by W. W. Jacobs
CHAPTER XVII--_Advice Gratis_
Gray appeared at his desk the next morning at his usual hour. Theoffice learned in due course that he had had some trouble and had takena day off. The loss of an annuity of five hundred pounds a year did notappear to weigh on him so heavily as might have been supposed. Athalf-past ten he went upstairs, in response to a request for hispresence.
George Early was occupying his accustomed place, perhaps a little palerthan usual, but very intent on business.
"You sent for me," said Gray.
"I did," said his master. "I should like you to explain your strangeabsence from business yesterday."
Gray grinned. "I was burying my grandmother," he said.
He received a look of severe reproof. "I believe I am right in assumingthat you were out making a beast of yourself," said George.
"I was out with Flora," replied Gray.
George coughed and became interested in a letter.
"As you did not turn up yesterday," he explained, "I felt it my duty toinquire about you. In the interests of yourself and your wife Iendeavoured to do you a good turn."
"Thanks," said Gray. "I'll do the same for you when the time comes."
"Go back to your work," ordered his master, "and don't let it occuragain."
"It's no good asking you to have a drink, I suppose?" said Gray.
George Early turned pale and swore softly. "I suppose you know all," hesaid.
"Everything," Gray confessed. "You're not the only artful one in thefirm."
"I'll sack you if you're not careful," cried George.
Gray laughed. He opened the door to go out, but paused on thethreshold.
"Keep your eye on the other two," he said significantly.
George rested awhile from his labours, in order to curse for thehundredth time the imbecility of the late venerable head of the firm.The worst of a legacy such as he was blessed with was that nobody buthimself realized the hardships of it. When he grumbled his wife soothedhim with soft words; but he knew that in her heart she believed it wasgood for him to be a teetotaler.
What troubled him more than this was the terrible probability ofreceiving fifteen hundred pounds a year instead of five hundred. IfParrott and Busby should fail as Gray had done, and the three legaciescame to him, life would not be worth living. He must make his plans atonce, without a moment's delay.
The rest of the morning was devoted to a straight talk with Busby, inwhich George pointed out that having taken the place of the latevenerable head of the firm, he was prepared to adhere to hisprinciples. He exhorted Busby to shun the ways of the untruthful as hewould a fiery furnace, and to walk henceforth among those who werehonest. He promised to forward without delay a life-sized portrait ofGeorge Washington, which Busby might hang in his bedroom.
Parrott was treated to a similar discourse, and urged to respond withalacrity to all requests for pecuniary assistance.
"Generosity," said George, sagely, "is its own reward. It is sinful tohave money and to keep it to ourselves. Let us give it to those who arepoor, especially when they ask for it."
For the better safety of their master's interests the two legatees wereinformed that the lawyers had at last woke up, and had terriblesleuth-hounds on their track, under whose deadly eyes Gray had fallen avictim.
The next morning the office staff, on taking up their duties, wereelectrified to see the walls of the building adorned with the newest ofreligious texts, including such good counsel as "Honesty is the bestpolicy," "Tell the truth and shame the devil," "It is more blessed togive than to receive."
"Seems to me," observed Cacklin, "that the boss is going to start aSunday School, and he wants us all to join his class."
"Perhaps they're put up to give the new chap a good start," saidWilliam Budd.
"What new chap?"
"Chap in Matthews' place."
"Matthews gone?"
"Got a new job," explained Billy; "asked the boss if his cousin couldtake his place here. There's the new feller. See?"
"He's a nice piece of pie-crust," said Cacklin, critically. "Here!" Hecalled to the youth, who stood awkwardly near the doorway. "What name?"
"Bailey, sir," replied the youth.
"Any relation to Old Bailey?" inquired Cacklin.
Billy grinned.
"No, sir," said the youth.
"All right," said Cacklin; "wait over there. Decent sort of chap," heremarked, flattered by the youth's respectful attitude.
This opinion was echoed throughout the office during the threefollowing days. On the fourth, Busby received a blue envelope fromDibbs and Dubbs. On the fifth, Bailey met a friend outside the officeat closing time, and pointed out to him the form of Parrott wending hisway to Blackfriars, whereupon the friend immediately left Bailey andwent also to Blackfriars. Three days after this incident, Parrotthimself received a blue letter from the lawyers.
Energetic as was George Early, these incidents passed without hisnotice, illustrating the truth of the adage about the best laid schemesof mice and men going "aft agley." Not that he was negligent, thepersonal attention he gave to the head clerk and the cashier was quitepathetic. They lunched with him, had tea in his private office, andfrequently went to Brunswick Terrace to dinner. Sometimes the masterwould even accompany them home.
Busby was promoted to the post of private secretary at an increasedsalary, and a great deal of Parrott's time was spent upstairs in thebig office. At intervals, Mr. George Early sent them little gifts ofbooks, wherein the value of truth on the one hand, and generosity onthe other, were set forth.
If George Early had only known the qualities of the new head of Dibbsand Dubbs, things might have been different. That energetic young man,intent upon earning the fees due to him, and with a keen eye to futurebusiness, shadowed the legatees everywhere. George found it acomparatively easy matter to keep to temperance with so much at stake,but Busby, conscious of his own defects and the pernicious results ofhabit, hardly dared to open his mouth. Parrott, too, was sorely triedby the constant demands on his purse, and the mind-raking trials ofsorting out spies from "hard-ups."
Arriving early one morning at the office, the principal discoveredamong the letters two of the fatal blue envelopes. They were addressedto Busby and Parrott. With feverish haste he awaited the twosubordinates, and then learned with indignation that these were thesecond warnings of each.
"To think," said George, addressing his crestfallen secretary, "thatafter all the trouble I've taken you couldn't keep an honest tongue inyour head. Of course, it's of no consequence to me, except that I shallbe sorry to see you lose the money."
"It's easy to make a mistake," faltered Busby.
"Easy be hanged!" replied his master. "You should have been careful.Come in!" as a knock sounded.
A boy entered, and said, "Gentleman to see you, sir."
"Can't see any one now," said George, irritably. "You go, Busby, andsee who it is, Say I'll see him later."
Busby went gloomily down the stairs. The warning had cast a black cloudover his prospects, and his nerves, never under perfect control, werein an unsatisfactory condition. Only those who experience a suddenaccession to wealth can adequately realize the sensation of feelingthat it is going to be as suddenly snatched away. At the present momenthe would have welcomed a snug log cabin in an uninhabited island, wherethe absence of people would preclude the necessity of lying. A tallstranger came forward as he reached the lower office.
"Are you Mr. Early?" he asked.
"No," said Busby, "you----"
"I wanted to see him," said the stranger.
"Fact is," replied the cashier, "he's not here. Can you call againabout eleven?"
The stranger smiled, and pulled out a card-case.
"Yes," said Busby, taking the card absently. "I'll make an appointmentfor you at eleven."
The stranger departed, and Busby carried the piece of cardboardupstairs.
"What's this?" said George, glancing at the card. "Dibbs and Dubbs."
>
Busby let fall the inkstand he was lifting, and grasped the desk withboth hands. The two men stared at each other.
"I've done it," said Busby, feebly, dropping back in a chair; "it's allover." He laughed hysterically and wiped away some moisture from oneeye. "It's all over," he repeated in a silly, stupid way.
"Speak out," said George, hoarsely, trying to shake off a numbness thatwas creeping over him. "What have you done? What have you done? Outwith it!"
"Told him--told him you were not here."
It is safe to say that the flow of profanity delivered by the newmaster of Fairbrothers' on receiving this intelligence was such as hadnever before resounded in the chief office during the firm's existence.Busby was too intent on his own loss to take much heed of it, or towonder why the loss of five hundred pounds a year to his secretaryshould have such an effect on George Early, master of thousands. He layback in a limp heap, feebly repeating at intervals, "I've done it; it'sall over."
Animated by a faint hope that all was not lost, George summoned theoffice-boy. That youth, with quick intelligence and some pride,confessed that he had "told the gentleman Mr. Early was upstairs." As areward Mr. Early swore at him, and sacked him on the spot.
An hour later the worried ironmonger sat alone in the big room. He haddispensed with his secretary's services for the rest of the day, andhad given strict orders that no one was to be admitted to his presence.The appalling significance of his position was beginning to dawn uponhim. Already he had two of the legacies, and the third was obviously amere matter of time.
"You can't knock sense into the heads of these brutes," he reflectedbitterly; "they don't understand generosity. Parrott'll go down as sureas my name's George."
He sat upright and tried to review the situation. A stiff glass ofbrandy would have been a help, but that was out of the question. Thissecond legacy, of which he would probably receive notice in themorning, was ten times worse than the first. All his life George hadbeen accustomed to equivocation, and to bind himself to speaking thewhole truth and nothing but the truth was like asking him to keep hiseyes shut for the rest of his life. He regretted the afternoons he hadstayed away from Sunday School. He was positive that he would fail. Andthe third legacy would be even more appalling than the other two, forthere was no doubt that the secret would get out. Gray, Busby, andParrott would be sure to get news of all three, and Heaven knows howmany more people besides, and then he would be simply besieged formoney. It would be an impossible situation, and most unjust. He couldsee a most disastrous end to all his schemes. Himself brought topoverty, and with him a wife who had been reared in luxury.
The representative of Dibbs and Dubbs did not appear at eleven o'clock,so George decided to leave the stuffy atmosphere of Upper Thames Streetand cool his brow on a Thames steamboat. Before leaving he confided toParrott in the strictest confidence the calamity that had befallen hiscolleague, and urged him, while there was yet time, to reform.
"Give," said George, strenuously, "with a free hand. I know it's hardfor you to do it, but do it. And look here"--as a brilliant thoughtstruck him--"I'll stand half the debts, just to help you to get overthe habit of refusing."
He went away more pleased than he had hoped to be. It really was a goodidea that, and he could well afford it. Parrott did not look veryhopeful in spite of the generous offer; probably he had less faith inhimself, knowing himself better.
"Maybe," thought George, as he wended his way along Upper ThamesStreet, "I shall be able to think of some scheme to dodge all this. Iused to have a few ideas at one time. I suppose there's some one on mytrack from the infernal lawyers now."
He turned round sharply, and observed a young man stop and bend asearching gaze on a bill announcing property for sale.
"That's the man. I must be careful to do the George Washington act, andstick hard to temperance principles." As he proceeded on his way, theyoung man, who was no other than the relentless Mole, carefullyfollowed him.
It was late in the afternoon when he returned to Brunswick Terrace.During his wanderings he had not been able to shake off his pursuer,who tarried on the opposite side of the road as he entered the house.As he expected, a legal document awaited him, announcing the reversionof the second legacy.
"What a shame!" cried Mrs. Early, hotly, when she heard the news. "I dothink papa might have shown a little more feeling."
"More feeling, my dear?" Aunt Phoebe bristled up. "Really, I'msurprised at you. For my part, I rejoice, and I can't understand whyyour husband doesn't do so. Surely it is a blessing to know that one isalways telling the truth."
"Oh, I'm overwhelmed with joy," groaned George--"never felt happier inmy life."
"We shall all be pleased, I think, to feel that we can rely on everyword you say," said Aunt Phoebe, quietly.
"Ah," said George, "it's different here. Of course, at home it doesn'tcount. It isn't like----"
His aunt held up her hands. "I beg your pardon," she said; "I mustdiffer. I give you warning; I must differ. It would be far from my wishto have to say a word that would injure either of you, but in theinterests of truth and justice----"
"Truth and justice be hanged!"
"In the interests of truth and justice," persisted Aunt Phoebe, "Ishould be compelled--compelled to speak."
Mrs. Early burst into tears and cried, "Oh, Aunt Phoebe, how can yoube so horrid!"
George protested in most vehement language, but Aunt Phoebe was firm.
"I couldn't sleep at night," she said, "for feeling that I had actedwrongfully. No, I couldn't do it."
"Well, I'd sooner you kept awake," said George, unfeelingly, "if youcan't trust yourself."
Aunt Phoebe prepared to serve tea, and said curiously--
"I wonder that the habit of truth was not grounded in you when you werea Sunday School teacher. May I ask how many scholars you had?"
"You may not," replied her nephew, irritably. Why the devil did shewant to remind him of that bit of polite fiction!
Aunt Phoebe looked meaningly at her niece. "Were you ever a SundaySchool teacher?" she said, boldly continuing the attack.
"No!" blurted out George.
"There!" She folded her arms and looked again at her niece, whose sobsbegan afresh.
"Did you ever----"
"Oh, give me some tea," cried the wretched man. "I'm not going to sithere and be catechized like this."
"In the interests of my niece I demand it," continued his relentlessaunt; "how many lives did you save before that affair in RegentStreet?"
"I can't remember," said George, sullenly. "My memory's bad."
Aunt Phoebe smiled triumphantly. George proceeded to drink his tea insilence.
"I suppose," continued the old lady, "you never fell in love with anyyoung ladies before you met my niece? Never took them up the river,and----"
George groaned and clapped his hand to his head.
"It's coming on," he said hoarsely.
Mrs. Early ran to him at once. "What is it, darling?" she cried.
"Let me get to the couch," said George in a low voice; "take my arm."
"Is it your poor head?" asked his wife, anxiously.
George groaned again. "I think it's a fit coming on."
"Oh, let me get the doctor. Aunt, send for the doctor--quick!"
"I don't think the doctor is needed," said Aunt Phoebe, pursing herlips. "If it gets worse we can throw some cold water over him."
"It isn't so bad as that," said George, hastily. "It's--it's my head."
"Poor, poor head!" said Mrs. Early, smoothing his hair.
"The truth's been too much for him," said Aunt Phoebe.
"Aunt, how can you!" cried Mrs. Early, tearfully. "I'm sure George isvery, very unwell."
He managed to squeeze out another groan.
"Perhaps he'd better have some more tea," said Aunt Phoebe. "What isit?" to a maid who had entered.
"Letter for the master, ma'am."
"Another blue envelope," said Aunt Phoebe, taking the l
etter.
George looked up and stifled a curse. "Don't open it," he said. "I knowwhat it is."
What could it be but the third and final legacy? He burst into aprofuse perspiration, and smothered his wrath in the cushions of thesofa.
"Is oo better now, dearie?" asked his wife.
George raised himself into a sitting position. "It's gone off a bit,"he said. "I think I'll go out and walk it off." A new idea had comeinto his head, and he wanted solitude to think it over.
"I shouldn't go out, dearie," advised Mrs. Early, anxiously. "Your poorhead might get bad again."
George kissed her and summoned up a feeble smile.
"It's better now, pet," he said; "a walk will just put me right."
He took the blue letter into the hall and opened it. It was as hesuspected. Parrott had evidently had the third warning that morning,and not the second.
Outside George found the patient figure of Mole taking carefulobservation. He appeared not to notice him, but turned away in thedirection of Hyde Park. The cool air revived him, and he sat listeningto the band for half an hour. Finding in its music no solution to theproblems confronting him, he turned out of the gate and strolled alongPiccadilly.
"It was in this neighbourhood that I did the heroic act and let myselfin for this," thought George. "I only wish I could find a way out of ithere."
Food was necessary to keep up his strength, so he entered the CafeRoyal and ordered a sumptuous dinner. The indefatigable sleuth-hounddid likewise at a respectful distance.
"Now," thought George, as he emerged with the satisfied feeling thatonly a good dinner can give, "now I must try to think it out. I hadluck in this spot before--if you can call it luck. Perhaps I'll get thesame again."
But the goddess of fortune failed to appear, nor did George succeed inmeeting her during his subsequent two hours' stroll. All his own ideaswent down before the ingenious complications conceived by the late headof the Fairbrother firm.
He sighed deeply as he stood on the doorstep at Brunswick Terracesearching for his latch-key. The sigh was succeeded by a smile. Beforeinserting the key in the lock George turned and looked thoughtfully ata ghostly figure on the other side of the road.
"Well," he said with a valiant attempt at hilarity, "I'll try beinggood for a time, and see how that works."
