“It is a good deal,” replied a thin and agitated person who thrust himself through the opening door.  “Your father, I mean Sir Alexander, has come to the office unexpectedly and is in a nice taking because he didn’t find you there, sir.  When he discovered that you had gone to the orchid sale he grew furious, sir, furious, and sent me to fetch you.”

“Did he?” replied Mr. Somers in an easy and unruffled tone.  “Well, tell Sir Alexander I am coming at once.  Now please go, Briggs, and tell him I am coming at once.”

Briggs departed not too willingly.

“I must leave you, Mr. Quatermain,” said Mr. Somers as he shut the door behind him.  “But will you promise me not to show that flower to anyone until I return?  I’ll be back within half an hour.”

“Yes, Mr. Somers.  I’ll wait half an hour for you in the sale room, and I promise that no one shall see that flower till you return.”

“Thank you.  You are a good fellow, and I promise you shall lose nothing by your kindness if I can help it.”

We went together into the sale room, where some thought suddenly struck Mr. Somers.

“By Jove!” he said, “I nearly forgot about that Odontoglossum.  Where’s Woodden?  Oh! come here, Woodden, I want to speak to you.”

The person called Woodden obeyed.  He was a man of about fifty, indefinite in colouring, for his eyes were very light-blue or grey and his hair was sandy, tough-looking and strongly made, with big hands that showed signs of work, for the palms were horny and the nails worn down.  He was clad in a suit of shiny black, such as folk of the labouring class wear at a funeral.  I made up my mind at once that he was a gardener.

“Woodden,” said Mr. Somers, “this gentleman here has got the most wonderful orchid in the whole world.  Keep your eye on him and see that he isn’t robbed.  There are people in this room, Mr. Quatermain, who would murder you and throw your body into the Thames for that flower,” he added, darkly.

On receipt of this information Woodden rocked a little on his feet as though he felt the premonitory movements of an earthquake.  It was a habit of his whenever anything astonished him.  Then, fixing his pale eye upon me in a way which showed that my appearance surprised him, he pulled a lock of his sandy hair with his thumb and finger and said: 

“’Servant, sir, and where might this horchid be?”

I pointed to the tin case.

“Yes, it’s there,” went on Mr. Somers, “and that’s what you’ve got to watch.  Mr. Quatermain, if anyone attempts to rob you, call for Woodden and he will knock them down.  He’s my gardener, you know, and entirely to be trusted, especially if it is a matter of knocking anyone down.”

“Aye, I’ll knock him down surely,” said Woodden, doubling his great fist and looking round him with a suspicious eye.