The Last Chronicle of Barset

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXXVII.

  HOOK COURT.

  Mr. Dobbs Broughton and Mr. Musselboro were sitting together on acertain morning at their office in the City, discussing the affairsof their joint business. The City office was a very poor placeindeed, in comparison with the fine house which Mr. Dobbs occupied atthe West End; but then City offices are poor places, and there arecertain City occupations which seem to enjoy the greater credit thepoorer are the material circumstances by which they are surrounded.Turning out of a lane which turns out of Lombard Street, there is adesolate, forlorn-looking, dark alley, which is called Hook Court.The entrance to this alley is beneath the first-floor of one of thehouses in the lane, and in passing under this covered way the visitorto the place finds himself in a small paved square court, at the twofurther corners of which there are two open doors; for in Hook Courtthere are only two houses. There is No. 1, Hook Court, and No. 2,Hook Court. The entire premises indicated by No. 1, are occupied by afirm of wine and spirit merchants, in connexion with whose trade oneside and two angles of the court are always lumbered with crates,hampers, and wooden cases. And nearly in the middle of the court,though somewhat more to the wine-merchants' side than to the other,there is always gaping open a trap-door, leading down to vaultsbelow; and over the trap there is a great board with a brightadvertisement in very large letters:--

  BURTON AND BANGLES. HIMALAYA WINES, 22_s._ 6_d._ per dozen.

  And this notice is so bright and so large, and the trap-door isso conspicuous in the court, that no visitor, even to No. 2, everafterwards can quite divest his memory of those names, Burton andBangles, Himalaya wines. It may therefore be acknowledged that Burtonand Bangles have achieved their object in putting up the notice.The house No. 2, small as it seems to be, standing in the jamb of acorner, is divided among different occupiers, whose names are paintedin small letters upon the very dirty posts of the doorway. Nothingcan be more remarkable than the contrast between Burton and Banglesand these other City gentlemen in the method taken by them indeclaring their presence to visitors in the court. The names of DobbsBroughton and of A. Musselboro,--the Christian name of Mr. Musselborowas Augustus,--were on one of those dirty posts, not joined togetherby any visible "and," so as to declare boldly that they werepartners; but in close vicinity,--showing at least that the twogentlemen would be found in apartments very near to each other. Andon the first-floor of this house Dobbs Broughton and his friend didoccupy three rooms,--or rather two rooms and a closet--between them.The larger and front room was tenanted by an old clerk, who satwithin a rail in one corner of it. And there was a broad, shortcounter which jutted out from the wall into the middle of the room,intended for the use of such of the public as might come to transactmiscellaneous business with Dobbs Broughton or Augustus Musselboro.But any one accustomed to the look of offices might have seenwith half an eye that very little business was ever done on thatcounter. Behind this large room was a smaller one, belonging to DobbsBroughton, in the furnishing and arrangement of which some regard hadbeen paid to comfort. The room was carpeted, and there was a sofain it, though a very old one, and two arm-chairs and a mahoganyoffice-table, and a cellaret, which was generally well suppliedwith wine which Dobbs Broughton did not get out of the vaults ofhis neighbours, Burton and Bangles. Behind this again, but with aseparate entrance from the passage, was the closet; and this closetwas specially devoted to the use of Mr. Musselboro. Closet as itwas,--or cupboard as it might almost have been called,--it containeda table and two chairs; and it had a window of its own, which openedout upon a blank wall which was distant from it not above four feet.As the house to which this wall belonged was four stories high, itwould sometimes happen that Mr. Musselboro's cupboard was ratherdark. But this mattered the less as in these days Mr. Musselboroseldom used it. Mr. Musselboro, who was very constant at his place ofbusiness,--much more constant than his friend, Dobbs Broughton,--wasgenerally to be found in his friend's room. Only on some specialoccasions, on which it was thought expedient that the commercialworld should be made to understand that Mr. Augustus Musselboro hadan individual existence of his own, did that gentleman really seathimself in the dark closet. Mr. Dobbs Broughton, had he been askedwhat was his trade, would have said that he was a stockbroker; and hewould have answered truly, for he was a stockbroker. A man may be astockbroker though he never sells any stock; as he may be a barristerthough he has no practice at the bar. I do not say that Mr. Broughtonnever sold any stock; but the buying and selling of stock for otherpeople was certainly not his chief business. And had Mr. Musselborobeen asked what was his trade, he would have probably given anevasive answer. At any rate in the City, and among people whounderstood City matters, he would not have said that he was astockbroker. Both Mr. Broughton and Mr. Musselboro bought and solda good deal, but it was chiefly on account. The shares which werebought and sold very generally did not pass from hand to hand;but the difference in the price of the shares did do so. And thenthey had another little business between them. They lent money oninterest. And in this business there was a third partner, whose namedid not appear on the dirty door-post. That third partner was Mrs.Van Siever, the mother of Clara Van Siever whom Mr. Conway Dalrympleintended to portray as Jael driving a nail into Sisera's head.

  On a certain morning Mr. Broughton and Mr. Musselboro were sittingtogether in the office which has been described. They were in Mr.Broughton's room, and occupied each an arm-chair on the differentsides of the fire. Mr. Musselboro was sitting close to the table, onwhich a ledger was open before him, and he had a pen and ink beforehim, as though he had been at work. Dobbs Broughton had a smallbetting-book in his hand, and was seated with his feet up against theside of the fireplace. Both men wore their hats, and the aspect ofthe room was not the aspect of a place of business. They had beensilent for some minutes when Broughton took his cigar-case out of hispocket, and nibbled off the end of a cigar, preparatory to lightingit.

  "You had better not smoke here this morning, Dobbs," said Musselboro.

  "Why shouldn't I smoke in my own room?"

  "Because she'll be here just now."

  "What do I care? If you think I'm going to be afraid of Mother Van,you're mistaken. Let come what may, I'm not going to live under herthumb." So he lighted his cigar.

  "All right," said Musselboro, and he took up his pen and went to workat his book.

  "What is she coming here for this morning?" asked Broughton.

  "To look after her money. What should she come for?"

  "She gets her interest. I don't suppose there's better paid money inthe City."

  "She hasn't got what was coming to her at Christmas yet."

  "And this is February. What would she have? She had better put herdirty money into the three per cents., if she is frightened at havingto wait a week or two."

  "Can she have it to-day?"

  "What, the whole of it? Of course she can't. You know that as well asI do. She can have four hundred pounds, if she wants it. But seeingall she gets out of the concern, she has no right to press for it inthat way. She is the ---- old usurer I ever came across in my life."

  "Of course she likes her money."

  "Likes her money! By George she does; her own and anybody else's thatshe can get hold of. For a downright leech, recommend me always to awoman. When a woman does go in for it, she is much more thorough thanany man." Then Broughton turned over the little pages of his book,and Musselboro pondered over the big pages of his book, and there wassilence for a quarter of an hour.

  "There's something about nine hundred and fifteen pounds due to her,"said Musselboro.

  "I daresay there is."

  "It would be a very good thing to let her have it if you've got it.The whole of it this morning, I mean."

  "If! yes, if!" said Broughton.

  "I know there's more than that at the bank."

  "And I'm to draw out every shilling that there is! I'll see MotherVan--further first. She can have L500 if she likes it,--and therest in a fortnight. Or she can have my note-
of-hand for it all atfourteen days."

  "She won't like that at all," said Musselboro.

  "Then she must lump it. I'm not going to bother myself about her.I've pretty nearly as much money in it as she has, and we're in aboat together. If she comes here bothering, you'd better tell herso."

  "You'll see her yourself?"

  "Not unless she comes within the next ten minutes. I must go down tothe court. I said I'd be there by twelve. I've got somebody I want tosee."

  "I'd stay if I were you."

  "Why should I stay for her? If she thinks that I'm going to makemyself her clerk, she's mistaken. It may be all very well for you,Mussy, but it won't do for me. I'm not dependent on her, and I don'twant to marry her daughter."

  "It will simply end in her demanding to have her money back again."

  "And how will she get it?" said Dobbs Broughton. "I haven't a doubtin life but she'd take it to-morrow if she could put her hands uponit. And then, after a bit, when she began to find that she didn'tlike four per cent., she'd bring it back again. But nobody can dobusiness after such a fashion as that. For the last three years she'sdrawn close upon two thousand a year for less than eighteen thousandpounds. When a woman wants to do that, she can't have her money inher pocket every Monday morning."

  "But you've done better than that yourself, Dobbs."

  "Of course I have. And who has made the connexion and who has donethe work? I suppose she doesn't think that I'm to have all the sweatand that she is to have all the profit."

  "If you talk of work, Dobbs, it is I that have done the most of it."This Mr. Musselboro said in a very serious voice, and with a look ofmuch reproach.

  "And you've been paid for what you've done. Come, Mussy, you'd betternot turn against me. You'll never get your change out of that. Evenif you marry the daughter, that won't give you the mother's money.She'll stick to every shilling of it till she dies; and she'd takeit with her then, if she knew how." Having said this, he got up fromhis chair, put his little book into his pocket, and walked out ofthe office. He pushed his way across the court, which was more thanordinarily crowded with the implements of Burton and Bangles' trade,and as he passed under the covered way he encountered at the entrancean old woman getting out of a cab. The old woman was, of course,Mother Van, as her partner, Mr. Dobbs Broughton, irreverently calledher. "Mrs. Van Siever, how d'ye do? Let me give you a hand. Fare fromSouth Kensington? I always give the fellows three shillings."

  "You don't mean to tell me it's six miles!" And she tendered a florinto the man.

  "Can't take that, ma'am," said the cabman.

  "Can't take it! But you must take it. Broughton, just get apoliceman, will you?" Dobbs Broughton satisfied the driver out of hisown pocket, and the cab was driven away. "What did you give him?"said Mrs. Van Siever.

  "Just another sixpence. There never is a policeman anywhere abouthere."

  "It'll be out of your own pocket, then," said Mrs. Van. "But you'renot going away?"

  "I must be at Capel Court by half-past twelve;--I must, indeed. If itwasn't real business, I'd stay."

  "I told Musselboro I should be here."

  "He's up there, and he knows all about the business just as well asI do. When I found that I couldn't stay for you, I went through theaccount with him, and it's all settled. Good morning. I'll see you atthe West End in a day or two." Then he made his way out into LombardStreet, and Mrs. Van Siever picked her steps across the yard, andmounted the stairs, and made her way into the room in which Mr.Musselboro was sitting.

  "Somebody's been smoking, Gus," she said, almost as soon as she hadentered the room.

  "That's nothing new here," he replied, as he got up from his chair.

  "There's no good being done when men sit and smoke over their work.Is it you, or he, or both of you?"

  "Well;--it was Broughton was smoking just now. I don't smoke of amorning myself."

  "What made him get up and run away when I came?"

  "How can I tell, Mrs. Van Siever," said Musselboro, laughing. "If hedid run away when you came, I suppose it was because he didn't wantto see you."

  "And why shouldn't he want to see me? Gus, I expect the truth fromyou. How are things going on here?" To this question Mr. Musselboromade no immediate answer; but tilted himself back in his chair andtook his hat off, and put his thumbs into the arm-holes of hiswaistcoat, and looked his patroness full in the face. "Gus," shesaid again, "I do expect the truth from you. How are things going onhere?"

  "There'd be a good business,--if he'd only keep things together."

  "But he's idle. Isn't he idle?"

  "Confoundedly idle," said Musselboro.

  "And he drinks;--don't he drink in the day?"

  "Like the mischief,--some days. But that isn't the worst of it."

  "And what is the worst of it?"

  "Newmarket;--that's the rock he's going to pieces on."

  "You don't mean to say he takes the money out of the businessfor that?" And Mrs. Van Siever's face, as she asked the question,expressed almost a tragic horror. "If I thought that I wouldn't givehim an hour's mercy."

  "When a man bets he doesn't well know what money he uses. I can't saythat he takes money that is not his own. Situated as I am, I don'tknow what is his own and what isn't. If your money was in my name Icould keep a hand on it;--but as it is not I can do nothing. I cansee that what is put out is put out fairly well; and when I think ofit, Mrs. Van Siever, it is quite wonderful that we've lost so little.It has been next to nothing. That has been my doing;--and that'sabout all that I can do."

  "You must know whether he has used my money for his own purposes ornot."

  "If you ask me, I think he has," said Mr. Musselboro.

  "Then I'll go into it, and I'll find it out, and if it is so, assure as my name's Van Siever, I'll sew him up." Having uttered whichterrible threat, the old woman drew a chair to the table and seatedherself fairly down, as though she were determined to go through allthe books of the office before she quitted that room. Mrs. Van Sieverin her present habiliments was not a thing so terrible to look at asshe had been in her wiggeries at Mrs. Dobbs Broughton's dinner-table.Her curls were laid aside altogether, and she wore simply a frontbeneath her close bonnet,--and a very old front, too, which was notloudly offensive because it told no lies. Her eyes were as bright,and her little wizen face was as sharp, as ever; but the wizen faceand the bright eyes were not so much amiss as seen together withthe old dark brown silk dress which she now wore, as they had beenwith the wiggeries and the evening finery. Even now, in her morningcostume, in her work-a-day business dress, as we may call it, shelooked to be very old,--so old that nobody could guess her age.People attempting to guess would say that she must be at least overeighty. And yet she was wiry, and strong, and nimble. It was notbecause she was feeble that she was thought to be so old. They who sojudged of her were led to their opinion by the extreme thinness ofher face, and by the brightness of her eyes, joined to the depth ofthe hollows in which they lay, and the red margin by which they weresurrounded. It was not really the fact that Mrs. Van Siever was sovery aged, for she had still some years to live before she wouldreach eighty, but that she was such a weird old woman, so small, soghastly, and so ugly! "I'll sew him up, if he's been robbing me," shesaid. "I will, indeed." And she stretched out her hand to grab at theledger which Musselboro had been using.

  "You won't understand anything from that," said he, pushing the bookover to her.

  "You can explain it to me."

  "That's all straight sailing, that is."

  "And where does he keep the figures that ain't straight sailing?That's the book I want to see."

  "There is no such book."

  "Look here, Gus,--if I find you deceiving me I'll throw you overboardas sure as I'm a living woman. I will indeed. I'll have no mercy.I've stuck to you, and made a man of you, and I expect you to stickto me."

  "Not much of a man," said Musselboro, with a touch of scorn in hisvoice.

  "You've never had a shilling yet
but what I gave you."

  "Yes; I have. I've had what I've worked for,--and worked confoundedhard too."

  "Look here, Musselboro; if you're going to throw me over, just tellme so, and let us begin fair."

  "I'm not going to throw you over. I've always been on the square withyou. Why don't you trust me out and out, and then I could do a dealbetter for you. You ask me now about your money. I don't know aboutyour money, Mrs. Van Siever. How am I to know anything about yourmoney, Mrs. Van Siever? You don't give me any power of keeping ahand upon Dobbs Broughton. I suppose you have security from DobbsBroughton, but I don't know what security you have, Mrs. Van Siever.He owes you now L915 16_s._ 2_d._ on last year's account!"

  "Why doesn't he give me a cheque for the money?"

  "He says he can't spare it. You may have L500, and the rest when hecan give it you. Or he'll give you his note-of-hand at fourteen daysfor the whole."

  "Bother his note-of-hand. Why should I take his note-of-hand?"

  "Do as you like, Mrs. Van Siever."

  "It's the interest on my own money. Why don't he give it me? Isuppose he has had it."

  "You must ask him that, Mrs. Van Siever. You're in partnership withhim, and he can tell you. Nobody else knows anything about it. If youwere in partnership with me, then of course I could tell you. Butyou're not. You've never trusted me, Mrs. Van Siever."

  The lady remained there closeted with Mr. Musselboro for an hourafter that, and did, I think, at length learn something more as tothe details of her partner's business, than her faithful servant Mr.Musselboro had at first found himself able to give to her. And atlast they came to friendly and confidential terms, in the midstof which the personal welfare of Mr. Dobbs Broughton was, I fear,somewhat forgotten. Not that Mr. Musselboro palpably and plainlythrew his friend overboard. He took his friend's part,--allegingexcuses for him, and pleading some facts. "Of course, you know, a manlike that is fond of pleasure, Mrs. Van Siever. He's been at it moreor less all his life. I don't suppose he ever missed a Derby or anOaks, or the cup at Ascot, or the Goodwood in his life." "He'll haveto miss them before long, I'm thinking," said Mrs. Van Siever. "Andas to not cashing up, you must remember, Mrs. Van Siever, that tenper cent. won't come in quite as regularly as four or five. When yougo for high interest, there must be hitches here and there. Theremust, indeed, Mrs. Van Siever." "I know all about it," said Mrs. VanSiever. "If he gave it me as soon as he got it himself, I shouldn'tcomplain. Never mind. He's only got to give me my little bit of moneyout of the business, and then he and I will be all square. You comeand see Clara this evening, Gus."

  Then Mr. Musselboro put Mrs. Van Siever into another cab, andwent out upon 'Change,--hanging about the Bank, and standing inThreadneedle Street, talking to other men just like himself. When hesaw Dobbs Broughton he told that gentleman that Mrs. Van Siever hadbeen in her tantrums, but that he had managed to pacify her beforeshe left Hook Court. "I'm to take her the cheque for the five hundredto-night," he said.