married her some two years ago, whither he had gone to probe into the
truth of the amazing statement that a runic stone had been unearthed in
that part of the globe."

"Ah, then you need not tell me the gentleman's name, Mr. Narkom,"
interposed Cleek. "I remember perfectly well the stir which that
ridiculous and unfounded statement created at the time. Despite the fact
that scholars of all nations scoffed at the thing, and pointed out that
the very term 'rune' is of Teutonic origin, one enthusiastic old
gentleman--Mr. Michael Bawdrey, a retired brewer, thirsting for
something more enduring than malt to carry his name down the
ages--became fired with enthusiasm upon the subject, and set forth for
Java 'hot foot,' as one might say. I remember that the papers made great
game of him; but I heard, I fancy, that, in spite of all, he was a dear,
lovable old chap, and not at all like the creature the cartoonists
portrayed him."

"What a memory you have, my dear Cleek. Yes, that is the party; and he
_is_ a dear, lovable old chap at bottom. Collects old china, old
weapons, old armour, curiosities of all sorts--lots of 'em bogus, no
doubt; catch the charlatans among the dealers letting a chance like that
slip them--and is never so happy as when showing his 'collection' to his
friends and being mistaken by the ignorant for a man of deep learning."

"A very human trait, Mr. Narkom. We all are anxious that the world
should set the highest possible valuation upon us. It is only when we
are underrated that we object. So this dear, deluded old gentleman,
having failed to secure a 'rune' in Java, brought back something equally
cryptic--a woman? Was the lady of his choice a native or merely an
inhabitant of the island?"