Bishop said that
a mere child could have told what it was meant for.
"This musician--this poor, friendless artist used to come regularly
and play in this street just opposite for two hours every evening.
One evening he was seen, evidently in response to an invitation,
going into this very house, BUT WAS NEVER SEEN COMING OUT OF IT!"
"Did the townsfolk try offering any reward for his recovery?" asked
Mr. Coombes.
"Not a ha'penny," replied my uncle.
"Another summer," continued my uncle, "a German band visited here,
intending--so they announced on their arrival--to stay till the
autumn.
"On the second day from their arrival, the whole company, as fine
and healthy a body of men as one could wish to see, were invited to
dinner by this sinful man, and, after spending the whole of the
next twenty-four hours in bed, left the town a broken and dyspeptic
crew; the parish doctor, who had attended them, giving it as his
opinion that it was doubtful if they would, any of them, be fit to
play an air again."
"You--you don't know the recipe, do you?" asked Mr. Coombes.
"Unfortunately I do not," replied my uncle; "but the chief
ingredient was said to have been railway refreshment-room pork-pie.
"I forget the man's other crimes," my uncle went on; "I used to
know them all at one time, but my memory is not what it was.
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