"Yes; incised lacquer. They wanted that for the South Kensington Museum. Hits you bang in the eye, don't it?"
Hunsaker examined it as Quinney expatiated upon the enamelling and colour. His enthusiasm, his accurate knowledge, his love of precious objects for their beauty of design and craftsmanship, impressed the young man tremendously. He remembered what Tomlin had said: "You'll find Quinney a character. What he tells you is right is right! That's how he's built up a thumping big business." Hunsaker had not been vastly impressed by Tomlin, but he was quite certain that he had spoken the truth about Quinney. His heart warmed to the little man. When Quinney paused he said gratefully:
"I'm much obliged; it's an education to see such treasures."
"The only education I've had, Mr. Hunsaker."
"I only wish that I could tempt you to part with one of them—this cabinet, for instance."
"It's not for sale. I'd like to oblige you. Is there anything else you particularly fancy?"
Hunsaker's roving eye was captivated by the K'ang He mirror-black bottle, standing alone in its glory upon the top of the cabinet.
"I like that black and gold jar."
"Um! It's not bad, but there ought to be two of 'em."
Posy wiped her pretty forehead. At the mention of the K'ang He jar, in which lay snug the key of the cabinet, she had trembled with apprehension. Hunsaker said quickly: