List of illustrations
0.1
1.2
BOX 2.1 Sampling in landscape survey 61
BOX 2.2 Cropmark formation 70
BOX 2.3 Historic Landscape Characterisation (HLC) 71
BOX 2.4 Airborne topographic survey: lidar 78
BOX 2.5 Geophysical survey techniques 81
BOX 2.6 Geophysical survey responses 82
BOX 2.7 GIS and predictive modelling: the location of Roman villas near Veii, Italy 92
Chapter 3
3.1 Filming in a trench on Te Great British Dig 100
3.2 Section drawings from excavations at Knossos 100
3.3 Excavation techniques at Corbridge, 1909 101
3.4 General Pitt Rivers 103
3.5 Pitt Rivers’ excavations at Wor Barrow, Dorset 106
3.6 Drawing of a section at Segontium Roman fort, Caernarvon 107
3.7 Test pits being recorded as part of the ‘100 Minories’ project, London 108
3.8 Open-area excavation, Virginia 109
3.9 Excavation of the Temple of Mithras, London, in 1954 122
3.10 Te London Mithraeum today 122
3.11 Finds processing. Sorting Byzantine pottery, Turkey 127
3.12 Excavation of a Roman basilica, London 131
3.13 Anglo-Saxon burial excavated at Westfeld Farm, Ely 133
3.14 Organic fnds from Must farm, Cambridgeshire 136
3.15 Iron Age rectangular building from the Gwent levels, Wales 137
3.16 Underwater excavation of a submerged Roman site 139
3.17 Structures and layers revealed by excavation at Usk, Wales 141
3.18 Excavation of a stone structure 145
3.19 Plan of the Ardnamurchan Viking boat burial 147
3.20 Post holes from Jamestown barracks, Virginia 148
3.21 Mud bricks in a section at Tepe Ali Kosh, Iran 150
3.22 Warehouse excavation, Manchester 152
3.23 Tree-dimensional images of the temples of Shahiru and Maran, Hatra, Iraq 153
3.24 Students using VR goggles 154
3.25 Recording on site, Manchester 155
3.26 A flled-in context sheet from Cotswold Archaeology 157
3.27 A context sheet from the Ardnamurchan Transitions Project 158
3.28 Stages of excavation and publication 164
3.29 Te publications of excavations at York, Fishergate 167
BOX 3.1 Box trenches and open excavation at the Tofs 102
BOX 3.2 Gussie White and the archaeologists of the ‘Irene Mound’ project 104
BOX 3.3 Stratigraphic recording 110
BOX 3.4 Responsibilities of excavators: selection of items from the Chartered Institute for Archaeologists’ code of conduct (October 2021 revisions) 114
BOX 3.5 Te excavation committee at the excavations of South Shields in 1875 117
BOX 3.6 Planning and excavation: key defnitions from the National Planning Policy Framework (NPPF) 123
BOX 3.7 Positive features: section of Roman Ermin Street 140
BOX 3.8 Negative features: Iron Age storage pits 142
BOX 3.9 Surfaces: foor levels 143
Chapter 4
4.1 Changes in the design of Bronze Age axes 172
4.2 A Bronze Age axe mounted on a modern handle 173
4.3 Minoan pottery from Crete and Egypt 174
4.4 Te spread of infuences from the civilisations of North Africa and Southwest Asia 174
4.5 Typology of Mesolithic harpoon points 176
4.6 A Mesolithic bone harpoon 176
4.7 Inscription dating the construction of Hadrian’s wall 180
4.8 Examples of marine core sediments 184
4.9 Te POLARSTERN geological core repository for sediment samples 184
4.10 Climatostratigraphy 185
4.11 Volcanic eruptions revealed by acidity in ice cores 186
4.12 Example of tree rings 188
4.13 Dating by dendrochronology 189
4.14 Te basis of radiocarbon dating 192
4.15 Tree-ring calibration curve for radiocarbon dates 196
4.16 Statistical margins of error for radiocarbon dates 196
4.17 Te efect of calibration curve ‘wiggle’ on radiocarbon dating 198
4.18 An example of the calibration of a radiocarbon date using OXCAL v.4.1 199
4.19 Graph of light released during thermoluminescence dating 207
4.20 Tattershall castle 209
4.21 Section through the hydration rim of an obsidian artefact 211
4.22 Movement of magnetic north 212
BOX 4.1 Using seriation: Native American sites in New York State 178
BOX 4.2 Which dating technique? 179
BOX 4.3 Alchester: dendrochronology in action 190
BOX 4.4 Te frst radiocarbon revolution: Willard Libby in the lab 194
BOX 4.5 Vikings, fre and ice: the application of tephrochronology 205
BOX 4.6 Optical stimulated luminescence: Deaf Adder Gorge, Australia 208
BOX 4.7 Dating an archaeological excavation 215
5.3 Pollen diagram from Jutland, Denmark 229
5.4 Cut marks on animal bone 235
5.5 Graph of animal species at West Stow 238
5.6 Seasonality: Abu Hureyra 239
5.7 Section through an oyster shell 243
5.8 Insect remains 246
5.9 Oxygen isotope values for northwestern European drinking water 253
5.10 Map of human dispersal from Africa based on DNA and fossil evidence 258
5.11 Diagram of hominin evolution 259
5.12 Artefact life cycle and materials science 262
5.13 Scanning electron microscope photomicrograph of a textile 264
5.14 Marble source revealed by analysis 265
5.15 John Dee’s Mirror – polished obsidian 266
5.16 Obsidian artefacts 268
5.17 Tin section of fabric from Roman pottery 269
5.18 Metal content of Egyptian copper alloy axes 272
5.19 Conservation of artefacts from the Ardnamurchan Viking boat burial 275
5.20 Replica of the Amsterdam 280
BOX 5.1 Climate and the human past 221
BOX 5.2 Small but vital: plant and animal remains recovered by means of fotation 227
BOX 5.3 Domestication of maize in the Americas 231
BOX 5.4 Charting animal domestication 237
BOX 5.5 Ceramics and food remains: gas chromatography 241
BOX 5.6 Human remains and evidence of warfare: Towton Moor 249
BOX 5.7 DNA and disease: the archaeology of tuberculosis 250
BOX 5.8 Movement and migration: Bronze Age Beaker burials 254
Chapter 5
5.1 Geoarchaeology at Brean Down 225
5.2 Pollen grains 228
BOX 5.9 Isola Sacra: diet and migration in Ancient Rome 255
BOX 5.10 Roman coins 274
BOX 5.11 Experimental archaeology –example of Bronze Age metallurgy 277
Chapter 6
6.1 Te European cultural dialectic 284
6.2 Te scientifc method: the process of conducting scientifc inquiry 285
6.3 System diagram showing Mesopotamian complexity 299
6.4 A decorated calabash gourd 301
6.5 Gothic eagle brooch 302
6.6 Prehistoric stone tools 303
6.7 Convergence of theoretical traditions in archaeology 313
6.8 Alerting the public to the presence of the dead within museums 318
6.9 Anne Frank projected onto Cliford’s Tower, York 321
6.10 Model of australopithecines 323
6.11 Te structures at Çatalhöyük 330
6.12 Two examples of La Candelaria anthropo-zoomorphic ceramic vessels 336
BOX 6.1 Archaeological theory and changing perspectives 286
BOX 6.2 Nationalism and archaeology 292
BOX 6.3 Reconstructing past societies: hierarchies, heterarchies and social complexity 296
BOX 6.4 Phenomenology: postprocessualism and landscape archaeology 307
Chapter 7
7.1 Segedunum Roman fort viewing tower 347
7.2 Gabe Moshenska’s seven types of public archaeology 352
7.3 Archaeology and education 354
7.4 Raksha Dave undertakes stained glass painting at the Stained Glass Museum, Ely Cathedral, UK 356
7.5 Police and revellers at Stonehenge, 1999 363
7.6 Richardson and Pickering’s comic representation of the many interpretations of Stonehenge 365
7.7 At street scene at open-air museum Archeon in Te Netherlands 368
7.8 Social justice activism at Weston Park Museum, Shefeld 370
7.9 Te St Breock’s Down monolith and windfarm 377
BOX 7.1 Te pyramids at Giza 344
BOX 7.2 Heritage management: state protection 348
BOX 7.3 Tourism and heritage: Kenilworth Castle 350
BOX 7.4 Te ‘ACCORD’ project’s work at Dumbarton Rock 359
BOX 7.5 American soldiers climbing the ziggurat of Ur 372
BOX 7.6 Archaeology and ethics: the case of human remains 372
BOX 7.7 Te Forsmark nuclear storage plant, Sweden 379
BOX 7.8 An archaeological skills passport 382
The idea of the past 1
Our aim in this chapter is to show how some fundamental principles and methods emerged and combined to form the modern discipline known as archaeology. This has been the subject of several complete books, but we will attempt to map the development of archaeology in a wider intellectual context and look in more detail at some themes that are particularly important:
● Interest in landscapes and travel promoted the recognition and recording of ancient sites. Visits to sites, together with the habit of collecting ancient artefacts and works of art, eventually led to deeper investigations (with the help of excavation) of early civilisations.
● The study of human origins stimulated profound thinking about concepts of time and forged lasting links between archaeology and the natural sciences, notably biology and geology. It also underlined the importance of being able to identify and interpret artefacts made by early humans.
● The word ‘prehistory’ was invented in the nineteenth century to describe the long period of human existence – undocumented in historical sources – revealed by newly developed archaeological methods. Later, these methods were applied to the study of other fundamental phenomena such as the transition from hunting to farming and the origins of urbanism
These issues are not presented in a strict chronological sequence, and no clear line divides the history of archaeology from its present concerns. Indeed, we show that archaeology developed within a very specifc intellectual context, largely driven by the voices and concerns of white, Western, wealthy and predominantly male perspectives. These perspectives have begun to shift through an awareness of the specifc context in which archaeology developed. This, like many other topics introduced in Chapter 1, is discussed further in Chapters 6 and 7, which look at more recent trends in theory and interpretation.
1.1 THE INTELLECTUAL HISTORY OF ARCHAEOLOGY
● key references: Murray, Milestones in archaeology 2007; Schnapp, The discovery of the past 1996; Thornton, Archaeologists in print 2018; Trigger, A history of archaeological thought 2006.
It is important that the beneft of hindsight does not make us forget the constraints of the social and intellectual context in which antiquaries lived and worked. For example, in the early nineteenth century, the Danish scholars who frst organised
prehistoric objects into three successive Ages (Stone, Bronze and Iron) assigned them to a very short time span. In mid-seventeenth-century Britain, Bishop Ussher had used the Bible to calculate that the creation of the Earth took place in 4004 bc, and other estimates were not much earlier (Stiebing 1993: 32; Rowley-Conwy 2007: 6–7). Pressure from developments in geology and biology to adopt a much longer time scale did not fnally displace the biblical scheme until the 1860s. Te dating of prehistory underwent major revisions afer the radiocarbon dating technique was introduced and accepted in the 1950s, while techniques such as potassium–argon dating
revealed that some of the earliest sites with tools made by hominins were much older than had previously been suspected (Chapter 4).
We may learn a great deal by examining how early antiquaries and archaeologists (the diference between the two will emerge later in this chapter) tackled the formidable problem of making sense of the human past without the help of the libraries, museums, travel and technical facilities available today. At the same time we should take care not to look only at the origins of ideas we still consider important and ignore the wider setting in which they were formulated. At the most fundamental level it is possible to see
Table 1.1 Archaeology and the history of ideas
the whole idea of looking for the origins of things as a peculiarly Western intellectual diversion (Foucault 1970; Tomas 2004; Trigger 2006: 9–10).
We feel that it is important to place the development of archaeology within a broad intellectual, philosophical and historical framework; however, terms such as Renaissance, Enlightenment and Romanticism are less well known than they once were. Table 1.1 places onto a chronological scale the labels used in this chapter to indicate the cultural, political, philosophical or religious context of a particular approach to archaeology; many of these labels were only invented in the nineteenth century
Intellectual or Date Characteristics Impact upon Key names cultural phase archaeology (those after ‘/’ relevant to archaeology)
Classical Ancient Greece and Rome
Philosophical and scientifc outlook, particularly in Greece, embracing both the human and the natural/physical world
Late Roman/ Fourth century Christian theology
Collecting artistic objects, visiting sites, speculation about early human societies
Aristotle, Plato, Lucretius/ Herodotus, Pausanias, Tacitus
Perpetuation of the St Augustine Byzantine AD to ffteenth century AD emphasising lack of free will, preoccupation with truth against heresy
Islam Seventh century AD onwards
Conquest and conversion of much of the Mediterranean Classical world, along with Persia and the East
‘Dark Ages’ AD 600–1000 Replacement of the western Roman Empire by kingdoms of Germanic origin; continuation of the scholarly Christian outlook still regarding Rome as its centre, particularly in Britain and France
idea of the Roman Empire, collecting Christian relics, pilgrimage to holy sites
Translation into Arabic of Classical Greek literature, especially on philosophy, medicine and science
Interest in Roman art, architecture and literature; relics and pilgrimage
Mohammed, Avicenna, Averroes
Bede, Alcuin, Charlemagne
Medieval scho- Eleventh to Expanding interest in Rediscovery of ancient St Thomas Aquilasticism fourteenth century AD Classical intellectual heritage (especially Aristotle), scientifc investigation; important background to the Renaissance
Greek philosophical and scientifc writings preserved by Arab scholars nas, Roger Bacon
Renaissance Fourteenth to sixteenth century AD
Reformation Sixteenth to seventeenth century AD
Interest in humanism as well as theology, fowering of the arts (especially in Italy); broadening of horizons through European voyages of discovery
Rejection of the authority of the Roman Church, greater emphasis on the individual; confict between science and papal authority
Recording of Greek and Roman buildings and inscriptions, study of Roman architecture to provide models for new buildings
Growth of national awareness in Northern Europe leading to studies of local sites
Erasmus, Leonardo da Vinci/ Brunelleschi, Cyriac of Ancona
Scientifc Revolution
Seventeenth century AD
Enlightenment Eighteenth century AD
Rejection of Aristotle, investigation of the physical world by direct observation and experiment, particularly in astronomy; concept of scientifc laws
As a result of the Scientifc Revolution, increasing explanation of the world in rational rather than religious terms; profound philosophical interest in the evolution of human society; emphasis upon free will and rights
Growing curiosity about ancient sites, recording them using mathematically sound surveying methods
Expansion of scientifc recording and classifcation of the natural world (including antiquities)
Luther, Calvin, Loyola (Counter-Reformation)/ Copernicus
Descartes, Hobbes, Galileo, Isaac Newton, Francis Bacon/ Aubrey
Diderot, Hume, Kant/Stukeley, Winckelmann
Romanticism Late eighteenth to early nineteenth century AD
Positivism Nineteenth to twentieth century AD
Reaction against Enlightenment rationality: emotional attraction to dramatic, wild landscapes and primitive peoples
Evolutionism Nineteenth
Continuation of Enlightenment preference for empiricism, naturalism and science rather than speculation; emergence of sociology
Increasing national identity and interest in origins of modern nations; preference for ‘Noble Savage’ rather than ‘brutish’ image of primitive humans; interest in progress through ages
Rousseau, Schelling, Hegel
Intellectual atmosphere receptive to developments in geology and biology leading to evolutionary theory and the study of human origins Comte
as an analogy for explaining (and justifying) changes in societies (social Darwinism) and for the development of archaeological objects
Concept of natural Extensively adopted Lamarck, Darwin, (Darwinism) to twentieth century AD selection added a new scientifc dimension to long-held ideas about the evolution of organisms (including humans); transformed by development of genetics in the twentieth century
Herbert Spencer/ Pitt Rivers
Marxism (com- Nineteenth Theory of social evolution Particularly import- Marx, Engels/ munism) to twentieth century AD derived from anthropology and ancient history that emphasised the economic basis of social structures, and the notion of revolutionary (rather than gradual) change
Nationalism Nineteenth to twentieth century AD
Modernism Late nineteenth to late twentieth century AD
Structuralism Early to late twentieth century AD
Extension of Reformation and Romantic concepts into political action, frequently using evolutionary ideas about natural selection to include notions of racial superiority
Culmination of the Enlightenment and positivist confdence in social progress and objective science
Intellectual movement that relates superfcial phenomena such as language, myths, works of art and social institutions to the underlying structure of language
ant in the twentieth century, when archaeologists reacted positively or negatively to developments in Russia, and highly infuential in ‘explaining’ prehistory Childe
Extensive archaeological work devoted to establishing connections between modern peoples or nations and ‘ancestral’ sites and artefacts Hegel, Byron/ Kossinna
Fundamental to much archaeological work, especially the ‘New Archaeology’, up to the 1980s Hegel, Marx/Binford, David Clarke
Particularly infuential upon anthropology, and therefore upon archaeology
Saussure, Barthes, LéviStrauss/Hodder
Postmodernism Late twentieth century AD
New mate- Late twentieth
Breaking down of confdence in modernism and grand narratives of social evolution such as Marxism; related to poststructuralism, which denies fxed meanings, simple dichotomies and the pursuit of truths
Questioning a
Encourages a highly personal archaeological outlook that suspects that all interpretations based on supposedly objective observation are illusions refecting prevailing power structures Nietzsche, Lyotard, Foucault, Derrida/Meg Conkey, Joan Gero, Christopher Tilley, Julian Thomas.
Encourages seeing Barad, Bennett, rialism/post- century to early human-centred view; humans and things Braidotti, Delanda, humanism twenty-frst breaking down the sepa- as ontologically equal, Deleuze, Guattari, and other century AD ration between humans emerging together in Haraway, Harman, approaches, and non-humans; messy, multi-scalar Latour, Spinoza/ such as examining relationships assemblages and Chantal Conneller, ‘symmetrical between people, and capable of affecting Craig Cipolla, archaeology’. between people and one another Rachel Crellin, All of these are things, and ways in Ben Jervis, Andy characterised which they affect each M Jones, Yannis as ‘the onto- other Hamilakis, Oliver logical turn’ Harris, Gavin Lucas, Bjørnar Olsen, Þóra Pétursdóttir, Timothy Webmoor, Chris Whitmore
and are used for convenience. It is also important to emphasise that, in charting the development of archaeological thought, the contributions of straight, white,Western, able-bodied, cisgendered male archaeologists to these advances have, until very recently, been emphasised at the expense of all others (Diaz-Andreu and Stig-Sørensen 1998; Kehoe and Emmerich 1999: 117; Battle-Baptiste 2011; TrowelBlazers 2022). It is also true that this simplifed account of intellectual history places Europe and America at its centre and carries the implication that everything on the chart happened as part of a linear evolution towards the present. Although most archaeologists today reject this kind of thinking and have demonstrated how it can cause all sorts of problems (which are explored in Chapters 6 and 7), it is nevertheless an important starting point for contextualising the discussion in this chapter.
1.1.1 Archaeology and antiquarianism, prehistory and history
● key references: Daniel and Renfrew, The idea of prehistory 1988; Pearce, Visions of antiquity 2007a; Rowley-Conwy, From Genesis to prehistory 2007; Sweet, Antiquaries 2004.
Te concept of prehistory is perhaps the single most important contribution made by archaeology to our knowledge of humanity; furthermore, it is based almost exclusively on the interpretation of material evidence. Te emergence of prehistoric archaeology in the nineteenth century, although it relied heavily upon natural sciences such as geology and biology, was a remarkable episode that changed people’s ideas about themselves (Tomas 2004). Indeed, research into human origins in the nineteenth century did as much as the discovery of civilisations to establish public awareness about what was distinctive about archaeology as an intellectual pursuit. Early progress in the study of ancient Greece and Rome established the value of recording sites and artefacts as well as documents and inscriptions; the term archaeology was already being used
in Jacob Spon’s publications of his research in Athens and elsewhere in the seventeenth century (Etienne and Etienne 1992: 38–41). Nevertheless, most historical scholars gave the written word priority over physical evidence, and until quite recently considered archaeology inferior to the study of texts or works of art (Trigger 2006: 498). Archaeologists still tend to be placed in one of two categories: prehistorians or historical archaeologists. Tis division is not particularly helpful, but it does distinguish the latter, who study people or places within periods for which written records are available, from the former, who are concerned with any period that lacks documents. Historical archaeologists usually possess a basic framework of dates and a general idea of the society of a particular period into which to ft their fndings. In contrast, those who study prehistory, a concept only frmly established afer 1850 (Clermont and Smith 1990; Rowley-Conwy 2007), have to create some kind of framework for themselves from artefacts and sites alone, normally with the help of analogies drawn from anthropology. Te methods used by both kinds of archaeologist today are very much the same, and there is considerable overlap between their ideas and interests, including those who restrict the term ‘historical archaeology’ to a period beginning around ad 1500 (Hicks and Beaudry 2006). Historians who studied ancient Greece, Rome or the Bible could set out to locate physical traces on the ground of events and civilisations described in literature; this possibility was simply not available to other historians, natural scientists or collectors who tried to make sense of artefacts or graves surviving from times before the earliest existing written records in other areas, for example pre-Roman Britain.
In 1926 R.G. Collingwood, a British philosopher who combined academic philosophy with extensive involvement in archaeology, disputed the clear distinction generally drawn between history and prehistory:
Strictly speaking, all history is prehistory, since all historical sources are mere matter, and none are ready-made history; all require to be converted into history by the thought of the
historian. And on the other hand, no history is mere prehistory, because no source or group of sources is so recalcitrant to interpretation as the sources of prehistory are thought to be.
(quoted in Van der Dussen 1993: 372)
Collingwood was infuenced by his knowledge of the difculties of linking the general history found in Classical documents to the physical remains encountered on Roman sites (and the problems in dating them). More recently, the division between history and prehistory, and the primacy ascribed to text, has seen a diferent kind of critical analysis which emphasises the problems of universalising Western thinking that emerge from colonialism.
Carlos Mamani Condori, a Bolivian professor, researcher and campaigner for the rights of Indigenous communities in Bolivia, has argued that
prehistory is a Western concept according to which those societies which have not developed writing – or an equivalent system of graphic representation – have no history. Tis fts perfectly into the framework of evolutionist thought typical of Western cultures.
(Mamani Condori 1989: 51)
Tis argument has been reiterated in multiple contexts. Indigenous understandings of heritage and history that are conceived through intangible practices such as song, dance and story-telling have been shown to have equal – and ofen greater – importance in the creation of Indigenous knowledge of the past (e.g. papers in Supernant et al. 2020; Verdesio 2013). Tis issue will be revisited in Chapters 6 and 7; meanwhile, we should recognise that prehistory as a distinctive phenomenon seen through Western eyes is not a concept accepted throughout the world (Kehoe 1991b).
1.1.2 The problem of origins and time
● key references: Crellin, Change and Archaeology 2020; Lucas, Archaeology of time 2005; Lucas, Making Time: The Archaeology of Time Revisited,
2021; Murray, Time and archaeology 1999b; Rossi, The dark abyss of time 1984; RowleyConwy, From Genesis to prehistory 2007.
A quest for origin is only possible in an intellectual framework that has a linear concept of time that progresses from a beginning to an end, rather than going around in an endlessly repeating circle of life, death and rebirth (Gell 1992; Bintlif 1999). Recognition of the existence of a signifcant amount of time before historical records began was also essential before any attempt was made to understand it. Finally, people had to conceptualise using ancient objects, monuments and sites to explore prehistoric time. Many societies have developed sophisticated mythologies which, in association with religion, allow the physical environment to be ftted into an orderly system where natural features may be attributed to the work of gods. Artifcial mounds, abandoned occupation sites and ancient objects were ofen associated with deities, fairies, ancestors or other denizens of the world of mythology, and explanations of this kind abound in surviving folklore. Many prehistoric sites in England have traditional names that reveal this background, for example the large standing stones in Yorkshire known as Te Devil’s Arrows. For those early prehistorians who believed in a biblical Creation dating to 4004 bc, as calculated by Bishop Ussher, or by relating Roman and Greek historical documents back to the Old Testament (Rowley-Conwy 2007: 6–9), there was at least an upper limit to the age of any of the items that they studied. If not, an apparently insoluble range of questions was raised. Which sites and objects were in use at the same time, and how many years had elapsed between those that looked primitive and those that seemed more advanced? Did technical improvements represent a gradual series of inventions made by a single people, or did innovations mark the arrival of successive waves of conquerors with superior skills? Te frst step essential to any progress was a recognition of the amount of time occupied by human development in prehistory, and this advance took place in the frst half of the nineteenth century. In the view of Bruce Trigger,
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“No. Where did he live?”
“Oh, ’e was always moving!” replied Mr Clark. “’E never stopped anywhere long, but now ’e’s settled for good and all. Five weeks ago, that was.”
“Is he buried in the town?” asked Mr. Lane, politely, affecting interest in the sad event.
“No, sir; in Scotland, where ’e was born.”
“And what was ’e like?”
“Ah, a little, short, shabby old chap, ’e was. But, then, there was a reason for ’is going shabby.”
“Oh, indeed? He was poor, I suppose?”
“Not ’im! ’E was a miser.”
“A miser?” said Mr. Lane. “Really?”
“Really! ’E told me so ’isself dozens of times! ‘Sam,’ ’e says to me, ‘you’d never believe ’ow much I’ve got saved up!’ Couldn’t bear to spend a penny, ’e couldn’t; and ’e kept it all in the ’ouse. Didn’t believe in banks, ’e said.”
“And I suppose they found it when—”
“Not a brass farthing!” cheerfully affirmed Mr. Clark.
“Strange! What did his relations do about it?”
“’E’d only got one, a great-nephew, and ’e was away at the time and couldn’t be found.”
“But who paid for the funeral? It must have cost a lot, taking place in Scotland.”
“Some of us paid for it, sir, ’is old pals. Leastwise, we sold all ’is furniture and stuff, and raised the money that way.”
“But what do you think became of his savings?”
“Well, if you ask me, sir I reckon the old fool—begging ’is pardon, I forgot!—the poor old fellow ’ad kept on changing ’em into paper money and ’ad burned ’em by accident, or else because ’e couldn’t bear the idea of anyone else getting ’em after ’e was gone.”
“I should have thought he’d have been glad for his nephew to get them.”
“His great-nephew, sir. Well, that’s as may be. All I know is that we found a great ’eap of charred papers in ’is fire-place when we broke in, when we suspected the worst. Lots of it was only old letters and noos-papers, and so on, but there might easily ’eve been paper money amongst it. It was all so powdered up. Anyway, that’s what we decided on in the end, there being no other way to account for the habsence of the money; and we ’adn’t ’alf ransacked ’is chest of drawers and boxes, neither!”
“Strange!” commented Mr. Lane again. “Very strange!”
“So we thought, sir,” acquiesced Mr. Clark. “’Owever, ’ere we are,” he went on, with an abrupt change of key, as the ferry gently nosed into the opposite bank. “And I never noticed ’ow quick we was travelling; all along of chatting about poor old ’Ennery Pash.”
He assisted his passenger to alight, pocketed his fare, and slowly sculled away again across the river.
“Another minute and I’d ’ave bust!” he told himself, in rapt enjoyment. “Sam, my boy, you’re like wine—you improves with age!”
The Magnolia Toilet Saloon, Shorehaven, was empty next morning at noon, save for two individuals. One of these was the proprietor, Mr. Joseph Tridge; the other was the trim, debonair Mr. Peter Lock, and to-day he wore a black tie in place of his usual brilliant neckwear.
“’E’s sure to be in soon, Peter,” Mr. Tridge was saying. “This is just about ’is time. It’s no good your complaining about ’aving to ’ang about ’ere. You agreed with ’Orace and us others— ’Ere quick, sit down! ’Ere ’e comes!”
Mr. Lock, casting aside a newspaper, seated himself at a bound in the operating chair. Mr. Tridge, wrapping a towel about his companion’s shoulders, began delicately to powder Mr. Lock’s smooth chin. A minute later the door opened, and Mr. Thomas Lane entered with the inquiring, calculating gaze habitual to men entering barbers’ shops.
“Shan’t keep you waiting a minute, sir!” called out Mr. Tridge. “I’m just finishing this gent.”
Mr. Lane sat down readily enough, and Mr. Tridge proceeded to remove the powder from Mr. Lock’s chin.
“So you ain’t ’eard nothing more about your great-uncle’s money, sir?” inquired Mr. Tridge, in confidential tones that just reached Mr. Lane’s ears.
“I’ve pretty well given up hope now,” said Mr. Lock. “I begin to think with them others, that he must have burned it. If ever he had it, mind you! Perhaps he only talked about it to keep me up to the mark as his great-nephew. Not that there was any need to do that, though,” declared Mr. Lock, rising, as Mr. Tridge removed the towel from his shoulder with a professional flourish. “I was always very fond of him for his own sake.”
“I’m sure you was, sir,” agreed Mr. Tridge, with sympathy. “But I can’t ’elp thinking you’ve been the victim of bad luck.”
“No use crying over spilt milk,” said Mr. Lock, philosophically. “Still, I’d like to have had a souveneer in memory of him, even if it wasn’t money. But by the time I’d got back here, everything had been sold and the funeral was all over, as you know.”
Mr. Tridge nodded, and irrelevantly mentioned the sum of threepence, extending his hand at the same time. A little light which was shining at the back of his eyes abruptly expired when Mr. Lock airily told him to put it down on the account, as usual.
At the departure of Mr. Lock, Mr. Lane took up his position in the chair, and for some while Mr. Tridge wielded the lather brush in
silence. Frequently did Mr. Tridge glance in the mirror at his patron, and each time he was pleased to note the continuance of a meditative look on Mr. Lane’s face.
“Who was that young chap you were shaving when I came in?” asked Mr. Lane at last. “I don’t seem to recognize him.”
“Oh, he’s been about some time,” answered Mr. Tridge. “He’s the billiard-marker down at the ‘Royal William.’”
“Is his name, by any chance—er—what is it?—oh, yes! Pash?”
“No, his name’s Lock, sir—Peter Lock. Funny you should have mentioned Pash, though. ’E was related to old ’Ennery Pash. You know, sir, the old chap they said was a miser.”
“I’ve heard of him,” admitted Mr. Lane.
“Mind you, I’ve never really swallowed the yarn that ’e was a miser,” declared Mr. Tridge. “Only one ’as to agree with one’s customers, and show an interest in ’em, you know. But as for old Pash being a miser—I wouldn’t like to bet on it. I know ’e used to ’ave a lot of registered letters come for ’im, but that don’t prove anything, do it?
And as for that tale about ’im being seen with stacks of notes as thick as a pack of cards—well, I never met anyone as could swear to it, anyway. Besides, they never found none in ’is cottage afterwards, though they searched every ’ole and corner. Ah, a queer old chap, ’e wos! I can see ’im now, sitting beside ’is fire in that old arm-chair of ’is. ’E never stirred from it if ’e could ’elp it. ’E regular loved that old chair of ’is. Once ’is chimney caught light, and bless me if that chair wasn’t the first thing ’e thought of to save!”
“Really?” said Mr. Lane, with interest.
“And truly,” affirmed Mr. Tridge. “Soon as ever that chimney began to blaze, ’e lugged that chair outdoors. Ah, and ’e wouldn’t leave it, neither, to go in and rescue anything else. ’E just sat tight on it there, out in the middle of the road, and let some one else put out the fire. ’E said ’e wouldn’t leave ’is old chair in case some one stole
it. A shabby, broken old chair like that, fancy!” scornfully concluded Mr. Tridge. “No wonder folk thought ’im a bit dotty!”
“Why, perhaps he’d—” exclaimed. Mr. Lane starting.
“Steady, sir, or I’ll be cutting you,” warned Mr. Tridge. “P’r’aps what, you was a-going to say?”
“Perhaps—perhaps he was very fond of it,” said Mr. Lane, a trifle weakly.
“I been a-telling you he was,” remarked Mr. Tridge. “But there! Old people like ’im often ’ave queer fancies like that!”
As one dismissing a thoroughly exhausted subject, Mr. Tridge turned the talk to the doings of Parliament, expounding his views with no more interruption than an occasional monosyllable interjected in a preoccupied way by his client.
“Let me see, where did you say that young man was employed?” inquired Mr. Lane, when at length Mr. Tridge simultaneously ceased his political remarks and his tonsorial services.
“What young man, sir?”
“Mr.—er—Mr. Pash’s great-nephew.”
“Oh, along at the ‘Royal William Hotel,’ sir,” said Mr. Tridge, turning aside to conceal a satisfied smile.
It was in the slack hour after tea that same day that the billiard-room of the “Royal William” was honoured by a first visit from Mr. Thomas Lane. He entered coyly, seating himself just inside the door in the most unobtrusive manner Mr. Lock, idly testing his skill at the table, accorded the visitor a courteous greeting.
“No, I don’t want to play, thanks,” replied Mr. Lane. “I—I only just looked in, that’s all.”
“Quite so, sir,” agreed Mr. Lock.
Mr. Lane offered no further explanation of his presence, and Mr Lock walked round the table a few times in leisurely pursuit of that perfection which comes to practice. The visitor, watching Mr. Lock’s activity through narrowed eyelids, patiently awaited opportunity, and this Mr. Lock presently offered him.
“Very good table, this, sir,” he observed, casually. “Good as any you’ll find in the town.”
“Dare say,” returned Mr. Lane, absently.
“I ain’t come across a public table to beat it,” stated Mr. Lock. “Of course, I don’t know anything about the private tables in the big houses round here. I expect there are a few good ones in some of them big houses on the cliff. If I was a rich man, I’d have a good billiard-table, I know.”
“I see,” said Mr. Lane, not very brilliantly
“Once I did think that maybe I’d have a billiard-table of my own,” remarked Mr. Lock, with a smile at his own folly. “But it never come off.”
“How was that?” asked Mr. Lane, alertly.
“I was expecting a bit of a legacy,” explained Mr. Lock. “Not a big ’un, mind, but I thought if there was enough to buy me a billiard-table that ’ud satisfy me. It would have kept me in recreation for the rest of my life. I’d got my eye on a place to keep it, too, and I’d have made a bit of money out of it, one way and another.”
“But—” prompted Mr. Lane.
“But it wasn’t to be,” said Mr. Lock, with a wistful shake of the head.
“And how was that?” inquired Mr. Lane. “The money was left to some one else, eh?”
“There wasn’t no money left at all!” Mr. Lock informed him. “Just a sort of mystery, it was. Anyway, they had to sell the furniture to pay for the funeral, and that tells its own tale, don’t it?”
“Well, well!” murmured Mr. Lane.
“Not a stick left when I come back on the scene!” related Mr. Lock. “I’d like to have had something to remember him by, too. Relation of mine, you know, he was. ‘Peter,’ he used to say to me, ‘Peter, I particular wants you to have my old arm-chair when I’m gone.’ Always saying that, he was. Why he couldn’t have given it to me while he was alive, and have done with it, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps he didn’t want to part with it?” suggested Mr. Lane.
“That was about it, I expect,” agreed Mr. Lock. “He’d certainly got a great fancy for that chair. Why, he used to carry it into the bedroom with him at night, and bring it down again in the morning. But, there, it had clean gone when I got back here.”
“Couldn’t you find out who’d bought it?”
“I did try, sir, but it was no good. You see, it was just a sort of Dutch auction, and people paid their money down for anything they bought, and took it straight away. There was a lot of strangers present, too, far as I could make out, and it must have been one of them that bought that old chair. A chap from the country, some of ’em told me. Dare say that old chair’s not more than five miles away at this minute, if the truth was known.”
“Why don’t you—haven’t you advertised for it?”
“Oh, I ain’t so keen on it as all that, sir,” replied Mr. Lock, carelessly. “I can remember the old chap well enough, without needing his old arm-chair to remind me of him. I don’t believe in being sentimental, sir, when it costs money, and a advertisement would cost more than that old chair’s worth. Besides, he won’t know now whether I’ve got it or not, and, if he does, it can’t make much difference to him, can it, sir?”
With these practical remarks, Mr. Lock turned again to the billiardtable for interest. Mr. Lane, after sitting meditatively for a long three minutes, rose and unostentatiously quitted the room.
The saloon was well patronized when, a couple of hours later, Mr Horace Dobb strolled in. His eyes sought Mr. Lock’s, and, meeting them, a slight upward flicker of the brows was perceptible. Mr. Lock nodded slowly, once, and Mr. Dobb drifted out again.
About ten minutes later Mr. Lane, his arms folded and his head bent in reverie, was occupying his accustomed seat in the bar-parlour of the “King’s Arms,” when a patron entered with a certain reckless joviality which compelled attention. Mr. Lane, glancing up petulantly at this intrusion on his meditations, recognized the new-comer to be a gentleman who dealt in second-hand goods at an establishment in Fore Street.
“’Evening all!” cried Mr. Dobb, exhibiting an unusual boisterousness of manner. He clung, swaying gently, to the handle of the door, and beamed owlishly round on the company. “’Evening all—and be blowed to the lot of you!”
The lady behind the counter, with whom it seemed that Mr. Dobb was something of a favourite, shook her finger at him in surprised reproach, and asked him what he meant by it.
“I been keeping off a cold!” explained Mr. Dobb, simply.
“So I should think!” declared the lady.
A glassy look came into Mr. Dobb’s orbs, indicating purposeful concentration. Releasing his grasp on the door, he, as it were, swooped forward and came neatly to rest with his elbows on the counter. This feat achieved, he gazed about him as one seeking plaudits.
“Been keeping off a cold!” he announced again, and performed a little shuffling movement which brought him backwards to the centre of the room. “Look at me boots!” he invited, proudly.
“Why, wherever have you been?” asked the lady. “All that mud!”
“I been keeping—I mean, I been out in the country!” stated Mr. Dobb, returning to the support offered by the bar.
“Been watercressing by the look of it?” suggested the lady, in playful sarcasm.
“Business!” said Mr. Dobb portentously, and looked round as though to balk the intentions of eavesdroppers.
“Business!” he repeated, in a whisper, and solemnly put his finger to his lips. “Norraword!” he urged warningly, and immediately added in the loudest, boastfullest accents: “I’ve had a good day to-day.
Bought a rare lot of stuff!”
He waited indecisively a little time, and then, selecting the chair adjacent to Mr. Lane’s, sat down on it with some abruptness of impact.
“Wanter buy a nice set of fire-irons?” he inquired, winningly. “Beautiful set! Bargain!”
Mr. Lane replied to the effect that he was adequately furnished with fire-irons.
“Don’t blame you, either!” hazily commented Mr. Dobb, and was silent for a brief space.
“Funny thing about it is,” he remarked next, opening one eye to stare at Mr. Lane challengingly, “’alf the stuff come from this town to start with. Now, ain’t that a rum ’un, eh?”
“I dare say,” politely ceded Mr. Lane.
“Of course it is!” insisted Mr. Dobb, with truculence. “Me going all the way out there to buy stuff what ’ad come—what ’ad come from Shore’aven to start with! It’s a—a cohincydence, that’s what it is! Going miles and miles to buy stuff what I could ’ave bought at old Pash’s sale, if only I’d been there!”
“Whose sale did you say?” quickly asked the other.
“Never you mind ’oose sale!” returned. Mr. Dobb, with reserve. “But, ’oosever it was, the stuff I bought to-day come from it! See? So don’t go a-contradicting of me!”
“I’m not!” protested Mr. Lane.
“Oh, yes, you was!” asserted Mr. Dobb. “Why don’t you let a man finish what ’e’s got to say afore you starts to argue? I’m telling you most of this stuff was bought by a chap in several lots to furnish ’is cottage.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Lane.
“There you goes again!” complained Mr. Dobb. “Anyway, ’e’s got a job at the other end of the country now, and—”
Mr. Dobb ceased momentarily, and regarded his boots with a fond smile.
“I ’aven’t ’alf been keeping out a cold!” he observed, confidentially. “Talk about mud and rain and cold winds—’oo’d live in the country, I’d like to know.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Lane, ingratiatingly. “Who would, indeed?”
To this Mr. Dobb made no response, being now engaged in inward thought.
“Who would, indeed?” said Mr. Lane again.
“Eh?” demanded Mr. Dobb, returning to wakefulness.
“Who would live in the country?” said Mr. Lane.
“Why, I would!” declared Mr. Dobb. “I love the country! All the little dicky-birds and—so on!”
He suddenly rose, proclaiming his intention of going home to bed as a preventive measure against chill. He nodded a protracted, drearyeyed, good-night to each individual of the company present, and then, festooning across the apartment, noisily negotiated the door and passed from view
No sooner was Mr. Dobb outside in the street, however, than his waywardness dropped from him, and, congratulating himself on his histrionic powers, he walked briskly to his abode.
Soon after breakfast next morning, Mr. Lane was visible in Fore Street. Into half a dozen shop-windows did he peer with an air of boredom, nor did his expression become quickened when at length he ranged himself before the jumbled collection of oddments which Mr. Dobb exhibited to the passer-by.
For some moments Mr. Lane affected a lukewarm interest in a faded photograph of the Niagara Falls, and next he lingered to gaze on a teapot which had suffered casualty in its more obtrusive parts. And, after that, he stepped into the doorway and pretended close scrutiny of a pair of cast-iron dumb-bells, and, under cover of this manœuvre, he glanced into the interior of the shop, and there saw a heterogeneous pile of furniture which was evidently awaiting disposal, and the most conspicuous item in it was a tattered and battered old arm-chair.
“Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Lane, involuntarily.
At this juncture Mr. Horace Dobb himself made an appearance at the threshold of his shop with evident purpose of ascertaining the state of the weather.
“Good morning, sir!” he said.
“Good morning—good morning!” returned Mr. Lane, with eager amiability. “Did you keep the cold off all right?”
“Oh, yes, I kept it; but ’ow did you know I was trying to keep a cold off?”
“Why, you told me so last night.”
“Last night?” queried Mr. Dobb, shaking his head. “Why, I never see you last night, sir.”
“In the ‘King’s Arms,’” prompted Mr. Lane.
“I never went in the ‘King’s Arms’ last night!” denied Mr. Dobb. “I came straight ’ome and went to bed. I’m sure of it.”
Mr. Lane was about to contradict, when it was evident that he changed his intention.
“Oh, well, I must have been thinking of some one else,” he said, lightly.
“I don’t know whether you’re interested in furniture, sir,” ventured Mr. Dobb. “But I’ve got some stuff in new to stock this morning, and—”
“I don’t mind having a look at it,” admitted Mr. Lane, almost skipping into the emporium.
“There’s a bedstead for you!” cried the vendor, with enthusiasm. “Real solid, good stuff. Been in a farm’ouse these ’undred years and more.”
“I got a bedstead,” said Mr. Lane.
“What about a sofa?” asked Mr. Dobb.
Mr. Lane shook his head. He was giving his attention to the worn old arm-chair.
“You don’t expect ever to sell a shabby old thing like that, do you?” he asked, artfully.
“It is a bit knocked about,” confessed Mr. Dobb. “But it’s a real fine old chair of its kind. I reckon to get a pretty good price for it when it’s been restored. I’ll ’ave it restuffed and reup’olstered, and it’ll fetch a big price, I lay.”
“It looks very lumpy,” observed Mr. Lane, and seized the opportunity to prod the sagging seat with his finger. He thrilled electrically when his touch encountered something vaguely massy and hard in the horsehair stuffing. Mr. Dobb, who had planned that thrill with the aid of a bulky old volume from the rubbish corner, winked pleasantly at the ceiling.
“I ain’t ’ardly ’ad a good look at it yet,” said Mr. Dobb. “It was in with a lot of other things I was after, though I meant to ’ave it, of course, soon as ever I spotted it. Genuine antike, that is.”
“Oh, I don’t think so!” said Mr. Lane.
“Well, it belonged to a old chap ’oo died in Shore’aven ’ere, and ’e’d ’ad it pretty nigh all ’is life, and chance it!” contended Mr. Dobb.
“I wonder the man who bought it then didn’t overhaul it,” mentioned Mr. Lane, thoughtfully. “Perhaps he did?” he suggested, a little dashed.
“Ah, ’e meant to, but ’e never ’ad the time,” said Mr. Dobb. “’E bought it with that idea, ’e told me, and ’e took it to ’is cottage in the country, meaning to see to it. But ’e ’append to lose ’is job, and, what with finding a fresh one, and then making arrangements to shift ’is family, ’e was so busy that the old chair just stayed up in ’is attic, untouched, from the time ’e took it ’ome to the time I bought it yesterday.”
“And what would you be asking for it as it stands?”
“Well, I dunno,” mused Mr. Dobb. “It ’ud pay me better to touch it up a bit first, I suppose. A genuine antike, you know. Still, if anybody was to offer me, say—oh, fifteen for it—”
“Fifteen shillings!” cried Mr. Lane, in excitement. “Right you—”
“Shillings? No!” scornfully interrupted Mr. Dobb. “Pounds, of course!”
“Why, it’s nowhere near worth that!”
“It’s worth what it’ll fetch,” said Mr. Dobb. “Anyway, by the time I’ve pulled it into shape a bit, and—”
“I’ll give you a couple of pounds for it as it stands,” offered Mr. Lane.
“Why, that ain’t a quarter of what I give for it myself!” returned Mr. Dobb. “But I’ve got a set of fire-irons what you can ’ave for two quid, if you like,” he offered, brightly.
“I don’t want fire-irons,” said Mr. Lane, pettishly.
“Well, I don’t take a penny less than fifteen quid for that chair. Look at the woodwork! A bit scratched, maybe, but sound—sound and
’eavy They don’t make ’em like that nowadays.”
“But fifteen pounds!” murmured Mr. Lane.
“Oh, I shall get more than that for it when I’ve squared it up and restored it,” foretold Mr. Dobb, confidently. “Why, I know more than one collector in these parts that’ll only be too anxious to secure it soon as ever ’e sees it. In a way, I’m doing you a favour by giving you first chance.”
“But fifteen pounds!” protested Mr. Lane.
“Well, I’ll say twelve as it stands, seeing as I shan’t ’ave to bother with restoring it. There, twelve! Just to make a reg’lar customer of you, only don’t go talking too much. Why, you can’t get much new in the furniture line to-day for twelve; and as for antikes—. Solid, that’s what it is! ’Ere, ’alf a mo’! I’ll just strip the cover off and leave the stuffing aside, and you’ll see what a fine strong frame it’s got.”
“No, don’t do that—don’t do that!” babbled Mr. Lane, desperately. “It’s all right! I mean, I believe you. But—but twelve pounds! I wouldn’t mind going to—to four, or even five, but—but twelve! It isn’t a particularly handsome chair—”
“But you seem pretty keen to ’ave it, sir, for all that,” Mr. Dobb pointed out. “However, please yourself. If you don’t take it I shall put it in my window there, and somebody’s bound to come along and—”
“You—you couldn’t let me have it on approval for a day or two?” suggested Mr. Lane, but not hopefully.
“No, sir. This is a cash business. But I’ll tell you what—if you like to let me take out the stuffing and leave it ’ere, I’d knock off a quid. Good ’orse’air’s always worth—”
“No, no. I want it as it is!”
“Then twelve quid buys it!”
Mr. Lane again probed the ragged upholstery of the seat with an investigatory forefinger.
“I’ll give you ten,” he offered.
“You seem to think I ain’t a man of my word,” complained Mr. Dobb, indignantly.
“Ten!” offered Mr. Lane, again. “That’s my limit!”
Twenty minutes later they had arrived at a compromise, and the sum of eleven pounds ten shillings changed ownership. With his own hands Mr. Lane lifted the chair and staggered out with it to the handtruck Mr. Dobb had obligingly placed at his disposal.
“There he goes with ’is ’idden treasure,” said Mr. Dobb, smiling, as Mr. Lane’s small back bent in energetic propulsion of his purchase.
That same evening Mr. Dobb paid thirty shillings into the willing grasp of each of his three old shipmates, and fully endorsed their flattering statements as to his mental ingenuity.
A fortnight elapsed, and then, one afternoon, Mr. Lane walked into the emporium. Mr. Dobb, mastering a primitive impulse to point derisively at his visitor, addressed him in honeyed tones of courtesy.
“Ain’t seen you lately, sir,” he remarked.
“I’ve been away,” said Mr. Lane. “Been taking a bit of a holiday.”
“Lucky to be you, sir, to ’ave the money to spare,” said Mr. Dobb. “Why, I ain’t seen you, come to think of it, not since the morning you bought that antike chair off of me. I ’ope you never repented that antike bargain, sir?” he asked, with tremulous lips.
“Well, I must say it didn’t turn out quite as I expected,” admitted Mr. Lane; “but I’m not grumbling.”
“Spoke like a sportsman!” declared Mr. Dobb.
“Funny thing, when I took that stuffing to bits,” observed Mr. Lane.
“You’ll never guess what I found hidden in the seat?”
“Bag o’ gold!” suggested Mr. Dobb.
“No. An old book!”
“Never!” breathed Mr. Dobb, incredulously
“It’s a fact!” asseverated Mr. Lane. “Believe me or believe me not, there was a big, old-fashioned musty old book!”
“Fancy that!” said Mr. Dobb.
“Surprising, ain’t it? Anyway, I showed it to a friend of mine, and he said it had evidently been hidden there because it was very rare.”
“Sounds possible,” said Mr. Dobb, his eyes watering under the strain of enforced gravity.
“As it happened, my friend was right,” said Mr. Lane. “Of course, he knew something about old books, and that was why I showed it to him. Anyway, it was a rare old first edition, ever so old, and I sent it up to London, and sold it for thirty guineas!”
“What!” cried Mr. Dobb.
“Sold it for thirty guineas!” repeated Mr. Lane. “Thirty guineas for an old book that anyone who didn’t know its value might have thrown away.”
“Don’t believe it!” declared Mr. Dobb, huskily.
“Well, here’s the cheque,” said Mr. Lane; “and here’s the correspondence.”
Mr. Dobb gazed at the documentary evidence. Then, without a word, he tottered into the shop parlour and took the unprecedented step of drinking a glass of undiluted water. The fortunate Mr. Lane, looking round for other chairs to prod and finding none, went out of the dusty little emporium into the sunshine.
