Mr. MacTavish lost no time in calling at Mrs. Stillwell’s house. She was out, but had left a note for the gentleman from Mr. Ringsmith’s, asking him to look at the pictures, and expressing her regret that she could not show them to him herself. She was quite unable, she said, to decide upon a price, which she left entirely to Mr. Ringsmith. * * * * * A few days later Mrs. Stillwell was writing to her boy at the Front when Mr. MacTavish was announced. She is a slight, refined, gentle-looking little lady, and rose from her chair with some embarrassment. She had never had anything to do with gentlemen like Mr. MacTavish before, and hardly knew whether she ought to shake hands with him or not; but she did so with a gracious and slightly deprecating air. She felt she was under an obligation to him for giving him so much trouble, and she disliked very much being compelled to talk to him about selling her pictures. “Won’t you have a cup of tea, Mr. MacTavish?” she asked, not knowing exactly what to say. The tall Scotsman declined politely, and came straight to business. “I’ve talked the matter over with Mr. Ringsmith, Mrs. Stillwell, and if you’re agreeable I am prepared to buy the three pictures for the firm.” Mrs. Stillwell half-rose from her chair. “Oh, thank you very much, thank you very much!” she said hastily. “Purely a matter of business, madam. You may not be aware that in these times buying pictures is a somewhat dangerous operation.” “Oh, indeed! I didn’t know.” Mrs. Stillwell blanched at the word “dangerous.” “I mean, we may be compelled to keep them for a considerable time. It’s not easy to find purchasers.” “No, I suppose not, Mr. MacTavish.” “You are still unable to fix a price, Mrs. Stillwell?” “I really--I--no, I don’t think so. I have no idea what the value of the pictures is.” “Pictures have no value, madam; they are worth just what they can be sold for, neither more nor less.” “Oh, indeed! Yes.” “Mr. Ringsmith has decided to give you what I think may be considered in the circumstances a very handsome price for the three pictures. He has told me that I may offer you £5,000.” “Oh, I’m sure that’s very kind indeed of Mr. Ringsmith.” Mrs. Stillwell was quite astonished; she had not expected nearly so much. MacTavish lost no time; he handed her a cheque, and in a few moments took his departure. Some weeks passed. Ringsmith again occupied the deep leather chair, and Peter Knott was announced. “Good afternoon, Stephen; thought I’d look in for a moment. No, thanks.” This in answer to Ringsmith’s offer of tea. “Mrs. Stillwell told me about the deal, Stephen.” “Well, were you satisfied?” Peter Knott didn’t answer the question.