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Twice I had outbid Mr。 Potts at a local auction for articles which he
desired。 Moreover； after the fashion of every good collector he felt
it to be his duty to hate me as another collector。 Lastly； several
times I had offered him smaller sums for antiques upon which he set a
certain monetary value。 It is true that long ago I had given up this
bargaining for the reason that Mr。 Potts would never take less than he
asked。 Indeed he followed the example of the vendor of the Sibylline
books in ancient Rome。 He did not destroy the goods indeed after the
fashion of that person and demand the price of all of them for the one
that remained； but invariably he put up his figure by 10 per cent。 and
nothing would induce him to take off one farthing。
〃What do /you/ want； sir？〃 he said grumpily。 〃Vests； hose； collars； or
socks？〃
〃Oh； socks； I think；〃 I replied at hazard； thinking that they would be
easiest to carry； whereupon Mr。 Potts produced some peculiarly
objectionable and shapeless woollen articles which he almost threw at
me； saying that they were all he had in stock。 Now I detest woollen
socks and never wear them。 Still； I made a purchase； thinking with
sympathy of my old gardener whose feet they would soon be scratching；
and while the parcel was being tied up； said in an insinuating voice；
〃Anything fresh upstairs； Mr。 Potts？〃
〃No； sir；〃 he answered shortly； 〃at least； not much； and if there were
what's the use of showing them to you after the business about that
clock？〃
〃It was ？5 you wanted for it； Mr。 Potts？〃 I asked。
〃No； sir； it was ？7 and now it's 10 per cent。 on to that； you can
work out the sum for yourself。〃
〃Well； let's have another look at it； Mr。 Potts；〃 I replied humbly；
whereon with a grunt and a muttered injunction to Tom to mind the
shop； he led the way upstairs。
Now the house in which Mr。 Potts dwelt had once been of considerable
pretensions and was very； very old； Elizabethan； I should think；
although it had been refronted with a horrible stucco to suit modern
tastes。 The oak staircase was good though narrow； and led to numerous
small rooms upon two floors above； some of which rooms were panelled
and had oak beams； now whitewashed like the panellingat least they
had once been whitewashed； probably in the last generation。
These rooms were literally crammed with every sort of old furniture；
most of it decrepit； though for many of the articles dealers would
have given a good price。 But at dealers Mr。 Potts drew the line； not
one of them had ever set a foot upon that oaken stair。 To the attics
the place was filled with this furniture and other articles such as
books； china； samplers with the glass broken； and I know not what
besides； piled in heaps upon the floor。 Indeed where Mr。 Potts slept
was a mystery； either it must have been under the counter in his shop；
or perhaps at nights he inhabited a worm…eaten Jacobean bedstead which
stood in an attic； for I observed a kind of pathway to it running
through a number of legless chairs； also some dirty blankets between
the moth…riddled curtains。
Not far from this bedstead； propped in an intoxicated way against the
sloping wall of the old house； stood the clock which I desired。 It was
one of the first 〃regulator〃 clocks with a wooden pendulum； used by
the maker himself to check the time…keeping of all his other clocks；
and enclosed in a chaste and perfect mahogany case of the very best
style of its period。 So beautiful was it； indeed； that it had been an
instance of 〃love at first sight〃 between us； and although there was
an estrangement on the matter of settlements； or in other words over
the question of price； now I felt that never more could that clock and
I be parted。
So I agreed to give old Potts the ？0 or； to be accurate； ？8 14s。
which he asked on the 10 per cent。 rise principle； thankful in my
heart that he had not made it more； and prepared to go。 As I turned；
however； my eye fell upon a large chest of the almost indestructible
yellow cypress wood of which were made； it is said； the doors of St。
Peter's at Rome that stood for eight hundred years and； for aught I
know； are still standing； as good as on the day when they were put up。
〃Marriage coffer；〃 said Potts； answering my unspoken question。
〃Italian； about 1600？〃 I suggested。
〃May be so； or perhaps Dutch made by Italian artists； but older than
that； for somebody has burnt 1597 on the lid with a hot iron。 Not for
sale； not for sale at all； much too good to sell。 Just you look inside
it； the old key is tied to the spring lock。 Never saw such poker…work
in my life。 Gods and goddesses and I don't know what； and Venus
sitting in the middle in a wreath of flowers with nothing on； and
holding two hearts in her hands； which shows that it was a marriage
chest。 Once it was full of some bride's outfit； sheets and linen and
clothes； and God knows what。 I wonder where she has got to to…day。
Some place where the moth don't eat clothes； I hope。 Bought it at the
break…up of an ancient family who fled to Norfolk on the revocation of
the Edict of NantesHuguenot； of course。 Years ago； years ago！
Haven't looked into it for many years； indeed； but think there's
nothing there but rubbish now。〃
Thus he mumbled on while he found and untied the old key。 The spring
lock had grown stiff from disuse and want of oil； but at length it
turned and reopened the chest revealing the poker…work glories on the
inner side of the lid and elsewhere。 Glories they were indeed； never
had I seen such artistry of the sort。
〃Can't see it properly；〃 muttered Potts； 〃windows want washing；
haven't been done since my wife died； and that's twenty years ago。
Miss her very much； of course； but thank God there's no spring…
cleaning now。 The things I've seen broken in spring…cleaning！ yes； and
lost； too。 It was after one of them that I told my wife that now I
understood why the Mahomedans declare that women have no souls。 When
she came to understand what I meant； which it took her a long time to
do； we had a row； a regular row； and she threw a Dresden figure at my
head。 Luckily I caught it； having been a cricketer when young。 Well；
she's gone now； and no doubt heaven's a tidier place than it used to
bethat is； if they will stand her rummagings there； which I doubt。
Look at that Venus； ain't she a beauty？ Might have been done by Titian
when his paints ran out； and he had to take to a hot iron to express
his art。 What； you can't see her well？ Wait a bit and I'll get a
lantern。 Can't have a naked candle herethings too valuable； no money
could buy them again。 My wife and I had another row about naked
candles； or it may have been a paraffin lamp。 You sit in that old
prayer…stool and look at the work。〃
Off he went crawling down the dusky stairs and leaving me wondering
what Mrs。 Potts； of whom now I heard for the first time； could have
been like。 An aggravating woman； I felt sure； for upon whatever points
men differ； as to 〃spring…cleaning〃 they are all of one mind。 No doubt
he was better without her； for what did that dried…up old artist want
with a wife？
Dismissing Mrs。 Potts from my mind； which； to tell the truth； seemed
to have no