"Oh, the joy of feeling the ivory--or bone--under my expectant fingers!
I played all the Chopin, Henselt, and Liszt etudes on the miserable
keyboard of the organ. Yes, of course, without wind. It was, I assure
you, a truly spiritual consolation. You can readily imagine if a man has
been in the habit of practising all day, even if he does 'burgle' at
night, that to be suddenly deprived of all instrumental resources is a
bitter blow."
Pinton stuttered out an affirmative response. Then both arose after
paying their checks, and the organist shook the burglar's hand at the
corner, after first exacting a promise that Blastion should play for him
some morning.
"With pleasure, my boy. You're a gentleman and an artist, and I trust
you absolutely." And he walked away, whistling with rare skill the D
flat valse of Chopin.
"You can trust me, I swear!" Pinton called after him, and then went
unsteadily homeward, full of generous resolves and pianistic ambitions.
As he intermittently undressed he discovered, to his rage and amazement,
that both his purse and watch had disappeared.
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