ENTER MADGIN JUNIOR.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said the landlord of The Jolly Fishers one
morning to his guest, Mr. Deedes, "but I think I have more than once
heard you say that you came from London?"
"I do come from London," answered Mr. Deedes; "_I_ am Cockney born and
bred. I came direct from London to Windermere. But why do you ask?"
"Simply, sir, because they are in want of a footman at Bon Repos, to
fill up the place of one who has gone away to get married. Mossoo
Platzoff don't like advertising for servants, and Mr. Cleon is at a loss
where to find a fellow that can wait at table and has some manners about
him. You see sir, the country louts about here are neither useful nor
ornamental in a gentleman's house. Now, sir, it struck me that among
your friends you might perhaps know some gentleman who would be glad to
recommend a respectable man for such a place. Must have a good character
from his last situation, and be able to wait at table; and I hope, sir,
you will pardon the liberty I've taken in mentioning it to you."
Mr. Deedes was holding up a glass of wine to the light as the landlord
brought his little speech to a close. He sipped the wine slowly, with
his eyes bent on the floor; then he put down the glass and rubbed his
hands softly one within the other. Then he spoke.
"It happens, singularly enough," he said, "that a particular friend of
mine--Mr. Madgin, a gentleman, I daresay, whose name you have never
heard--spoke to me only three weeks ago about one of his people for whom
he was desirous of obtaining another situation, he himself being about
to break up his establishment and go to reside on the Continent. I will
write Mr. Madgin to-night, and if the young man has not engaged himself,
I will ask my friend to send him down here. He will have a first-class
testimonial, and I have no doubt he would suit M. Platzoff admirably. I
am obliged to you, landlord, for mentioning this matter to me."
Mr. Deedes went off at once to his room, and wrote and despatched the
following letter:--
"MY DEAR BOY,--I saw by an advertisement in last week's
_Era_ that you are still out of an engagement. I have an opening
for you down here in a drama of real life. It will be greatly to
your advantage to accept it, so do not hesitate for a moment. Come
without delay. Book yourself from Euston Square to Windermere. Take
steamer from the latter place to Newby Bridge. There, at the hotel,
await my arrival. Bear in mind that down here my name is _Mr.
Joshua Deedes_, and that yours is _James Jasmin_, a footman, at
present out of a situation. To a person of your intelligence I need
not say more.
"Your affectionate father,
"S.M.
"N.B.--This communication is secret and confidential. All expenses
paid. Do not on any account fail to come. I will be at the Newby
Bridge Hotel on Thursday morning at eleven."
This letter he addressed, "Mr. James Madgin, Royal Tabard Theatre,
Southwark, London." Having posted it with his own hands, he went for a
long, solitary ramble among the hills. He wanted to think out and
elaborate the great scheme that had unfolded itself before his dazzled
eyes while the landlord was talking to him. He had seen the whole
compass of it at a glance; he wanted now to consider it in detail. There
was an elation in his eye and an elasticity in his tread that made him
seem ten years younger than on the previous day.
He had requested the landlord to tell Mr. Cleon what steps he was about
to take with the view of supplying M. Platzoff with a new footman. In
these proceedings the mulatto acquiesced ungraciously. Truth to tell, he
was bored by Mr. Deedes and his friendly officiousness, and although
secretly glad that the trouble of hunting out a new servant had been
taken off his hands, he was not a man willingly to acknowledge his
obligations to another.
Mr. Deedes set out immediately after breakfast on Thursday morning, and
having walked to the Ferry Hotel, he took the steamer from that place to
Newby Bridge. Mr. James Jasmin was at the landing-stage, awaiting his
arrival. After shaking hands heartily, and inquiring as to each other's
health, the two wandered off arm-in-arm down one of the quiet country
roads. Then Mr. Deedes explained to Mr. Jasmin his reasons for sending
for him from London, and with what view he was desirous of introducing
him into Bon Repos. The younger man listened attentively. When the elder
one had done, he said:
"Father, this is a very pretty scheme of yours; but it seems to me that
I am to be nothing more than a cat's-paw in the affair. You have only
given me half your confidence. You must give me the whole of it before I
can agree to act as you wish. I want to hear the whole history of the
case, and how you came to be mixed up in it. Further, I want to know how
much Lady Chillington intends to give you in case you succeed in getting
back the diamond, and what my share of the recompense is to be?"
"Dear, dear! what a headstrong boy you are!" moaned Mr. Deedes. "Why
can't you be content with what I tell you, and leave the rest to me?"
The younger man made no reply in words, but turned abruptly on his heel
and began to walk back.
"James! James!" cried the old man, catching his son by the coat tails,
"do not go off in that way. It shall be as you wish. I will tell you
everything. You headstrong boy! Do you want to break your poor father's
heart?"
"Break your fiddlestick!" said Mr. Jasmin, irreverently. "Let us sit
down on this green bank, and you shall tell me all about the Diamond
while I try the quality of these cigars. I am all attention."
Thus adjured, Mr. Deedes sighed deeply, wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief, looked meditatively into his hat for a few seconds, and
then began.
Beginning with the narrative of Sergeant Nicholas, Mr. Deedes went on
from that point to detail by what means he had discovered that M.
Platzoff was still alive and where he was now living. Then he told of
his coming down to Bon Repos, and all that had happened to him since
that time. He had already told his son with what view he had sent for
him from London--that not being able to make any further headway in the
case himself, he was desirous of introducing his dear James, in the
guise of a servant, into Bon Repos, as an agent on whose integrity and
cleverness he could alike depend.
"But you have not yet told your dear James the amount of the honorarium
you will be entitled to receive in case you recover the stolen Diamond."
"What do you say to five thousand pounds?" asked Mr. Deedes in a solemn
whisper.
The younger man opened his eyes. "Hum! A very pretty little amount," he
said, "but I have yet to learn what proportion of that sum will
percolate into the pockets of this child. In other words, what is to be
my share of the plunder?"
"Plunder, my dear boy, is a strange word to make use of. Pray be more
particular in your choice of terms. The mercenary view you take of the
case is very distressing to my feelings. A proper recompense for your
time and trouble it was my intention to make you; but as regards the
five thousand pounds, I hoped to be able to fund it in toto, to add it
to my little capital, and to leave it intact for those who will come
after me. And you know very well, James, that there will only be you and
Mirpah to divide whatever the old man may die possessed of."
"But, my dear dad, you are not going to die for these five-and-twenty
years. My present necessities are imperative: like the daughters of the
horse-leech, they are continually asking for more."
"James! James! how changed you are from the dear, unselfish boy of ten
years ago!"
"And very proper too. But do let us be business-like, if you please. The
rôle of the 'heavy father' doesn't suit you at all. Keep sentiment out
of the case, and then we shall do very well. Listen to my ultimatum. The
day I place the Hara Diamond in your hands you must give me a cheque for
fifteen hundred pounds."
"Fifteen hundred pounds!" gasped the old man. "James! James! do you wish
to see me die in a workhouse?"
"Fifteen hundred pounds. Not one penny less," reiterated Madgin, junior.
"What do you mean by a workhouse? You will then have three thousand,
five hundred pounds to the good, and will have got the job done very
cheaply. But there is another side to the question. Both you and I have
been counting our chickens before they are hatched. Suppose I don't
succeed in laying hold of the Diamond--what then? And, mind you, I don't
think I shall succeed. To begin with--I don't half believe in the
existence of your big Diamond. It looks to me very much like a hoax from
beginning to end. But granting the existence of the stone, and that it
was stolen by your Russian friend, are not the chances a thousand to one
either that he has disposed of it long ago, or else that he has hidden
it away in some place so safe that the cleverest burglar in London
would be puzzled to get at it? Suppose, for instance, that it is
deposited by him at his banker's: in that case, what are your
expectations worth? Not a brass farthing. No, my dear dad, the risk of
failure is too great, outweighing, as it does, the chances of success a
thousandfold, for me to have the remotest hope of ever fingering the
fifteen hundred pounds. I have, therefore, to appraise my time and
services as the hero of a losing cause. I say the hero; for I certainly
consider that I am about to play the leading part in the forthcoming
drama--that I am the bright particular 'star' round which the lesser
lights will all revolve. Such being the case, I do not consider that I
am rating my services too highly when I name two hundred guineas as the
lowest sum for which I am willing to play the part of James Jasmin,
footman, spy and amateur detective."
Again Mr. Deedes gasped for breath. He opened his mouth, but words
refused to come. He shook his head with a fine tragic air, and wiped his
eyes.
"Take an hour or two to consider it," said the son, indulgently. "If you
agree to my proposition, I shall want it put down in black and white and
properly signed. If you do not agree to it, I start back for town by
this night's mail."
"James, James, you are one too many for me!" said the old man,
pathetically. "Let us go and dine."
The first thing Madgin junior did after they got back to the hotel was
to place before his father a sheet of note-paper, an inkstand and a pen.
"Write," he said; and the old man wrote to his dictation:--
"I, Solomon Madgin, on the part of Lady Chillington, of Deepley
Walls, do hereby promise and bind myself to pay over into the hands
of my son, James Madgin, the sum of fifteen hundred pounds (£1,500)
on the day that the aforesaid James Madgin places safely in my
hands the stone known as the Hara Diamond.
"Should the aforesaid James Madgin, from causes beyond his own
control, find himself unable to obtain possession of the said
Diamond, I, Solomon Madgin, bind myself to reimburse him in the sum
of two hundred guineas (£210) as payment in full for the time and
labour expended by him in his search for the Hara Diamond.
"(Signed) SOLOMON MADGIN.
"July 21st, 18--."
Mr. Madgin threw down the pen when he had signed his name and chuckled
quietly to himself. "You don't think, dear boy, that a foolish paper
like that would be worth anything in a court of law?" he said,
interrogatively.
"As a legal document it would probably be laughed at," said Madgin
junior. "But in another point of view I have no doubt that it would
carry with it a certain moral weight. For instance, suppose the claim
embodied in this paper were disputed, and I were compelled to resort to
ulterior measures, the written promise given by you might not be found
legally binding, but, on the other hand, neither Lady Chillington nor
you would like to see that document copied in extenso into all the
London papers, nor the whole of your remarkable scheme for the recovery
of the Hara Diamond detailed by the plaintiff in open court, to be
talked over next morning through the length and breadth of England.
"Extraordinary Case between a Lady of Rank and an Actor." How would that
read, eh?"
"My dear James, let me shake hands with you," exclaimed the old man with
emotion. "You are a most extraordinary young man. I am proud of you, my
dear boy, I am indeed. What a pity that you adopted the stage as your
profession! You ought to have entered the law. In the law you would have
risen--nothing could have kept you down."
"That is as it may be," returned James. "If I am satisfied with my
profession you have no cause to grumble. But here comes dinner."
Mr. James Madgin was first low comedian at one of the transpontine
theatres. The height of his ambition was to have the offer of an
engagement from one of the West-end managers. Only give him the
opportunity, and he felt sure that he could work his way with a
cultivated audience. When a lad of sixteen he had run away from home
with a company of strolling players, and from that time he had been a
devoted follower of Thespis. He had roughed it patiently in the
provinces for years, his only consolation during a long season of
poverty and neglect arising from the conviction that he was slowly but
surely improving himself in the difficult art he had chosen as his mode
of earning his daily bread. When the manager of the Royal Tabard, then
on a provincial tour, picked him out from all his brother actors, and
offered him a Metropolitan engagement, James Madgin thought himself on
the high road to fame and fortune. Time had served to show him the
fallacy of his expectations. He had been four years at the Royal Tabard,
during the whole of which time he had been in receipt of a tolerable
salary for his position--that of first low comedian; but fame and
fortune still seemed as far from his grasp as ever. With opportunity
given him, he had hoped one day to electrify the town. But that hope was
now buried very deep down in his heart, and if ever brought out, like an
"old property," to be looked at and turned about, its only greeting was
a quiet sneer, after which it was relegated to the limbo whence it had
been disinterred. James Madgin had given up the expectation of ever
shining in the theatrical system as a "great star;" he was trying to
content himself with the thought of living and dying a respectable
mediocrity--useful, ornamental even, in his proper sphere, but certainly
never destined to set the Thames on fire. The manager of the Tabard had
recently died, and at present James Madgin was in want of an engagement.
As father and son sat together at table, you might, knowing their
relationship to each other, have readily detected a certain likeness
between them; but it was a likeness of expression rather than of
features, and would scarcely have been noticed by any casual observer.
Madgin junior was a fresh complexioned, sprightly young fellow of six or
seven and twenty, with dark, frank-looking eyes, a prominent nose, and
thin mobile lips. He had dark-brown hair, closely cropped; and, as
became one of his profession, he was guiltless of either beard or
moustache. Like Mirpah, he inherited his eyes and nose from his mother,
but in no other feature could he be said to resemble his beautiful
sister.
Father and son were very merry over dinner, and did not spare the wine
afterwards. The old man could not sufficiently admire the shrewd
business-like aptitude shown by his son in their recent conference. The
latter's extraction of a written promise by his own father was an action
that the elder man could fully appreciate; it was a stroke of business
that touched him to the heart, and made him feel proud of his "dear
James."
"But how will you manage about waiting at table?" asked Solomon of his
son as they strolled out together to smoke their cigars on the little
bridge by the hotel. "I am afraid that you will betray your ignorance,
and break down when you come to be put to the test."
"Never fear; I shall pull through somehow," answered James. "I am not so
ignorant on such matters as you may suppose. Geary used to say that I
did the flunkey business better than any man he ever had at the Tabard:
I have always been celebrated for my footmen. Of course I am quite aware
that the real article is very different from its stage counterfeit, but
I have actually been at some pains to study the genus in its different
varieties, and to arrive at some knowledge of the special duties it has
to perform. One of our supers had been footman in the family of a
well-known marquis, and from him I picked up a good deal of useful
information. Then, whenever I have been out to a swell dinner of any
kind, I have always kept my eye on the fellows who waited at table. So
what with one thing and what with another, I don't think I shall make
any very terrible blunders."
"I hope not, or else Mr. Cleon will give you your _congé_, and that will
spoil everything. Further, as regards the mulatto, I have a word or two
to say to you. It is quite evident to me that he is the presiding genius
at Bon Repos. If you wish to retain your situation you must pay court to
him far more than to M. Platzoff, with whom, indeed, it is doubtful
whether you will ever come into personal contact. You must therefore, my
dear boy, swallow your pride for the time being, and take care to let
the mulatto see that you regard him as a patron to whose kindness you
hold yourself deeply indebted."
"All that I can do, and more, to serve my own ends," answered the son.
"Your words are words of wisdom, and shall live in my memory."
Mr. Madgin stopped with his son till summoned by the whistle of the last
steamer. The two bade each other an affectionate farewell. When next
they met it would be as strangers.
Mr. Cleon and the landlord were enjoying the cool of the evening and
their cigars outside the house as Mr. Deedes walked up to The Jolly
Fishers. He stopped for a moment to speak to them.
"I had a note this morning from my friend Mr. Madgin, of Deepley Walls,"
he said, "in which that gentleman informs me that the young man, James
Jasmin, will be with you in the course of the day after to-morrow at the
latest. He hopes that Jasmin will suit you, and he is evidently much
pleased that a position has been offered him in an establishment in
every way so unexceptionable as that of Bon Repos."
The mulatto's white teeth glistened in the twilight. Evidently he was
pleased. He muttered a few words in reply. Mr. Deedes bowed courteously,
wished him and the landlord a very good night, and withdrew.
Late in the afternoon of the day but one following that of his visit to
Newby Bridge, as Mr. Deedes was busy with a London newspaper three or
four days old, the landlord ushered a young man into his room, who, with
a bow and a carrying of the forefinger to his forehead, announced
himself as James Jasmin, from Deepley Walls.
"Don't you go, landlord," said Mr. Deedes; "I may want you." Then he
deliberately put on his gold-rimmed glasses, and proceeded to take a
leisurely survey of the new corner, who was dressed in a neat (but not
new) suit of black, and was standing in a respectful attitude, and
slowly brushing his hat with one sleeve of his coat.
"So you are James Jasmin, from Deepley Walls, are you?" asked Mr.
Deedes, looking him slowly down from head to feet.
"Yes, sir, I am the party, sir," answered James.
"Well, Jasmin, and how did you leave my friend Mr. Madgin? and what is
the latest news from Deepley Walls?"
"Master and family all pretty well, sir, thank you. Master has got a
tenant for the old house, and the family will all start for the
Continong next week."
"Well, Jasmin, I hope you will contrive to suit your new employer as
well as you appear to have suited my friend. Landlord, let him have some
dinner, and he had better perhaps wait here till Mr. Cleon comes down
this evening."
When Mr. Cleon arrived a couple of hours later, Jasmin was duly
presented to him. The mulatto scrutinised him keenly and seemed pleased
with his appearance, which was decidedly superior to that of the
ordinary run of Jeameses. He finished by asking him for his
testimonials.
"I have none with me, sir," answered Jasmin, discreetly emphasising the
_sir_. "I can only refer you to my late master, Mr. Madgin, of Deepley
Walls, who will gladly speak as to my qualifications and integrity."
"That being the case, I will take you for the present on the
recommendation of Mr. Deedes, and will write Mr. Madgin in the course of
a post or two. You can go up to Bon Repos at once, and I will induct you
into your new duties to-morrow."
Jasmin thanked Mr. Cleon respectfully and withdrew. Ten minutes later,
with his modest valise in his hand, he set out for his new home. He and
Mr. Deedes did not see each other again. Next day Mr. Deedes announced
that he was summoned home by important letters. He bade the landlord and
Cleon a friendly farewell, and left early on the following morning in
time to catch the first train from Windermere going south.