The Wrong Box

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday

  Punctually at eight o'clock next morning the lawyer rattled (accordingto previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadlyaltered for the worse--bleached, bloodshot, and chalky--a man uponwires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Norwas the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend.Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certainmercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor couldanything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifletoo like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallenaltogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-outshepherd's tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known totailors as 'heather mixture'; his neckcloth was black, and tied looselyin a sailor's knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages;and his feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old softfelt, which he removed with a flourish as he entered.

  'Here I am, William Dent!' he cried, and drawing from his pockettwo little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks likesidewhiskers and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of aballet-girl.

  Pitman laughed sadly. 'I should never have known you,' said he.

  'Nor were you intended to,' returned Michael, replacing his falsewhiskers in his pocket. 'Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, anddisguise you up to the nines.'

  'Disguise!' cried the artist. 'Must I indeed disguise myself. Has itcome to that?'

  'My dear creature,' returned his companion, 'disguise is the spice oflife. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, withoutthe pleasures of disguise? I don't say it's always good taste, andI know it's unprofessional; but what's the odds, downhearteddrawing-master? It has to be. We have to leave a false impression onthe minds of many persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr GideonForsyth--the young gentleman I know by sight--if he should have the badtaste to be at home.'

  'If he be at home?' faltered the artist. 'That would be the end of all.'

  'Won't matter a d--,' returned Michael airily. 'Let me see your clothes,and I'll make a new man of you in a jiffy.'

  In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examinedPitman's poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out ashort jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair ofsummer trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, withthe garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely.

  'I don't like that clerical collar,' he remarked. 'Have you nothingelse?'

  The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened;'I have a pair of low-necked shirts,' he said, 'that I used to wear inParis as a student. They are rather loud.'

  'The very thing!' ejaculated Michael. 'You'll look perfectly beastly.Here are spats, too,' he continued, drawing forth a pair of thoseoffensive little gaiters. 'Must have spats! And now you jump into these,and whistle a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour.After that you can rejoin me on the field of glory.'

  So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of theeasterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden,and drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at aboutthe same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth versionof his uncle's signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began torip the wires out of the Broadwood grand.

  Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find thecloset-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the pianodiscreetly shut.

  'It's a remarkably heavy instrument,' observed Michael, and turnedto consider his friend's disguise. 'You must shave off that beard ofyours,' he said.

  'My beard!' cried Pitman. 'I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper withmy appearance--my principals would object. They hold very strong viewsas to the appearance of the professors--young ladies are considered soromantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I went about theplace. It was regarded,' said the artist, with rising colour, 'it wasregarded as unbecoming.'

  'You can let it grow again,' returned Michael, 'and then you'll be soprecious ugly that they'll raise your salary.'

  'But I don't want to be ugly,' cried the artist.

  'Don't be an ass,' said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted todestroy one. 'Off with it like a man!'

  'Of course, if you insist,' said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetchedsome hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel,first clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. Hecould not conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his lastclaims to manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted.

  'A new man, I declare!' he cried. 'When I give you the windowglassspectacles I have in my pocket, you'll be the beau-ideal of a Frenchcommercial traveller.'

  Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his imagein the glass.

  'Do you know,' asked Michael, 'what the Governor of South Carolina saidto the Governor of North Carolina? "It's a long time between drinks,"observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into thetop left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find aflask of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,' he added, as he filled out a glassfor each. 'Now you will give me news of this.'

  The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrestedthe movement.

  'Not if you went upon your knees!' he cried. 'This is the finest liqueurbrandy in Great Britain.'

  Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed.

  'Well, I must say you're the poorest companion for a holiday!' criedMichael. 'If that's all you know of brandy, you shall have no more ofit; and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Cometo think of it,' he broke off, 'I have made an abominable error: youshould have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman,what the devil's the use of you? why couldn't you have reminded me ofthat?'

  'I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,' said the artist.'But I can take off the disguise again,' he suggested eagerly.

  'You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,' observed thelawyer. 'No, it's a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,' hecontinued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; 'andit can't be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all thearrangements; they're to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria,and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called forin the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.'

  'Isn't that rather an awkward name?' pleaded Pitman.

  'Awkward?' cried Michael scornfully. 'It would hang us both! Brown isboth safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.'

  'I wish,' said Pitman, 'for my sake, I wish you wouldn't talk so much ofhanging.'

  'Talking about it's nothing, my boy!' returned Michael. 'But take yourhat and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.'

  Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some timeexclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had beenpretty fair all morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjusthis whiskers finally before the glass. 'Devilish rich,' he remarked, ashe contemplated his reflection. 'I look like a purser's mate.' And atthat moment the window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destinedfor Pitman) flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love withthe effect. 'Just what I required,' he said. 'I wonder what I look likenow? A humorous novelist, I should think,' and he began to practisedivers characters of walk, naming them to himself as--he proceeded.'Walk of a humorous novelist--but that would require an umbrella. Walkof a purser's mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenesof childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midstof the Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, althoughinconsistent with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on thepiano. This instrument was made to lock both at the top and at thekeyboard, but the key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael openedit and ran his fingers o
ver the dumb keys. 'Fine instrument--full, richtone,' he observed, and he drew in a seat.

  When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe hisguide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on thesilent grand.

  'Heaven help me!' thought the little man, 'I fear he has been drinking!Mr Finsbury,' he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned uponhim a countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the redwhiskers, and bestridden by the spectacles. 'Capriccio in B-flat on thedeparture of a friend,' said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions.

  Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. 'Those spectacles were to bemine,' he cried. 'They are an essential part of my disguise.'

  'I am going to wear them myself,' replied Michael; and he added, withsome show of truth, 'There would be a devil of a lot of suspicionaroused if we both wore spectacles.'

  'O, well,' said the assenting Pitman, 'I rather counted on them; but ofcourse, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.'

  While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closetamong the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soonas the coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped intoa hansom in the King's Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. Itwas still cold and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in theirfaces, but Michael refused to have the glass let down; he had nowsuddenly donned the character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidlycommented on the sights of London, as they drove. 'My dear fellow,' hesaid, 'you don't seem to know anything of your native city. Suppose wevisited the Tower? No? Well, perhaps it's a trifle out of our way.But, anyway--Here, cabby, drive round by Trafalgar Square!' And on thathistoric battlefield he insisted on drawing up, while he criticized thestatues and gave the artist many curious details (quite new to history)of the lives of the celebrated men they represented.

  It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold,wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commanderunder whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of thelow-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in thedeprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of thebowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering,was the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was asecond and a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under theguidance of an unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitudethe fewness of the persons present, or the still more cheering fact thatthe greater part of these were exiles from the land of France. It wasthus a blessed thought that none of them would be connected with theSeminary; for even the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, hecould scarce imagine frequenting so rakish an establishment.

  The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table,a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coalsand a couple of brandies and sodas.

  'O, no,' said Pitman, 'surely not--no more to drink.'

  'I don't know what you would be at,' said Michael plaintively. 'It'spositively necessary to do something; and one shouldn't smoke beforemeals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no ideaof hygiene.' And he compared his watch with the clock upon thechimney-piece.

  Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn,absurdly disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, andwaiting for a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. Whatwould his principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew histragic and deceitful errand?

  From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien withthe brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass theother to his friend.

  Pitman waved it from him with his hand. 'Don't let me lose allself-respect,' he said.

  'Anything to oblige a friend,' returned Michael. 'But I'm not going todrink alone. Here,' he added to the waiter, 'you take it.' And, then,touching glasses, 'The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,' said he.

  'Meestare Gidden Borsye,' replied the waiter, and he tossed off theliquor in four gulps.

  'Have another?' said Michael, with undisguised interest. 'I never saw aman drink faster. It restores one's confidence in the human race.

  But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one fromwithout, began to bring in lunch.

  Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle ofHeidsieck's dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy toeat, and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagneunless he did.

  'One of us must stay sober,' remarked the lawyer, 'and I won't give youchampagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,' headded confidentially. 'One drunken man, excellent business--two drunkenmen, all my eye.'

  On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael mighthave been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien.He looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), andaddressed him thickly but severely.

  'Enough of this fooling,' was his not inappropriate exordium. 'Tobusiness. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson,though you mightn't think it from my unassuming appearance. You will berelieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can't go into thissort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation,and I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell ityou now, only I have forgotten it.'

  'Perhaps I'm stupid--' began Pitman.

  'That's it!' cried Michael. 'Very stupid; but rich too--richer than Iam. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I've arranged that you wereto be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you'reonly an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And theworst of it is--why should I conceal it from you?--the worst of itis that you're called Ezra Thomas. Now,' said Michael, with a reallyappalling seriousness of manner, 'tell me who we are.'

  The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these factsby heart.

  'There!' cried the lawyer. 'Our plans are laid. Thoroughlyconsistent--that's the great thing.'

  'But I don't understand,' objected Pitman.

  'O, you'll understand right enough when it comes to the point,' saidMichael, rising.

  'There doesn't seem any story to it,' said the artist.

  'We can invent one as we go along,' returned the lawyer.

  'But I can't invent,' protested Pitman. 'I never could invent in all mylife.'

  'You'll find you'll have to, my boy,' was Michael's easy comment, and hebegan calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparklingconversation.

  It was a downcast little man that followed him. 'Of course he is veryclever, but can I trust him in such a state?' he asked himself. And whenthey were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace.

  'Don't you think,' he faltered, 'it would be wiser, considering allthings, to put this business off?'

  'Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?' cried Michael, withindignation. 'Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it's all right, goin and win--there's a lion-hearted Pitman!'

  At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown's piano, which had dulyarrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contractedfor a cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in theharness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled againstthe wall and fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himselflaunched on his own resources in the midst of several staring loafers,such as love to spend unprofitable days about a stable. 'Rough day,sir,' observed one. 'Do you go far?'

  'Yes, it's a--rather a rough day,' said the artist; and then, feelingthat he must change the conversation, 'My friend is an Australian; he isvery impulsive,' he added.

  'An Australian?' said another. 'I've a brother myself in Melbourne. Doesyour friend come from that way at all?'

  'No, not exactly,' replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography ofNew Holland were a little scattered. 'He lives immensely far inland, andis
very rich.'

  The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist.

  'Well,' remarked the second speaker, 'it's a mighty big place, isAustralia. Do you come from thereaway too?'

  'No, I do not,' said Pitman. 'I do not, and I don't want to,' he addedirritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell uponMichael and shook him up.

  'Hullo,' said the lawyer, 'what's wrong?'

  'The cart is nearly ready,' said Pitman sternly. 'I will not allow youto sleep.'

  'All right--no offence, old man,' replied Michael, yawning. 'A littlesleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. Butwhat's all the hurry?' he added, looking round him glassily. 'I don'tsee the cart, and I've forgotten where we left the piano.'

  What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment,is with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by themost blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael mustbend the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising.

  'Of course you'll drive,' he remarked to his companion, as he clamberedon the vehicle.

  'I drive!' cried Pitman. 'I never did such a thing in my life. I cannotdrive.'

  'Very well,' responded Michael with entire composure, 'neither can Isee. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.'

  A glimpse of the ostler's darkening countenance decided Pitman. 'Allright,' he said desperately, 'you drive. I'll tell you where to go.'

  On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intendedto be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length.Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of thissingular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver's valour orhis undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, thecart reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown's piano wasspeedily and cleverly got on board.

  'Well, sir,' said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned upa handful of loose silver, 'that's a mortal heavy piano.'

  'It's the richness of the tone,' returned Michael, as he drove away.

  It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick andquiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth's chambers in theTemple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses andgave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descendingfrom the cart, whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forthon foot for the decisive scene of their adventure. For the first timeMichael displayed a shadow of uneasiness.

  'Are my whiskers right?' he asked. 'It would be the devil and all if Iwas spotted.'

  'They are perfectly in their place,' returned Pitman, with scantattention. 'But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing morelikely than that I should meet some of my patrons.'

  'O, nobody could tell you without your beard,' said Michael. 'All youhave to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nosealready.'

  'I only hope the young man won't be at home,' sighed Pitman.

  'And I only hope he'll be alone,' returned the lawyer. 'It will save aprecious sight of manoeuvring.'

  And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted themin person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to theroof in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering,except in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of theproprietor. The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayeda varied assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backedFrench novels.

  'Mr Forsyth, I believe?' It was Michael who thus opened the engagement.'We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it'sscarcely professional--'

  'I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,' repliedGideon.

  'Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be puton a more regular footing tomorrow,' replied Michael, taking a chairand motioning Pitman to do the same. 'But you see we didn't know anysolicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.'

  'May I enquire, gentlemen,' asked Gideon, 'to whom it was I am indebtedfor a recommendation?'

  'You may enquire,' returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; 'but I wasinvited not to tell you--till the thing was done.'

  'My uncle, no doubt,' was the barrister's conclusion.

  'My name is John Dickson,' continued Michael; 'a pretty well-known namein Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United Statesof America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.'

  'Stop one moment till I make a note of that,' said Gideon; any one mighthave supposed he was an old practitioner.

  'Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar?' asked Michael. He hadpulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began tosettle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber;and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar wouldclear him.

  'Oh, certainly,' cried Gideon blandly. 'Try one of mine; I canconfidently recommend them.' And he handed the box to his client.

  'In case I don't make myself perfectly clear,' observed the Australian,'it's perhaps best to tell you candidly that I've been lunching. It's athing that may happen to any one.'

  'O, certainly,' replied the affable barrister. 'But please be under nosense of hurry. I can give you,' he added, thoughtfully consulting hiswatch--'yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.'

  'The business that brings me here,' resumed the Australian with gusto,'is devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being anAmerican of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and awealthy manufacturer of Broadwood pianos--'

  'Broadwood pianos?' cried Gideon, with some surprise. 'Dear me, do Iunderstand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?'

  'O, pirated Broadwoods,' returned Michael. 'My friend's the AmericanBroadwood.'

  'But I understood you to say,' objected Gideon, 'I certainly have itso in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of india--rubberovershoes.'

  'I know it's confusing at first,' said the Australian, with a beamingsmile. 'But he--in short, he combines the two professions. And manyothers besides--many, many, many others,' repeated Mr Dickson, withdrunken solemnity. 'Mr Thomas's cotton-mills are one of the sights ofTallahassee; Mr Thomas's tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.;in short, he's one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his casebefore you with emotion.'

  The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by hisopen although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity ofhis manner. 'What a people are these Americans!' he thought. 'Look atthis nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, andthink of him wielding and directing interests so extended and seeminglyincongruous! 'But had we not better,' he observed aloud, 'had we notperhaps better approach the facts?'

  'Man of business, I perceive, sir!' said the Australian. 'Let's approachthe facts. It's a breach of promise case.'

  The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position thathe could scarce suppress a cry.

  'Dear me,' said Gideon, 'they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell meeverything about it,' he added kindly; 'if you require my assistance,conceal nothing.'

  'You tell him,' said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done hisshare. 'My friend will tell you all about it,' he added to Gideon, witha yawn. 'Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I've been sitting up with asick friend.'

  Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in hisinnocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came andwent before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still theartist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant.

  'It's a breach of promise case,' he said at last, in a low voice. 'I--Iam threatened with a breach of promise case.' Here, in desperate questof inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed uponthe unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope andcourage (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in
thecase of Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. 'Wake up!'he cried, with genuine irritation in his tones. 'I cannot do it, and youknow I can't.'

  'You must excuse my friend,' said Michael; 'he's no hand as a narratorof stirring incident. The case is simple,' he went on. 'My friend isa man of very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchalstyle of life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe,followed by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has alovely daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he wasaccepted, and he wrote--wrote in a style which I am sure he mustregret today. If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas'scharacter is gone.'

  'Am I to understand--' began Gideon.

  'My dear sir,' said the Australian emphatically, 'it isn't possible tounderstand unless you saw them.'

  'That is a painful circumstance,' said Gideon; he glanced pityingly inthe direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance everymark of confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes.

  'And that would be nothing,' continued Mr Dickson sternly, 'but Iwish--I wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas's hands wereclean. He has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time--and is stillengaged--to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend's conduct wasunworthy of the brutes that perish.'

  'Ga.?' repeated Gideon enquiringly.

  'A contraction in current use,' said Michael. 'Ga. for Georgia, in Thesame way as Co. for Company.'

  'I was aware it was sometimes so written,' returned the barrister, 'butnot that it was so pronounced.'

  'Fact, I assure you,' said Michael. 'You now see for yourself, sir, thatif this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice willbe needed. There's money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas couldwrite a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth,there's better than money. The foreign count--Count Tarnow, he callshimself--was formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed underthe humble but expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter--if she is hisdaughter--there's another point--make a note of that, Mr Forsyth--hisdaughter at that time actually served in the shop--and she now proposesto marry a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? Weknow they contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall 'em. Down yougo to Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both,until you get the letters; if you can't, God help us, we must go tocourt and Thomas must be exposed. I'll be done with him for one,' addedthe unchivalrous friend.

  'There seem some elements of success,' said Gideon. 'Was Schmidt at allknown to the police?'

  'We hope so,' said Michael. 'We have every ground to think so. Markthe neighbourhood--Bayswater! Doesn't Bayswater occur to you as verysuggestive?'

  For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideonwondered if he were not becoming light-headed. 'I suppose it's justbecause he has been lunching,' he thought; and then added aloud, 'Towhat figure may I go?'

  'Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,' said Michael. 'Andnow, sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wearson; there are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn't try todescribe to you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound notefor current expenses; and here is the address.' And Michael began towrite, paused, tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. 'Iwill dictate,' he said, 'my writing is so uncertain.'

  Gideon took down the address, 'Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, HamptonCourt.' Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. 'You said youhad not chosen a solicitor,' he said. 'For a case of this sort, here isthe best man in London.' And he handed the paper to Michael.

  'God bless me!' ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address.

  'O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painfulcases,' said Gideon. 'But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and hiscapacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me toask where I shall communicate with you.'

  'The Langham, of course,' returned Michael. 'Till tonight.'

  'Till tonight,' replied Gideon, smiling. 'I suppose I may knock you upat a late hour?'

  'Any hour, any hour,' cried the vanishing solicitor.

  'Now there's a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,' he said toPitman, as soon as they were in the street.

  Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, 'Perfect fool.'

  'Not a bit of him,' returned Michael. 'He knows who's the best solicitorin London, and it's not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn't Ipitch it in hot?'

  Pitman returned no answer.

  'Hullo!' said the lawyer, pausing, 'what's wrong with the long-sufferingPitman?'

  'You had no right to speak of me as you did,' the artist broke out;'your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.'

  'I never said a word about you,' replied Michael. 'I spoke of EzraThomas; and do please remember that there's no such party.'

  'It's just as hard to bear,' said the artist.

  But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; andthere was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses' heads witha splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuringforlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sidesand trickled down its elegantly varnished legs.

  The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strongfellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of thecampaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet takenhis seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the doorof the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grandin the middle of the floor.

  'And now,' said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about theirbusiness, 'one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano,and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.' And he built asquare tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped thekey into the middle.

  'Poor young man,' said the artist, as they descended the stairs.

  'He is in a devil of a position,' assented Michael drily. 'It'll bracehim up.'

  'And that reminds me,' observed the excellent Pitman, 'that I fear Idisplayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resentexpressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.'

  'That's all right,' cried Michael, getting on the cart. 'Not a wordmore, Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respectcan stand by and hear his alias insulted.'

  The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had beendisposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews wastherefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day's adventures)quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walkedforth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected,Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. 'And now,' he said, 'we can go home.'

  'Pitman,' said the lawyer, stopping short, 'your recklessness fills mewith concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of theday, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir--hot Scotch.'

  And taking his friend's arm he led him sternly towards the nearestpublic-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling.Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocentskittishness began to appear in the manners of the artist; and whenhe touched his steaming glass to Michael's, he giggled aloud like aventuresome schoolgirl at a picnic.