“Why should I?” asked Ragoczy, taking off his cloak and revealing formal evening dress, including a glistening red silken sash over his shoulder with the diamond-studded Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary blazing on it. “What has Shakespeare to do with your work here?”
“They would turn me off if they knew that I am studying to be an actor,” said John Henry with a direct candor that was as unexpected to him as it was to Ragoczy.
“Why?” Ragoczy chose one of the pulled-back chairs, turned it to face John Henry, and sat down. “What reason would they have to turn you off?”
“Acting is not a very … honorable profession,” said John Henry quietly.
“It was good enough for Shakespeare, and he ended up a baronet.” Ragoczy looked slightly amused. “But the Elizabethans were not so squeamish as you modern English are.”
“Influence makes a difference,” said John Henry, with a sigh. “And a clerk at a merchant’s emporium has little to hope for in regard to advancement of that sort.”
“They say Shakespeare himself began in the butcher’s trade, in Warwickshire.” He shook his head once. “He made his own advancement, and you can, as well. What do you want to do, Mr. Brodribb?” asked Ragoczy as he made himself more comfortable. “You may tell me without fear. I will keep your confidence.”
“Finish up tonight, if we can,” said John Henry at once.
“No,” Ragoczy responded. “In regard to your acting: what do you want to do?”
John Henry stared at Ragoczy, thinking the answer was obvious. “Why, be an actor, of course. To perform Shakespeare well for appreciative audiences. To introduce new plays of merit.” There was much more to it, but he hesitated to voice these intentions, for that might jinx them.
“Is that all?” asked Ragoczy blandly.
“No,” John Henry admitted.
“Would you be willing to tell me of your aspirations?” He asked so casually but with a look of acceptance that broke through John Henry’s reserve.
“You must not tell anyone,” he cautioned Ragoczy, his nerve all but deserting him.
“Of course,” said Ragoczy gravely. He gave John Henry a measuring look. “And how would you set about being an actor? Have you planned?”
As this very subject had taken up most of John Henry’s dreams since he came to London, eight years before, he had an answer; over that time he had arrived at a plan that he was sure would succeed if only he could get the funds to put it into operation. “First,” he said, launching into his scheme with gusto, “first I would arrange to act with a good amateur company, one where I can gain the basic experience, and meet those who know others in the profession. If I could afford to pay to play a leading role, that would be the best—”
“Pay to play a leading role?” Ragoczy interrupted. “Is that usual?”
“It is,” said John Henry, thrown off his stride. “It would be better to pay for a whole production, but that is wishing for the stars.” He paused and regained his inner momentum. “I would train myself and take lessons in fencing and other skills. Once I had some favorable reviews, and a few introductions, I would find a touring company, probably in the north or the Midlands, and sign on to do small parts. That way I would master my craft and have the advantage of experience in the process. Eventually, I would want to come back to London. And one day, I would like to have my own company.” This last came out in a rush.
Ragoczy studied him, then said, “And you are learning Romeo as a starting point?”
“Yes. I have learned Brutus and Henry V already, and I am working on Angelo. Eventually I will learn Macbeth. Not that I would be ready to play them yet, at my age.” He laughed self-consciously. “I can make myself up to appear older, but I haven’t the training to carry it off, yet. When I try, I do too much and the results are laughable.”
“Hence Romeo, since you are a young man,” said Ragoczy.
“Oh, yes,” said John Henry, his eyes bright. “But I have been studying people, trying to learn their characteristics so that I may use them at some future time.” He strode across the floor in the ponderous roll Mr. Tubbs affected. “That is but one example.”
“Very well done,” said Ragoczy. “You have caught his obsequious pomposity.”
John Henry lowered his eyes. “Thank you.”
Ragoczy continued to watch him in silence. Then he got to his feet. “Well, shall we give our attention to the ledger? The sooner we are finished here, the sooner you will be able to return to Romeo.” He went to John Henry’s desk and glanced at the page John Henry had set out earlier. “How bad do you think it is?”
Difficult though it was, John Henry set his own ambitions aside and gave his attention to the figures on the page. “I would have to say, Count, that in the last decade alone, more than two thousand pounds have been … siphoned off your accounts. Between that and what appears to be a consistent pattern of overcharging, you are at a considerable disadvantage.” He found himself wondering what it must be like to have more than three thousand pounds to lose.
“And you have no doubt that the pattern you have discovered is deliberate?” Ragoczy’s voice was light but firm and John Henry knew that one day he would duplicate it on the stage.
“I wish I did have doubts,” he admitted. “But today I have gone over all the records of the accounts in the ledger, not just the current ones but those going back some time. What disturbs me is that the same theft has been continuing for thirty years, or so I have come to suspect. I’ll show you,” he went on, proffering two large, neat pages of numbers. “This is what I was able to find today.”
“What a great deal of work you have done on my behalf,” said Ragoczy, looking down at the neat entries.
“It is as much for myself as for you,” said John Henry. “I want the name of the firm restored, and it cannot be without these records.”
“No one has exposed the firm yet,” Ragoczy reminded him.
“It is enough that I know,” said John Henry, standing straighter.
“And have you determined which of the London partners is the culprit on this end?” Ragoczy glanced swiftly at John Henry, all the while studying the pages.
“I … I cannot be certain, though Mr. Lamkin is in the best position to do it,” he said. “If the trouble comes from that part of the firm.”
“So I think, as well,” agreed Ragoczy, then perused the figures John Henry had supplied him a third time. “How is it,” he mused aloud, “that this can have gone on for so long without someone catching the errors? Do you know?”
John Henry had an answer for him. “I’ve been thinking about that, and I suppose it is because your ledger has not been copied until now. You are not often in London, and when you are, you rarely call here. The entries have been made with great correctness and regularity, and by a senior member of the firm, and so here would be no occasion to doubt what had been done, unless you were suspicious from the first. And since the errors could not be easily seen without extensive comparisons, I would imagine it would be surprising to have them found.”
Ragoczy nodded. “But what possessed them to give you the ledger to copy, do you suppose?”
“It is an old ledger. Your family has long done business with us, or so I would suppose.” He lowered his eyes. “The account has been here for a very long time. More than thirty years from the entries in the ledger, for there are figures that have been carried forward from earlier entries in what would have to be an older record-book.”
“It is a reasonable assumption, Mr. Brodribb,” said Ragoczy. “And you doubt that I was signing documents thirty years ago?”
“Possibly not,” said John Henry. “For you are not much more than forty, judging by your appearance.” He wanted to say more, but could not bring himself to go on.
“What is it?” Ragoczy prompted in a neutral voice.
This time John Henry found it difficult to answer. “It is only … that I observe people closely. It is what I must do if I am to be a good actor.�
� He collected himself and said in a rush, “I have noticed something about your eyes. They are not as other eyes I have seen, except, occasionally, in the very old, who have kept their strength and their wits.”
Ragoczy nodded. “I am older than I appear,” he said without obvious emotion. “Those of my blood do not show their years.”
John Henry made a nervous gesture, his burst of confidence deserting him. “I thought it might be … something like that. There is a world-weariness that … Foreigners are not as easily …” He began to flounder in a number of half-finished words.
“Let us return to these records,” suggested Ragoczy. “There is much to finish, and I want it accomplished tonight, if that is possible.”
“But you must—” John Henry broke off, indicating Ragoczy’s finery.
Ragoczy smiled and shook his head. “I have come from a reception; there is a banquet in progress even now.”
John Henry was more startled than ever. “I would have thought you would prefer to attend the banquet than look over figures. It is an honor to be invited to such an event.” He managed a quick, quirky smile. “Surely the fare at … so elegant a function is better than what you can purchase from the local publican, and that is likely to be your lot if we work much later.”
“It is certainly more elaborate, and my needs, in that regard, are simple,” said Ragoczy.
“Oh,” said John Henry, hoping to imply he understood what Ragoczy meant, though he knew he did not.
“How inconsiderate of me. I ask you to forgive my rudeness. Are you hungry?” Ragoczy inquired suddenly. “If you are, I will wait while you purchase something to eat.”
“No,” said John Henry quickly. “I made a good collation for tea, and it will suit me well enough. I want to continue with your records.”
“Let us look at the records from Greece,” Ragoczy recommended, opening the page in question. “As you have indicated, the entries there begin in 1828,” he added as he ran his finger down the second page of the ledger. “It would appear that the first few years were without incident. All the entries tally, by the look of them. Would you agree?”
“Your family has traded in spices for a long time, haven’t they, Count? The indication here is that your account with the spice traders in Arabia is an old one. And the entries from Egypt are of long standing,” commented John Henry as he allowed himself to be drawn back into the haven of numbers.
“Yes,” said Ragoczy. He inspected the pages closely and in silence for several minutes, and then looked over at John Henry. “I gather that the senior clerk was a Mr. Boulton for many years.”
“I’ve heard that,” said John Henry, cautiously.
“And Mr. Boulton was a relative of sorts of the founder?” asked Ragoczy.
“Yes, that is my understanding,” said John Henry, his confidence again increasing. “He died more than twenty years ago; at least that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Yes,” said Ragoczy. “And the uncle of Mr. Tubbs took his place. A Mr. Harbridge. This looks to be the place where the trouble starts.”
“So you think that Mr. Tubbs is aware of what is going on?” asked John Henry, doing his best not to be shocked by this suspicion.
“It is possible. He certainly was not eager to have me review these accounts, as you will recall, which, under the circumstances, is significant,” said Ragoczy. “How long has he been senior clerk?”
“Mr. Tubbs? About four years, I think. Four or five.” He looked around the office as if he expected to be overheard. “He was given quick advancement through the graces of his uncle, or so two of the clerks say.” He cleared his throat, and continued. “He was already the senior when I was taken on here.”
“Perhaps the partners expected him to protect their interests, and perhaps his uncle advanced him in order to conceal his thefts,” said Ragoczy, his face growing somber. “Whatever the case, I will have to put a stop to this, I fear.”
“Certainly you must,” said John Henry, astonished that Ragoczy could sound so reluctant to protect himself from theft. “It cannot be overlooked or allowed to continue. If they have stolen from you, it may be that there are others who have been so lamentably—”
“Yes,” said Ragoczy, cutting him short. “No doubt you are right.” He looked at the figures one last time. “Would you be willing to make a copy of these two pages for me? I will send my manservant to get them from you tomorrow, if that would suit you. He will also return the key to Mr. Tubbs, with my apology for keeping it so long.” There was a quality to his words that disturbed John Henry.
“I will do as you like, Count,” he said, a chill tracing itself up his spine.
“That is very good of you,” said Ragoczy. “All in all, it has been most interesting to meet you, Mr. Brodribb.”
“Thank you,” John Henry said, and suppressed a shudder. Then, before he could master himself, he blurted out, “Are you Doctor Faustus?” Beginning to realize he had actually spoken his apprehension aloud, he stepped back, the enormity of what he had done coming over him; he could think of nothing to say that would be a sufficient apology.
Ragoczy looked faintly amused. “No, Mr. Brodribb, I am not. Nor am I ‘going to and fro in the earth and walking up in down in it,’ as Mephistopheles is said to do.” He looked John Henry over carefully. “You will probably succeed very well at your chosen profession; you have a keen eye and an insightful nature, which should take you far.”
“I did not mean … it was …” John Henry faltered.
“Do not fear,” said Ragoczy with an ironic chuckle. “In my time I have heard worse.”
“How old are you?” John Henry demanded, convinced that he was in too deep to attempt to escape now.
“If I told you,” said Ragoczy at his most urbane, “you would not believe me.”
“Oh, I would,” said John Henry, too caught up to be frightened. He knew the terror would come later, when he was safe in bed and his imagination would have free rein.
“I think not,” said Ragoczy, closing the subject.
“Are you going to demand anything of me now? Order me to silence or face a terrible fate?”
Ragoczy cocked his head. “This is not a performance. You are not playing a role now, Mr. Brodribb. I rely on your discretion and good sense to keep your various speculation to yourself.”
“Or I will suffer for it?” John Henry knew he had gone too far again, and for a second time could not arrive at an adequate apology.
“No,” said Ragoczy quietly but beyond any dispute. “You have nothing to fear from me: my word on it.” He walked away from John Henry toward the fire, then stopped and turned back to him, asking in a different voice, “Tell me: how much would you need to put your acting plans into motion? Have you arrived at a figure for that in all your calculations?”
This change of subject jolted John Henry, but he did his best to answer. “Well, I would need wigs and beards and paint, and all the rest of that; and swords and costumes, too.” He did not need to consult the pages of the notebook he kept in his waistcoat pocket. “That would cost between forty and fifty pounds, all told. And then there would be the payment for the leading part. That would be another fifty pounds, if I am to do Romeo.” He brightened as he said this, but his enthusiasm waned as he listened to himself, thinking that it would be impossible for him to earn enough to achieve his dreams.
Ragoczy tapped his small, well-shaped hands together, fingertips to fingertips. “Suppose,” he said, “I should settle a portion of what I recover from this firm upon you for the service you have rendered me? From what you have discovered, the amount might be considerable.”
Chagrined, John Henry shook his head. “It would appear that I have been bribed to show things in your favor, at least that could be claimed by the partners to the court. And the other clerks would probably believe the worst of me, because I am the newest of them. The partners might well have a claim against me, one that the courts would uphold.”
“A legacy, t
hen,” said Ragoczy, undaunted by John Henry’s protestation. “You must have a relative somewhere who might leave you an inheritance.”
John Henry sighed. “Why should any of my family do that? Not that most of them have ten shillings to spare for anyone. And coming immediately after I have helped you, it would not be a useful ruse, in any case. Someone here would be bound to question how I came by it.”
“Listen to me,” said Ragoczy firmly. “Suppose that six months from now a distant … shall we say uncle? … of yours leaves you a hundred pounds. The money would be handled by a solicitor in the north, and there would be no question of compromising you, no matter what the courts might or might not do to the partners here. Could you then afford to start on your theatrical career?”
Little as he wanted to admit it, John Henry’s pulse raced at the thought. He calculated what it would mean to him to have the money, and he set his prudence aside. “It might work, saying it was left to me, if it happened later.” His excitement was building and he could not contain the satisfaction he felt.
“Six months, then. My London solicitors should have made all the necessary arrangements for recovering what is owed me by that time.” Ragoczy watched John Henry with interest.
“Will things be unpleasant for you here when my claim against the firm has been filed? There could be police involvement, you understand.”
“It is possible they could hold me to blame,” said John Henry. “It is no secret that I have been copying your ledger. They will have to assume you had your information from me.”
“But they need not know you discovered the theft,” Ragoczy said persuasively. “I could charge my London solicitors to review the ledgers; I could require a full disclosure of the state of my account. That would spare you the brunt of the partners’ displeasure. I do not like to think you would be punished for being an honest man, Mr. Brodribb.”
“When I leave the company, it will not matter,” said John Henry.
“You think it will not, but it will, you know,” said Ragoczy. “You do not want whispers following you, saying that you have abused the trust of your employer. Not even the theater excuses such things, Mr. Brodribb. Rumors are constant in the world of players, and you do not want to begin with a reputation that is tainted. Believe this.”
The Mammoth Book of Vampire Stories by Women Page 29
