-fashioned musty old book!”
“Fancy that!” said Mr. Dobb.