Mr.
Quatermain, let me see--those butterflies."
I placed the case on a deal table which stood under a skylight in the
room. I opened it; I removed the cover of wadding, and there, pressed
between two sheets of glass and quite uninjured after all its
journeyings, appeared the golden flower, glorious even in death, and
by its side the broad green leaf.
The young gentleman called Somers looked at it till I thought his eyes
would really start out of his head. He turned away muttering something
and looked again.
"Oh! Heavens," he said at last, "oh! Heavens, is it possible that such
a thing can exist in this imperfect world? You haven't faked it, Mr.
Half--I mean Quatermain, have you?"
"Sir," I said, "for the second time you are making insinuations. Good
morning," and I began to shut up the case.
"Don't be offhanded," he exclaimed. "Pity the weaknesses of a poor
sinner. You don't understand. If only you understood, you would
understand."
"No," I said, "I am bothered if I do."
"Well, you will when you begin to collect orchids.
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