The Admiral (who had married late in life) resided with his wife and young family in a neat villa just outside the town, where his hobby was to grow pelargoniums. The photographer passed the gate daily on his way to and from the prison, and was usually hailed and catechised on his progress.
His patience with the recalcitrant prisoners delighted the Admiral, who more than once assured his wife that Smithers was an intelligent fellow and quite an artist in his way. "I wonder how he manages it," said Mrs. Trewbody. "He told baby last autumn that a little bird would fly out of the camera when he took off the cap, and everyone allows that the result is most lifelike. But I don't like the idea, and I think it may injure his trade."
The Admiral could not always follow his wife's reasoning. "What is it you dislike?" he asked.
"Well, it's not nice to think of oneself going into the same camera he has been using on those wretched prisoners. It's sentiment, I daresay; but I had the same feeling when he stuck up Harry's photograph in his showcase at the railway station, among all kinds of objectionable persons, and I requested him to remove it."
The Admiral laughed indulgently, being one of those men who find a charm, even a subtle flattery, in their wives' silliness.
"I agree with you," he said, "that it's not pleasant to be exposed to public gaze among a crowd of people one would never think of knowing. I don't suppose it would actually encourage familiarity; at the same time there's an air of promiscuity about it—I won't say disrespect— which, ahem! jars. But with the prisoners it's different,—my attitude to them is scientific, if I may say so. I look upon them as a race apart, almost of another world, and as such I find them extremely interesting. The possibility of mixing with them on any terms of intimacy doesn't occur. I am aware, my dear," he wound up graciously, "that you women seldom understand this mental detachment, being by nature unscientific, and all the more charming for your prejudices."
At the next meeting of Justices Smithers the photographer presented himself, and produced his prints with a curious air of diffidence.
"I have," he explained, "brought three for your Worships' selection, and can honestly assure your Worships that my pains have been endless. What puzzles me, however, is that although in all three the same portraits have been imposed, and in the same order, the results are surprisingly different. The cause of these differences I cannot detect, though I have gone over the process several times and step by step; but out of some two dozen experiments I may say that all the results answer pretty closely to one or another of these three types." Mr. Smithers, who had spent much time in rehearsing this little speech, handed up photograph No. 1; and Sir Felix adjusted his spectacles.
"Villainous!" he exclaimed, recoiling.
The Canon and the Admiral bent over it together.