“Ah!” said the old Greek, forgetting even gold for a moment and staring at the thing he had unveiled. “What Philistine smashed it? If he wanted to use his hammer why did he not wait for the next opening of the English Royal Academy? But if he had done that, of course, he would not have been a Philistine, but a lover of art.” “It is a fine piece of work,” said Freyberger, “and you have done the restoration not badly.” “Which reminds me of my fifteen shillings,” replied the other. “How?” “This way. Detective Freyberger brings me a bust to reconstruct. Now, detective officers, however clever, do not as a rule call upon me with busts to be reconstructed without a motive. Do you know whom that piece of marble represents?” “No.” Antonides rubbed his hands together. “Would you give me fifteen shillings to learn?” “I would.” “Well, I already know that you are on the Gyde case, which is in all the papers.” “Who told you?” “That bust, and you confirmed my knowledge by admitting the fact.” “It may be a speaking likeness of some one, but I doubt if it is so full of speech as that.” “Oh, yes, it is; now do you know whom it represents?” “I tell you again, No.” “It is a bust of Sir Anthony Gyde.” “Hum,” said Freyberger, concealing the satisfaction that this confirmation of his already formed suspicion gave him. “And how do you know that?” “Good Lord,” said Antonides. “How do I know that? Why, he has been in my shop twenty times, if once.” “Here’s your fifteen shillings,” said the detective. “And how about my fifteen pounds?” “Here they are.” “Thanks, and remember the words of an old man. If you had kept your mouth shut, it might have saved you fifteen shillings, if I hadn’t known for a certainty that you were on the Gyde case. Then I would have said, ‘Oh, he knows whom the thing represents,’ and I would have talked about it and given information for nothing. You wish to take the thing away?” “Yes.” “Well, you can’t till this evening, for the joinings will not be firmly set till then. I will send it for you to the Yard. It will be quite safe here.” “Very well. But don’t send it; one of our men will call for it. Yes, you have made a very good job of it and I congratulate you. I know something about art.” “You?” said Antonides, contemptuously, pocketing the notes. “And what branch of art do you know something about?” “Cookery. I am going over to the Itala to have some breakfast; come with me.” “You pay?” “Yes.” Antonides grinned, wriggled out of the gabardine he wore, got into an old frock coat that was hanging from a nail on the wall, put on an old top-hat, led the way downstairs, set the Jew boy to clean some bronzes, locked him into the shop, and, pocketing the key, followed Freyberger across the way to the restaurant.