"By Jove," said the Duke, turning to tap the leaf of a rubber tree with his finger, "that fellow's a Nigerian, isn't he?" "I hardly know," said Mr. Fyshe, "I imagine so"; and he added, "You've been in Nigeria, Duke?" "Oh, some years ago," said the Duke, "after big game, you know—fine place for it." "Did you get any?" asked Mr. Fyshe. "Not much," said the Duke; "a hippo or two." "Ah," said Mr. Fyshe. "And, of course, now and then a giro," the Duke went on, and added, "My sister was luckier, though; she potted a rhino one day, straight out of a doolie; I call that rather good." Mr. Fyshe called it that too. "Ah, now here's a good thing," the Duke went on, looking at a picture. He carried in his waistcoat pocket an eyeglass that he used for pictures and for Tamworth hogs, and he put it to his eye with one hand, keeping the other in the left pocket of his jacket; "and this—this is a very good thing." "I believe so," said Mr. Fyshe. "You really have some awfully good things here," continued the Duke. He had seen far too many pictures in too many places ever to speak of "values" or "compositions" or anything of that sort. The Duke merely looked at a picture and said, "Now here's a good thing," or "Ah! here now is a very good thing," or, "I say, here's a really good thing." No one could get past this sort of criticism. The Duke had long since found it bullet-proof. "They showed me some rather good things in New York," he went on, "but really the things you have here seem to be awfully good things." Indeed, the Duke was truly pleased with the pictures, for something in their composition, or else in the soft, expensive light that shone on them, enabled him to see in the distant background of each a hundred thousand sterling. And that is a very beautiful picture indeed. "When you come to our side of the water, Fyshe," said the Duke, "I must show you my Botticelli." Had Mr. Fyshe, who knew nothing of art, expressed his real thought, he would have said, "Show me your which?" But he only
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