"Thank you," said the artist blankly. "You will give me yours? I am sure
it's very good in you."

"Yes, I'll give you mine," continued Michael, "for the inspector of
police to play on while his men are digging up your back garden."

Pitman stared at him in pained amazement.

"No, I'm not insane," Michael went on. "I'm playful, but quite coherent.
See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the
refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the
presence of the--you know what--connects us with the crime; once let us
get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace us
by. Well, I give you my piano; we'll bring it round this very night.
To-morrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the--our friend--inside,
plump the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young
gentleman whom I know by sight."

"Whom do you know by sight?" repeated Pitman.

"And what is more to the purpose," continued Michael, "whose chambers I
know better than he does himself. A friend of mine--I call him my friend
for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) in
gaol--was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off
too--all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what he
had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest--the key of his chambers.
It's there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say,
Cleopatra?"

"It seems very wild," said Pitman. "And what will become of the poor
young gentleman whom you know by sight?"

"It will do him good," said Michael cheerily. "Just what he wants to
steady him."

"But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of--a charge of
murder," gulped the artist.

"Well, he'll be just where we are," returned the lawyer. "He's innocent,
you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate
circumstance of guilt."

"But indeed, indeed," pleaded Pitman, "the whole scheme appears to me so
wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?"

"And make a scandal?" inquired Michael. "'The Chelsea Mystery; alleged
innocence of Pitman'? How would that do at the Seminary?"

"It would imply my discharge," admitted the drawing-master. "I cannot
deny that."

"And besides," said Michael, "I am not going to embark in such a
business and have no fun for my money."

"O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?" cried Pitman.

"O, I only said that to cheer you up," said the