It was an awful day. I shall never forget it.
The morning after, as if by miracle, things righted themselves of
a sudden. While we were wondering what it meant, Charles received a
telegram from Sir Adolphus Cordery:--
"The man is a fraud. Not Schleiermacher at all. Just had a wire
from Jena saying the Professor knows nothing about him. Sorry
unintentionally to have caused you trouble. Come round and see me."
"Sorry unintentionally to have caused you trouble." Charles was
beside himself with anger. Sir Adolphus had upset the share-market
for forty-eight mortal hours, half-ruined a round dozen of wealthy
operators, convulsed the City, upheaved the House, and now--he
apologised for it as one might apologise for being late ten minutes
for dinner! Charles jumped into a hansom and rushed round to see
him. How had he dared to introduce the impostor to solid men as
Professor Schleiermacher? Sir Adolphus shrugged his shoulders. The
fellow had come and introduced himself as the great Jena chemist;
he had long white hair, and a stoop in the shoulders. What reason
had _he_ for doubting his word? (I reflected to myself that on much
the same grounds Charles in turn had accepted the Honourable David
Granton and Graf von Lebenstein.) Besides, what object could the
creature have for this extraordinary deception? Charles knew only
too well.
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