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The Cheapest Insurance Office must be the Fee-nix.

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STORICULES.

II.—­THE BACK-VIEW.

The boy had gone out to get change.

[Illustration]

I was waiting in the studio, listening to the photographer.  He was in quite a small way of business, and no one would have expected him to have any change for anything.  I was sitting on a rustic stile, with a Greek temple and some wilted Spiraeas in the background.  He was in the dark room, busy, splashing liquids about, and reminiscent.  I still believe that he thought the time of waiting would seem shorter to me if he talked.  The whole place seemed to suggest financial difficulties, and smelt of chemicals.

“You remember the Punyer case?” he asked.  His voice sounded thin and far-off through the closed door of the dark room.

I did.  PUNYER had been a cashier, and had absconded with rather more than the usual amount.

“Well, I had some dealings with PUNYER.  As a cashier he was certainly dishonest, but as a man he was absolutely reliable, and nothing would induce him to break his word.  I know that to be a fact from my personal experience of the man; indeed, it was through me that he was identified—­or, rather, through one of my photographs.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  On the day that he absconded, a four-wheeler drove up to this house.  The driver got off, and sent a message up to the studio that a gentleman in a cab outside wished to speak to me.  So, of course, I went out.  Inside the cab I found a man wearing a thick green veil.  He explained to me that his face had been injured in a railway accident, and that he could not allow it to be seen by any one.  He wanted me to photograph the back of his head.  He knew that the request was unusual.  ‘But,’ he said, pathetically, ’my few friends have got to know the back of my head, just as they know the faces of others who are—­who are less unfortunate than myself.  The doctors tell me that I have not long to live, and my friends are eager to have some slight memento of me.’  I was much moved, and I agreed to photograph him at once.”

“The man was PUNYER?”

“Of course.  The photograph of the back of his head turned out admirably—­clear and full of character.”

“But why did he get photographed at all?”

“You shall hear; it all came out afterwards.  I have already told you that PUNYER, in his private capacity, was a man of his word.  It appears that he was engaged to a Miss MIRANDA BUDE.  Indeed, it was to her that I was to send the photographs when they were finished.  He had promised her that he would have his photograph taken for her on his birthday; and the day on which he absconded happened to be his birthday.  He could not break his promise.  What was he to do?  At first he disguised himself as far as he could; he shaved off his luxurious beard