Thence he struck eastward, and at eleven came to Manville Street,
Islington. He found Reardon by the fireside, looking very ill,
and speaking with hoarseness.
'Another cold?'
'It looks like it. I wish you would take the trouble to go and
buy me some vermin-killer. That would suit my case.'
'Then what would suit mine? Behold me, undeniably a philosopher;
in the literal sense of the words omnia mea mecum porto.'
He recounted his adventures, and with such humorous vivacity that
when he ceased the two laughed together as if nothing more
amusing had ever been heard.
'Ah, but my books, my books!' exclaimed Biffen, with a genuine
groan. 'And all my notes! At one fell swoop! If I didn't laugh,
old friend, I should sit down and cry; indeed I should. All my
classics, with years of scribbling in the margins! How am I to
buy them again?'
'You rescued "Mr Bailey." He must repay you.'
Biffen had already laid the manuscript on the table; it was dirty
and crumpled, but not to such an extent as to render copying
necessary. Lovingly he smoothed the pages and set them in order,
then he wrapped the whole in a piece of brown paper which Reardon
supplied, and wrote upon it the address of a firm of publishers.
Pages:
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791