'Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,' said Michael.
'You what? You palmed him off? That's surely a singular expression,' said Morris.
'Yes, palmed him off for a piano,' said Michael with perfect simplicity. 'Remarkably full, rich tone,' he added.
Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with sweat. 'Fever,' said he.
'No, it was a Broadwood grand,' said Michael. 'Pitman here will tell you if it was genuine or not.'
'Eh? Oh! Oh yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon it several times myself,' said Pitman. 'The three-letter E was broken.'
'Don't say anything more about pianos,' said Morris, with a strong shudder; 'I'm not the man I used to be! This—this other man—let's come to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get hold of him?'
'Ah, that's the rub,' said Michael. 'He's been in possession of the desired article, let me see—since Wednesday, about four o'clock, and is now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Godire.'
'Michael,' said Morris pleadingly, 'I am in a
