‘ “Where did you get this?” he repeated. “Have you any idea what it is?”
‘Briefly I told him that, rather than leave a shop empty-handed, I had bought the frog for a half a crown.
‘ “Half a crown! My dear fellow, I can’t swear to it, but I believe you’ve had one of those amazing pieces of luck one hears of. Unless I’m very much mistaken, this is a piece of jade of the Hsia Dynasty. If so, it’s practically unique.”
‘These words conveyed little to my ignorance.
‘ “Do you mean it’s worth money?”
‘ “Worth money? Phew!” he ejaculated. “Look here. Will you leave this business to me? Let me have the thing for my firm to handle. They’ll do the best they can by you. I shall be able to get it into Thursday’s sale.”
‘Certain that I could implicitly trust my friend, I agreed. Reverently enwrapping the frog in cottonwool, he hurried off.
‘Friday morning I had the shock of my life. Shock does not necessarily imply bad news.
‘I assure you that for some seconds after opening the one envelope lying on my dingy breakfast-tray, the room spun round and round. The envelope contained an account from Messrs Spunk, Fine Art Dealers and Auctioneers: “To sale of Hsia jade, £2,000, less 10 per cent commission, £1,800,” and there, neatly folded, made out to Peter Wood, was Messrs Spunk’s cheque for eighteen hundred pounds! For some time I was completely bewildered. My friend’s words had raised hopes – hopes that my chance purchase might facilitate the payment of next quarter’s rent – might possibly even provide for a whole year’s rent – but that so large a sum was involved had never so much as crossed my mind. Could it be true, or was it some hideous joke? Surely, in the trite phrase, it was much, much too good to be true! It wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to oneself.
‘Still feeling physically dizzy, I rang up my friend. His voice and the heartiness of his congratulations convinced me of the truth of my astounding good fortune. It was neither joke, nor dream. I, Peter Wood, whose bank account was at present twenty pounds overdrawn, who, but for shares amounting to one hundred and fifty pounds, possessed no securities whatever, now held in my hand a piece of paper convertible into eighteen hundred golden sovereigns! I sat down to think, to try to realize, to readjust. From my jumble of plans, problems and emotions, one fact emerged crystal clear. Obviously I could not take advantage of that nice girl’s ignorance, nor of her poor old caretaker’s incompetence – whichever was to blame. No, I couldn’t accept this amazing gift from fate, merely because, by a sheer fluke, I had bought a treasure for half a crown.
‘Clearly I must give back at least half the sum to my unconscious benefactors. Otherwise I should feel I had robbed them almost as if, like a thief in the night, I had broken into their shop. I remembered their pleasant, open countenances. What fun to astonish them with my wonderful news! I felt a strong impulse to rush to the shop, but having for once a case in court, was obliged to go to the Temple. Endorsing Messrs Spunk’s cheque, I addressed it to my bankers, and filled in one of my own for £900 made out to the Corner Curio Shop.
‘It was late before I was free to leave the Law Courts, and, when I arrived at the shop I was disappointed, but not surprised to read the notice CLOSED. Even supposing the old caretaker to be on duty, there was no particular point in seeing him. My business was with his mistress. Deciding to postpone my visit to the following day, I was just on the point of hurrying home when exactly as though I were expected, the door opened. There on the threshold stood the old man peering out into the darkness.
‘ “Anything I can do for you, sir?”
‘His voice was even queerer than before. I now realized that I had dreaded re-encountering him, yet I found myself irresistibly compelled to enter. The atmosphere was as grimly cold as on my last visit. I felt myself actually shiver. Several candles, obviously only just lit, were burning. By their glimmer I saw the old man’s questioning gaze intently fixed on me. What a face! I had not exaggerated its weirdness. Never had I seen anyone so singular, so striking. No wonder I had dreamed of him. How I wished he had not opened the door!
‘ “Anything I can show you tonight, sir?” His voice trembled.
‘ “No thanks. I’ve come about that thing you sold me the other day. I find it’s of great value. Please tell your mistress that I’ll pay her a proper price for it tomorrow.’
‘As I spoke there spread over the old man’s face the most wonderful smile. I use the word smile for lack of a better word, but how to convey the beauty of the indefinable expression that transfigured that time-worn face? Tender triumph; gentle joy; rapturous reverence. What mystery did I witness? It was like iron frost yielding to sunshine – the thawing of grief in the dawn-radiance of some unsurmisable redemption. For the first time in my life I had some inkling of the word “beatitude”.
‘I can’t describe the impression made on me. The moment, as it were, brimmed over. Time ceased. I became conscious of infinite things.
‘The silence was now broken by the gathering-itself-together sound of an old clock about to strike. I turned my head towards one of those wonderful, intricate pieces of medieval workmanship – a Nuremberg grandfather clock. From the recess beneath its exquisitely painted face, quaint figures emerged, and while one struck a bell, others demurely stepped through the mazes of a minuet. My attention was riveted by the pretty spectacle. Not till the last sounds had trembled into silence did I turn my head.
‘I found myself alone.
‘The old man
