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Page 30
"Lord Emsworth?"
"I have found a curious object in my pocket, Baxter. I was
wondering how it got there."
He handed the thing to his secretary. Rupert Baxter's eyes lit up
with sudden enthusiasm. He gasped.
"Magnificent!" he cried. "Superb!"
Lord Emsworth looked at him inquiringly.
"It is a scarab, Lord Emsworth; and unless I am mistaken--and I
think I may claim to be something of an expert--a Cheops of the
Fourth Dynasty. A wonderful addition to your museum!"
"Is it? By Gad! You don't say so, Baxter!"
"It is, indeed. If it is not a rude question, how much did you
give for it, Lord Emsworth? It must have been the gem of
somebody's collection. Was there a sale at Christie's this
afternoon?"
Lord Emsworth shook his head. "I did not get it at Christie's,
for I recollect that I had an important engagement which
prevented my going to Christie's. To be sure; yes--I had promised
to call on Mr. Peters and examine his collection of--Now I wonder
what it was that Mr. Peters said he collected!"
"Mr. Peters is one of the best-known living collectors of
scarabs."
"Scarabs! You are quite right, Baxter. Now that I recall the
episode, this is a scarab; and Mr. Peters gave it to me."
"Gave it to you, Lord Emsworth?"
"Yes. The whole scene comes back to me. Mr. Peters, after telling
me a great many exceedingly interesting things about scarabs,
which I regret to say I cannot remember, gave me this. And you
say it is really valuable, Baxter?"
"It is, from a collector's point of view, of extraordinary
value."
"Bless my soul!" Lord Emsworth beamed. "This is extremely
interesting, Baxter. One has heard so much of the princely
hospitality of Americans. How exceedingly kind of Mr. Peters! I
shall certainly treasure it, though I must confess that from a
purely spectacular standpoint it leaves me a little cold.
However, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth--eh, Baxter?"
From afar came the silver booming of a gong. Lord Emsworth rose.
"Time to dress for dinner? I had no idea it was so late. Baxter,
you will be going past the museum door. Will you be a good fellow
and place this among the exhibits? You will know what to do with
it better than I. I always think of you as the curator of my
little collection, Baxter--ha-ha! Mind how you step when you are
in the museum. I was painting a chair there yesterday and I think
I left the paint pot on the floor."
He cast a less amiable glance at his studious son.
"Get up, Frederick, and go and dress for dinner. What is that
trash you are reading?"
The Honorable Freddie came out of his book much as a sleepwalker
wakes--with a sense of having been violently assaulted. He looked
up with a kind of stunned plaintiveness.
"Eh, gov'nor?"
"Make haste! Beach rang the gong five minutes ago. What is that
you are reading?"
"Oh, nothing, gov'nor--just a book."
"I wonder you can waste your time on such trash. Make haste!"
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