“It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. ‘So Leonardo has taught me.
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