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Updated: May 5, 2025
I write these lines in a tearing hurry, for fear my father should come home before I have done he having gone to Yollop's to set the parson at me again worse than ever. "I can't come to you to-night, because your house would be the first place they would send to after me. But I mean to be an artist, if you won't desert me. Don't, my dear fellow!
In other words, he explained, Smilk had committed bigamy some years prior to the burglary of Mr. Yollop's apartment and he believed in taking things in their regular order. Of course, he went on to say, he would be governed by the opinion of the judge if it were possible under the circumstances to obtain it.
Yollop's testimony read to them. Immediately upon retiring an amicable and friendly discussion took place in the crowded, stuffy little jury room. Eight men lighted black cigars, two lighted their pipes, one joyously, almost ravenously resorted to a package of "Lucky Strikes," while the twelfth man announced that he did not smoke.
Yollop's eye, however, and the fidgety way in which he was fingering the trigger of the pistol, moved him to interrupt a particularly satisfying paean of blasphemy by breaking off short in the very middle of it to wonder why in God's name he hadn't had sense enough to remember that all deaf people are lip-readers. "Spit it out!" repeated Mr. Yollop, with energy. "Don't talk with your mouth full.
Yollop's eye, "if you insist on a civil answer, it's Smilk." "Smith?" "No, NOT Smith," hastily and earnestly; "Smilk, S-m-i-l-k." "Smilk?" "Smilk." "Extraordinary name. I've never heard it before, have you?" The rascal blinked. "Sure. It was my father's name before me, and my " "Look me in the eye!" "I am lookin' you in the eye. It's Smilk, Cassius Smilk." "Sounds convincing," admitted Mr. Yollop.
You've got me dead to rights," cried another. "Oh, there's no use arguin' with you guys," roared No. 9, disgustedly. Later on they returned to the court room to have certain parts of Mr. Yollop's testimony read to them. After this a ballot was taken, and the only man for acquittal was the clock-maker.
Yollop's interference was at least weighty enough to produce a positive and immediate result: it drove Zack to the very last limits of human endurance. The reverend gentleman's imperturbable self possession defied the young rebel's utmost powers of irritating reply, no matter how vigorously he might exert them.
Yollop's directions, the obliging rascal produced the coat and laid it upon the table in the center of the room. "Turn your back," commanded the owner of the coat, "and hold up your hands." Then, after he had slipped into the coat: "Now if I only had my slippers but never mind. We won't bother about 'em. They're in my bed room, and probably lost under the bed.
He found it early one morning on his library table, sealed but minus the stamp that the government exacts for safe and conscientious delivery. Mr. Yollop's stenographer, being more or less finicky about English as it should be written, even by thieves, is responsible for the transcript in which it is here presented: DEAR FRIEND I hope this finds you in the best of health.
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