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'Well, sir,' said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up
a handful of loose silver, 'that's a mortal heavy piano.'
'It's the richness of the tone,' returned Michael, as he drove away.
It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and
quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth's chambers in the
Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and
gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending
from the cart, whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth
on foot for the decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time
Michael displayed a shadow of uneasiness.
'Are my whiskers right?' he asked. 'It would be the devil and all if I
was spotted.'
'They are perfectly in their place,' returned Pitman, with scant
attention. 'But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more
likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.'
'O, nobody could tell you without your beard,' said Michael. 'All you
have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose
already.'
'I only hope the young man won't be at home,' sighed Pitman.
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