The visitor thus introduced to the South Bank villa was a man of about
thirty years of age, with the air and demeanour of a gentleman.
The city clerk could tell him to be of the West End type. It was
visible in the cut of his dress, the tonsure of his hair, and the
joining of the moustache to his whiskers.
"Mr McTavish, I presume?" were the words that came from him, as he
passed through the parlour door.
The Scotchman nodded assent. Before he could do more, the stranger
continued:
"Pardon me, sir, for this seeming intrusion. I've heard that your house
is to let."
"Not exactly to _let_. I'm offering it for sale--that is, the lease."
"I've been misinformed then. How long has the lease to run, may I ask?"
"Twenty-one years."
"Ah! that will not suit me. I wanted a house only for a short time.
I've taken a fancy to this South Bank--at least, my wife has; and you
know, sir--I presume you're a married man--that's everything."
McTavish did know it, to a terrible certainty: and gave an assenting
smile.
"I'm sorry," pursued the stranger. "I like the house better than any on
the Bank. I know my wife would be charmed with it."
"It's the same with mine," said McTavish.
"How you lie?" thought Mrs Mac, with her ear at the keyhole.
"In that case, I presume there's no chance of our coming to terms. I
should have been glad to take it by the year--for one year, certain--and
at a good rent."
"How much would you be inclined to give?" asked the lessee, bethinking
him of a compromise.
"Well; I scarcely know. How much do you ask?"
"Furnished, or unfurnished?"
"I'd prefer having it furnished."
The bank clerk commenced beating his brains. He thought of his
_pennies_, and the objection his wife might have to parting with them.
But he thought also, of how they had been daily dishonoured in that
unhallowed precinct.
Even while reflecting, a paean of spasmodic revelry, heard on the other
side of the paling, sounded suggestive in his ears?
It decided him to concede the furniture, and on terms less exacting than
he might otherwise have asked for.
"For a year certain, you say?"
"I'll take it for a year; and pay in advance, if you desire it."
A year's rent in advance is always tempting to a landlord--especially a
poor one. McTavish was not rich, whatever might be his prospects in
regard to the presidency of the bank.
His wife would have given something to have had his ear at the opposite
orifice of the keyhole; so that she could have whispered "Take it?"
"How much, you ask, for the house furnished, and by the year?"
"Precisely so," answered the stranger.
"Let me see," answered McTavish, reflecting. "My own rent unfurnished--
repairs covenanted in the lease--price of the furniture--interest
thereon--well, I could say two hundred pounds per annum."
"I'll take it at two hundred. Do you agree to that?"
The bank clerk was electrified with delight. Two hundred pounds a year
would be cent-per-cent on his own outlay. Besides he would get rid of
the premises, for at least one year, and along with them the proximity
of his detestable neighbours. Any sacrifice to escape from this.
He would have let go house and grounds at half the price.
But he, the stranger, was not cunning, and McTavish was shrewd. Seeing
this, he not only adhered to the two hundred, but stipulated for the
removal of some portion of his furniture.
"Only a few family pieces," he said; "things that a tenant would not
care to be troubled with."
The stranger was not exacting, and the concession was made.
"Your name, sir?" asked the tenant intending to go out.
"Swinton," answered the tenant who designed coming in. "Richard
Swinton. Here is my card, Mr McTavish; and my reference is Lord --."
The bank clerk took the card into his trembling fingers. His wife, on
the other side of the door, had a sensation in her ear resembling an
electric shock.
A tenant with a lord--a celebrated lord--for his referee!
She could scarce restrain herself from shouting through the keyhole:
"Close with him, Mac!"
But Mac needed not the admonition. He had already made up his mind to
the letting.
"How soon do you wish to come in?" he asked of the applicant.
"As soon as possible," was the answer. "To-morrow, if convenient to
you."
"To-morrow?" echoed the cool Scotchman, unaccustomed to such quick
transactions, and somewhat surprised at the proposal.
"I own it's rather unusual," said the incoming tenant. "But, Mr
McTavish, I have a reason for wishing it so. It's somewhat delicate;
but as you are a married man, and the father of a family,--you
understand?"
"Perfectly!" pronounced the Scotch _paterfamilias_, his breast almost
turning as tender as that of his better half then sympathetically
throbbing behind the partition door.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sudden transfer was agreed to. Next day Mr McTavish and his family
moved out, Mr Swinton having signed the agreement, and given a cheque
for the year's rent in advance--scarce necessary after being endorsed by
such a distinguished referee.