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least bit tainted with the calumnies of false report. But sit you down, sir, sit you down and dry
off as you may. Won't you share some of this excellent cold beef? And allow me to refill your
tankard?"
Fillmore thanked him mightily, and set to with a will, not to mention a hearty appetite. His
last meal had been in prison, awaiting trial at Old Bailey. The meat and ate were so
excellent that he did not permit the trifle of a possible mislocation of cosmoses to upset him.
After he'd made a clean sweep of a quarter of the beef and had his glass refilled twice,
Fillmore apologized for interrJpt- ing the dinner colloquy of his host.
"Bless my soul," said the old gentleman, "mis is in no way an interruption, my good sir. Mr.
Snodgrass here, who is, by the way "
"A poet," observed Fillmore.
The old man's eyebrows raised. "Goodness, does his repu- tation, too. precede him? How
did you know his occupation? I had thought he'd yet to be published!"
The scholar shrugged. "Oh, it's a bit of a fey quality that I have, I fancy."
"Well. well," the other chuckled, "i am suitably im- pressed. But, as I say. Mr. Snodgrass
here is a capital poet "
"My blushes," the other simpered.
"Now, Augustus, modesty ill becomes a man of true genius. You are a servant of the Muse
and there is glory there' At any rate," said the host, turning to his guest, "my friend here is
somewhat concerned with an affair of the heart, and I had thought to give him proper advice
. . . which. indeed, I did. As i completed my statement, my attention was drawn to note your
extremely dampish plight. And how, if I may be so bold, do you manage to be out on such a
night as this without adequate protection? I presume your umbrella must be damaged; else
it should have shielded you more efficiently from the elemental deluge."
"Well." Fillmore said, somewhat reluctantly, "I do not
THE FLIGHT OF THE UMBRELLA 45
know whether 1 should repay your generosity with a rehearsal of my predicament. It is so
wild a tale you would doubtless judge me madder than King Lear."
The consequence of this remark was for Fillmore's host and the poet to positively entreat
his adventures. So the stranger at length embarked upon his lengthy personal his- tory,
ending with his arrival oo Newman Street and his subse- quent trek to the George and
Vulture.
When he had done at last. the others sat back, their mouths agape.
"Bless my soul," said the elderly gentleman. "That is certainly the strangest romance I have
ever had the privilege to audit! No mind if it be true or no it is an history worthy of the
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Arabian Nights. What do you say of it, Snodgrass?"
The poet had a dreamy look in his eyes. "I see," he sighed, "a major epic, a heroic
narrative. I shall apply myself this very night while the fit is still upon me!" Suddenly leaping
up, he excused himself and rushed from the room.
His companion laughed heartily, then apologized for the poet's precipitate departure.
"When Inspiration descends unto his noble rhymer's brow, it ill beseemeth him to let her wait
admittance until he pay the check." Still chuckling, the rotund little gentleman rose. "No
matter, though, I am better conditioned than he, I can well afford it and had, indeed, meant to
persuade him so." He graciously waved Fillmore to follow him.
In the lobby of the inn, he retrieved his room key, then, turning to his guest, said, "I keep
rooms in this establish- ment. Pray let me loan you some fitting ho, ho! apparel, for you
cannot hope to go about unnoticed in your present state. No, no! I will hear of no poiite
declmmgs. I am very handsomely off, my good fellow, and it will vastly please me to make a
present of some necessaries with which you may better shield yourself from the raging
elements ..."
An hour later, the two descended the stairs to the lobby. Fillmore, dry and warm in slightly
loose-fitting apparel, car- ried an oilskin bag beneath his arm. In it was his sopping clothing.
Over his arm, the inoperable umbrella dangled.
46
Marvin Kdve
As they neared the front door, the scholar whispered to his host. but that person vigorously
shook his head.
"1 repeat, positively not, sir! Your entertaining tale is ample payment now for these scraps
of cloth you've ac- cepted. I urge you to keep your monies for a more pressing use. Why. if
your story be true, you have but a few odd pound notes on your person!" His eyes twinkled
as he "hu- mored" his guest.
At the door, Fillmore asked directions to his ultimate desti- nation. and feared it did not
exist. But the old man's answer allayed his doubts.
"Why, indeed, that street is no great nde away, but see here, you cannot walk there on this
foul night! 1 insist you let me fee a hansom for your transport."
The scholar protested vigorously, but to no avail. His host. apologizing for a temporary
absence of his manservant on a family matter, himself stepped into the drizzle and smoke to
hail a cab. It was no simple matter on such a night to find one, let alone flag one down in the
limited visibility the fog affoixled. But after much assiduous labor and much raising of the
voice, the portly benefactor finally arranged for his friend's transportation.
As he entered the cab. Fillmore thanked his host repeat- edly, and the other as often
belittled the charity as privilege and necessary duty. Closing the cab door. the elderly gentle-
man stepped around to the front of the vehicle and told die driver the proper destination. He
paid him in advance.
"The address wanted." said Mr. Pickwick, "is 221 Baker Street. Just out of Marylebone
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Road . . ."
Chapter Two
inside the cab, J. Adrian Fillmore tried to collect his thoughts. It was not easy because of
the unaccustomed joggling and jostling his bones were receiving, but he did what he could
to resolve the nagging doubts, as to his whereabouts.
London it was, and the year was correct, but was it the time and situation in short, was it
the universe -of Sherlock Holmes?
THE FLIGHT OF THE UMBRELLA 47
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