been the husband of the widow. The house was
again a lodging-house; the apartment was again
a faded front parlour; and the bereaved owner
of the property was a middle-aged man, who had
huddled on a shabby black coat over a blue shirt
and a highly-fanciful waistcoat, which gave him
the appearance of a professional cricketer, made
hurriedly decent to attend a funeral.

"You'll pardon me, sir," he said, in tones of
deep feeling, "if I appear to hasten your
departure, but you know how trying it is to
dispose of anything that belonged to her, when
she's only 'been dead a fortnight—a fortnight
next Saturday."

"Indeed!" I replied, in the same tone I had
used to the widow, for the speech was, in
substance, the same. "Is it a full seven octave!"

"No, sir," he replied, with a heavy sigh,
"her fancy always ran upon six and three-quarters.
It seems only yesterday that I gave
eighty guineas for it, before she was taken from
us, and now I suppose I mustn't expect to get
more than sixty pounds in cash?"

"I'm afraid," I answered, "that it's too new
—too unseasoned for me to venture on its
purchase."

"Too new, sir? too unseasoned?" he
exclaimed, in astonishment; "don't say that,
because I know she was too good a judge to be
imposed on. It was only a few days before she
was taken from us that she said to me, 'Robert,
it was very kind of you to spend your poor
mother's legacy in buying me a piano; but it'll
be no loss to you. You'll get back all you gave
for it, if you put it up to auction.'"

Having had enough of this mixture of the
grave and the huckster's shop, I passed, still
piano-less, to a more cheerful atmosphere. A
young man, in chambers, had advertised an
instrument for sale, which he had unexpectedly
won at a raffle; and though his direction was
not very promising, I resolved to pay him a
visit. The instrument, as I expected, presented
the same old familiar face that I had gazed upon
so often for the last few weeks, and I seemed to
welcome it as a tried and valued friend.

The young man, who looked like one of those
commercial travellers who leave Josephus in
penny numbers at street-doors upon commission,
affected an extremely off-hand, living-in-
chambers manner in displaying his property.

"There you are," he said, throwing up the
lid; "a piano's all very well, but it don't suit
my book."

"You don't play, then?" I asked.

"No time," he replied, "for all that sort o'
thing when you're going in for the law."

"No," I said, "I suppose not. The instrument
seems remarkably new."

"Does it?" he returned. "I'm no judge.
They tell me it's worth eighty sovs., and I want
fifty for it. That won't break anybody's back."

"No," I said; "but I don't think it's quite
the thing to suit me."

"Say five-and-forty, then. It cost me
nothing, and I want to buy a dog-cart."

"I think I must decline," I replied.

"You don't seem to know your own mind,"
he said.

"I know the piano, though," I returned.
"It belonged to one whose sands of life ought
by this time to be thoroughly run out."

The young man in chambers said no more,
for he saw that I was an exceedingly well-
informed man. The instrument was the same
one, with the small mark on one of the keys,
that I had examined at the house of the
venerable-looking secret agent.

I did not give up the investigation even at
this point, but passing from these channels of
private enterprise to a more public field, I visited
a piano that was on view at a hat-shop in a
leading thoroughfare. It was still one of the same
large family of instruments that was presented
to my view, though the man who exhibited it
was not made up to perform any particular
character, except that of an affable tradesman.

"Music's a nice accomplishment, sir?" he said,
as I tried the keys with a very lame
performance of the "Merry Swiss Boy," and variations.

"Ye—s," I said, endeavouring to speak without
interrupting the flow of harmony.

"Wish I had your touch, sir," he continued.
"You must have learnt very young."

"No," I said, affecting not to hear his last
remarks, "this instrument's not the one for my
money."

"Of course not, sir; certainly not, sir," he
returned quickly; "I thought so the moment I
heard you run your fingers over the keys.
There's no deceiving you, you're too good a judge
of the article."

"Good morning," I said, preparing to go,
though not displeased by his observations.

"If you'll step up-stairs, sir," he replied,
confidentially, "I think I can suit you to a hair,
though we don't want it generally known that
we sell pianos at a hat-shop."

I went up-stairs, under the guidance of a boy,
who took me as far as the second landing, where
I was introduced to a long room crammed full of
every variety of instruments. The master
followed in a few minutes, and seemed astonished
that I was standing in the middle of his secret
stock, instead of in another department, where
he meant me to be ushered to inspect another
solitary specimen.

"Well, sir," he said, with some little
embarrassment, "since you've been shown in here by
that stupid boy, I can say no more. You're a
man of the world, and must know that a hat-
warehouse is not half full of pianos without a
reason. They may be smuggled, or they may
be——However, we'll say no more about it,
here they are. I hope, sir, you'll take no notice
of the singular circumstance."

"Oh, certainly," I replied, "it's nothing to
me."

"Thank you, sir," he returned, quickly, "much
obliged, I'm sure; and since you are here, if
there's any instrument you'd like to select, you
may place your hand on any one of them for fifty
pounds."