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The Wrong Box

Chapter 7 7

Word Count: 3740    |    Released on: 28/11/2017

issue from it in pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of love. The cat's-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder wanders in and wanders ou

r it contains not a single shop-unless you count the publi

iosity. For here was the home of an artist-and a distinguished artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success-which had never been made the subject of an article in the illustrated magazines. No wood-engraver had ever reproduced 'a corner in the back drawing-room' or 'the studio mante

ng of a communication with the house and a private door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off 'A landscape with waterfall' in oil, now a volunteer bust ('in marble', as he would gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping his chisel to a mere 'nymph' for a gasbracket on a stair, sir', or a life-size 'Infant Samuel' for a reli

I have taught myself to do without them. An occasional model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, and be a positive impediment in my career. As fo

rk, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad in the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a

ortly barrel; and let him turn them where he might, it was

uced a shabby leathern desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was in the habit of communicating with the proprie

need I say more than it concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis's statue of Hercules? I write you in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and greatly fear that this work of an

lic excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of humour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed the acquaintance up, and, having c

rson, 'Mr Michael's not in yet. But ye're looking terribly po

in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr Finsbury this note, and ask him to look roun

is attention, and he stared long and earnestly at the proud, high-born, waxen lady in evening d

but there's a something-there's a haughty, indefinable something about that

, I must aim higher-aim higher,' cried the little artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was giving his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his

raph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of the back of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy recollection of a pub

e, knowing his friend's delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had

think nothing of that-what I fear, my dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear-alas that I should have to say it! is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of Ita

k,' said the lawyer. 'It will requ

d the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and g

ionally to be rather partial to it, but the

awyer. 'I am comfortabl

barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy enough to co

to make enquiries at Southampton. In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the ba

on the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day after; and as for the barrel, depend up

if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, why oysters

it,' said Michael. 'Let's ro

el from the corner, and sto

be oysters,' remarke

and without waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket,

money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies-a sort o

natched the instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his lar

solved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed-a couple of

tant upright, and then toppled to one side and heavily collapsed before the fire. Even as t

n, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside a corner of the s

a low voice: 'Had you any hand i

ld only utter broken

ink that,' he said. 'Don't be afraid of m

he liquor do

ry to me. In my worst fears I never dreamed of such a

And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. 'I thought for a moment,' he added with rathe

' groaned Pitman. 'All is at an end fo

be quite plain with you, Pitman, I don't like your friend's appea

t there-if you could bear to t

seems as if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn yo

later the closet-do

ou can turn now, my pallid Pitman. Is this the grog

with it?' walled the artist, laying a

ne of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look devilish roman

nently respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really trifling point of the smuggling of the Her

ittle contretemps a trifle at the office; it's the sort of thing that m

am I to find-

-or rather since-you know nothing of the crime, since the-the party in the closet-is neither your fath

' interjected Pi

one I have long contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear that?-I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it's a

ed Pitman. 'What other man

nd bury this in your back garden, we must find some one who will bury it in his. We must p

tive, perhaps?'

other key, 'I have always regretted that you have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don't play

said Pitman nervously, anxious to pleas

u play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I'll tell you what

nkly. 'You will give me yours? I

pector of police to play on while his men are digging up y

nothing but the presence of the-you know what-connects us with the crime; once let us get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace us by. Well, I give you my piano; we'll

ow by sight?' r

w, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) in gaol-was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off too-all saved but honour; his assets were nil, bu

And what will become of the poor you

Michael cheerily. 'Just wh

involved in a charge of-a charg

er. 'He's innocent, you see. What hangs people, my de

e scheme appears to me so wild. Would it not be

The Chelsea Mystery; alleged innocence of

e,' admitted the drawing-ma

not going to embark in such a bus

that a proper spi

t's quite needless to discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the piano at once. If you

turned Pitman. 'But O, what a night is before me with that-

l be there too,' said Michael

the lawyer's piano-a momentous Broadwood

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