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fender； and looks at the fire。 Mr Guppy； observing him； slightly
tosses his head； and sits down on the other side of the table in an
easy attitude。
“Wasn’t that Snagsby talking to you； Tony？”
“Yes； and he—yes； it was Snagsby；” says Mr Weevle； altering
the construction of the sentence。
“On business？”
“No。 No business。 He was only sauntering by and stopped to
prose。”
“I thought it was Snagsby；” says Mr Guppy； “and thought it as
well that he shouldn’t see me； so I waited till he was gone。”
“There we go again； William G。！” cries Tony； looking up for an
instant。 “So mysterious and secret！ By George； if we were going to
commit a murder； we couldn’t have more mystery about it！”
Mr Guppy affects to smile； and with the view of changing the
conversation； looks with an admiration； real or pretended； round
the room at the Galaxy gallery of British beauty； terminating his
survey with the portrait of Lady Dedlock over the mantel…shelf； in
which she is represented on a terrace； with a pedestal upon the
terrace； and a vase upon the pedestal； and her shawl upon the
vase； and a prodigious piece of fur upon the shawl and her arm
upon the piece of fur； and a bracelet on her arm。
“That’s very like Lady Dedlock；” says Mr Guppy。 “It’s a
speaking likeness。”
“I wish it was；” growls Tony； without changing his position。 “I
should have some fashionable conversation here； then。”
Finding； by this time； that his friend is not to be wheedled into a
more sociable humour； Mr Guppy puts about upon the ill…used
tack； and remonstrates with him。
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“Tony；” says he； “I can make allowances for lowness of spirits；
for no man knows what it is when it does come upon a man； better
than I do； and no man perhaps has a better right to know it； than a
man who has an unrequited image printed on his art。 But there
are bounds to these things when an unoffending party is in
question； and I will acknowledge to you； Tony； that I don’t think
your manner on the present occasion is hospitable or quite
gentlemanly。”
“This is strong language； William Guppy；” returns Mr Weevle。
“Sir； it may be；” retorts Mr William Guppy； “but I feel strongly
when I use it。”
Mr Weevle admits that he has been wrong； and begs Mr William
Guppy to think no more about it。 Mr William Guppy； however；
having got the advantage； cannot quite release it without a little
more injured remonstrance。
“No！ Dash it； Tony；” says that gentleman； “you really ought to
be careful how you wound the feelings of a man； who has an
unrequited image imprinted on his art； and who is not altogether
happy in those chords which vibrate to the tenderest emotions。
You； Tony； possess in yourself all that is calculated to charm the
eye； and allure the taste。 It is not—happily for you； perhaps； and I
may wish that I could say the same—it is not your character to
hover around one flower。 The ’ole garden is open to you； and your
airy pinions carry you through it。 Still； Tony； far be it from me； I
am sure； to wound even your feelings without a cause！”
Tony again entreats that the subject may be no longer pursued；
saying emphatically； “William Guppy； drop it！” Mr Guppy
acquiesces； with the reply； “I never should have taken it up； Tony；
of my own accord。”
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“And now；” says Tony； stirring the fire； “touching this same
bundle of letters。 Isn’t it an extraordinary thing of Krook to have
appointed twelve o’clock tonight to hand ’em over to me？”
“Very。 What did he do it for？”
“What does he do anything for？ He don’t know。 Said； today was
his birthday； and he’d hand ’em over tonight at twelve o’clock。
He’ll have drunk himself blind by that time。 He has been at it all
day。”
“He hasn’t forgotten the appointment； I hope？”
“Forgotten？ Trust him for that。 He never forgets anything。 I
saw him tonight； about eight—helped him to shut up his shop—
and he had got the letters then in his hairy cap。 He pulled it off；
and showed ’em me。 When the shop was closed； he took them out
of his cap； hung his cap on the chair…back； and stood turning them
over before the fire。 I heard him a little while afterwards through
the floor here； humming； like the wind； the only song he knows—
about Bibo； and old Charon； and Bibo being drunk when he died；
or something or other。 He has been as quiet； since； as an old rat
asleep in his hole。”
“And you are to go down at twelve？”
“At twelve。 And； as I tell you； when you came it seemed to me a
hundred。”
“Tony；” says Mr Guppy； after considering a little with his legs
crossed； “he can’t read yet； can he？”
“Read！ He’ll never read。 He can make all the letters separately；
and he knows most of them separately when he sees them； he has
got on that much； under me； but he can’t put them together。 He’s
too old to acquire the knack of it now—and too drunk。”
“Tony；” says Mr Guppy； uncrossing and recrossing his legs；
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“how do you suppose he spelt out that name of Hawdon？”
“He never spelt it out。 You know what a curious power of eye
he has； and how he has been used to employ himself in copying
things by eye alone。 He imitated it—evidently from the direction of
a letter； and asked me what it meant。”
“Tony；” said Mr Guppy； uncrossing and recrossing his legs
again； “should you say that the original was a man’s writing or a
woman’s？”
“A woman’s。 Fifty to one a lady’s—slopes a good deal； and the
end of the letter ‘n；’ long and hasty。”
Mr Guppy has been biting his thumbnail during this dialogue；
generally changing the thumb when he has changed the crossed
leg。 As he is going to do so again； he happens to look at his coat…
sleeve。 It takes his attention。 He stares at it； aghast。
“Why； Tony； what on earth is going on in this house tonight？ Is
there a chimney on fire？”
“Chimney on fire！”
“Ah！” returns Mr Guppy。 “See how the soot’s falling。 See here；
on my arm！ See again； on the table here！ Confound the stuff； it
won’t blow off—smears； like black fat！”
They look at one another； and Tony goes listening to the door；
and a little way upstairs； and a little way downstairs。 Comes back；
and says it’s all right； and all quiet； and quotes the remark he
lately made to Mr Snagsby； about their cooking chops at the Sol’s
Arms。
“And it was then；” resumes Mr Guppy； still glancing with
remarkable aversion at his coat…sleeve； as they pursue their
conversation before the fire； leaning on opposite sides of the table；
with their heads very near together； “that he told you of his having
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taken the bundle of letters from his lodger’s portmanteau？”
“That was the time； sir；” answered Tony； faintly adjusting his
whiskers。 “Whereupon I wrote a line to my dear boy； the
Honourable William Guppy； informing him of the appointment for
tonight； and advising him not to call before： Boguey being a
Slyboots。”
The light vivacious tone of fashionable life which is usually
assumed by Mr Weevle； sits so ill upon him tonight； that he
abandons that and his whiskers together； and； after looking over
his shoulder； appears to yield him