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eye lighted； groping in his pocket for the necessary coin； he
sprang forward … his bag knocked sharply on the corner of the
stall … and instantly； with a formidable report； the dynamite
exploded。 When the smoke cleared away the stall was seen
much shattered； and the stall keeper running forth in terror
from the ruins； but of the Irish patriot or the Gladstone bag
no adequate remains were to be found。
In the first scramble of the alarm； Somerset made good his
escape； and came out upon the Euston Road； his head spinning；
his body sick with hunger； and his pockets destitute of coin。
Yet as he continued to walk the pavements； he wondered to
find in his heart a sort of peaceful exultation； a great
content； a sense； as it were； of divine presence and the
kindliness of fate； and he was able to tell himself that even
if the worst befell； he could now starve with a certain
comfort since Zero was expunged。
Late in the afternoon； he found himself at the door of Mr。
Godall's shop； and being quite unmanned by his long fast； and
scarce considering what he did； he opened the glass door and
entered。
'Ha！' said Mr。 Godall； 'Mr。 Somerset！ Well； have you met
with an adventure？ Have you the promised story？ Sit down；
if you please； suffer me to choose you a cigar of my own
special brand； and reward me with a narrative in your best
style。'
'I must not take a cigar；' said Somerset。
'Indeed！' said Mr。 Godall。 'But now I come to look at you
more closely； I perceive that you are changed。 My poor boy；
I hope there is nothing wrong？'
Somerset burst into tears。
EPILOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN
ON a certain day of lashing rain in the December of last
year； and between the hours of nine and ten in the morning；
Mr。 Edward Challoner pioneered himself under an umbrella to
the door of the Cigar Divan in Rupert Street。 It was a place
he had visited but once before： the memory of what had
followed on that visit and the fear of Somerset having
prevented his return。 Even now； he looked in before he
entered； but the shop was free of customers。
The young man behind the counter was so intently writing in a
penny version…book； that he paid no heed to Challoner's
arrival。 On a second glance； it seemed to the latter that he
recognised him。
'By Jove；' he thought； 'unquestionably Somerset！'
And though this was the very man he had been so sedulously
careful to avoid； his unexplained position at the receipt of
custom changed distaste to curiosity。
'〃Or opulent rotunda strike the sky；〃' said the shopman to
himself； in the tone of one considering a verse。 'I suppose
it would be too much to say 〃orotunda；〃 and yet how noble it
were！ 〃Or opulent orotunda strike the sky。〃 But that is the
bitterness of arts； you see a good effect； and some nonsense
about sense continually intervenes。'
'Somerset； my dear fellow；' said Challoner； 'is this a
masquerade？'
'What？ Challoner！' cried the shopman。 'I am delighted to
see you。 One moment； till I finish the octave of my sonnet：
only the octave。' And with a friendly waggle of the hand； he
once more buried himself in the commerce of the Muses。 'I
say；' he said presently； looking up； 'you seem in wonderful
preservation： how about the hundred pounds？'
'I have made a small inheritance from a great aunt in Wales；'
replied Challoner modestly。
'Ah；' said Somerset； 'I very much doubt the legitimacy of
inheritance。 The State； in my view； should collar it。 I am
now going through a stage of socialism and poetry；' he added
apologetically； as one who spoke of a course of medicinal
waters。
'And are you really the person of the … establishment？'
inquired Challoner； deftly evading the word 'shop。'
'A vendor； sir； a vendor；' returned the other； pocketing his
poesy。 'I help old Happy and Glorious。 Can I offer you a
weed？'
'Well； I scarcely like 。 。 。 ' began Challoner。
'Nonsense； my dear fellow；' cried the shopman。 'We are very
proud of the business； and the old man； let me inform you；
besides being the most egregious of created beings from the
point of view of ethics； is literally sprung from the loins
of kings。 〃DE GODALL JE SUIS LE FERVENT。〃 There is only one
Godall。 … By the way；' he added； as Challoner lit his cigar；
'how did you get on with the detective trade？'
'I did not try；' said Challoner curtly。
'Ah； well； I did；' returned Somerset； 'and made the most
incomparable mess of it： lost all my money and fairly
covered myself with odium and ridicule。 There is more in
that business； Challoner； than meets the eye； there is more；
in fact； in all businesses。 You must believe in them； or get
up the belief that you believe。 Hence；' he added； 'the
recognised inferiority of the plumber； for no one could
believe in plumbing。'
'A PROPOS；' asked Challoner； 'do you still paint？'
'Not now；' replied Paul； 'but I think of taking up the
violin。'
Challoner's eye； which had been somewhat restless since the
trade of the detective had been named； now rested for a
moment on the columns of the morning paper； where it lay
spread upon the counter。
'By Jove；' he cried； 'that's odd！'
'What is odd？' asked Paul。
'Oh； nothing；' returned the other： 'only I once met a person
called M'Guire。'
'So did I！' cried Somerset。 'Is there anything about him？'
Challoner read as follows： 'MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN STEPNEY。 An
inquest was held yesterday on the body of Patrick M'Guire；
described as a carpenter。 Doctor Dovering stated that he had
for some time treated the deceased as a dispensary patient；
for sleeplessness； loss of appetite； and nervous depression。
There was no cause of death to be found。 He would say the
deceased had sunk。 Deceased was not a temperate man； which
doubtless accelerated death。 Deceased complained of dumb
ague； but witness had never been able to detect any positive
disease。 He did not know that he had any family。 He
regarded him as a person of unsound intellect； who believed
himself a member and the victim of some secret society。 If
he were to hazard an opinion； he would say deceased had died
of fear。'
'And the doctor would be right；' cried Somerset； 'and my dear
Challoner； I am so relieved to hear of his demise； that I
will … Well； after all；' he added； 'poor devil； he was well
served。'
The door at this moment opened； and Desborough appeared upon
the threshold。 He was wrapped in a long waterproof；
imperfectly supplied with buttons； his boots were full of
water； his hat greasy with service； and yet he wore the air
of one exceeding well content with life。 He was hailed by
the two others with exclamations of surprise and welcome。
'And did you try the detective business？' inquired Paul。
'No；' returned Harry。 'Oh yes； by the way； I did though：
twice； and got caught out both times。 But I thought I should
find my … my wife here？' he added； with a kind of proud
confusion。
'What？ are you married？' cried Somerset。
'Oh yes；' said Harry； 'quite a long time： a month at least。'
'Money？' asked Challoner。
'That's the worst of it；' Desborough a