The lens

"Excellent, Bulter," said Lord Edward, getting seated with a sigh into a luxurious armchair. "I couldn't have done better myself, if i say so. The thought of the Dante makes my mouth water—and the 'Four Sons of Aymon.' And you have saved me £60—that is simply remarkable. On what thing shall we spend it on, Bulter? Think of it—all ours, to do as we wish to, for as Harold Skimpole so rightly has said, £60 saved is £60 gained, and I'd reckoned on spending it all. It's your saving, Bulter, and properly mentioning it, it is your £60. What do we wish for? Anything in your department? Would you like anything changed in the flat?"

"Well, Ahhh, my lord, as your lordship is so kind"—the man-servant halted, about to pour an old brandy into a liqueur glass-ware.

"Well, off with it, my Bulter, you imperturbable old hypocrite. It's no use talking as if you were announcing dinner—you're spilling off the brandy. The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau. What does that blessed darkroom of yours wish for now? Huh?"

" Well, you see there is a Double Anastigmat with a set of supplementary lenses, my lord," said Bulter, with a note similar of spiritual fervour. "If it was a case of forgery now—or footprints—I could expand them right up on the plate. Or the wide-angled lens would  be pretty helpful. It's as if the camera has eyes at the back of its head, my lord. Look—I have got it here with me."