"He's a famous collector of culls and worn-out stock," chuckled the Citrus King. "Bought a ranch near one of mine, and the hoppers ate what trees he had, the first year. Then I got him a flock of turkeys to keep 'em down and he done better next year. But all the secondhand antiques he had over to his ranch house come from a fire sale in Oroville, and consisted principally of a slightly scorched set of real genuine varnished oak dating way back to 1910."
"Who is this that possessed such a treasure?" asked the duke, strolling up and joining our little tour of inspection—for I was with them, being anxious to hear what Mr. Pegg and Abby were talking about.
"Sebastian Markheim!" replied Abby quickly. "He is a friend of dear Mr. Pegg's."
Dear Mr. Pegg indeed! And she had never met him before that evening! I determined to do something about this at once; though just what, and about what, I did not quite know at the moment, but you will understand me. Mr. Pegg, however, beamed at Abby, and then turned to the duke.
"Neighbor of mine on the coast," he explained. "Nice feller, but knows nothing at all about citrus fruit."
"But he does know about antiques," laughed the duke. "His collection is world-famous. Are you interested along those lines?"
"More curious than anything," Mr. Pegg admitted. "You see, I don't intend to let any branch of knowledge go untouched if I can help it. That's one of the traits that makes us Americans so remarkable."
"I see," replied Monteventi. "Have you shown him the Mantegna?" he went on, turning to Abby.
"Mantegna!" I exclaimed; "A genuine Mantegna! How wonderful!"