“Well, I think you might risk five shillings; you don’t see such ugliness every day, and I should not wonder if it was a good piece.  I’ve never come across one like it.”

“All right then, I’ll take the horror.”

And in another moment the bargain was effected.  Douglas tendered two half-crowns, which the old woman carefully examined and pocketed, then she wrapped up the figure in a piece of crumpled newspaper, and presently he and his friend departed, each bearing his booty.

“There is little to find now,” said Hutton, as they passed through the gates; “the Market has become one of the weekly fashionable gatherings of the town, and is dredged by dealers from all over England, who look on it as a sort of lucky-bag—­but the bag is nearly empty.”

Mrs. Malone was enchanted with the monster—­she had a secret weakness for cheap little gifts—­that is to say, from her own particular friends.  More than once Douglas had brought her some trifling tribute, but his mother had felt deeply affronted by such uncalled for generosity to a stranger; and when he ventured to exhibit the Chinese atrocity, she exclaimed with great bitterness: 

“Oh, for Mrs. Malone, Of course!  It’s rather strange that you never think of bringing me a present.”

“But, mother, you wouldn’t care for this sort of thing,” he protested, “and it was awfully cheap.”

“Cheap and nasty!” she retorted.  “If you had offered me such hideous rubbish, I’d have sent it straight to the dustbin!”

CHAPTER V

CLOUDS

It was an abnormally hot summer; all London lay at the mercy of a fierce and fiery sun; grass in the parks was brown, plants drooped in window boxes, and there was not even a little breeze to stir the soft dust under foot, nor one hopeful cloud in the blue vault overhead.  But in the sky of Douglas Shafto’s existence dark and threatening clouds were gathering; the largest of these was a haunting fear that his mother intended to marry her admirer, Manasseh Levison—­the prosperous dealer in furniture and antiquities, a wealthy man, who owned, besides his business, a fine mansion at Tooting; this he had closed after the death of Mrs. Levison, when he had repaired to “Malahide” for society and distraction—­bidden there by his lively old friend, Mrs. Moses Galli.  The shrivelled little miserly widow was his confidante, and, for the illumination of Mrs. Shafto, she had drawn glowing pictures of Khartoum House, and outlined an imposing sketch of the luxuries awaiting its future mistress.  It was noticed as a significant fact that when Mrs. Shafto and Madame Galli went to Eastbourne for a week (at Mrs. Shafto’s expense), they had been joined at the Grand Hotel by Manasseh Levison, who treated them to a special banquet, enlivened by the finest brands of champagne—­and had subsequently motored them back to town.