not
evidence. It is evidence, however, that I saw them married with my
own eyes on the Wednesday; and that while they went off in a
carriage-and-four to spend the honeymoon, I went off on my own legs to
open a credit at the Town and County Bank with a five-hundred-pound note
in my pocket.

As to Mr. Davager, I can tell you nothing more about him, except what is
derived from hearsay evidence, which is always unsatisfactory evidence,
even in a lawyer's mouth.

My inestimable boy, Tom, although twice kicked off by Sam the pony,
never lost hold of the bridle, and kept his man in sight from first to
last. He had nothing particular to report except that on the way out to
the Abbey Mr. Davager had stopped at the public-house, had spoken a word
or two to his friend of the night before, and had handed him what looked
like a bit of paper. This was no doubt a clew to the thread that held
the letter, to be used in case of accidents. In every other respect Mr.
D. had ridden out and ridden in like an ordinary sightseer. Tom reported
him to me as having dismounted at the hotel about two. At half-past I
locked my office door, nailed a card under the knocker with "not at home
till to-morrow" written on it, and retired to a friend's house a mile or
so out of the town for the rest of the day.

Mr. Davager, I have been since given to understand, left the Gatliffe
Arms that same night with his best clothes on his back, and with all
the valuable contents of his dressing-case in his pockets. I am not in
a condition to state whether he ever went through the form of asking for
his bill or not; but I can positively testify that he never paid it, and
that the effects left in his bedroom did not pay it either. When I add
to these fragments of evidence that he and I have never met (luckily for
me, you will say) since I jockeyed him out of his banknote, I have about
fulfilled my implied contract as maker of a statement with you, sir, as
hearer of a statement. Observe the expression, will you? I said it was
a Statement before I began; and I say it's a Statement now I've done. I
defy you to prove it's a Story! How are you getting on with my portrait?
I like you very well, Mr. Artist; but if you have been taking advantage
of my talking to shirk your work, as sure as you're alive I'll split
upon you to the Town Council!

I attended a great many times at my queer sitter's house before his
likeness was completed. To the last he was dissatisfied with