That Mike had delayed or entirely forgotten to hammer up these same iron shutters when the stranger brought in the dressing-case accounted for the fact of Otto Kling’s shop having been kept open until so late.  It also accounted for the fact that when the same stranger appeared early the next morning (Mike was tending the store) and made his way to where the Irishman sat he found him conning the head-lines of the morning paper.  That worthy man-of-all-work, never having laid eyes on him before, at once made a mental note of the intruder’s well-cut English clothes, heavy walking-shoes, and short brier-wood pipe, and, concluding therefrom that he was a person of importance, stretched out his hand toward the bell-rope in connection with the breakfast-room above, at the same time saying with great urbanity:  “Take a chair, or, if yer cold, come up near the stove.  Mr. Kling will be down in a minute.  He’s up-stairs eatin’ his breakfast with his little girl.  I’m not his man or I’d wait on ye meself.  A little fresh, ain’t it, after the wet night we had?”

“I left a dressing-case here last night,” ventured the intruder.

Mike’s chin went out with a quick movement, his face expressive of supreme disgust at his mistake.  “Oh, is it that?  Somethin’ ye had to sell?  Well, then, maybe you’d better call durin’ the day.”

“No, I will wait—­you need not ring.  I have nothing else to do, and Mr. Kling may have a great deal.  I take it you are from the north of Ireland, either Londonderry or near there.  Am I right?”

“I’m from Lifford, within reach of it.  How the divil did ye know?”

“I can tell from your brogue.  How long have you been in this country?”

“About five years—­going on six now.  How long have you been here?”

“How long?  Well—­” Here he bent over the table against which he had been leaning, selected a cup from a group of china, turned it upside down in search of the mark, and then, as if he had momentarily forgotten himself, answered slowly:  “Oh, not long—­a few months or so.  You do not object to my looking these over?” he asked, this time reversing a plate and subjecting it to the same scrutiny.

“No, so ye don’t let go of ’em.  Fellow come in here last week and broke a teapot foolin’ wid it.”

The visitor, without replying, continued his cool examination of the collection, consisting of articles of different makes and colors.  Presently, gathering up a pair of cups and saucers, he said:  “These should be in a glass case or in the safe.  They are old Spode and very rare.  Ah, here is Mr. Kling!  I have amused myself, sir, in looking over part of your stock.  You seem to have undervalued these cups and saucers.  They are very rare, and if you had a full set of them they would be almost priceless.  This is old Spode,” he continued, pointing to the cipher on the bottom of each cup.

“Vell, I didn’t tink dot ven I bought it.”