over his shoulder, and the man behind him was surprised at the
expression that had overspread his face, the sombre light that glowed in
his eyes. In a moment the adventurer was lost, another being had come
uppermost--a strange, unexpected being.

"What do you think of this picture?"

The Irishman did not answer for a moment, then his eyes returned to the
canvas and his tongue was loosed.

"If you want to know," he said, "I think it's the most damnable thing
I've ever seen. When the Gallic mind runs to morbidity there's nothing
to touch it for filth."

"Why filth?"

"Why filth? My dear boy, look at this--and this!" He pointed to the
other pictures, each a study of monkey life, each a travesty of some
human passion.

The boy obeyed, conscientiously and slowly, then once more his eyes
challenged his companion's.

"I say again, why filth?"

"Because there is enough of the beast in every man without advertising
it."

"You admit that there is something of the beast in every man?"