George Early came down to breakfast next morning half an hour after his
usual time, blithely humming a tune. Mrs. Haskins had it on the tip of
her tongue to say something caustic, but refrained.
"Quarter past eight," said George, looking at the watchmaker's over the
way.
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Haskins. "I've done all I could to get you up
in time. I'm only flesh and blood; I can't keep the time back."
"Tea hot?" said George, cheerfully ignoring this outburst.
"It was half an hour ago. It's been standing on the 'ob--boiled and
stewed and the Lord knows what else. Just what I always do say----"
"Well, don't say it again," said George; "make some more. What's
this--a kipper? Don't care for kippers this morning. Let's have some
ham and eggs, and send Carrie out for the _Morning Post_."
"That's all, Mrs. Haskins," as the landlady hesitated. "Oh, stop a
minute! I'll have a rabbit for dinner at seven sharp."
Mrs. Haskins stood by the door with the tea cosy in her hand and
amazement on her face.
"Shall I write it down?" said George. "Ham and eggs, _Morning
Post_, rabbit."
He sat down in the armchair and put one foot on the mantelpiece, while
Mrs. Haskins groped her way out of the room and slipped down the first
flight of stairs.
"Parrott good, Gray good, Busby good. Yes," said George to himself with
a smile of satisfaction; "it's the luckiest thing I've struck for many
a day. This is going to be a picnic. They hadn't a word to say--not a
word. Of course not. What could they say?" he asked a china dog on the
mantelshelf. "Nothing."
He got up and looked out of the window. The jeweller's shop opposite
looked a paltry, second-rate establishment. Hansoms crawling by the end
of the street were merely things that you held up a finger to. What was
a fur overcoat like that man had on over the way? "Fifteen hundred
pounds a year!" said George in delicious contemplation. "Fifteen
hundred golden sovereigns, and a dip in the lucky bag for yours truly.
All prizes and no blanks!"
The _Morning Post_ arrived.
"Hallo!" said George, "already? I suppose the breakfast'll come up in
course of time."
Carrie sniffed.
"You needn't put on airs," she said loftily. "I suppose you think
you're everybody because you're going to have rabbit for dinner."
"Look here," said George, with affected hauteur; "you mustn't speak to
me like that: I never take impudence from maid-servants. If you're not
careful I shall speak to your mistress, and then you won't get a
character when you leave. Take your feet off the carpet."
Carrie giggled.
"What is it?" she asked; "five shillings rise, or some money left you?
I'm particular to know, because I always like to treat people according
to their position."
It was just a quarter past nine when George reached the office.
Business was in full swing, and an air of concern appeared on the faces
of several junior clerks as George Early hung up his hat. To be a
quarter of an hour late was a crime many were guilty of, but to saunter
in at nine-fifteen was tempting Fate.
"Missed your train?" asked Matthews, a sympathetic youth with freckles.
"Train?" said George; "don't be silly. My coachman overslept himself.
Is she here?"
"Rather; got a new hat. Looks spiffing."
"I didn't ask about her hat," said George. "Where's Polly?"
"Upstairs in her office."
"Go and tell him I'm here, and ask if there's any telegrams for me."
Matthews was tickled at this display of humour, and told George that
he'd got a nerve. He informed him that Busby and Gray had both arrived
late; that Busby was in a beastly temper, but that Gray was in the best
of spirits.
George smiled at the news concerning Busby. "It's that studying at the
library," he said to himself facetiously. "No man can expect to keep
his spirits up if he goes slogging away studying books, after putting
in a full day at business. He wants recreation, a game of billiards,
for instance. But that's the worst of these conscientious Johnnies;
they get fifty pounds a year left them for study, and study they will,
even if it means an early tomb."
Somebody went by, humming--
"For I am too diddley um tum tum,
And I am too diddley ay!"
"Hallo!" said George. "Who's going to be 'Queen o' the May' to-day?"
"That's Gray," whispered Matthews; "see him skip up the step?"
George turned in time to catch the graceful back-kick of a tweed leg as
somebody disappeared through the door.
"Seems to have an elastic step this morning."
"It's the Leytonstone air," said Matthews; "you get it like that off
Wanstead Flats."
"P'raps so," said George; "I don't think he got that off Wanstead
Flats. I think I know where he got it."
"Where?"
"You get on with your work, and don't be inquisitive."
Gray's exuberance had calmed down towards the middle of the day, and
when he started out in search of lunch his face wore a more thoughtful
expression. The elasticity of his step was not at all noticeable, if it
existed. It is doubtful if one in twenty of the people he met would
have guessed that he had recently come into five hundred pounds a year,
or even fivepence.
In Queen Victoria Street he stopped on the kerbstone, and looked about
him. Hungry clerks and typists flitted by in quest of milk and buns.
Gray chinked his money and crossed the road. Before turning up a narrow
side street he stopped again, and looked round. Then he carefully
walked on.
On his left, three doors up, was a tea-shop. Gray looked in, and passed
on. A couple of warehouses and a restaurant came next, and a narrow
alley beyond. Gray turned into this alley, and followed its tortuous
length for some distance until it emptied itself and Gray into a sort
of paved square, where the noise of traffic was reduced to a steady
hum. There was one noticeable house in the square, a dull-looking
building with a projecting lamp. People passed in and out. It was a
public-house.
Instead of hurrying by with averted gaze, Gray stopped and glanced
sideways at the bill of fare in a brass frame. He really hadn't the
least curiosity to know what joints were on, and what entrées off, he
was just asking himself a question which he couldn't answer. Another
man had stopped to read the bill on the other door-post, and as he did
so, Gray looked up. It was George Early.
For reasons best known to himself, Gray was angry.
"What the devil do you want?" he asked, addressing George.
"Want?" said George, surprised; "I'm looking at the bill."
"What do you want?" shouted Gray, fiercely, moving a step nearer.
"I want to be measured for a suit of clothes," said George, innocently.
"This is a tailor's, isn't it?"
"This is a public-house," said Gray, in a low, murderous tone, "and
you--you're following me."
A whisky bill stared George full in the face, and his pleasant
expression gave way to a look of concern.
"A public-house?" he said, stepping back. "Why, so it is. What's this,
Gray? You don't mean to tell me you----"
"I tell you this," said Gray in a fierce whisper, thrusting his face
close to George's; "if I catch you following me about----"
"Stop!" said the other, in commanding tones; "this is no laughing
matter. You have said enough, Gray, and I have seen you with my own
eyes." He pulled out a note-book.
Gray laughed ironically.
"Damn your note-books," he said. "I don't know what you're after, but I
know that it'll take more than a silly cuckoo like you to upset me."
"Be careful," said George; "you know what lawyers are when they like to
be nasty."
Gray thrust himself forward offensively. "I suppose you think you know
something," he said, looking at the other man's eyebrows from a
distance of two inches.
George Early's face expanded in a smile, "I do," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yes. But," said George, "I'm the only one in the firm who knows.
Exclusive information, as they say."
"I see," said Gray, who had been deliberating. "Well, look here"--he
tapped George Early on the chest with one forefinger to emphasize each
word--"I know something also, so that's two of us. You're a clever
bantam, you are, but you'll have to get up a bit earlier to get over
me. You just keep your eyes open, and see which of us gets tired
first."
With that he marched off. George followed.
A tea-shop loomed up in the distance, and Gray entered and seated
himself at a table. George went in and took a seat opposite.
For the rest of the day Gray made himself offensive, frequently
requesting George to keep an eye on him, and to have his note-book
handy. He went out of his way to offer some points in detective work,
particularly on the subject of tracking, and advised the purchase of a
little book entitled "Nightingale Nick, the Boy Detective." This was
not the worst. George observed Gray in close consultation with Busby,
and afterwards with Parrott, both of whom adopted an attitude most
aggressive.
"They're in league against me," thought the blackmailer.
This proved to be somewhere near the truth, for on endeavouring to
negotiate a loan of five shillings from the head clerk that worthy
smilingly replied that he would have been pleased to lend it if he had
happened to have it, but the sum of tenpence was all he possessed. He
wouldn't think of refusing it, he would only ask George to wait till he
got it out of the savings bank. He offered eightpence, keeping twopence
for his fare home.
"That's the game, is it?" thought George.
Busby wouldn't speak at all. He replied to all questions by nods and
other facial expressions. He shrugged his shoulders in a most
expressive way when asked about the new books in the Free Library, and
merely laughed when the subject of billiards was mentioned.
"After all, a man can't lie in a laugh," said George. "He can't lie if
he doesn't speak. He's done me, and that's straight. Wait a
minute"--brightening up--"I'd forgotten the missis. I've got him there
safe enough."
"Old man," he said to Busby later in the day, "I'd forgotten to mention
it, but the missis asked me to run over to supper again to-night. You
can tell her to expect me at nine."
Busby found his tongue. "Well, fancy that!" he said, smiling and
apologetic. "I'm sorry, old chap, she must have forgotten it."
"Why?" asked George.
"She went off to her mother's this morning for a month. What a
nuisance! I'm awfully sorry! But, I say, Early, you can come down just
the same, old chap. We'll have supper together, and run over to the
Free Library for an hour afterwards."
"Thanks," said George. "I will."
"That's right," said Busby, "do."
George didn't go, he went home to his rabbit dinner and abused his
landlady in a most outrageous manner.
"In all my days," said Mrs. Haskins to her gouty aunt, "I've never been
talked to like that. Bless my soul! if you ask me about it, I say let
'im get the _Morning Post_ and take a flat in Kensington, and them
as laughs last laughs most!"
George Early got to the office next morning at his proper time,
surprising the staff as much as by his lateness the day before. His
conduct throughout the day was most exemplary, and he bore the sneers
of Busby and the taunts of Gray with meekness and resignation. Parrott
found fault with his work, and went to the verge of bullying him.
George obeyed his instructions, and knuckled under in a most abject
manner, going so far as to call the head clerk "sir," and ask for a day
off to bury his uncle.
"A day off!" said Gray, chuckling to himself; "I think he needs it. I
like a man to come playing the old soldier with me, and think he's
going to get off best."
Busby was highly gratified at the turn affairs had taken. He had had to
pay his wife's fare to her mother's, certainly, and give her a
ten-pound note; but, taking into consideration Early's previous
victory, things looked very promising.
Parrott said nothing, but as he saw George go meekly out of the office
he smiled, which meant a very great deal, for Parrott only smiled on
the most rare occasions.