A SPLENDID BARGAIN
It was the most awkwardly thrilling moment of George's life, when he
found himself confronted by the millionaire before the eyes of the Elder
Inhabitants. Because of the couple of ridiculous bundles he could not
grasp the hand of Mr. Jenkins; he dared not explain he was carrying the
porcelain about with him; so he muttered something about grand weather
and unexpected pleasure, then raced homewards with the American ambling
at his side.
"Crampy flung me a line telling me about your masterpieces. I beat the
sun this morning in an aeroplane invented by a friend; came to turf on
Salisbury plain; friend and driver broke rudder and ankle; caught a
horse, rode him barebacked to the nearest garage; bought a car, drove it
fifty miles; car broke down, sold it second-hand, hired a train, drove
here from the station--all so to speak. If I'm not first, I guess I'm a
derned good second."
"You needn't have hurried quite so much," gasped George, wishing he
could exaggerate like that.
"I guess, sir, when it comes to business, a man has got to put in his
best licks, or some other fellow will pull his foot ahead and spudgel up
the goods. Cramp has unloosed his jaw-tackle to the crowd. I'm not
particular scared of the Britishers, who look before they leap, and
think before they look, and make their wills before they think; but
there's quite a few Americans in your London, England, nosing around for
something specially ancient to take home. There's Wenceslas Q. Alloway
of Milwaukee. Lager-beer he is, or was, for now he's mostly grape juice
for conscience' sake; with an elegant white beard and the innocent ways
of an archangel--he's got this collecting craze so bad he'd mortgage his
immortality, or a thousand years of it, for a bit of old china, though
he'd try to stick in a clause to best the devil, for he's a pretty
derned orthodox First Baptist on a Sunday. I'm a Second Adventist, and
my crowd has just built a church in Philadelphia which for size and
shape makes your Westminster Abbey look a bit retrospective."
"Come inside," said George faintly. "I'm afraid I can't offer you much
hospitality, as I'm only staying here with my aunt who is not able to
receive visitors."
"Don't mention hospitality, sir. Just give me a sight of your vases, and
if they're genuine, you'll be giving me a gorge. Wonderful pretty place.
I'd like to ship the whole of this township across to America, put up a
barbwire fence around, and charge a dollar for admission. Beautiful
place to be buried in! Might I inquire if you are carrying anything
specially out of date?"
"I've been shopping," replied George.
"Mr. Drake!" called the voice of the postmistress. "A telegram vor ye,
sir."
George tore open the envelope and read, "Just heard from Crampy. Fifteen
hundred if O.K. Alloway."
"Knew he'd switch on to the main track up to time, but he can't begin to
best me. Guess he's exceeding your speed limit right now, and about
midnight his automobile will be killing ducks in this neighbourhood,"
said Jenkins complacently.
"I suppose you know something about china?" George suggested, as he
ushered the visitor into the dining room.
"My knowledge of porcelain extends from my head to my finger ends. When
you show me Chinese vases I'm at home, sir, I'm surrounded with familiar
objects, I'm behind the scenes. Crampy knows something, but I can run a
saw upon him. When his wells dry up, that's the time, sir, mine begin to
flow," said Jenkins, ostentatiously producing a long cheque-book and
slapping it upon the table.
"If you will excuse me a moment, I'll go for the vases," said George.
He carried the bundles up to his room, and consulted the list which
Crampy had sent him. Having satisfied himself that the names of Jenkins
and Alloway appeared upon it, he went downstairs with the undraped
vases, thankful his visitor had called at the time of day when Miss Yard
and Nellie were shut up together, and Kezia was occupied in the kitchen.
The millionaire stood in the attitude of a clergyman about to receive a
child for baptism; and, when George extended one of the vases, he
accepted it reverently, then walked to the window, examined it, tapped
and stroked it, hugged and adored it, and very nearly kissed it, before
turning to exclaim, "These are the goods, Mr. Drake!"
"Yes, they are very fine specimens," replied George casually.
"I don't say they are unique at present, though that's what they will be
when I get 'em across to Philadelphia. I guess there's been an empty
mantelpiece in the Emperor of China's palace for quite a few years."
George explained the vases had been discovered by his uncle during one
of the anti-foreign riots in China many years ago.
"Your uncle was a great lad, sir. He saw his chance to loot the pieces,
so he repelled boarders and took 'em. I should call your uncle a public
benefactor. He removed these vases from the custody of the uncivilised
Chinee, and conferred them upon the cultured world of art. When the
potter turned them on his wheel," continued Jenkins, beginning to
rhapsodise, "he little thought they were destined, by a far-seeing
Providence, to find a home in the United States, the illustrious city of
Philadelphia, the unassuming if somewhat palatial mansion--"
"The postmistress again!" exclaimed George, hurrying to the front door.
"I hadn't hardly got back home, sir, when there come another. I do hope,
sir, it ain't bad news again," said the good woman, as she handed over a
second telegram.
"It's of no consequence," said George.
"I'm very glad it ain't no worse, sir. I hope, sir, you'm going on
well," said Mrs. Cann, trusting that an interpretation of these
telegrams might be vouchsafed to her.
George cautiously replied that his lumbago was improving daily; then he
returned to the dining room and said, "Here's a telegram from an
American named Anderson. He asks me not to deal with any one until he
calls, and he offers seventeen hundred."
"I don't know the fellow," said Jenkins suspiciously. "I would advise
you to have nothing to do with him. He may be a crook, a man of straw."
"He's all right," said George. "Crampy sent me a list of collectors I
could trust, and his name is on it. I suppose Crampy himself is safe,
as a firm of lawyers, who are supposed to be respectable, sent him down
here."
"Crampy is as genuine as the rising sun. He's valuer to your Court of
Probate, he's got a fixed place of business, his name's in the
Directory. He's just got to tote fair, but he won't get rich till he
grows more brain. I've known Crampy to pay down big money for a fake."
"He made me an offer for these vases," said George.
"I'll double it," cried the millionaire, nestling down to his
cheque-book.
"He offered me a thousand pounds."
"Then I'll give you two thousand."
"I might get even more at a sale," George muttered greedily.
"I guess you don't know a great lot about sales," said Jenkins
pityingly. "If you put these vases up to auction, collectors and dealers
would get together and fix the price beforehand. I'm playing my lone
hand in this game, for I'm dead set on getting the ornaments, and I
don't mind paying a fancy price for 'em. Crampy won't go beyond a
thousand, and even Alloway reckons he's sure of them for fifteen
hundred. The other chap offers seventeen hundred it's true, but I have
my doubts about him. I didn't mean to bid two thousand, but I've
promised to double Crampy's offer, and I'm a man of my word or I'm
nothing. Now, sir--you to play!"
"I'll take it," said George.
"Easy way of making money, ain't it?" said the American jauntily. "If
you wouldn't mind wrapping some cotton-wool and paper round the things,
I'll take 'em right along with me."
"Are you going to offer me a cheque?" George stammered.
"I was going to, but as you don't know a great lot about me, and perhaps
you don't feel like relying on Crampy's introduction, and as I must take
the pieces right away with me, I'll just hand over the stuff in notes
upon your Bank of England which, so far as I know, hasn't put its
shutters up," said the millionaire, producing a mighty pocketbook. "Here
you are, sir--four five-hundreds, and may they breed you a bonanza.
Kindly hand me a form of receipt; and if at any time within the next
forty-eight hours the vases should be discovered forgeries, I am at
liberty to return them, while you will hand back the money. At the
expiration of the forty-eight hours the deal is closed absolutely and,
if the things are fakes, I come out spindigo. Don't be ashamed of your
suspicions, and don't consider my feelings. Hold up the notes to the
light and take a look at the watermark."
"That's just what I was doing," said George feebly.
A few minutes later the millionaire departed, George walking with him to
the inn where his conveyance waited. Here also wise men were discussing
the state of decadence towards which the parish was being hurried by
moral failures like the Brocks and such a despicable plotter as the
formerly respected Mr. Drake, who was undoubtedly scheming to construct
that Dartmoor railway by means of American dollars. Mr. Jenkins was seen
to drive away by the Gentle Shepherd, who reported the gratifying
intelligence to headquarters, and a hearty sigh of relief went up while
a quantity of inferior beer went down. Yet nobody sighed so deeply or so
joyously as George as he hurried home a man of means at last.
Rapture lost half its charm because there was nobody with whom it could
be shared; for Nellie, he found, had retired with a headache, while
Bessie, upon sentry duty near the bedroom door, repelled the advance of
Miss Yard who was in tears because they would not let her in to see the
poor girl's body.
"I knew she would go like that. I told her she had a heart, because she
was such a good girl, and they always go suddenly. I do hope you won't
be the next, George. Of course you know poor Percy is gone," she
wailed.
"You were very good in your young days," said George gallantly, "but you
are still alive. There's nothing much the matter with Percy, except that
he's going to get married."
"Take that woman away," snapped Miss Yard, "and make her stop growing.
She gets worse every day."
"I finished long ago, thankye, miss," said Bessie.
"What a wicked story! She's done a lot since yesterday," complained Miss
Yard. "Do let me have one peep at my dear little Nellie before they take
her away."
The young lady herself cried out and hoped they would all be taken away.
Peace was restored, after Miss Yard had tumbled down happily, convinced
that the age of miracles was not past.
George woke the next morning with a sense of prosperity which required a
safety valve when the inevitable letter from Mr. Hunter, who had now
shrunk icily into a solitary initial beneath the signature Cross and
Martin, announced, "the probate of your late aunt's will has been
granted, and you are now at liberty to draw cheques against the balance
of two hundred pounds lying in the bank."
George felt sufficiently healthy to dig potatoes, make love, or perform
any other menial act. He ate a huge breakfast, then climbed into an
apple tree and whistled for half an hour: Miss Yard, sitting at the
window, declared she had never heard the blackbirds sing so beautifully.
While thus relieving his high spirits a light carriage could be heard
approaching; its wheels rattled down the hill; the driver shouted to the
horse; and the conveyance drew up beside the garden gate.
"Here's another millionaire!" George chuckled, as he dropped from the
branches. But there was nobody except the driver, whom George recognised
as belonging to the principal hotel of the neighbouring town.
"I was to give you this letter, sir, and to bring you this box, and to
wait for an answer," said the man.
"Did a gentleman called Jenkins send you?" George faltered, receiving
the box with the dignity of an author taking back his rejected
masterpiece.
"That's right, sir. I was to get back as quick as I can, for the
gentleman wants to catch a train. Here's the letter, sir; and I was to
be sure and take back an answer."
George hurried indoors, his knees wobbling; tore open the envelope and
read:
"It's worse than a falling birth rate, but the vases are fakes. I have
examined them carefully with strong glasses and discovered marks which
show beyond a doubt they are not more than a hundred years old. These
pieces would deceive any amateur and quite a few experts: they fairly
hocussed me till I turned on the glasses. This will make your soul sick,
I guess, but you've still got Crampy. I won't say anything to queer your
business; but take my advice and don't hawk the things about, or some
other fellow may get notions. Your best chance is Crampy, right now,
while he's innocent. The longer you keep the vases the more they'll
smell. Kindly return shinplasters by bearer, and pile up my sympathy to
your credit."
George sprang to the box and wrenched off its lid; but a glance
dispelled his suspicions. The vases had not been exchanged for local
beauties; they had been returned undamaged but condemned. Crampy was
honest, and Jenkins was genuine; and he himself had lost a fortune.
"I don't want to gammon a decent fellow like Crampy, but I can't afford
to lose a thousand pounds," George muttered, after the driver had
departed with the banknotes. "I'll walk over to Brimmleton and send him
a telegram. If it goes from here Mrs. Cann will talk all over the
village. And on the way back I'll look in at Black Anchor, and try to
find out what young Sidney is up to."
Before starting he told Nellie of his intentions, which were still
honourable; but the young lady was indifferent to the point of malice.
"They are nothing to me, and the sooner they clear out of the place the
better," she said firmly.
"I'm going to give the lad a little friendly advice. The people are
complaining that he's making Highfield more like London every day; and
naturally they are getting angry about it," said George.
"Oh, don't talk to me about it," cried Nellie.
"Shall I talk to you when I come back?"
"That will depend upon what you have to say."
"It can't possibly be good news," said George cheerfully. "I knew Sidney
was a bad egg the first time I saw him. He never took his eyes off my
boots, and that's a sure sign of a nasty character."
So George walked to Brimmleton, where he was a foreigner, and despatched
the telegram to Crampy, accepting his offer for the vases and pressing
for a reply immediately, as he was very much afraid Jenkins might leak a
little upon his return to London. Then he turned aside to the lonely
farm, where half-savage children no longer rolled in the mud, noting
with approval the effect of hard labour in the shape of reclaimed land
and well drained fields. The Brocks, if vicious, were at least not idle;
and George was always well pleased at discovering signs of human
industry which convinced him that the race was by no means decadent.
Nearing the house he walked warily; and here a shocking spectacle was
presented. He saw a young girl--the same infamous young person--most
daintily attired, seated upon a boulder near the door, wearing over her
pretty frock a deplorable type of beribboned and belaced apron, perusing
a volume with a lurid binding which assuredly was teaching her terrible
things. And he saw the old man--the grandfather--approach with a mattock
on his shoulder; and he pulled her hair; while she shouted at him--some
nameless jest, doubtless, but happily George could not hear the words.
Presently Sidney appeared--for it was nearly dinner time--and the worst
happened. The abandoned young creature jumped up and ran towards him,
with an expression, described mentally by George as one of ready-made
affection, upon her pretty face; and, as they walked into the house, the
wicked young man passed his arm around the waist of the shameless
damsel.
The watcher groaned in spirit, although he could not altogether escape
from the idea that the ungodly were not necessarily to be pitied in this
world. Then he walked to the house and knocked at the door. The
scuffling sound of young women in flight caused him to shake his head
again.
"So 'tis you, Mr. Drake! You'm quite a stranger," exclaimed Sidney
readily enough, though in George's opinion his face wore a hunted look.
"I'd like to have a few words with you," he replied.
"Right," said Sidney, looking back into the house to call, "Tell Dolly
not to hurry wi' the dinner, grandfather."
"Dolly!" groaned George, somewhat enviously. He had clung to the hope
that the girl's name might turn out to be Jane.
"You know, Sidney, I don't bear you any ill-feeling," he began, when
they stood a few paces from the house, although his eyes were stricken
with horror at discovering the young woman had been reading a book
printed in French. "But there's some very loud talk up in Highfield
about you and your goings on with the ladies."
"We have nought to do wi' Highfield volk, and we don't care that much
vor their talk," replied Sidney, snapping his fingers.
"They are threatening to mob you," George whispered.
"Not they," laughed Sidney. "They ain't got it in 'em, and if a crowd
did come down along me and grandfather would settle the lot."
"It's pretty bad to have young women here--from France too--one after
the other. You can't blame the people for being a bit upset."
"If that's all you've got to say, Mr. Drake, I'll thank ye kindly, and
tell ye I don't want to hear no more of it. Dolly is staying vor a week
or two, and when she goes I'll get another," said the young outcast
fiercely.
"I thought I'd just look in and warn you as I was passing," said George.
"You know, Sidney, I don't blame you, and I think you're quite right not
to give way to them. If I can help you in any way I shall be only too
glad. These ignorant people don't understand men of the world like you
and me."
"I reckon," said Sidney, with the deplorable grin of a completely
dissipated soul.
"I mustn't keep you from your dinner, Sidney--and from the ladies. Give
my best wishes to your grandfather, and my respects to Miss Dolly. I do
hope she is enjoying her visit," said the double-faced George. Then he
ambled off, trying to smile and frown with the same face, entirely
satisfied that Sidney would never again be permitted to approach within
speaking distance of Miss Blisland.
He was unable to report the result of this visit, beyond mentioning he
had discovered things too terrible for words; and, although Nellie did
appear for one moment inclined to listen, George could do nothing except
place a hand across his eyes and declare he could not face her after the
scenes of sheer depravity he had been compelled to witness at Black
Anchor. Nellie was well aware George would exaggerate if he could; but
this did really appear to be a case where exaggeration was impossible.
"You do get a lot of these nasty things, Mr. George," remarked Kezia, as
she approached with a telegram which suggested to her nothing except
murder and sudden death.
"In this case I shall attend the funeral," said George cheerfully, when
he discovered the deluded Crampy would meet him at the station upon the
following day.
"Who's gone now?" asked Kezia.
"Next week I am going into business," explained George with suitable
emotion. "This telegram is from a friend who wants to go into
partnership with me."
"I hope he ain't coming here then," said Kezia, who was beginning to
resent the visits of strange gentlemen, because they walked upon her
carpets and sat upon her chairs. "What be you going to sell, Mr.
George?" she asked with much interest.
"China," he replied.
"I do hope and pray as how you may succeed," gasped Kezia; and off she
went to inform Bessie that Mr. George was about to start a cloam shop.
Bessie quite believed it, as Mr. George had always been so fond of
handling cups and saucers.
Miss Yard also was fond of tea drinking, but she had no tenderness for
china, and would generally release her cup in a vacuum, instead of
placing it fairly upon the table; and express a vast amount of amusement
at the ridiculous laws of nature when the cup exploded upon the carpet.
She was particularly robust that afternoon and insisted upon pouring out
tea herself. When the fragments, which filled two small baskets, had
been removed, the steaming carpet mopped, and dryness restored, George
seated himself beside the old lady, produced a sheet of foolscap covered
with writing, and said in his most silvery voice:
"Circumstances, my dear aunt, will compel me to leave you during the
course of the next few days: but I cannot go until I have the
satisfaction of knowing you have made a will in our dear Nellie's
favour."
"Good heavens--in my presence, too!" gasped the young lady.
"I need not remind you of the goodness, the modesty, the unselfishness
of our Nellie," he continued. "She would serve you for nothing, but
nevertheless it is your duty to leave her all you can."
"I can't stay and listen to this," cried the distressed beneficiary.
"Don't interfere. She has always meant to do it, but never will unless
we jog her memory," George whispered.
"I'll have nothing to do with it," exclaimed Nellie; and out she went
with a fine colour.
"Is this something to do with that nasty robbery they call income tax?"
asked Miss Yard.
"This is your last will and testament," replied George solemnly. "I know
you mean to leave everything to Nellie, but you can't do that unless you
sign a will. You must die soon, you know; and, if it was to happen
suddenly, Nellie would get nothing."
"I did write out a paper, but somebody has hidden it away somewhere,"
said the old lady.
"Pieces of paper are very little good," said George. "This is a properly
drawn up will. When you have signed it I can go away quite happy, and I
shall know dear Nellie will be provided for."
"Will she have the house, and the furniture, and all my money?" asked
Miss Yard eagerly.
"Percy gets your money, but Nellie will have all that you may leave in
the bank, any investments you may make, and the proportion of income up
to the time of your death," said George learnedly.
"Must I write my name somewhere?"
"Yes, and two witnesses are required; but Nellie can't be one," said
George, going to the window and gazing along the street for some honest
person who could also write.
Presently the Wallower in Wealth appeared, prospecting the gutter for
any signs of gold dust.
"I know he can write, for he signed a petition to uncle in favour of
more frequent offertories in aid of the poor and needy," George
muttered. Then he caught up the will, lest Miss Yard should scribble her
name all over it during his absence, ran out into the street, and
invited the scribe to step inside and witness Miss Yard's signature.
"I'll do it on one condition," said the Wallower in Wealth.
"What's that?" said George.
"You sell me the musical box. I'll give ye ten shillings vor it."
"That musical box is worth fifty pounds," said George. "But I can't sell
it."
"Ain't it yours?"
"It has been out of order since my uncle died."
"You get it put right, and let me have it vor fifteen shillings, and
I'll sign."
"Miss Yard wants you to witness her signature. You won't be doing
anything for me."
"You'm asking me."
"Miss Yard isn't feeling very well today, and she's in a hurry to get
her affairs settled."
"I b'ain't preventing her," said the Wallower in Wealth.
"She can't do it without witnesses."
"I might spare a pound vor the musical box."
"You couldn't get it repaired. That musical box is a lost art."
"If I take it wi' all its faults, and Miss Yard gives me five shillings
vor my time and labour, will ye sell me the box vor one pound two and
sixpence?"
"I can't stay here talking. If you won't come I must get somebody else,"
said George impatiently.
"Other folk would want to be paid the same as me," said the Wallower in
Wealth.
"Then I shall go and ask the vicar."
This was a fatal blow, and the bargainer climbed down at once.
"I'll stand witness vor half a crown and first refusal of the musical
box," he promised.
Miss Yard was unusually silent after signing her will, and paying a fee
to both her witnesses. She lay back in her chair with dreamy old eyes
which looked as if they were recalling many scenes. While George carried
the precious document upstairs to Nellie.
"Put it away and keep it safe until she dies," he said.
"I want to say the right thing," she murmured. "You ought not to have
made her sign, although she often says it is her intention to leave me
something."
"You won't forget that I might have acted in a most scandalous fashion,"
George hinted.
"Yes, I know!" she said hurriedly. "You could have put your name in
place of mine, and she would have signed just as willingly. But it's a
horrible business."
"All business is horrible. That is why we hire people to do it for us. I
was thinking of myself as well," said George heartily. "We are getting
along very nicely, Nellie--no just cause or impediment, you know! This
should mean one of those nice little sums of good money known as
capital," he whispered, rubbing his hands.
"I must go to Miss Sophy," said Nellie; and she moved towards the stairs
like one in trouble.
The next day George carried his vases tenderly to the station where, at
the appointed time, Crampy arrived, and at once inquired:
"Has Jenkins been down?"
"He came," replied George, prepared for some such question, "but we
couldn't do business."
"All cackle, I suppose? That's his way. He'll come into my place to
bargain for a piece of Sèvres; swear he must have it, talk me dizzy;
then say he must cross the Atlantic and think about it."
"He seemed very anxious to buy the vases, but he couldn't quite make up
his mind. I didn't exactly trust the fellow," said George. Then he went
on to describe the millionaire's adventures with aeroplane and motor car
between London and Highfield.
"That was just his ornamental way of telling you he's a hustler. He
travelled by railway, and third class all the way. Jenkins is an awful
liar; but he's honest. I want to catch the up train, due in about twenty
minutes, so we had better get to business. If you are ready to hand over
the pieces, I am prepared to give you my cheque for a thousand marked
accepted by the bank."
"Jenkins said they were really worth more than that."
"Though he wouldn't give it," laughed Crampy. "I'll just take another
look at 'em to make sure."
"It doesn't matter," George protested.
However, Crampy insisted in a courteous fashion: so they walked to the
far end of the platform, where George unpacked one of the vases, and the
dealer, having put on his glasses, examined it shrewdly until the owner
began to suffer from the silence.
"Do you know, Mr. Drake, I'm not sure--upon my soul I can't say for
certain whether the things are genuine or not."
"Don't tell me they are forgeries," said George weakly.
"They are marvellously well done. Still, I've got a horrible idea in my
head there is something wrong with them."
"Jenkins told you?" cried George involuntarily.
"So he said they were fakes!"
"He didn't go as far as that, but he thought there might be some doubt
about them," George admitted.
"It looks bad--Jenkins is an uncommon smart amateur. Still, Mr. Drake,
I'm a man of my word, and I'm going to make you an extremely liberal
offer. I'll buy the vases for the price agreed upon. If they should turn
out to be genuine, I can make a fair profit. If they must be condemned
as forgeries, I may discover somebody with plenty of money but not
enough brains to put unpleasant questions. Or, if you prefer it, I will
sell the vases for you on commission. But, in that case, you stand to
lose. It's a gamble so far as I'm concerned."
"That's a luxury I can't afford," George muttered.
"Exactly! Here's my cheque! I'm not a philanthropist; I'm willing to do
any man a good turn, but I'm far more anxious to do a bit of good for
myself. I may lose, but it's just as likely I shall clear a profit.
These vases can be passed off, though you couldn't do it--but, mind you,
I don't say even now they are not genuine."
With a vast sense of relief George accepted the cheque, and gave up
possession of the Chinese vases.