"'Not fit to light a squib for him,' said he, warming up in his enthusiasm for his man. 'I tell you, sir, that fellow would teach Giomelli, and every Italian of them all. He's a great man, sir,--a genius. He was, once on a time, the great Professor of a University; one of the very first scientific men of the kingdom, and if it was n't for '--here he made a sign of drinking--'he 'd perhaps be this day sought by the best in the land.'

"Though interested by all this, I only gave a sort of incredulous laugh in return, when he went on:--

"'If I was quite sure you 'd not take him away--if you 'd give me your word of honor for it--I'd just show him to you, and you 'd see--even tipsy as he's sure to be--if I'm exaggerating.'

"'What is he worth to you, Barry?' said I.

"'He 's worth--not to reckon private engagements for fireworks in gentlemen's grounds, and the like,--he 's worth from seven to eight pounds a week.'

"'And you give him--'

"'Well, I don't give him much. It would n't do to give him much; he has no self-control,--no restraint He'd kill himself,--actually kill himself.'

"'So that you only give him--'

"'Fourteen shillings a week. Not but that I am making a little fund for him, and occasionally remitted his wife--he had a wife--a pound or so, without his knowledge.'

"'Well, he's not too dear at that,' said I. 'Now let me see and speak with him, Barry, and if I like him, you shall have a fifty-pound note for him. You know well enough that I needn't pay a sixpence. I have fellows in my employment would track him out if you were to hide him in one of his rocket-canisters; so just be reasonable, and take a good offer.'

"He was not very willing at first, but he yielded after a while, and so I became the owner of the Professor, for such they called him."

"Had he no other name?"

"Yes; an old parrot, that he had as a pet, called him Tom, and so we accepted that name; and as Tom, or Professor Tom, he is now known amongst us."

"Did you find, after all, that you made a good bargain?"

"I never concluded a better, though it has its difficulties; for, as the Professor is almost an idiot when perfectly sober, and totally insensible when downright drunk, there is just a short twilight interval between the two, when his faculties are in good order."

"What can he do at this favorable juncture?"

"What can he not? is the question. Why, it was he arranged all the scores for the orchestra after the fire, when we had not a scrap left of the music of the 'Maid of Cashmere.' It was he invented that sunrise, in the last scene of all, with the clouds rolling down the mountains, and all the rivulets glittering as the first rays touch them. It was he wrote the third act of Linton's new comedy; the catastrophe and all were his. It was he dashed off that splendid critique on Ristori, that set the town in a blaze; and then he went home and wrote the parody on 'Myrra' for the Strand, all the same night, for I had watered the brandy, and kept him in the second stage of delirium till morning."

"What a chance! By Jove! Stocmar, you are the only fellow ever picks up a gem of this water!"

"It's not every man can tell the stone that will pay for the cutting, Paten, remember that. I 've had to buy this experience of mine dearly enough."

"Are you not afraid that the others will hear of him, and seduce him by some tempting offer?"

"I have, in a measure, provided against that contingency. He lives here, in a small crib, where we once kept a brown bear; and he never ventures abroad, so that the chances are he will not be discovered."

"How I should like to have a look at him!"

"Nothing easier. Let us see, what o'clock is it? Near five. Well, this is not an unfavorable moment; he has just finished his dinner, and not yet begun the evening." Ringing the bell, as he spoke, he gave orders to a supernumerary to send the Professor to him.

While they waited for his coming, Stocmar continued to give some further account of his life and habits, the total estrangement from all companionship in which he lived, his dislike to be addressed, and the seeming misanthropy that animated him. At last the manager, getting impatient, rang once more, to ask if he were about to appear.

"Well, sir," said the man, with a sort of unwillingness in his manner, "he said as much as that he was n't coming; that he had just dined, and meant to enjoy himself without business for a while."

"Go back and tell him that Mr. Stocmar has something very important to tell him; that five minutes will be enough.--You see the stuff he's made of?" said the manager, as the man left the room.

Another, and nearly as long a delay ensued, and at last the dragging sound of heavy slipshod feet was heard approaching; the door was rudely opened, and a tall old man, of haggard appearance and in the meanest rags, entered, and, drawing himself proudly up, stared steadfastly at Stocmar, without even for an instant noticing the presence of the other.

"I wanted a word,--just one word with you, Professor," began the manager, in an easy, familiar tone.

"Men do not whistle even for a dog, when he 's at his meals," said the old man, insolently. "They told you I was at my dinner, did n't they?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Tom; but as two minutes would suffice for all I had to say--"

"Reason the more to keep it for another occasion," was the stubborn reply.

"We are too late this time," whispered Stocmar across towards Paten; "the fellow has been at the whiskey-bottle already."

With that marvellous acuteness of hearing that a brain in its initial state of excitement is occasionally gifted with, the old man caught the words, and, as suddenly rendered aware of the presence of a third party, turned his eyes on Paten. At first the look was a mere stare, but gradually the expression grew more fixed, and the bleared eyes dilated, while his whole features became intensely eager. With a shuffling but hurried step he then moved across the floor, and, coming close up to where Paten stood, he laid his hands upon his shoulders, and wheeled him rudely round, till the light of the window fell full upon him.

"Well, old gent," said Paten, laughing, "if we are not old friends, you treat me very much as though we were."

A strange convulsion, half smile, half grin, passed over the old man's face, but he never uttered a word, but stood gazing steadily on the other.

"You are forgetting yourself, Tom," said Stocmar, angrily. "That gentleman is not an acquaintance of yours."

"And who told _you_ that?" said the old man, insolently. "Ask himself if we are not."

"I'm afraid I must give it against you, old boy," said Paten, good-humoredly. "This is the first time I have had the honor to meet you."

"It is not!" said the old man, with a solemn and even haughty emphasis.

"I could scarcely have forgotten a man of such impressive manners," said Paten. "Will you kindly remind me of the where and how you imagine us to have met?"

"I will," said the other, sternly. "You shall hear the where and the how. The where was in the High Court, at Jersey, on the 18th of January, in the year 18--; the how, was my being called on to prove the death, by corrosive sublimate, of Godfrey Hawke. Now, sir, what say you to my memory,--is it accurate, or not?"

Had not Paten caught hold of a heavy chair, he would have fallen; even as it was, he swayed forward and backward like a drunken man.

"And you--you were a doctor in those days, it seems," said he, with an affected laugh, that made his ghastly features appear almost horrible.

"Yes; they accused _me_ of curing folk, just as they charged _you_ with killing them. Calumnious world that it is,--lets no man escape!"

[Illustration: 280]

"After all, my worthy friend," said Paten, as he drew Himself haughtily up, and assumed, though by a great effort, his wonted ease of manner, "you are deceived by some chance resemblance, for I know nothing about Jersey, and just as little of that interesting little incident you have alluded to."

"This is even more than you attempted on the trial. You never dreamed of so bold a stroke as that, there. No, no, Paul Hunt, I know you well: that's a gift of mine,--drunk or sober, it has stuck to me through life,--I never forget a face,--never!"

"Come, come, old Tom," said Stocmar, as he drew forth a sherry decanter and a large glass from a small recess in the wall, "this is not the kindliest way to welcome an old friend or make a new one. Taste this sherry, and take the bottle back with you, if you like the flavor."

Stocmar's keen glance met Paten's eyes, and as quickly the other understood his tactique.

"Good wine, rare wine, if it was n't so cold on the stomach," said the old man, as he tossed off the second goblet. Already his eyes grew wild and bloodshot, and his watery lip trembled. "To your good health, gentlemen both," said he, as he finished the decanter. "I'm proud you liked that last scene. It will be finer before I 've done with it; for I intend to make the lava course down the mountain, and be seen fitfully as the red glow of the eruption lights up the picture."