"I think so. I'll go over each canvas very carefully and give you my opinion for what it's worth. But, for Heaven's sake, Dankmere, where are we going to put all these canvases?" "I suppose," said the Earl gloomily, "I'll be obliged to store what you haven't room for. And as I gradually grow poorer and poorer the day will arrive when I can't pay storage; and they'll sell 'em under my nose at auction, Quarren. And first I know the papers will blossom out with: 'A Wonderful Rembrandt discovered in a junk-shop! Ancient picture bought for five dollars and pronounced a gem by experts! Lucky purchaser refuses a hundred thousand dollars cash!'" Quarren laughed and turned away into the house; and Dankmere followed, gloomily predicting his own approaching financial annihilation. From his office Quarren telephoned a picture dealer to send men with heavy wire, hooks, ladders and other paraphernalia; then he and Dankmere made their toilets, resumed their coats, and returned to the sunny office to await events. After a few moments the Earl said abruptly: "Would you care to go into this venture with me, Quarren?" "I?" said Quarren, surprised. "Yes. Will you?" "Why, I have my own business, Dankmere----" "Is it enough to keep you busy?" "No--not yet--but I----" "Then, like a good fellow, help me sell these damned pictures. I haven't any money to offer you, Quarren, but if you'll be willing to hang the pictures around your office here and in the back parlour and the extension, and if you'll talk the merry talk to the lunatics who may come in to look at 'em and tell 'em what the bally pictures are and fix the proper prices--why--why, I'll make any arrangement with you that you please. Say a half interest, now. Would that be fair?" "Fair? Of course! It's far too liberal an offer--but I----" "It's worth that to me, Quarren--if you can see your way to helping me out----" "But my help isn't worth half what these pictures might very easily bring--even at public auction----" "Why not? I'd have to pay an auctioneer, an expert to appraise them--an art dealer to hang them in his gallery for a couple of weeks--either that or rent a place by the year. The only way I can recompense you for your wall space, for talking art talk to visitors, for fixing prices, is to offer you half of what we make. Why not? You pay a pretty stiff rent here, don't you? You also pay a servant. You pay for heat and light, don't you? So if you'll turn this floor into a combination gallery of sorts--art and real estate, you see--we'll go into business, egad! What? The Dankmere galleries! What? By gad I'll have a sign made to hang out there beside your shingle--only I'm afraid you'll have to pay for it, Quarren, and recompense yourself after we sell the first picture." "But, Dankmere," he protested, very much amused, "I don't want to become a picture dealer."