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This gave him an extremely questionable aspect;
and the ticket taker at the ferry peered under the huge brim
suspiciously as Patching came in. He also attracted the attention of a
detective in citizen's clothes, and was a general object of interest to
all the people congregated in the ferry house and waiting for the boat.
"This is fame," muttered Patching, glancing at his scrutinizers from the
shadow of the far-reaching hat. "This is what people starve and die for.
It is a bore." He struck an attitude, as if unconsciously, folding his
arms, and appearing to be in a profound revery. Then, after another
cautious glance about, he turned to Tiffles, by his side, and said:
"It is useless. I am recognized. But remember your solemn promise. I had
no hand in the painting of it."
"Not a little finger, my dear fellow," cheerfully replied Tiffles, who
had given the artist similar assurances of secrecy five times
that morning.
At that moment a hand touched Tiffles familiarly on the shoulder. He
turned suddenly, for he was always expecting rear attacks from
creditors.


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