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My Friend Paton
by
“Well, I suppose it isn’t of much value except as a curiosity?”
“Don’t be too sure of that, John, my boy! Who knows but there’s a treasure concealed somewhere in this house? or a skeleton in a secret chamber! This old paper may make our fortune yet!”
“The treasure wouldn’t belong to us if we found it; and, besides, we can’t make explorations beyond our own premises, and we know what’s in them already.”
“Do we? Did we know what was behind the looking-glass? Did you never hear of sliding panels, and private passages, and concealed staircases? Where’s your imagination, man? But you don’t need imagination–here it is in black and white!”
As he spoke, he pointed to a part of the plan; but, as I was stooping to examine it, he seemed to change his mind.
“No matter,” he exclaimed, suddenly folding up the paper and rising from his chair. “You’re not an architect, and you can’t be expected to go in for these things. No; there’s no practical use in it, of course. But secret passages were always a hobby of mine. Well, what are you going to do this evening? Come over to the cafe and have a game of billiards!”
“No; I shall go to bed early to-night.”
“You sleep too much,” said Paton. “Everybody does, if my father, instead of inventing a way of promoting sleep, had invented a way of doing without it, he’d have been the richest man in America to-day. However, do as you like. I sha’n’t be back till late.”
He put on his hat and sallied forth with a cigar in his mouth. Paton was of rather a convivial turn; he liked to have a good time, as he called it; and, indeed, he seemed to think that the chief end of man was to get money enough to have a good time continually, a sort of good eternity. His head was strong, and he could stand a great deal of liquor; and I have seen him sip and savor a glass of raw brandy or whisky as another man would a glass of Madeira. In this, and the other phases of his life about town, I had no participation, being constitutionally as well as by training averse therefrom; and he, on the other hand, would never have listened to my sage advice to modify his loose habits. Our companionship was apart from these things; and, as I have said, I found in him a good deal that I could sympathize with, without approaching the moralities.
That night, after I had been for some time asleep, I awoke and found myself listening to a scratching and shoving noise that seemed quite unaccountable. By-and-by it made me uneasy. I got up and went toward the parlor, from which the noise proceeded. On reaching the doorway, I saw Paton on his knees before one of the pilasters in the narrow end of the room; a candle was on the floor beside him, and he was busily at work at something, though what it was I could not make out. The creak of the threshold under my foot caused him to look round. He started violently, and sprang to his feet.
“Oh! it’s you, is it?” he said, after a moment. “Great Scott! how you scared me! I was–I dropped a bit of money hereabouts, and I was scraping about to find it. No matter–it wasn’t much! Sorry I disturbed you, old boy.” And, laughing, he picked up his candle and went into his own room.
From this time there was a change vaguely perceptible in our mutual relations; we chatted together less than before, and did not see so much of each other. Paton was apt to be out when I was at home, and generally sat up after I was abed. He seemed to be busy about something–something connected with his profession, I judged; but, contrary to his former custom, he made no attempt to interest me in it. To tell the truth, I had begun to realize that our different tastes and pursuits must lead us further and further apart, and that our separation could be only a question of time. Paton was a materialist, and inclined to challenge all the laws and convictions that mankind has instituted and adopted; there was no limit to his radicalism. For example, on coming in one day, I found him with a curious antique poniard in his hands, which he had probably bought in some old curiosity shop. At first I fancied he meant to conceal it; but, if so, he changed his mind.