Why, Pitman, what the devil's the use of you?
why couldn't you have reminded me of that ?' 'I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,' said the artist.
'But I can take off the disguise again,' he suggested eagerly.
'You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,' observed the lawyer.

'No, it's a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,' he continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; 'and it can't be retraced now.

Off to the mews with you, make all the arrangements; they're to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for in the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.' 'Isn't that rather an awkward name ?' pleaded Pitman.
'Awkward ?' cried Michael scornfully.

'It would hang us both! Brown is both safer and easier to pronounce.

Call it Brown.' 'I wish,' said Pitman, 'for my sake, I wish you wouldn't talk so much of hanging.' 'Talking about it's nothing, my boy!' returned Michael.