"Don't shout like that, Orson," came back from the porcelain closet.
"You almost made me drop this thing."

"Well, drop it, and come on. This is important."

I wiped the moisture from my brow and respectfully put my clenched
fists into my pockets.

A minute later, three females appeared on the scene, all of them dusting
their hands and curling their noses in disgust.

"I never saw such a dirty place," said the foremost, a large lady who
couldn't, by any circumstance of fate, have been anybody's wife but
Rocksworth's. "It's filthy! What do you want?"

"I've bought this thing here for seventy-five. You said I couldn't get
it for a nickle under a thousand. And say, this man tells me the hall
seat here belonged to Pontius Pilate in--"

"Pardon me," I interrupted, "I merely said that he sat in it. I am not
trying to deceive you, sir."

"And the treaty was signed on this table," said Mr. Riley-Werkheimer.
He addressed himself to a plump young lady with a distorted bust and
a twenty-two inch waist. "Maude, what do you know about the
Roman-Teutonic treaty? We'll catch you now, my friend," he went on,
turning to me. "My daughter is up in ancient history. She's an
authority."