I see you've nearly finished yours, and I have scarcely begun." It was a vague and disjointed enough story, as related by Septimus Marvin.

And it was the story of Loo Barebone's father.

As it progressed John Turner grew redder and redder in the face, while he drank glass after glass of Burgundy.
"A queer story," he ejaculated, breathlessly.

"Go on.

And you bought this engraving from the man himself, before he died?
Did he tell you where he got it?
It is the portrait of a woman, you say." "Portrait of a woman--yes, yes.