I still wanted something, as I have said, to complete the catalogue of my articles in the working department, and, above all, I required to connect Mr Harvey with that, so I applied to him for help.
“I wish to know where you live, when in town, Mr Harvey.”
“In Mr Campbell’s, Bell’s Wynd,” he replied promptly affording still the same evidence of the advantages of having to do with high-bred people.
“Then you will please go with me and point it out.”
“Certainly.”
And getting again my assistant, I proceeded with him to Bell’s Wynd, where, having mounted one of the worst stairs in that dark alley, we came to a wretched little dwelling of two rooms and a dark closet. How the great man could have put up in that hovel is difficult to conceive, except upon the supposition that the swells shrink when they get home. With the exception of a truckle-bed and a shake-down, there was scarcely a bit of furniture in the house; nor could I find a recess in any way inviting to me except the dark closet, which was adroitly barricaded by the mattress of the shake-down, upon which Mrs Campbell, a miserable invalid, lay in squalid misery. I made short work here. Laying hold of the mattress, I pulled it and its burden away from the closet door into the middle of the floor. A loud scream burst from the invalid, which, from her look I knew to be intended as a fence to the closet, and not an expression of pain. The door was not locked, the bed and its occupant having probably been deemed a sufficient bar.
“Ye’ve murdered me,” cried the cunning wretch, so near her grave, and yet so keen in the concealment of vice. “The malison o’ the Lord light on your head, and blast it! Haud awa’! my grave-claes are in that closet, and nae man will enter till that day when my soul gaes hame to glory.”
“If you never die till you’re fit, you’ll live for ever,” said I, when I saw there was not a trace of grave-clothes in the dark hole,—from which, however, I brought the galvanic battery, which I had found awanting in Ashley Buildings to complete the apparatus, along with sixteen base shillings. I also got some other things of less importance.
“And now, Mrs Campbell, I will push you back again,” said I, as I impelled the mattress to its old place.
“And the devil push you hame,” she cried, “for you’ve murdered me.”