HOLLOWAY’S COROT . 
8r 
u Perhaps,” said Thompson, pensively. 
“ On my soul, Mandeville, T should like to 
rob old Holloway. He’s got some wonderful 
tilings in that library of his. I don't know 
whether you’ve been in it ? ” 
“ I’ve never been near the house more than 
once since he had it,” said Mandeville, u but 
T used to go there when I was a boy.” 
“ Ah,” said Thompson, “ I tell you, he’s 
got Dresden china there that would make 
the experts sit up, and pictures worth any 
money. I don’t know much about art. but 
I believe there was a blighter called Corot 
who did very pretty things. He's got one or 
two of those, and a little one by the mantel- 
piece must be worth thousands in the market. 
Last week Holloway let me take an American 
over there to see them, and I could hardly 
keep his American hands off it. He wanted 
to buy it. but of course Holloway refused.” 
“ What American was that ? ” asked Mande- 
ville. u Was it the one you were about with 
lately ? ” 
“ That’s the chap,” nodded Thompson. 
“ A very good sort, but an awful scoundrel, 
lie said to me, as we came away in his car, 
‘ For a row of pins I’d burgle the house, 
Thompson, and steal that picture. If you 
happen to know a burglar who’d do it for you, 
I’ll give you three thousand for the canvas 
without the frame, if you get him to throw 
in that Dresden group in the little cabinet.’ ” 
“ Did he mean it? ” asked Mandeville, idly. 
“ He meant it all right,” said Thompson. 
“ I asked him, and he replied, ‘ My dear 
Major, I’m known as Say-it-and-mean-it 
Baker of Milwaukee. My word is a great 
deal better than my bond, and far, far better 
than my character.’ ” 
“ Ah,” said Mandeville, “ it’s a pity we 
can’t oblige him. I shouldn’t mind getting 
even with Holloway now, although he’s so 
nice to Margery. He hasn’t behaved well 
over this company. A man in his position 
ought to have put up a hundred thousand 
pounds, to say the least of it ; and now I’m 
suffering and my mother suffers.” 
*' Egg on Margery to talk to him,” said 
Thompson. 
But Mandeville shook his head. 
“ It’s no good,” he said. “ She and his wife 
have been at him for months past about that 
cottage hospital. And he’s the only really 
rich man about here.” 
“ I don’t believe lie’s half so bad as he 
seems,” said Thompson. “ But you’ve got 
to hang on here, if you rob his house and sell 
his pictures to Baker of Milwaukee, who 
always says what he means and means what 
Vol, xlvi. — 9. 
he says. So buck up if you want to get. 
married.” 
Mandeville had to take a dose of bromide 
that night before he could sleep. Towards 
the morning he dreamed. He found himself 
upon his bicycle going as hard as he could 
pelt through a heavy storm to Holloway’s 
house. He had no idea how he came upon 
the road, but suddenly found himself driving 
into the gale. He did not know the road very 
well, and yet in this dream he saw every detail 
of it. He was nearly at the house before he 
knew why he was going there in this dream, 
and when he knew he laughed. Then there 
was a gap, as there so often is in dreams. 
He found himself inside the house, which was 
full of beautiful things, of valuable furniture. 
He wandered all over the house, and in the 
end found himself in the room with a Corot 
in his hands, the Corot that Baker wanted at 
any price, honestly or dishonestly. Then he 
found himself back in his own room in his 
own house with the picture. He locked it 
up, and was then aware that he had left 
his bicycle planted in the hedge outside 
Holloway’s grounds. He went back to look 
for it, and had got half-way to Holloway’s 
when he woke up in his own bed. 
He was not in good health, and was a man 
of nervous temperament. This dream had a 
strange effect upon him. He knew something 
of dream psychology; he had read more of 
Freud than most English doctors, for he knew 
German. He had listened to Thompson’s idle 
talk about Baker and this Corot without pay- 
ing much attention to it, yet now it seemed 
to him that the seed had taken root. 
In the morning he received a letter from 
his mother. She had herself written to Mr. 
Holloway, pointing out the position in which 
she was placed by the failure of a company 
for which he was obviously responsible. 
Whether it was that Holloway’s secretary was 
away or not, this letter had been answered by 
Holloway himself. His reply was anything 
but courteous, and amounted to a general 
statement that people who speculated must 
sometimes expect to lose their money. 
As he read this letter Mandeville wondered 
if Holloway knew the person to whom he 
wrote was the mother of the doctor over at 
Bampton. It was possible, but not likely. 
If he did know, the tone of his letter might 
have been influenced in some way by the fact 
that the old jam manufacturer had shown 
himself very hostile to Mandeville with regard 
to Margery Thwaites. He felt that to get 
even with Holloway was about all that 
remained to him. 
