THE GENT IS FOUND.
HE WAS RUN OVER
by
A CAB!!!
(Signed) D. Wragg.
“That there cost me two-and-six, sir; but don’t you make no mistake, it saved me one pound two and six in winders, and ever so much more in character. But is there anything in my way before you go, sir? Always happy to supply you, and can do a stroke of almost everything in natur’, except dorgs, which, as I said afore, I’ve quite done with; for, you see, sir, dorgs ain’t respectable, and don’t do now.”
Harry had some difficulty in getting away without seeing Mrs D. Wragg; but he urged that his time was precious, and at last, after a hearty hand-shake, he was allowed to continue his way, thinking very deeply, as he wandered slowly on, till he reached a quiet little street near to that named after the great Northumbrian earl—a tame, empty, flat, and apparently, to a spectator, highly unprofitable, double row of houses, upon the door of one of which was a brass-plate bearing the words—
MONSIEUR CANAU,
Professor of Music.
Volume Three—Chapter Twenty Five.
Vive L’amour.
“Yes, Mr Canau is at home,” said a very mealy-faced girl, who replied to Harry Clayton’s knock; and he was shown into a barely-furnished but neat parlour, to wait while, apparently, some lesson was being concluded in the back room, where a voice could be heard counting loudly:—“One, two, three; one, two, three;” and a duet between pianoforte and violin appeared to be in fierce progress. Then there was silence, a buzz of voices, and very tightly dressed, very fierce-looking—with his closely-cut hair, as he walked behind an enormous moustache,—the little exile entered.
“Ah! mon cher, cher ami!” he exclaimed; and in a moment his arms were round his visitor. But directly after, he seemed to recollect himself, and drew back hastily to hold out his hand. “I beg pardon—thousand pardons; but I shall never be an Englishman.”