"I can't say that, Mr Barclay. I'm a bit shook; but, as I said to my
daughter, I wasn't going to show the white feather, and the ponies go
lovely now."
"Well, I'm glad of that."
"And I'm so much obliged to you for helping of me. Do you know, it was
just like a scene in a piece we--er--saw once at the Lane."
"Oh, it was nothing ma'am, what I did. Miss Dean, there, she took off
all the honours. No cold, I hope."
Cora did not answer.
"Plucky fellow, young Linnell; but poor, you know, poor."
"So I've heard," said Mrs Dean maliciously. "I was thinking of sending
him ten guineas."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that, ma'am," said Barclay.
"Oh, well, I must say _thankye_ some other way. Very kind of you to
call. I said to my daughter, `There's Mr Barclay come for his rent,'
but I was wrong."
"Not you, ma'am," said Barclay, whose eyes were rapidly taking in the
state of the room. "Business is business, you know," and he took
another glance at the rich furniture and handsome mirrors of the place.
"Oh, it's all right, Mr Barclay. We're taking the greatest care of it
all, and your rent's all ready for you, and always will be, of course."
"Yes, yes, I know that, ma'am. I've brought you a little receipt.
Saves trouble. Pen and ink not always ready. I keep to my days. So
much pleasanter for everybody. Nice rooms, ain't they?" he added,
turning to Cora.
"Yes, Mr Barclay, the rooms are very nice," she said coldly and
thoughtfully.
"Anything the matter with her?" said Mr Barclay, leaning forward to
Mrs Dean, and taking the money she handed in exchange for a receipt.
"Not in love, is she?"
Mrs Dean and her visitor exchanged glances, and smiled as Cora rose and
walked to the window to gaze out at the sea, merely turning her head to
bow distantly when the landlord rose to leave.
"I'm a regular scoundrel, 'pon my soul I am," said Josiah Barclay,
rubbing his nose with the edge of a memorandum book; "but they pay very
handsomely, and if I were to refuse to let a part of a house that I
furnish on purpose for letting, without having the highest moral
certificates of character with the people who want the rooms, I'm afraid
I should never let them at all. Bah! it's no business of mine."
He went back to the front door and knocked, to be shown in directly
after to where Colonel Mellersh was sitting back in his chair, having
evidently just thrown down the pack of cards.
"Morning, Shylock," he said, showing his white teeth. "Want your pound
of flesh again?"
"No, thank ye, Colonel; rather have the ducats. I say, though, I wish
you wouldn't call me Shylock. I'm not one of the chosen, you know."
"That I'll take oath you're not, Barclay," said the Colonel, looking at
his visitor with a very amused smile. "Your future is thoroughly
assured. I'm sorry for you, Barclay, for I don't think you're the worst
scoundrel that ever breathed."
"I say, you know, Colonel, this is too bad, you know. Come, come,
come."
"Oh, I always speak plainly to you, Barclay. Let me see; can you let me
have a hundred?"
"A hundred, Colonel?" said the other, looking up sharply; "well, yes, I
think I can."
"Ah, well, I don't want it, Barclay. I know you'd be only too glad to
get a good hold of me."
"Wrong, Colonel, wrong," said Barclay, chuckling as he glanced at the
cards. "You do me too much good for that."
"Do I?" said the Colonel, smiling in a peculiarly cynical way. "Well,
perhaps I do influence your market a little. There," he said, taking
some notes from his little pocket-book, and handing them to his visitor,
"now we are free once more."
"Thankye, Colonel, thankye. You're a capital tenant. I say, by the
way, after all these years, I shouldn't like to do anything to annoy
you: I hope you don't mind the actors upstairs."
"No," said the Colonel, staring at him.
"Because if you did complain, and were not satisfied, I'd make a change,
you know."
"Don't trouble the women for my sake," said the Colonel gruffly. "Look
here, Barclay, how would you play this hand?"
He took up the cards as he spoke, shuffled them with an easy, graceful
movement, the pieces of pasteboard flying rapidly through his hands,
before dealing them lightly out upon the table, face upwards, and
selecting four thirteens.
"Now," he said, "look here. Your partner holds two trumps--six, nine;
your adversaries right and left have knave and ace; B on your right
leads trumps--what would you do?"
Barclay knit his brow and took the Colonel's hand, gazing from one to
the other thoughtfully, and then, without a word, played the hand, the
Colonel selecting those cards that would be played by the others till
the hand was half through, when Barclay hesitated for a moment, and then
seemed to throw away a trick.
"Why did you do that?" said the Colonel sharply.
"Because by losing that I should get the next two."
"Exactly!" cried the Colonel with his eyes flashing. "That endorses my
opinion. Barclay, I shan't play against you if I can help myself.
Money-lending seems to sharpen the wits wonderfully. What a clever old
fox you are!"
"One's obliged to be clever now a days, Colonel, if one wants to get on.
Well, I must go. I have to see your neighbours. Rents are very bad to
get in."
"I suppose so," said the Colonel drily. "Good-morning."
"I wonder what he makes a year by his play," said Barclay to himself, as
he went back to the front door to knock for the third time. "I believe
he plays square, too, but he has a wonderful head, and he's practising
night and day. Now for old Linnell."
He was shown into Mr Linnell's room the next minute, to find that he
was expected, and that he was gravely and courteously received, and his
rent paid, so that there was nothing for him to do but say
"Good-morning." But Josiah Barclay's conscience was a little uneasy,
and in spite of the fact that his tenant was far from being a rich man,
there was something in his grave refined manner that won his respect.
"Wish you'd come and see us sometimes, Mr Linnell, just in a friendly
way, you know. Chop and glass o' sherry with Mrs Barclay and me; and
you'd join us too, Mr Richard, eh?"
"Thank you, Mr Barclay, no," said Richard's father; "I never go out.
Richard, my son, here, would, I dare say, accept your invitation."
"Oh, but can't you too, eh? Look here, you know, you're a man who loves
bits of old china, and I've quite a lot. Really good. Come: when shall
it be?"
"Don't press me now, Mr Barclay," said his tenant gravely. "Perhaps
some other time."
"Then you're offended, Mr Linnell. You're a bit hipped because of the
other lodgers, you know."
"Mr Barclay, I have made no complaints," said the elder Linnell
quietly.
"No, you've made no complaints, but you show it in your way, don't you
see. It wasn't for me to be too strict in my inquiries about people,
Mr Linnell. I'm sorry I offended you; but what can I do?"
"Mr Barclay has a perfect right to do what he pleases with his own
house," replied the elder Linnell with dignity. "Good-day."
"Now I could buy that man up a hundred times over," grumbled Barclay as
he walked away, richer by many pounds than when he started on his
journey that morning; "but he always seems to set me down; to look upon
me with contempt; and young Richard is as high and mighty as can be.
Ah, well, wait a bit!--`Can you oblige me with fifty pounds, Mr
Barclay, on my note of hand?'--and then p'raps they'll be more civil.
"Things ain't pleasant though, just now. One house made notorious by a
murder, and me letting a couple of actresses lodge in another. Well,
they pay regular, and I dare say she'll make a good match somewhere
before long; but I'm afraid, when the old lady gets to know they're
stage people, there'll be a bit of a breeze."
Volume One, Chapter XXI.