'
'Perhaps I'm stupid--' began Pitman.
'That's it!' cried Michael. 'Very stupid; but rich too--richer than I
am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I've arranged that you were
to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you're
only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the
worst of it is--why should I conceal it from you?--the worst of it
is that you're called Ezra Thomas. Now,' said Michael, with a really
appalling seriousness of manner, 'tell me who we are.'
The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts
by heart.
'There!' cried the lawyer. 'Our plans are laid. Thoroughly
consistent--that's the great thing.'
'But I don't understand,' objected Pitman.
'O, you'll understand right enough when it comes to the point,' said
Michael, 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 my
life.'
'You'll find you'll have to, my boy,' was Michael's easy comment, and he
began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling
conversation.
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