- end_line
- 9900
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9824
- text
- methodically graduated from bottom to top.
‘Mr. Scribe,’ said I, when, the next day, with an eager aspect, that
individual again came, ‘my object in sending for you this morning is,
not to arrange for the demolition of my chimney, nor to have any
particular conversation about it, but simply to allow you every
reasonable facility for verifying, if you can, the conjecture
communicated in your note.’
Though in secret not a little crestfallen, it may be, by my phlegmatic
reception, so different from what he had looked for; with much apparent
alacrity he commenced the survey; throwing open the cupboards on the
first floor, and peering into the closets on the second; measuring one
within, and then comparing that measurement with the measurement
without. Removing the fire-boards, he would gaze up the flues. But no
sign of the hidden work yet.
Now, on the second floor the rooms were the most rambling conceivable.
They, as it were, dovetailed into each other. They were of all shapes;
not one mathematically square room among them all--a peculiarity which
by the master mason had not been unobserved. With a significant, not to
say portentous expression, he took a circuit of the chimney, measuring
the area of each room around it; then going downstairs, and out of
doors, he measured the entire ground area; then compared the sum-total
of all the areas of all the rooms on the second floor with the ground
area; then, returning to me in no small excitement, announced that there
was a difference of no less than two hundred and odd square feet--room
enough, in all conscience, for a secret closet.
‘But, Mr. Scribe,’ said I, stroking my chin, ‘have you allowed for the
walls, both main and sectional? They take up some space, you know.’
‘Ah, I had forgotten that,’ tapping his forehead; ‘but,’ still ciphering
on his paper, ‘that will not make up the deficiency.’
‘But, Mr. Scribe, have you allowed for the recesses of so many
fireplaces on a floor, and for the fire-walls, and the flues; in short,
Mr. Scribe, have you allowed for the legitimate chimney itself--some one
hundred and forty-four square feet or thereabouts, Mr. Scribe?’
‘How unaccountable. That slipped my mind too.’
‘Did it, indeed, Mr. Scribe?’
He faltered a little, and burst forth with, ‘But we must now allow one
hundred and forty-four square feet for the legitimate chimney. My
position is, that within those undue limits the secret closet is
contained.’
I eyed him in silence a moment; then spoke:
‘Your survey is concluded, Mr. Scribe; be so good now as to lay your
finger upon the exact part of the chimney wall where you believe this
secret closet to be; or would a witch-hazel wand assist you, Mr.
Scribe?’
‘No, sir, but a crowbar would,’ he, with temper, rejoined.
Here, now, thought I to myself, the cat leaps out of the bag. I looked
at him with a calm glance, under which he seemed somewhat uneasy. More
than ever now I suspected a plot. I remembered what my wife had said
about abiding by the decision of Mr. Scribe. In a bland way, I resolved
to buy up the decision of Mr. Scribe.
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘really, I am much obliged to you for this survey. It has
quite set my mind at rest. And no doubt you, too, Mr. Scribe, must feel
much relieved. Sir,’ I added, ‘you have made three visits to the
chimney. With a business man, time is money. Here are fifty dollars, Mr.
Scribe. Nay, take it. You have earned it. Your opinion is worth it. And
by the way’--as he modestly received the money--‘have you any objections
to give me a--a--little certificate--something, say, like a steamboat
certificate, certifying that you, a competent surveyor, have surveyed my
chimney, and found no reason to believe any unsoundness; in short,
any--any secret closet in it. Would you be so kind, Mr. Scribe?’
‘But, but, sir,’ stammered he with honest hesitation.
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