ABSENT ON BUSINESS.
The afternoon was already well advanced when Richard Sharp rose
leisurely from the arm-chair in which he had been lounging. He threw
aside the stump of a cigar which he had been smoking, and walking to the
window, looked out.
“I wonder if it is going to rain,” he thought. “I must raise an umbrella
somewhere.”
After passing his fingers through his bristling locks, which had the
effect of giving each particular hair an upward tendency,—a favorite
habit of Mr. Sharp, who regards it perhaps as the sign of an aspiring
intellect,—our attorney put on his white hat and, opening the door of
his office, stepped out upon the landing. Before locking the door he
carefully affixed a card bearing upon it, in bold characters, “Absent on
Business.” Mr. Sharp never dispenses with this little formality, even
when he is only going round the corner to order an oyster-stew, or to a
neighboring hotel to while away an hour at billiards. Entertaining broad
and philosophic views of life, he regards any action, however trivial,
in the light of business; and with this idea feels abundantly justified
in leaving behind him this standing notice. And who shall say he is not
right?
It chanced on this particular occasion, however, that Mr. Sharp’s
business was really of a professional character.
On the stairs our lawyer met a stout, puffy little counsellor, whose
business yielded him probably an income of from eight to ten thousand
dollars a year. Mr. Sharp bowed with a mixture of condescension and
affability. Passing a door on a lower floor, he noticed an umbrella
standing outside. Was it in a fit of absence of mind that Mr. Sharp
appropriated it, and with innocent unconsciousness raised it above his
head when he got into the street? If so, his temporary abstraction
served him in good stead since the rain was already beginning to fall.
Reaching the street he was accosted by a newsboy who was anxious to
place in his hands a sheet containing a record of all the latest news
that had transpired in both hemispheres—and all for the insignificant
sum of five cents! Mr. Sharp took the paper. He then began to fumble
about in his pocket for the required change.
“Bless me!” he exclaimed, after two or three dives which brought forth
nothing, “I believe on my soul that I haven’t got any change. Such a
ridiculously small sum, too!”
He looked pensively at the boy, who gazed at him in return in patient
expectation.
After a moment’s pause the lawyer explained, suddenly, “Perhaps you can
change a fifty?”
“Half a dollar!” said the boy, briskly, “Oh, yes!” and he forthwith
pulled out a handful of small silver pieces mingled with pennies.
“My young friend,” remarked Mr. Sharp, graciously, “I meant a
fifty-dollar bill.”
The newsboy whistled. “Perhaps you take me for a bank,” he remarked. “I
can’t change no fifties. I can change a one or a two may be.”
“My boy,” said the attorney, with a gentle intonation. “I never carry
small bills about with me. If you will call on me to-morrow, I will take
another paper.”
The little newsboy looked in bewilderment after the retreating form of
Mr. Sharp. There was something wrong unquestionably. He had parted with
his paper, and had not obtained an equivalent. But how could he summon
up confidence to dun a man of such magnificent conceptions that a bill
representing his entire capital would be too small for him to carry
about.
“I’d a good deal rather trade with people that ain’t so darned rich,”
thought the newsboy, ruefully.
Then it occurred to him that his customer had asked him to call the next
day, and he had not been told where to call. Mr. Sharp was still near,
and he determined to run after him and inquire.
In a minute or two the lawyer was made sensible of a slight tugging at
his coat-tail. Looking around, his eye rested on the little newsboy.
“Well, my friend,” said he, blandly, “in what way can I serve you?”
“You asked me to leave you a paper to-morrow, but I don’t know where you
live.”
“O yes, certainly,” said Mr. Sharp, “how could I be so neglectful? You
will find me at any time in my office, third story, round the corner.
Anybody will tell you where. And now, as I am called away upon important
business, I shall be compelled to request you to release your hold upon
my coat-tail.”
So saying he smiled benignantly, and walked away.
“‘Third story, round the corner;’” slowly repeated the boy. “‘Anybody
will tell me!’ What corner, I’d like to know? And how in thunder am I to
know what third story it is, and who I am to ask for when I find it?”
The young merchant shook his head dubiously as these formidable queries
suggested themselves to him, and came to the conclusion that he was no
better off than before he inquired.
Meanwhile Mr. Sharp pursued his way, smiling complacently as he thought
of the admirable manner in which he had obtained possession of the
newspaper without rendering an equivalent.
“You’re a shrewd fellow, Sharp,” said he to himself. “There are not many
who would have managed it so cleverly.”
Mr. Sharp kept on his way with quiet dignity, dispensing affable smiles
to such acquaintances as he met. Sometimes his smiles were returned with
cold nods, by such as were familiar with his unscrupulous character; but
our lawyer was on such good terms with himself, that these little
rebuffs appeared to have no effect upon him. At length he paused before
Mrs. Morton’s boarding-house. Opening the outer door, he ascended three
flights of stairs until he reached Mr. Ford’s apartment. He knocked, but
although sounds were heard from within there was no response. Rightly
judging that Mr. Ford was so preoccupied that he had not heard or
noticed the knock, he knocked again, this time louder. As this too was
disregarded, he opened the door softly and went in.
It was the afternoon preceding Helen’s _début_ at the theatre, and this
accounted for her absence. Mr. Sharp was secretly glad to find it so,
judging that Helen’s presence might possibly interfere with his object
in calling.
“Mr. Ford,” he said, bowing benignantly, as that gentleman chanced to
look up, “I beg you will pardon my entering so unceremoniously. I have
availed myself of the polite invitation you so kindly extended some days
since, to look in upon you and observe your progress. I knocked twice,
but understanding that you were too absorbed to hear it, I took the
liberty of opening the door without leave.”
Mr. Ford politely expressed his pleasure at seeing him, though it
required an effort on his part to recall the name of his visitor, or the
circumstances under which they had first met. “In spite of my numerous
engagements,” resumed Mr. Sharp, “I could not forego the pleasure of
looking in upon you at your labors. I have many times blessed the chance
which procured me the acquaintance of yourself and your amiable
daughter. I look upon you, my dear sir, as engaged in a work of infinite
importance to society, and to the welfare of the human race. And in
after years, when posterity shall have done ample justice to your
merits, when your name has been elevated to its appropriate place beside
those of Watt and Franklin—and—Christopher Columbus, it will be my
proudest boast that I recognized your claims to the world’s gratitude in
advance of others.”
To Mr. Ford, who was thoroughly convinced of the practicability of his
invention, and its great importance to the world, this language did not
seem extravagant. Never doubting his visitor’s sincerity, he could not
but feel grateful for the meed of encouragement to which he was a
stranger. At the request of Mr. Sharp he began to explain some of the
chief features in his invention, the lawyer listening with the greatest
apparent interest.
“It is admirable!” he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. “Take my word for it,
it must and will succeed. But pardon me for suggesting that with better
materials your model would be likely to prove more satisfactory. An
inventor should be able to command large means in order to perfect his
plans.”
“Of that I am aware,” said Mr. Ford, with hesitation. “But, as you have
no doubt inferred, from the style in which Helen and I live, my means
are very limited.”
“No more,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly, “I anticipate all that you would say.
Yet, if you will pardon me the question, why do you not apply to your
friends for a loan?”
Mr. Ford shook his head, smiling faintly. “It would be of no use,” he
said.
“Sir,” said the worthy attorney, grasping the hand of the inventor with
an effusion of emotion, “you do your friends injustice. To convince you
of it, I, the unworthiest of those whose proud privilege it is to bear
that title, offer to loan you two hundred dollars. It is not much——”
“But, my dear sir——”
“No, sir, you shall not object. I am determined to connect my name in
some way with this important discovery. To satisfy your scruples, I will
consent to your signing this note for the amount. You may affix your
signature while I am counting the money.”
“But I may never be able to pay you.”
“That risk is mine. I ask no security. I claim no interest. It is enough
that in this way I am able to link my name with modest merit, and aid in
bringing forward a discovery which will prove of incalculable benefit to
mankind.”
Poor Mr. Ford! He was tempted beyond his power of resistance. This
timely aid would enable him to carry out plans which he thought likely
to expedite his final triumph. Yes, he would accept what was so
generally proffered. A little while and he would be able to repay the
loan with interest. So at least he was sanguine enough to think.
“I cannot thank you sufficiently,” he said, warmly, “for this mark of
generous and disinterested friendship towards a comparative stranger.
The delicacy with which you tender this loan removes all the objections
I might otherwise have to receiving it. Again I thank you.”
He signed the note and handed it to Mr. Sharp, who took from his
pocket-book the sum mentioned and laid it on the table. The lawyer put
the note into his pocket, saying, as he did so, “This strip of paper is
to me of inestimable value in so far as it connects me with one whose
name, I am sure, will be handed down to fame as one of the greatest of
modern inventors. But, sir, my mission is accomplished, I will not
further trespass upon your valuable time. I trust you will not scruple
to use freely the money I have advanced for the furtherance of your
great purpose. I shall claim the privilege of sometimes looking in upon
you and witnessing your progress.”
“You will always be most welcome,” said Mr. Ford, cordially.
“Rather a clever operation that!” thought Mr. Sharp, as he threaded his
way down stairs. “It was a capital idea, making out the note for three
hundred dollars and only paying him two. I knew he would never detect
it. After all, the extra hundred will do more good in my hands than in
Ford’s, who would only waste it on his crazy invention. My client will
never be the wiser. By the way, he must have some deep scheme on foot,
or he would never throw away such a sum on a crack-brained enthusiast. I
think, old fellow, you’ve earned a good oyster-supper, with a glass or
so to make it go down. Talking has made me as dry as a herring.”
And the benevolent Mr. Sharp, who was so anxious to connect his name
with an important discovery in science, gravely entered a neighboring
saloon and called for something to drink. Human nature is not at all
times heroic.