He dashed up the narrow wooden stairs.

"Look alive now, Waters: get my bath ready."

"It is ready, sir."

"And breakfast!"

"Whenever you please, sir."

He took off his dust-smothered travelling-coat, and was about to fling
it on the couch, when he saw lying there two pieces of some brilliant
stuff that were strange to him.

"What are these things?"

"They were left, sir, by Mr. ----, of Bond Street, on approval. He will
call this afternoon."

"Tell him to go to the devil!" said Brand, briefly, as he walked off
into his bedroom.

Presently he came back.

"Stay a bit," said he; and he took up the two long strips of
silk-embroidered stuff--Florentine work, probably, of about the end of
the sixteenth century. The ground was a delicate yellowish-gray, with an
initial letter worked in various colors over it. Mr. ----, of Bond
Street, knew that Brand had often amused his idle hours abroad in
picking up things like this, chiefly as presents to lady friends, and