For if they feared
disclosure before, how much more did they dread it now, when Lucy was
married to a man who prided himself upon his good name and untarnished
respectability!
Johann Wilfer, however, was not dead, nor had he left London. He had
become a member of a gang of ingenious rascals, who lived by imitating
the less known gems of the old masters, and palming them off on the
credulous public and wealthy collectors as genuine. The impostures were
very cleverly manipulated, and quite a little system was instituted to
bring them to perfection. Mr. Wilfer's part of the undertaking was
"toning"; that is, bringing to the imitations the necessary mistiness
and discoloration supposed to be produced by age.
He did very well at this business; so well, indeed, that he took a house
in Cracknell Court, Soho, and if he could have restrained himself from
the drinking of beer and spirits he would have been in comfortable
circumstances.
This perpetual intoxication eventually made its mark upon Mr. Wilfer's
countenance, and contorted his face into a caricature--with its mottled
skin and bleary eyes--of the good looks which had won Lucy Goodwin's
heart in former times.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55