CHAPTER III
At twelve o'clock, Jacob was in Regent Street, and at one o'clock, ina new blue serge suit, shirt, collar and tie of the latest pattern, hewas dividing his time between admiring his reflection in the mirrorand waiting in the entrance hall of Simpson's. Dauncey's coming was,in its way, pathetic. With a pessimism engendered by years ofmisfortune, he had found it impossible to preserve throughout themorning the exultation of those first few minutes with Jacob in therailway carriage. He entered the restaurant and came towards hisfriend with a feverish light in his eyes and a trembling of the lipswhich the latter only too well understood.
"It's all right, old fellow," Jacob assured him emphatically. "Throwin your hat with mine. Here's our table--two cocktails waiting, yousee, and a bottle of the best the place has--I tell you the oldgentleman in Threadneedle Street parted without a murmur. I'm simplybursting with money--Steady, old chap!"
In the crowd of people waiting for their tables, they were littlenoticed, these two--Dauncey struggling against the faintness, therising in his throat, the strange moisture in his eyes, Jacob talkingnonsense as hard as he could and affecting to disregard these unusualconditions. Soon he had his friend safely seated opposite him, forcedhim to drink his cocktail, gave cheerful orders to the waiter, andproduced a brand new pocketbook, which he laid upon the table.
"Richard," he announced, "there's a hundred pounds in that. Away withit, pocketbook and all. Now put the soles of your feet firmly on theground and think what you're going to say to Nora when you get home.You've stood up against some nasty knocks. Now just tell yourself thatthey're all over. We'll take a feast home to-night. Waiter, open thewine. By Jove, I've heard that pop for other fellows often enough, butnot one for myself for two years and more."
"Jacob," Dauncey faltered, "I can't say a word, but I'm all right. AndGod bless you," he added, raising his glass and drinking. "God blessyou, Jacob! You're a pal."
After that, the thing was accepted as part of their lives, and theytalked reasonably.
"This afternoon," Jacob confided, "I am going to be measured for halfa dozen suits of clothes. I am going to prowl about Bond Street andgratify the longings of a lifetime for variegated hosiery. At fiveo'clock, Richard, I shall call for you at your office. By the bye, youhad better ask them how soon they can let you go."
"They won't worry about that," Dauncey answered, a little bitterly."Every Saturday for months has been a nightmare to me, for fear I'dget the sack. They don't think I'm smart enough for my job there--notsmart enough even for three pounds a week!"
"Just let them know what you think about them, for a change," Jacobenjoined. "Three pounds a week, indeed! Tell them you've accepted apost at five hundred a year with a financier who needs your advicewith his investments. That'll give them something to think about!"
"It will!" Dauncey admitted, with a smile. "They'll think I've gonemad."
"Let 'em think what they choose," Jacob insisted. "You come out of itwith your nose in the air and leave your office coat behind for theerrand boy. They'll always be worried to think that you must have beena great deal smarter than they gave you credit for."
"I'll do my best," Dauncey promised.
"I shall call for you in my motor-car," Jacob continued; "we shallmake purchases on our way, and we shall return to Marlingden in state.Thank heavens, Dick, for small ambitions! Just for the moment, I feelthat nothing could make me happier than to be driven down the villagestreet, pull up at the shops on the way home, and spend a fewfive-pound notes where I've had to look twice at a shilling."
Dauncey smiled with the air of a man who sees more wonderful things.
"That's all very well in its way, old fellow," he admitted, "butto appreciate this absolutely you ought to be married. I can thinkof nothing but Nora's face when I tell her--when I show her thepocketbook--when she begins to realise! Jacob, it's worth all themisery of the last few years. It's worth--anything."
Jacob's face glowed with sympathy, but he made a brave attempt towhistle under his breath a popular tune.
"Fact of it is, old chap," he said, as he gripped the bottle forsupport and watched the bubbles rise in Dauncey's glass, "we are bothaltogether too emotional."
* * * * *
Jacob's programme, for the remainder of the day, was carried out verynearly as he had planned it. The car was hired without difficulty, andthe sensation created in the village shops by his arrival in it, hislavish orders and prompt payment, was ample and gratifying. Mrs.Harris alone seemed curiously unmoved when he confided to her thestory of this great change in his circumstances. She who had been allkindness and sympathy in the days of his misfortune listened to thestory of his newly arrived wealth with a striking absence ofenthusiasm.
"You'll be giving up your rooms now, I suppose?" she observed with asigh. "Want to go and live in the West End of London, or some suchplace."
Jacob extended his arm as far as possible around her ample waist.
"Mrs. Harris," he said, "no one else in the world could have lookedafter me so well when I was poor. No one else shall look after me nowthat I am rich. If I leave here, you and Harris must come too, but Idon't think that I shall--not altogether. There are the roses, yousee."
"And what's in that cardboard box?" she asked suspiciously.
"A black silk dress for you," Jacob replied. "You'll give me a kisswhen you see it."
"A black silk dress--for me?" Mrs. Harris faltered, her eyes agleam."I don't know what Harris will say!"
"There's a bicycle at the station for him," Jacob announced. "No moretwo-mile trudges to work, eh?"
Mrs. Harris sat down suddenly and raised her apron to her eyes. Jacobmade his escape and crossed the road. It had seemed to him that hemust have exhausted the whole gamut of emotions during the day, butthere was still a moment's revelation for him when the pale, shy,little woman whom he had known as his friend's wife came running outto greet him with shining eyes and outstretched hands.
"Mr. Pratt!" she cried. "Is it all true?"
"It's all true, and more of it," he assured her. "Your man's set upcomfortably for life, and I am a starving millionaire. Anything toeat?"
She laughed a little hysterically.
"Why, there's everything in the world to eat, and to drink, too, Ishould think," she answered. "What they must have thought of you twomen in the shops, I can't imagine! Come into the dining-room, won'tyou? Dick's opening some wine."
Then followed the second feast of the day, at which Jacob had topretend to be unconscious of the fact that his host and hostess werealternately ecstatically happy and tremulously hysterical. They allwaited upon themselves and ate many things the names of which onlywere familiar to them. Dauncey opened champagne as though he had beenused to it all his life. Jacob carved chickens with great skill, butwas a little puzzled as to the location of caviare in the meal andmore than a little generous with the _pate-de-foie-gras_. Thestrawberries and real Devonshire cream were an immense success, andMrs. Dauncey's eyes grew round with pleasure at the sight of the boxesof bonbons and chocolates. Afterwards the two men wandered out intothe garden, a quaint strip of uncultivated land, with wanton beds ofsweet-smelling flowers, and separated from the meadow beyond only byan untrimmed and odoriferous hedge, wreathed in honeysuckle. Overwonderful cigars, the like of which neither of them had ever smokedbefore, they talked for a moment or two seriously.
"What are you really going to do with your money, Jacob?" Daunceyasked. "And where do I come in? I do hope I am going to have a chanceof earning my salary."
Jacob was silent for a few moments. In the half light, a new sternnessseemed to have stolen into his face.
"Richard," he said, "you've seen men come out of a fight covered withscars,--wounds that burn and remind them of their sufferings. Well,I'm rather like that. I was never a very important person, you know,but in the old days I was proud of my little business and my goodname. It hurt me like hell to go under. It was bad enough when peoplewere kind. Sometimes
they weren't."
"I know," Dauncey murmured sympathetically.
"My scars are there," Jacob went on. "If I had such a thing, Dick, Ishould say that they had burned their way into my soul. I haven't madeany plans. Don't think that I am going to embark upon any senselessscheme of revenge--but if this promise of great wealth is fulfilled, Ihave some sort of a fancy for using it as a scourge to cruelty, or forgiving the unfortunate a leg up where it's deserved. There are one ortwo enterprises already shaping themselves in my mind, which might bebrought to a successful conclusion."
"Enterprises?" Dauncey repeated a little vaguely.
Jacob laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder. There was a strangelight in his eyes.
"Dick," he said, "you'd think I was a commonplace sort of fellowenough, wouldn't you? So I am, in a way, and yet I've got somethingstirring in my blood of the fever which sent Sam out to the far westof America, more for the sheer love of going than for any hope ofmaking a fortune. I've lived an everyday sort of life, but I've hadmy dreams."
"We're not going around the world treasure hunting, or anything ofthat sort, are we?" Dauncey asked anxiously.
"All the treasure hunting we shall do," Jacob replied, with a littlethrill in his tone, "will be on the London pavements. All theadventures which the wildest buccaneers the world has ever known mightcrave are to be found under the fogs of this wonderful city. We shan'tneed to travel far in the body, Dick. A little office somewhere in theWest End, a little ground bait which I know about, and the sharks ofthe world will come stealing around us. There are seven or eightmillion people in London, Dick. A detective I once knew--kind ofthoughtful chap he was--once told me that on a moderate computationthere were twenty-five thousand of them who would commit murderwithout hesitation if they could get their hand deep enough into theirneighbour's pocket."
"Talking through his hat," Dauncey muttered.
"That is what we shall find out. Only remember this, Richard. I amconvinced that I possess in some degree that sixth sense the Frenchcriminologist talked about,--the sense for Adventure. I've had to keepmy nose to the grindstone, worse luck, but there have been times whenI've lifted my head and sniffed it in the air. In queer places, too!In the dark, shadowy streets of old towns which I have visited as acommercial traveller, selling goods by day and wandering out alone bynight into the backwaters. I've felt the thrill there, Dick, trying tolook through the curtained windows of some of those lonely houses.I've been brushed by a stranger in Fleet Street and felt it; lookedinto a woman's mysterious eyes as she turned around, with a latchkeyin her hand, before a house in Bloomsbury. We shan't need to wanderfar away, Richard."
"Seems to me," the latter observed, "that I am to play Man Fridayto--"
He suddenly stood rigid. He gripped his friend's arm, his lips alittle parted. He was listening in a paroxysm of subdued joy. From outof the sitting-room window came faint sounds of melody.
"It's Nora," he murmured ecstatically. "It's the first time for years!She's singing!"
He moved involuntarily towards the house. Jacob filled his pipe andstrolled across the way, homewards.
Jacob's Ladder Page 4
