Mr. Blackdeed and Mr. Crucible appeared to be particularly engrossed in
conversation, but the tone they spoke in was inaudible to the ordinary
listener. Not so, however, to Mr. Oldstone, whose ears were unusually
sharp, and rendered more so on the present occasion from the position of
forced quiet that he was obliged to maintain under the barber's hands. To judge by the tragedian's action, a looker-on might have supposed him
quoting from one of his own melodramas, and imagined him to say, "Fly
with me, dearest; leave for ever the roof of a tyrant father, and take
shelter in the heart of one who is ready to lay down his life for thy
sake." While Mr. Crucible might have been supposed to be rehearsing the
lady's part, and to say, "Oh! tempt me not, Alonso; you know him not. I
dare not fly with thee." The ears of Mr. Oldstone, however, interpreted the gesticulations in a
very different manner. Nothing could be more plain to the ears of this
worthy than these words from the tragedian. "The political state of
France will be a great interruption to all kinds of business." He could
hardly believe his ears, or that anyone could dare to use such
treasonable words within the sacred precincts of the club, so he
listened again, and this time caught a few disconnected words in Mr.
Crucible's tone of voice, such as 'stocks,' 'bonds,' 'premiums,'
'interest,' and the like. Suddenly the whilom president of the grand saturnalia of the Wonder Club
was observed to start violently. "Why, you rascal, you've cut me!" he cried to the barber. "Pardong Mounseer, mais ce n'etait pas ma faute," said the confused
barber. "What! French again, you monkey, to my face! Would you add insult to
injury?" said the incensed antiquary. But calming down at length, said, "Well, well, lad, I acquit you this
time, for I verily believe that those two gentlemen in the corner there
(pointing to Messrs. Blackdeed and Crucible) are more to blame than
yourself for startling me out of my self-possession by the tenor of
their conversation. "Mr. Blackdeed, and you too, Mr. Crucible, you are both perfectly aware
that such conversation is not to be tolerated in the club. I am
surprised and grieved to be obliged to remind two such old members of
our society of their duty, and in order to put a check upon such
lamentable want of discipline, I condemn you Mr. Blackdeed to recite one
of your own tragedies at full length, and you Mr. Crucible to be ready
with a story when next called upon." Both of the gentlemen addressed looked abashed, and muttered something
in the shape of an apology. Having conscientiously discharged his duty,
Mr. Oldstone re-settled himself on his chair, and the operation
proceeded. Master Suds was the first to endeavour to restore equanimity. "A fine day, sir," he said, "for this time of the year." "Humph!" grunted the antiquary, who was soaped up to the eyes, and was
forced to keep his mouth shut to avoid having the lather rubbed down his
throat. "Yes, sir," continued the barber, "as you say, sir, it _be_ fine weather
sure_ly_, but it be still finer t'other side of the channel, _à Paris_;
that is to say, where I have been staying for the last six months. Fine
city Paris, sir, very. _Mon Dieu_, what streets! what shops! What a
treat it be of a morning to rise early and take a promenade on the
Bullyvards!" "On the what?" inquired his customer. "On the Bullyvards. Ah! I see, sir, you do not understand what that
means. Well that is the name the French give to those streets as has
trees a running alongside of 'em. Ah! sir, fine people the French, in
their way--understand more of barber-craft than they do in this country. Why, an English barber who has never been out of his own country is
quite an ignoramus alongside a French barber. But I could teach a trick
or two to some of my countrymen in the line that would astonish them,
having been over there long enough to get into the manners and customs
of the natives. But I say, sir, what a nation they be for quarrelling
amongst themselves, to be sure! There's this here revolution still going
on. What it will all end in goodness only knows. What do _you_ say,
sir?" "I don't know, and I don't care," replied Mr. Oldstone, irritably. "They
may all go to----"

A fresh rub of the lather over his mouth prevented the antiquary from
finishing his sentence. The pertinacious barber was not to be put down. "Ah, sir," he continued, "I could tell you some mighty strange tales
about that same revolution." "Oh, indeed!" broke in Mr. Hardcase. "The members of this club are fond
of hearing tales, but they don't relish much anything connected with
politics. In fact the tales permitted within these walls are almost
entirely of the supernatural order." "The supernatural!" ejaculated the barber. "Parbleu! is that still
believed in this country? I promise you our French friends don't believe
in that, or anything else, for aught I know." "I know they don't, the infidel puppies," growled the antiquary; "but we
do. Do we not, gentlemen?" "Ay, indeed!" answered the members of the club with one accord. "Do you indeed, gentlemen!" exclaimed the astonished barber. "Well, it
ain't often that one finds gentlemen of your standing that will own so
much, but as you gentlemen all declare you believe in such things, I
don't mind telling you that I myself am also a believer." "Ah!" said Mr. Oldstone, beginning to be interested. "Yes, sir, I am indeed," replied the barber. "Come, now," said Mr. Crucible, "if you could tell us of some experience
of yours that bordered on the supernatural, I'd answer for Mr.
Oldstone's listening to you." By this time the antiquary was released from the clutches of the barber,
and Mr. Hardcase, wishing to profit by the occasion, took his place on
the chair, and a second edition of the lathering began. "Well," said Oldstone, feeling himself considerably more comfortable,
and throwing himself back complacently in an easy-chair, "you
say--ahem!--that you--you, at least I have been given to understand that
you have, at some period of your life, had some experience--ahem!--of
the supernatural." "There, I knew he was burning to hear a story," cried all the members at
once, quizzingly. "Well, Mounseer Suds, out with it, let's hear." Thus encouraged, the barber put on a grave and important look, and began
his story in these words. Well then, gentlemen, since you deign to encourage me, I must next
trespass on your patience whilst I enter upon some particulars about my
family. I was born in this village some five-and-twenty years back, and
at a very early age the genius of the barber began to develop itself in
me. My father was a barber before me, and so was my grandfather and
great-grandfather, too, as I have heard my father say. In fact, from
time immemorial the Suds have been barbers.