They found Mr Globestein in. He came hurrying, all smiles, to greet his most distinguished patron. His rooms were luxurious caves of treasure-trove, to the gathering of which he had sacrificed whatever conscience he had once possessed. He was a tall, black-moustached man, neither ill-looking nor ostentatious in dress, but, if anything, somewhat over glossy in appearance. He gave one the impression of having rubbed shoulders with gentlefolks to the extent of acquiring all their superficial polish, and nothing more. His nose was fleshy, his lips were a little gross; there was a suggestion in his smile, assured but a trifle sickly, of a challenge to justice to prove a case against him. “Mr Globestein,” said Gilead, “I have been told that you have a statuette by Pigalle for sale. Is that so? Tell me plainly. I desire no huckstering.” He, the prince of courtesy, could be unmerciful to baseness. He treated this famous expert with a haughty intolerance which should have closed all dealings on the spot. “It is perfectly true, Mr Balm,” said the dealer smoothly; “there is no reason why I should deny it.” “You know best, sir,” answered Gilead. “You will let us see it, if you please.” Mr Globestein conducted them into a further room, enriched like the other, and led them to a pedestal, on which stood a little marble figure of a girl, with a bird settled on her uplifted hand. They all stood silent by it for a while. “Well, Dexter?” said Gilead presently. “Unimpeachable,” answered the adviser; “and a first example.” Mr Globestein laughed. “You do me proud, Mr Dexter, sir,” he said, with a shadow of mockery in his voice. “I was really afraid you were going to impugn my judgment.” The adviser came erect with a smile. “Surely, Mr Globestein,” he said, “you should be the last to recommend the buying of a pig in a poke.” “Enough, sir,” said Gilead. “Tell me, if you please, what is the price you ask for this?” The dealer shrugged his shoulders slightly, and extended his hands. “Pigalles,” he said, “are scarce and costly, Mr Balm. They rarely, very rarely occur. I could not, in justice to myself, ask a penny less than three thousand guineas.” “It is too much.” Mr Globestein sighed, shrugged again, and said nothing. “It is too much, I say.” “I will not deny, Mr Balm,” said the expert, “that your patronage and good opinion are of the first importance to me. I will make a concession to them, unprofitable enough to me, but I will trust to you to make it up in other directions. You shall have the statuette for three thousand guineas less the shillings, the exact price I gave for it.” “You will let me have the statuette for the exact price you gave for it?” “That is so, Mr Balm.” “Dexter,” said Gilead; “you mark that?” The adviser answered in the affirmative, wondering what was to come.