If we look into his library we shall see not only the books and statuettes—the silver tankards are gone, melted down into money that was wanted for some sudden exigency—but our old acquaintance, Cleon. The supple Greek was not one of those who take their friends for better, for worse. Jason was wandering about among the hills of Ammon with scarcely a garment to his back or a shekel that he could call his own, and what use could he find for the company of an accomplished gentleman, who had as keen an eye as any one for a fine bit of sculpture or painting, and could not be rivalled, out of the profession, in his taste for wine? The accomplished gentleman knew where he was appreciated, where he was of use, and, naturally, where he was well off. Accordingly he had found means, as such people always do find means, of ingratiating himself with the new occupant of the palace, and was installed as his consulting connoisseur and chief adviser in matters of taste. “A poor creature, certainly,” he had replied to some depreciatory criticism which Menelaüs had passed on his predecessor, “but it must be allowed that he had a taste in art.” “Or was sensible enough to be guided by those who had,” said Menelaüs. Cleon acknowledged the compliment with a bow, and went on, “I never found him make any difficulty about the price. And, of course, if a man goes to work in that spirit, and has good advice, too, he is bound to make a fine collection.” Menelaüs received the observation with a grimace, and a significant shrug of the shoulders. “‘No difficulty about the price,’ you say. Of course not. Why should he? When a man doesn’t pay, he is apt to be easy about the amount. Do you know that the bills for half the things that you see in this room have been sent in to me? Sometimes he had to pay the money down. The ‘Gladiator’ there, from Pergamum could not have been got without ready cash; but wherever he could, he went on credit, and now the dealers are down upon me.” And he held up a sheaf of bills. “Here,” he went on, “is a pretty account from Theodotus of Alexandria, the bookseller, you know: “‘_A Manuscript of Anacreon_ (said to be 10 minæ. autograph) _The Milesian Tales_ 5 „ _Drinking Songs from Cratinus_ 2 „’ And so it goes on, with a quantity of books which I am sure the old impostor never read. Two talents and twelve minæ it comes to altogether. Then here is ‘A Group of the Graces, 1 talent;’ ‘Silenus, 20 minæ;’ ‘Satyr and Nymphs, half a talent.’ ‘Set of Flagons, worked with the Labours of Hercules, 2 talents.’ These the villain melted down before he went. Fancy the rascality of that! Why, the silver by weight could not have been worth a fourth part of what it cost with the workmanship.”