'Four great beastly pictures. The size of elephants. I tell you, there isn't room to move. And—'
Annette hung up the receiver.
Mr Beverley, returned from his walk, was racing up the stairs three at a time in his energetic way, when, as he arrived at Annette's door, it opened.
'Have you a minute to spare?' said Annette.
'Of course. What's the trouble? Have they sold another edition of the waltz?'
'I have not heard, Mr—Bates.'
For once she looked to see the cheerful composure of the man upstairs become ruffled; but he received the blow without agitation.
'You know my name?' he said.
'I know a good deal more than your name. You are a Glasgow millionaire.'
'It's true,' he admitted, 'but it's hereditary. My father was one before me.'