Something odd about music; human beings had to have it, the very lowest in the scale.

A universal magic.

He was himself very fond of good music; but these days he fought shy of it; it had the faculty of sweeping him back into the twenties and reincarnating vanished dreams.
After a certain length of time, from the corner of his eye he saw the clerk returning with the proprietor, the latter wearing an amiable smile, which probably connoted a delving into the aforesaid volumes of attainment and worth.

Cutty hoped this was so, as it would obviate the necessity of going into details as to who he was and what he had.
"Your name is familiar to me," began the proprietor.

"You collect antique drums.