Doyle, Arthur Conan, 1859-1930 -- Parodies, imitations, etc.; Fantasy fiction; Holmes, Sherlock (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“I had intended to put up a thousand ducats,” he said, defiantly, “but
with that woman Portia on board I won’t give a red obolus!” and with that
he wrapped his cloak about him and stalked off into the gathering shadows
of the wood.
And so the funds were raised without the aid of Shylock, and the shapely
twin-screw steamer the _Gehenna_ was chartered of Charon, and put under
the command of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who, after he had thanked the company
for their confidence, walked abstractedly away, observing in strictest
confidence to himself that he had done well to prepare that bottle
beforehand and bribe Crusoe’s man to find it.
“For now,” he said, with a chuckle, “I can get back to earth again free
of cost on my own hook, whether my eminent inventor wants me there or
not. I never approved of his killing me off as he did at the very height
of my popularity.”
IV
ON BOARD THE HOUSE-BOAT
MEANWHILE the ladies were not having such a bad time, after all. Once
having gained possession of the House-boat, they were loath to think of
ever having to give it up again, and it is an open question in my mind if
they would not have made off with it themselves had Captain Kidd and his
men not done it for them.
“I’ll never forgive these men for their selfishness in monopolizing all
this,” said Elizabeth, with a vicious stroke of a billiard-cue, which
missed the cue-ball and tore a right angle in the cloth. “It is not
right.”
“No,” said Portia. “It is all wrong; and when we get back home I’m going
to give my beloved Bassanio a piece of my mind; and if he doesn’t give in
to me, _I’ll_ reverse my decision in the famous case of Shylock _versus_
Antonio.”
“Then I sincerely hope he doesn’t give in,” retorted Cleopatra, “for I
swear by all my auburn locks that that was the very worst bit of
injustice ever perpetrated. Mr. Shakespeare confided to me one night, at
one of Mrs. Cæsar’s card-parties, that he regarded that as the biggest
joke he ever wrote, and Judge Blackstone observed to Antony that the
decision wouldn’t have held in any court of equity outside of Venice. If
you owe a man a thousand ducats, and it costs you three thousand to get
them, that’s your affair, not his. If it cost Antonio every drop of his
bluest blood to pay the pound of flesh, it was Antonio’s affair, not
Shylock’s. However, the world applauds you as a great jurist, when you
have nothing more than a woman’s keen instinct for sentimental
technicalities.”
“It would have made a horrid play, though, if it had gone on,” shuddered
Elizabeth.
“That may be, but, carried out realistically, it would have done away
with a raft of bad actors,” said Cleopatra. “I’m half sorry it didn’t go
on, and I’m sure it wouldn’t have been any worse than compelling Brutus
to fall on his sword until he resembles a chicken liver _en brochette_,
as is done in that Julius Cæsar play.”
“Well, I’m very glad I did it,” snapped Portia.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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