"Most repulsive!" said the Admiral.
"Here indeed,"—the Canon was more impressive,—"here indeed is an object-lesson in the effects of crime! Is it possible that to this Man's passions can degrade his divinely inherited features? Were it not altogether too horrible, I would have this picture framed and glazed and hung up in every cottage home in the land."
"My dear fellow," interrupted Sir Felix, "we cannot possibly let this monstrosity go up to Whitehall as representative of the inmates of Tregarrick Gaol! It would mean an inquiry on the spot. It would even reflect upon us. Ours is a decent county, as counties go, and I protest it shall not, with my consent, be injured by any such libel."
Mr. Smithers handed up photograph No. 2.
"This looks better," began Sir Felix; and with that he gave a slight start, and passed the photograph to the Canon. The Canon, too, started, and stole a quick glance at Sir Felix: their eyes met.
"It certainly is singular"—stammered Sir Felix. "I fancied—without irreverence—But you detected it too?" he wound up incoherently.
"May I have a look?" The Admiral peered over the Canon's hand, who, however, did not relinquish the photograph but turned on Smithers with sudden severity.
"I presume, sir, this is not an audacious joke?"
"I assure your Worship—" protested the photographer. "I had some thoughts of tearing it up, but thought it wouldn't be honest."
"You did rightly," the Canon answered; "but, now that we have seen it, I have no such scruple." He tore the print across, and across again. "Even in this," he said, with a glance at the Admiral, who winced, "we may perhaps read a lesson, or at least a warning, that man's presumption in extending the bounds of his knowledge—or, as I should prefer to call it, his curiosity—may—er—bring him face to face with—"