“Stop here,” he said to the coachman; “I shan’t be long.  Be so good as to follow me, Mr. What’s-your-name, and you, too, Gardener.”

We followed, and found ourselves in a big room luxuriously furnished in a heavy kind of way.  Sir Alexander Somers, I should explain, was an enormously opulent bullion-broker, whatever a bullion-broker may be.  In this room Mr. Stephen was already established; indeed, he was seated on the window-sill swinging his leg.

“Now we are alone and comfortable,” growled Sir Alexander with sarcastic ferocity.

“As the boa-constrictor said to the rabbit in the cage,” I remarked.

I did not mean to say it, but I had grown nervous, and the thought leapt from my lips in words.  Again Mr. Stephen began to swell.  He turned his face to the window as though to contemplate the wall beyond, but I could see his shoulders shaking.  A dim light of intelligence shone in Woodden’s pale eyes.  About three minutes later the joke got home.  He gurgled something about boa-constrictors and rabbits and gave a short, loud laugh.  As for Sir Alexander, he merely said: 

“I did not catch your remark, sir, would you be so good as to repeat it?”

As I appeared unwilling to accept the invitation, he went on: 

“Perhaps, then, you would repeat what you told me in that sale-room?”

“Why should I?” I asked.  “I spoke quite clearly and you seemed to understand.”

“You are right,” replied Sir Alexander; “to waste time is useless.”  He wheeled round on Woodden, who was standing near the door still holding the paper-wrapped plant in front of him.  “Now, Blockhead,” he shouted, “tell me why you brought that thing.”

Woodden made no answer, only rocked a little.  Sir Alexander reiterated his command.  This time Woodden set the plant upon a table and replied: 

“If you’re aspeaking to me, sir, that baint my name, and what’s more, if you calls me so again, I’ll punch your head, whoever you be,” and very deliberately he rolled up the sleeves on his brawny arms, a sight at which I too began to swell with inward merriment.

“Look here, father,” said Mr. Stephen, stepping forward.  “What’s the use of all this?  The thing’s perfectly plain.  I did tell Woodden to buy the plant at any price.  What is more I gave him a written authority which was passed up to the auctioneer.  There’s no getting out of it.  It is true it never occurred to me that it would go for anything like £2,300—­the odd £300 was more my idea, but Woodden only obeyed his orders, and ought not to be abused for doing so.”

“There’s what I call a master worth serving,” remarked Woodden.

“Very well, young man,” said Sir Alexander, “you have purchased this article.  Will you be so good as to tell me how you propose it should be paid for.”

“I propose, father, that you should pay for it,” replied Mr. Stephen sweetly.  “Two thousand three hundred pounds, or ten times that amount, would not make you appreciably poorer.  But if, as is probable, you take a different view, then I propose to pay for it myself.  As you know a certain sum of money came to me under my mother’s will in which you have only a life interest.  I shall raise the amount upon that security—­or otherwise.”