20. Concerning a Cheque
Things never happen quite as one expects them to. Mike came to theoffice next morning prepared for a repetition of the previous day. Hewas amazed to find the cashier not merely cheerful, but evenexuberantly cheerful. Edward, it appeared, had rallied in theafternoon, and, when his father had got home, had been out of danger.He was now going along excellently, and had stumped Ada, who wasnursing him, with a question about the Thirty Years' War, only a fewminutes before his father had left to catch his train. The cashier wasoverflowing with happiness and goodwill towards his species. He greetedcustomers with bright remarks on the weather, and snappy views on theleading events of the day: the former tinged with optimism, the latterfull of a gentle spirit of toleration. His attitude towards the latestactions of His Majesty's Government was that of one who felt that,after all, there was probably some good even in the vilest of hisfellow creatures, if one could only find it.
Altogether, the cloud had lifted from the Cash Department. All was joy,jollity, and song.
'The attitude of Comrade Waller,' said Psmith, on being informed of thechange, 'is reassuring. I may now think of my own troubles. ComradeBristow has blown into the office today in patent leather boots withwhite kid uppers, as I believe the technical term is. Add to that thefact that he is still wearing the satin tie, the waistcoat, and thering, and you will understand why I have definitely decided thismorning to abandon all hope of his reform. Henceforth my services, forwhat they are worth, are at the disposal of Comrade Bickersdyke. Mytime from now onward is his. He shall have the full educative value ofmy exclusive attention. I give Comrade Bristow up. Made straight forthe corner flag, you understand,' he added, as Mr Rossiter emerged fromhis lair, 'and centred, and Sandy Turnbull headed a beautiful goal. Iwas just telling Jackson about the match against Blackburn Rovers,' hesaid to Mr Rossiter.
'Just so, just so. But get on with your work, Smith. We are a littlebehind-hand. I think perhaps it would be as well not to leave it justyet.'
'I will leap at it at once,' said Psmith cordially.
Mike went back to his department.
The day passed quickly. Mr Waller, in the intervals of work, talked agood deal, mostly of Edward, his doings, his sayings, and hisprospects. The only thing that seemed to worry Mr Waller was theproblem of how to employ his son's almost superhuman talents to thebest advantage. Most of the goals towards which the average man strivesstruck him as too unambitious for the prodigy.
By the end of the day Mike had had enough of Edward. He never wished tohear the name again.
We do not claim originality for the statement that things never happenquite as one expects them to. We repeat it now because of its profoundtruth. The Edward's pneumonia episode having ended satisfactorily (or,rather, being apparently certain to end satisfactorily, for theinvalid, though out of danger, was still in bed), Mike looked forwardto a series of days unbroken by any but the minor troubles of life. Forthese he was prepared. What he did not expect was any big calamity.
At the beginning of the day there were no signs of it. The sky was blueand free from all suggestions of approaching thunderbolts. Mr Waller,still chirpy, had nothing but good news of Edward. Mike went for hismorning stroll round the office feeling that things had settled downand had made up their mind to run smoothly.
When he got back, barely half an hour later, the storm had burst.
There was no one in the department at the moment of his arrival; but afew minutes later he saw Mr Waller come out of the manager's room, andmake his way down the aisle.
It was his walk which first gave any hint that something was wrong. Itwas the same limp, crushed walk which Mike had seen when Edward'ssafety still hung in the balance.
As Mr Waller came nearer, Mike saw that the cashier's face was deadlypale.
Mr Waller caught sight of him and quickened his pace.
'Jackson,' he said.
Mike came forward.
'Do you--remember--' he spoke slowly, and with an effort, 'do youremember a cheque coming through the day before yesterday for a hundredpounds, with Sir John Morrison's signature?'
'Yes. It came in the morning, rather late.'
Mike remembered the cheque perfectly well, owing to the amount. It wasthe only three-figure cheque which had come across the counter duringthe day. It had been presented just before the cashier had gone out tolunch. He recollected the man who had presented it, a tallish man witha beard. He had noticed him particularly because of the contrastbetween his manner and that of the cashier. The former had been so verycheery and breezy, the latter so dazed and silent.
'Why,' he said.
'It was a forgery,' muttered Mr Waller, sitting down heavily.
Mike could not take it in all at once. He was stunned. All he couldunderstand was that a far worse thing had happened than anything hecould have imagined.
'A forgery?' he said.
'A forgery. And a clumsy one. Oh it's hard. I should have seen it onany other day but that. I could not have missed it. They showed me thecheque in there just now. I could not believe that I had passed it. Idon't remember doing it. My mind was far away. I don't remember thecheque or anything about it. Yet there it is.'
Once more Mike was tongue-tied. For the life of him he could not thinkof anything to say. Surely, he thought, he could find _something_in the shape of words to show his sympathy. But he could find nothingthat would not sound horribly stilted and cold. He sat silent.
'Sir John is in there,' went on the cashier. 'He is furious. MrBickersdyke, too. They are both furious. I shall be dismissed. I shalllose my place. I shall be dismissed.' He was talking more to himselfthan to Mike. It was dreadful to see him sitting there, all limp andbroken.
'I shall lose my place. Mr Bickersdyke has wanted to get rid of me fora long time. He never liked me. I shall be dismissed. What can I do?I'm an old man. I can't make another start. I am good for nothing.Nobody will take an old man like me.'
His voice died away. There was a silence. Mike sat staring miserably infront of him.
Then, quite suddenly, an idea came to him. The whole pressure of theatmosphere seemed to lift. He saw a way out. It was a curious crookedway, but at that moment it stretched clear and broad before him. Hefelt lighthearted and excited, as if he were watching the developmentof some interesting play at the theatre.
He got up, smiling.
The cashier did not notice the movement. Somebody had come in to cash acheque, and he was working mechanically.
Mike walked up the aisle to Mr Bickersdyke's room, and went in.
The manager was in his chair at the big table. Opposite him, facingslightly sideways, was a small, round, very red-faced man. MrBickersdyke was speaking as Mike entered.
'I can assure you, Sir John--' he was saying.
He looked up as the door opened.
'Well, Mr Jackson?'
Mike almost laughed. The situation was tickling him.
'Mr Waller has told me--' he began.
'I have already seen Mr Waller.'
'I know. He told me about the cheque. I came to explain.'
'Explain?'
'Yes. He didn't cash it at all.'
'I don't understand you, Mr Jackson.'
'I was at the counter when it was brought in,' said Mike. 'I cashed it.'
Psmith in the City Page 20
