"That 'when great affairs are stirring, a master-move should be confined to the master-mind that projects it.' I understand! I see! I will not, therefore, inquire into the precise means by which I am satisfied you will make it appear, in due time (while I am engaged getting up the subordinate, but very harassing details of the general case), that Harry Dreddlington died before the 7th of August, 1742." Here, taking out his watch, he suddenly added—"Bless me, Mr. Quirk, how time passes!—Two o'clock! I ought to have been at Messrs. Gregson's a quarter of an hour ago."
"Stop—a moment or two can't signify! It—it," said Quirk, hesitatingly, "it was you, wasn't it, that thought of the tombstone?"
"I, my dear Mr. Quirk"—interrupted Gammon, with a look of astonishment and deference.
"Come, come—honor among thieves, you know, Gammon!" said Quirk, trying to laugh.
"No—it shall never be said that I attempted to take the credit of"—— commenced Gammon; when a clerk entering, put an end to the colloquy between the partners, each of whom, presently, was sitting alone in his own room—for Gammon found that he was too late to think of keeping his engagement with Messrs. Gregson; if indeed he had ever made any—which, in fact, he had not. Mr. Quirk sat in a musing posture for nearly half an hour after he and Gammon had separated. "Gammon is a deep one! I'll be shot if ever there was his equal," said Quirk to himself, at length; and starting off his chair, with his hands crossed behind him, he walked softly to and fro. "I know what he's driving at—though he thought I didn't! He'd let me scratch my hands in getting the blackberries, and then he'd come smiling in to eat 'em! But—share and share alike—share profit, share danger, master Gammon;—you may find that Caleb Quirk is a match for Oily Gammon—I'll have you in for it, one way or another!" Here occurred a long pause in his thoughts, "Really I doubt the thing's growing unmanageable—the prize can't be worth the risk!—Risk, indeed—'fore gad—it's neither more nor less than"—— Here a certain picture hanging, covered with black crape, in the drawing-room at Alibi House, seemed to have glided down from its station, and to be hanging close before his eyes, with the crape drawn aside—a ghastly object—- eugh! He shuddered, and involuntarily closed his eyes. "How devilish odd that I should just now have happened to think of it!" he inwardly exclaimed, sinking into his chair in a sort of cold sweat.
"D—n the picture!" at length said he aloud—getting more and more flustered—"I'll burn it! It sha'n't disgrace my drawing-room any longer!" Here Quirk almost fancied that some busy little fiend sat squatting before the grisly picture, writing the words "Caleb Quirk" at the bottom of it; and a sort of sickness came over him for a moment. Presently he started up, and took down one of several well-worn dingy-looking books standing on the shelves—a volume of Burns' Justice. Resuming his seat, he put on his glasses, and with a little trepidation turned to the head "Forgery," and glanced over it, divided as it was into two great heads—"Forgery at Common Law, and Forgery by Statute," with many able observations of the learned compiler, and important "cases" cited. At length his eye lit upon a paragraph which seemed suddenly to draw his heart up into his throat, producing a sensation which made him involuntarily clap his hand upon his neck.
"Oh, Gammon!!" he muttered, drawing off his glasses, sinking back in his chair, and looking towards the door which opened into Gammon's room; extending at the same time, in that direction, his right arm, and shaking his fist. "You precious villain!—I've an uncommon inclination," at length thought he, "to go down slap to Yorkshire—say nothing to anybody—make peace with the enemy, and knock up the whole thing!—For a couple of thousand pounds—a trifle to the Aubreys, I'm sure. Were I in his place, I shouldn't grudge it; and why should he?—By Jove," he got a little heated—"that would be, as Gammon has it, a master-move! and confined, egad! to the master-mind that thought of it!—Why should he ever know of the way in which the thing blew up?—Really, 'twould be worth half the money to do Gammon so hollow for once—by George it would!—Gammon, that would slip Caleb Quirk's neck so slyly into the halter, indeed!"
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, suddenly re-entering the room after about an hour's absence, during which he too had, like his senior partner, been revolving many things in his mind—"it has occurred to me, that I had better immediately go down to Yatton, alone."
Hereat Mr. Quirk opened both his eyes and his mouth to their very widest; got very red in the face; and stared at his placid partner with a mingled expression of fear and wonder. "Hang me, Gammon!" at length he exclaimed desperately, slapping his fist upon the table—"if I don't think you're the very devil himself!"—and he sank back in his chair, verily believing, in the momentary confusion of his thoughts, that what had been passing through his mind was known to Gammon; or that what had been passing through his (Quirk's) mind, had also been occurring to Gammon, who had resolved upon being beforehand in putting his purposes into execution. Gammon was at first completely confounded by Quirk's reception of him, and stood for a few moments, with his hands elevated, in silence. Then he approached the table, and his eye caught the well-thumbed volume of Burns' Justice, open at the head "
