There was no hidden chamber, but there was a hatch; there was no portrait, but there was the useless frame for which William had bartered his precious sixpence. He still felt bitter at the thought.
William felt, not unreasonably, that the sudden appearance in the dining-room of a new and mysterious portrait of a boy might cause his uncle to make closer investigations, so he waited till his uncle had taken his seat before he hung himself.
Ever optimistic, he thought that the other Liberal canvassers would be too busy arranging their places to notice his gradual and unobtrusive appearance in his frame. With vivid memories of the illustration in “The Sign of Death” he was firmly convinced that to the casual observer he looked like a portrait of a boy hanging on the wall.
In this he was entirely deceived. He looked merely what he was—a snub-nosed, freckled, rough-haired boy hanging up an old empty frame in the hatch and then crouching on the hatch and glaring morosely through the frame.
MR. MOFFAT MET WILLIAM’S STONY STARE. THE OTHER
HELPERS WERE STARING BLANKLY AT THE WALL.
“DON’T YOU THINK THAT POINT IS VERY IMPORTANT!”
ASKED WILLIAM’S UNCLE.
William’s uncle opened the meeting:
“... and we must emphasise the consequent drop in the price of bread. Don’t you think that point is very important, Mr. Moffat?”