To return to the primary cell of Mr Fergusson—which, by the way, is called the Domestic Primary Battery—and putting aside all its claims to produce electricity for nothing, we may broadly state that it possesses many advantages. It is compact enough to be put away in any odd corner; it is constant in its action; it seldom requires recharging, and such recharging is a simple operation; and lastly, it has the very rare merit of giving off no fumes whatever.
TERRIBLY FULFILLED.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER III.
Thursday evening came, and with it Captain Ferrard; and the two shook hands with a certain guarded cordiality, as of prize-fighters about to ‘get to business.’ But the dinner was a good one; Ferrard thawed considerably under the influence of a bottle of old Johannisberg, and enjoyed himself more than he had anticipated. His host treated him with much deference, and seemed considerably impressed by his conversation. The captain was consequently in great good-humour with himself and all the world, and exerted himself—as, to do him justice, he well knew how—to be agreeable and amusing and to make a favourable impression. He was surprised also to find that this auctioneering father-in-law of his was really a very entertaining fellow. He overflowed with anecdote of a certain highly flavoured kind, and was full of curious experiences; he talked a good deal of ‘shop,’ about pictures and precious stones and such matters in the way of his trade, but it was amusing ‘shop,’ and served to introduce many strange and out-of-the-way facts and incidents.
The truth was that Mr Cross was taking a good deal more wine than usual, whereby he was ably seconded in his loyal resolve to think as well of his son-in-law and to be as friendly and open with him as possible. The pleasingly insinuating ways of the gallant captain were not without their effect, and the auctioneer began to feel more favourably disposed towards him than he had at one time thought possible. He appeared, now that one knew him, to be an open-hearted, good-humoured sort of fellow, one who was nobody’s enemy but his own, who was more sinned against than sinning, and so on. In his then condition, it seemed to Mr Cross that he had perhaps been rather too hasty and prone to think evil. His daughter, as he well knew, had her ‘little tempers,’ and might herself to some extent have contributed to her wedded unhappiness. No doubt the young man would be amenable to reason, and with judicious management and some outlay, might make a tolerable son-in-law after all.
The talk at last centred itself upon diamonds, and Ferrard was in the midst of an animated description of those belonging to certain family connections of his own, when the auctioneer interrupted him.
‘I know all about the Frayer diamonds,’ he said—‘no one better. But I wouldn’t mind laying you a wager that I could show you some, and not far off either, that would beat them hollow.’
‘I think you would lose your money,’ said Ferrard.
The auctioneer regarded him with vinous solemnity. ‘Look here, my boy,’ he suddenly said; ‘I’ve taken a fancy to you, and I’m sorry we should have been at odds so long. Perhaps I may have something else to say to you to-morrow, and perhaps you may be glad to hear it—I can’t tell. Anyhow, to prove to you that I’m in earnest, I’ll show you to-night what I wouldn’t show to any other man alive. Just you come with me.’
‘Are you going to let me have a sight of the wonderful diamonds?’ laughed Ferrard, as he followed his host into the hall.