“That’s queer,” Mr. Waddington murmured.  “Do you know,” he continued, dropping his voice and looking around him anxiously, “that I’ve taken to reading Ruskin?  I’ve got a copy of ‘The Seven Lamps’ at the office, and I can’t keep away from it.  I slip it into my drawer if any one comes in, like an office boy reading the Police Gazette.  All the time I am in the streets I am looking at the buildings, and, Burton, this is the extraordinary part of it, I know no more about architecture than a babe unborn, and yet I can tell you where they’re wrong, every one of them.  There are some streets I can’t pass through, and I close my eyes whenever I get near Buckingham Palace.  On the other hand, I walked a mile the other day to see a perfect arch down in South Kensington, and there are some new maisonettes in Queen Anne Street without a single erring line.”

Burton poured himself out a glass of wine from the bottle which his companion had ordered.

“Mr. Waddington,” he said, “this is a queer thing that has happened to us.”

“Not a soul would believe it,” the auctioneer assented.  “No one will ever believe it.  The person who declared that there was nothing new under the sun evidently knew nothing about these beans!”

Burton leaned across the table.

“Mr. Waddington,” he continued, “I was around at Idlemay House this morning.  I went to see what had become of the flower-pot.  I found the little room swept bare.  One of the workmen told me that the things had been stolen.”

Mr. Waddington showed some signs of embarrassment.  He waited for his companion to proceed.

“I wanted the rest of those beans,” Burton confessed.

Mr. Waddington shook his head slowly.

“I haven’t made up my mind about them yet,” he said.  “Better leave them alone.”

“You do know where they are, then?” Burton demanded breathlessly.

The auctioneer did not deny it.

“I had them removed,” he explained “in a somewhat peculiar fashion.  The fact of it is, the new tenant is a very peculiar man and I did not dare to ask him to give me that little tree.  I simply did not dare to run the risk.  It is a painful subject with me, this, because quite thoughtlessly I endeavored to assume the appearance of anger on discovering the theft.  The words nearly stuck in my throat and I was obliged to lie down for an hour afterwards.”

Burton drew a little breath of relief.

“I wish I’d asked you about this before,” he declared.  “I should have enjoyed my luncheon better.”

Mr. Waddington coughed.

“The beans,” he remarked, “are in my possession.  There are only eleven of them and I have not yet made up my mind exactly what to do with them.”

“Mr. Waddington,” Burton said impressively, “have you forgotten that I am a married man?”

Mr. Waddington started.

“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed.  “I had forgotten that!