Armour's work there.'

Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its
counterpart in a shrug. 'Yass,' he said, 'I haf some of Mr.
Armour's work there. This one, that one, all those remaining
pictures--they are all the work of Mr. Armour.'

'I didn't know that any of his things were to be seen outside his
studio,' I observed.

'So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.'

'Why should there be any objection?' I demanded, slightly nettled.
'People must see them before they buy them.'

'Buy them!' Kauffer's tone was distinctly exasperated. 'Who will
buy these pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to
REfuse.'

'If you know Mr. Armour well enough,' I said, 'you should advise him
to exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might
sell better.'

My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest
angry red.

'Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough--und better!' he exclaimed.
'What this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving,
mein Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very
goot animal subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred