'
'A word is enough, Mr Pitman,' said Joseph, with one of his Oriental
reverences.
Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading
a book, the picture of good-humour and repose.
'Hillo, Pitman,' he said, laying down his book, 'what brings you here at
this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!'
'I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,' said the
drawing-master. 'I am on the brink of something new, Sir.' And he
presented the advertisement.
'Why, what is this?' cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied
it for half a minute with a frown. 'Pitman, I don't care about this
document a particle,' said he.
'It will have to be attended to, however,' said Pitman.
'I thought you'd had enough of Waterloo,' returned the lawyer. 'Have you
started a morbid craving? You've never been yourself anyway since you
lost that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.'
'Mr Finsbury,' said the drawing-master, 'I have tried to reason this
matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you
the results.'
'Fire away,' said Michael; 'but please, Pitman, remember it's Sunday,
and let's have no bad language.
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