eamer's port in the Channel somewhere some time. You aren't in a
hurry. Come, and hear Haigh play again."

I said I preferred duets.

"All right, you shall hear the humble combined effort," said he; and
then, after a good deal of pumping, I got more out of him as to whence
sprang his powers.

"The thing's simple enough," he said. "I was fond of fiddling, and I
stuck to it. I used to scrape at Cambridge, if you remember, as
probably you don't, and had some goodish lessons there. Afterwards,
when I got on the wander and took to pawning things, my spare shirt
went frequently, but I always managed to stick to that little black box
somehow. And I played on forecastle heads and on beaches and in
sailors' lodgings ashore, and occasionally I got a week or so's lessons
from a good man ashore; and then I heard concerts and good orchestras
all up and down. And so, you see, I picked it up that way.... No, I
don't play from paper much, but Haigh's a bit of a kindred spirit, and
between us we evolve things. And now let's talk of something else--say,
the ptarmigan prospects for next year; you'll be good on that."

* * * * *

Now I am fond of music--ordinary music, that is--and I can appreciate a
good song or well-performed operas such as _Carmen_ and the
_Yeomen of the Guard_, or even a classical concert if it is not
too long. In fact, I had always plumed myself on being what one calls
"very tolerably musical." But these two were streets in advance of such
mediocrity. To begin with, they had a strong contempt for most vocal
efforts, considering them as merely a sop for the outside public.
Orchestral music was their formula for the highest form of the art, and
orchestral music they accordingly played, that queer creature Haigh
blinking over the upright grand, and Cospatric behind him bringing
sounds out of his violin such as I never heard amateur produce before,
with a combined result that was always marvellous, and sometimes verged
upon that abstract goal, perfection.

They seldom had a screed of notes before them. Either they knew the
stuff by heart, or, what seemed more likely, there was some sympathetic
link between them which kept both instruments unerringly to the theme.
I could not find how it was done; I could only acknowledge the results.

It was by no means always within my powers to appreciate their work.
Sometimes the charm of what they played was too esoteric for my
understandi