Thomas Parrott was treating himself to half an hour's serious
meditation, selecting for his purpose the big armchair in Mrs. Carey's
sitting-room. It was only on Wednesdays that the sitting-room was
deserted, because then the two other lodgers were detained at business,
and Parrott was free to have his dinner in solitude. With Mrs. Carey's
permission, he took his dinner on Wednesdays in the company of Miss
Lucy Perkins, the future Mrs. Parrott.
It was nearly seven now, and Miss Perkins was due in half an hour. The
head clerk had intended to take advantage of the comfortable legacy
left him by setting up an establishment of his own. It had been his
intention to fix the wedding day the week before, and thus bring to a
close his forty years of bachelorhood; but he had put it off; under the
circumstances he was uncertain how to act.
The cause of the disquiet was the pecuniary demands of George Early,
who had developed a habit of borrowing that had become alarming. The
first half-crown had lengthened into five shillings, which in turn
became ten; the previous day had seen a rise to a sovereign. Parrott
had remonstrated, but remonstrance was lost upon the imperturbable
George, who remarked that it was only out of kindness he had been
persuaded to cut the sum so low. He said that he hoped the small loan
would not be refused, as it would give him pain to have to report the
matter to the lawyers, who evidently wanted rousing up. He then pointed
out to Parrott that he was really doing him a service, by helping him
to break his beastly habit of meanness.
"I could get him the sack," thought the head clerk. "That would be one
way to get rid of him."
He strangled the idea a moment afterwards. George Early out of work
would be an even greater danger. He thought out various plans of
bribery, intimidation, kidnapping, and even garrotting, but none of
these suggested a possible solution. In the midst of his meditations
the front-door bell rang.
"That's Lucy," said the head clerk, rising and smoothing down his hair
before the glass. "I mustn't say anything to-night. It'll have to be
postponed till I can be sure the money is my own."
He brushed a speck off his well-preserved dress-suit and flicked over
his shoes. Then he stirred the fire and went to meet his _fiancée_.
As he opened the door a well-known voice caught his ear. It was not
Lucy's; it was a man's voice. He knew it well; it was George Early's
voice.
"Damn him!" said Parrott, savagely. "What the deuce does he want now?
I'll wring his neck if he tries to borrow more money already!"
George was speaking most affably to Mrs. Carey.
"I'll just tell Mr. Parrott that you're here," said the fussy old lady.
"Thank you," said George; "and I'll come with you. It's most fortunate
that he's at home. I know he wouldn't like to have missed me."
The head clerk looked around him frantically. There was no escape; he
was caught like a rat in a trap. He felt that he would sooner have
brained the relentless George than lend him a single sixpence. He
rushed to the window; it was too high to jump from, and already George
was on the landing. A sudden idea struck him, and he picked up his
patent boots and dived into the great clothes-cupboard that opened into
the sitting-room.
Mrs. Carey knocked and entered, followed by George.
"A gentleman to see----"
The landlady stopped and looked round.
"Not here?" said George.
"Well, now," said Mrs. Carey, "bless my soul, I could have bet a
penny-piece I heard the poker rattle five minutes ago!"
"I heard a rattling noise," said George.
In the minute or two that Mrs. Carey occupied in ascending a further
flight of stairs to the bedroom Parrott debated whether he should
spring out and throttle his enemy or await events. At any rate, George
must go when he found the man he wanted was not at home. He decided to
stay awhile in the cupboard.
Mrs. Carey returned from a fruitless search. She thought her lodger
must have run out to post a letter.
"I'll wait a bit," said George.
He placed his silk hat carefully on the side table, and took a seat in
the armchair vacated by the head clerk. Parrott fumed as he took note
of George Early's dress through a crack of the door. His patent boots
were new, and he wore an expensive tie; sprays of flowers worked in
silk adorned his waistcoat; his gloves were a fashionable grey, and on
the little finger of his left hand a ring glittered.
These articles of dress were not lost upon Mrs. Carey, who took
advantage of George's affability to stand a moment and comment on the
weather. Their pleasant chat was interrupted by another ring at the
front-door bell.
"Hang it!" muttered the wretched Parrott. "That's Lucy, and I can't get
out of this beastly hole!"
Instead of Mrs. Carey descending to show up the young lady, she allowed
Susan, the maid-of-all-work, to do that service, and explained to Miss
Perkins the reason of her presence with the gentleman visitor.
Miss Perkins thought it funny that Mr. Parrott should not be there to
meet her, and by the toss of her head George guessed that she was not a
little piqued. Mrs. Carey left them together till the return of the
absent _fiancé_.
Miss Perkins was a milliner by trade, but not in trade at present.
Fortune had smiled upon her mamma a year previously to the tune of two
thousand pounds, and with this comfortable sum Mrs. Perkins lived in a
villa at Paddington until such time as Thomas Parrott should rob her of
her child. Both mother and daughter considered the match a desirable
one, though they would have liked to know with more certainty the
extent of the head clerk's fortune.
"Do you find it very warm here?" said George, making himself agreeable.
"Let me open the window just a little."
"It might be cooler," said Miss Perkins, dabbing her face with a
handkerchief.
"That's the worst of these old houses," said the young man,
magnificently; "they're so pokey. The rooms are like rabbit hutches."
"Give me Kensington for a decent house," said Miss Perkins, trying to
look as though she lived there.
"Or Bayswater," said George.
"I couldn't bear to live in a part like this," said Miss Perkins. "I
always did 'ate 'Ammersmith."
From unhealthy houses they drifted into more personal topics, and
George told Miss Perkins that he was a member of the firm of
Fairbrothers. They discussed the ornaments and the furniture, examined
the pictures, and laughed together at the family likenesses. And to all
appearances they didn't seem to mind much if Parrott came back or not.
Then, for decency's sake, George said, "He's a long time posting that
letter," to which Miss Perkins agreed without appearing to be much
disturbed.
And while they were both chattering and laughing Mrs. Carey came up and
vowed upon her life that the lamb chops would be ruined. There was
tomato sauce too, and a pudding, specially prepared to the order of the
head clerk. It was a shame to have it spoilt, Mrs. Carey said, and both
Miss Perkins and George Early agreed.
Unfortunately, Thomas Parrott had left lying on the side table an
invitation to dinner that he had declined the day before. George
pounced upon it and read it out.
"That's where he's gone," said Miss Perkins, viciously.
"It's a shame," cried Mrs. Carey.
"I'm surprised," said George, "that any man should so far forget
himself as to leave a lady in this awkward position. If it wasn't that
I'm a stranger here I should feel inclined to ask Mrs. Carey to allow
me to do the honour of----"
He hesitated and looked at Miss Perkins, who began to toy with a
salt-spoon.
"Of course," said Mrs. Carey, accepting the situation graciously,
though a little uneasily. "If Mr. Parrott wouldn't mind, I'm sure I----
It does seem a pity to have the dinner wasted."
"It would be a sin," said George.
He looked at his watch and began to brush his hat, and perform those
little preparations that preface departure, maintaining in the mean
time an indifference likely to settle quickly the doubts of Mrs. Carey.
"I'll bring it up," said the landlady, suddenly opening the door.
"Don't go till you've had a bit of dinner, sir. I'll explain it to Mr.
Parrott."
Mrs. Carey bustled downstairs, and George and Miss Perkins prepared
themselves for a pleasant evening.
The dinner was an immense success. The only thing that saved it from
disaster was the horror that Parrott had of bringing ridicule upon
himself. But for this the irate prisoner would have burst the door of
his prison-house and brought confusion on the diners.
George filled Miss Perkins' glass and his own to the brim. He had
discovered a full bottle of claret in the cupboard, and brought it out
in honour of the lady. Together they emptied the bottle, and enjoyed
it; the lamb chops disappeared, and Mrs. Carey's puddings followed
them, and throughout the evening they seasoned each course with a
natural good humour.
George was in the best of spirits. He praised the cooking, compared the
sparkling wine to Miss Perkins' eyes, and attacked the food with a
relish that only comes to a man when he is feasting at another man's
expense.
"You may smoke," said Miss Perkins, graciously, settling herself in an
armchair.
George did so, borrowing for the time one of the head clerk's cigars,
with the permission of that gentleman's _fiancée_.
The sight of his beloved on one side of the fire and his enemy on the
other was too much for Parrott. Already his cramped position had
exhausted him, he began to scheme for some means of escape.
George now shifted his position, so as to put his back to the light, at
the same time putting his back to the cupboard. If only Lucy would do
the same, he might slip out and down the stairs, the cupboard being
near the door.
The next moment she did so, and, quick as lightning, Parrott opened the
door noiselessly, and put one foot out. Unfortunately for him, George
was standing before the looking-glass, and this movement caught his
eye. In the excitement of the moment he dropped the china dog he was
examining, which so startled Miss Perkins that Parrott was forced to
draw back for fear of being observed.
George gathered up the pieces, and began to laugh. The idea of Parrott
being in the cupboard while the lamb chops were being eaten was too
good to be passed over lightly, it gave a new zest to the
entertainment.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Miss Perkins, still suffering from
the shock.
George laughed louder. "I was thinking," he said, "how your _fiancé_
will laugh when he comes home and asks for the lamb chops for supper,
and finds they're eaten."
This tickled Miss Perkins immensely, and she and George laughed again
in unison.
"Serve him right," said Miss Perkins.
"What does it matter?" said George, throwing away his cigar, and taking
a fresh one.
"What does what matter?" asked Miss Perkins.
"About the chops, when he's got you."
To this embarrassing question Miss Perkins vouchsafed no reply, merely
adopting an air of superiority, and tapping the toes of her shoes
together.
"If I were in his position," said George, loud enough for the man in
the cupboard to hear, "I'd get married to-morrow."
Miss Perkins blushed, and laughed. "You wouldn't be so silly," she
said.
"Anyhow, I'd marry you at once," said George, "just to make
sure"--slowly--"that I didn't lose you."
Miss Perkins, who was now in an excellent temper, changed the
conversation by wondering what time Mr. Parrott would return.
"He'd be back sharp enough if he knew you were here," said George.
"With you," added Miss Perkins, with pretty wit.
This made them both laugh.
"I wonder what he'd think if he'd been hidden away here all the time,"
said George, audaciously.
Miss Perkins turned pale, and looked round the room.
"It's all right," said George; "it's only my fun."
The little milliner tossed her head. "I shouldn't care," she said
defiantly.
"I don't believe you would," said George, with admiring eyes. "But I
know what you would say. You'd just say this."
He leaned forward, and whispered.
Miss Perkins shrieked with laughter, and George's loud guffaw shook the
ornaments. It was as much as Parrott could do to keep his feelings
under control. Even now he had notions of dashing from his
hiding-place. Early would go too far one of these times; he was doing
this purposely.
"I say," said George, suddenly, "when is the wedding coming off? I
suppose you've got the house all ready."
"Not quite," said Miss Perkins, with some reticence.
"Oh," said George, "I thought it would be all right, seeing that his
luck at the office had changed."
Miss Perkins pricked up her ears.
"You know all about that, of course," said George, warming up to the
subject, and watching the door of the cupboard out of the tail of his
eye.
"No," said Miss Perkins astonished, "what was that?"
"Why, you see," said George, "it was this way."
He paused to relight his cigar, and carefully noted the brawny fist
that came slowly out of the cupboard and shook in his direction.
"When Old Fairbrother died----" began George.
The cupboard door creaked. Miss Perkins heard it, but was too excited
to take any notice.
George began again. "When Old Fairbrother died, he left----"
An audible rustling now came from the cupboard.
"What's that?" said Miss Perkins. "I heard something."
"So did I," said George. "Whatever can it be?"
"Perhaps it's a cat," ventured Miss Perkins.
"Sounded just like a cat to me," said George.
Miss Perkins lifted up a corner of the tablecloth, and knelt on the
floor to peer under the table. George lifted up another corner, and
knelt beside her. Together they looked underneath, and all that Parrott
heard were muffled voices and a little giggle from his _fiancée_.
When they both rose, very red in the face, Miss Perkins cried "oh!" and
it was then seen that George's watch chain had become entangled in the
lace of her sleeve. When Miss Perkins tried to undo it her head came
very near to George Early's, and Parrott gnashed his teeth. Only the
thoughts of absolute disgrace kept him in his narrow cell.
"What a good thing he isn't here to see this!" breathed George.
"It was your fault," said Miss Perkins, stifling a laugh; "your----"
"Listen," said George. "I heard it again."
They listened, but there was no sound.
"Perhaps it's under the table, after all," said the young man artfully.
"I only looked in one corner."
The brawny fist again appeared from the cupboard door.
"I think I'll go now," said Miss Perkins, apparently aware at last that
a flirtation was in progress, and that the landlady had ears.
"If there is anybody concealed here," said George, lifting up a corner
of the tablecloth again, "I pity him when Mr. Parrott comes in. If
there's one thing that he can't bear, it's deception of any sort.
Goodness knows what he'd do to anybody who deceived him! I believe he'd
kill him."
Miss Perkins put on her hat in silence, and with some haste. If her
lover came in, matters might be awkward.
"You are going to Paddington, I think," said George; "we'd better have
a cab."
"No, thank you," said the little milliner, doubtful how to act; "I'm
not quite sure if Thomas would like it."
"Ah," said George, with a catch in his voice, "you don't know him as
well as I do. It's the very thing he'd suggest. We're just like
brothers, the two of us; we lend each other money, wear each other's
clothes, go to each other's houses, and do everything we can for each
other. If he wanted my girl, I----"
"What!" said Miss Perkins, sharply.
"If he wanted anything--anything----" said George.
"You said a girl," said Miss Perkins.
"Ah, I only said 'if'!" replied George, "But you may be sure that if he
were here now, he'd say, 'George, my old friend, take Lucy home in a
cab. You're my comrade, and I'd trust you anywhere.'"
Miss Perkins said no more, but led the way downstairs, and as George
followed, he heard the door of the cupboard creak, and knew that the
prisoner was at last free.
An hour later he returned, and inquired for the head clerk again.
"I don't think he's in yet," said the landlady; "I haven't heard him."
"I think you'll find he's in," said George.
Mrs. Carey found the head clerk in, much to her astonishment, and
ushered George up, after having hastily explained the lamb-chop
incident.
"Hallo, old man!" said George, closing the door carefully, and choosing
an armchair. "Hard luck for you being shut up there, wasn't it?"
Parrott rose slowly, and deliberately took off his coat.
"Now," he said, facing his junior, "what have you got to say about it?"
George Early lit a cigarette, threw the match away, and then looked up.
"What I have got to say," he said slowly, leaning forward, and looking
the head clerk in the eyes, "is that if you don't put on that coat at
once and sit down, I'll--I'll borrow ten pounds!"
"What!" said Parrott, in a hoarse whisper.
"I mean it," said George.