If, thought I, it is as like him as two peas, there must be something extraordinarily strange and odd in Mr. Lemon. That he was not a good-looking man could be borne with; but that, of his own free will, he should have submitted to be painted and exhibited with such a sly, sinister expression on his face, was decidedly not in his favour. With his thought in my mind I turned involuntarily to the evil-looking bird in the glass case, and, singularly enough, was struck by an absurd and fearful resemblance between the bird's beak and the man's face. Mrs. Lemon's eyes followed mine. "Have you had that bird long?" I asked. "Not long, sir," she replied, and her voice trembled. "About as long as the pictures." "Did your husband buy it in England? It is a strange bird, and I can't find a name for it." "Lemon didn't buy it, sir. It was give to him." I hazarded a guess. "By the artist who painted your husband's portrait?" "Yes, sir." Turning from the stuffed bird to the fireplace, I received a shock. In the centre of the mantelshelf was the stone figure of a creature, half monster and half man, with a face bearing such a singular resemblance to Mr. Lemon's and the bird's beak that I rubbed my eyes in bewilderment, believing myself to have suddenly fallen under the influence of a devilish enchantment. But rub my eyes as I might, I could not rub away the strange resemblance. It was no delusion of the senses. "Was that--that figure, Fanny, given to you by the artist who painted your husband's portrait, and who presented him with that stuffed bird?" "Yes, sir; he give it to Lemon." And then, in a timorous voice, she asked, "Do you see anything odd in it, sir?" "It is not only that it's odd," I replied; "but, if you will excuse me for saying so, Fanny, there is really something horrible about it." In a low tone Mrs. Lemon said, "That's egsactly as I feel, sir." "Then, why don't you get rid of it?" "It's more than I dare do, sir. There it is, and there it must remain." "And there that evil-looking bird is, I suppose, and there that must remain." "Yes, sir." "Ah, well," I said, thinking it time to get upon the track, "and now let us talk about something else. You appear to be in trouble." "You may well say that, sir. I'm worn to skin and bone." "I'm sorry to hear it, Fanny. Money troubles, I suppose?" "O, no, sir! We can manage on what we've got, Lemon and me, though he _has_ made ducks and drakes with the best part of his savings. Not money troubles, sir; a good deal worser than that." "Your husband is well, I trust." "I wish I could say so, sir. No, sir, he's a long way from well, and I didn't know who else to call in, for poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand anybody but you."