“And you never know,” said Jill, “we might see something priceless.”

Jonah shook his head.

“Depend upon it,” he said, “the oleographs have gone to Christie’s, same as the fumed oak.  Only the dud stuff’s left.  However, have it your own way.”  With a sigh, he let in the clutch.  “If you’re not there by a quarter past one, I shall begin.”

Jill slid an arm through mine, which she squeezed excitedly.

“I’m sure we shall find something, Boy.  I just feel it.  It always happens like this.  You see, it isn’t as if we were looking for a sale.  We’ve just run right into one.  And last night I dreamed about cretonnes.”

“That settles it,” said I, as the Rolls glided out of our way and we started to cross the road.  “All the same, Jonah’s probably right.  But I love a sale.  I’m afraid it’s curiosity more than anything.”

Catalogues were handed us at the front door, and we passed into a fine square hall, where a dresser and a large gate-table, each conspicuously labelled, declared that the late occupant was a man of taste.

“Two very fine pieces, sir,” said a voice.  “Coming up this afternoon.”  I turned to see a short stout man in a 1907 bowler and two overcoats, which he wore open, regarding the furniture with an appraising look.  With difficulty he extracted a card from an inside pocket.  “If you’re thinkin’ of buyin’ anythin’, Major, that’s me card, an’ I’ll be very ‘appy to ac’ for you.”

“Thanks, I don’t think——­”

“All right, Major, all right.  Only if you should, I’m always about,” he added hastily, turning away in response to a cry which had arisen for “Mr.  ‘Olly.”  “Comin’, comin’!” he cried, making for what I took to be the drawing room.

I slipped his card into my pocket and we passed on.

The tallboy chest was standing alone in its dignity at the top of the broad staircase.

The moment I saw it I knew it was good stuff.  And Jill gave a little cry and began to chatter, till I laid my hand on her arm with a warning pressure.

“Hush,” I said quickly, “don’t give it away.  Of course they all know it’s good, but we needn’t seem over-anxious.  Try and look as if you thought it might do for the harness-room if it was enamelled.”

“O-o-oh, Boy.”

Such chests may be handsome and—­rarely—­elegant, but this was dainty.  Standing upon short cabriole legs, it was small, but of exquisite proportions, and had been built, I judged, in the reign of Queen Anne.  The walnut which had gone to its making was picked wood, and its drawers were faced with oyster-shell and inlaid with box.  Their handles were perfect, and, indeed, the whole chest was untouched and without blemish, shining with that clean lustre which only wax and constant elbow-grease can bring about.

When I had examined the piece as carefully as I dared, I winked at Jill and descended into the hall.

Mr. Holly was awaiting us.