MR. MOSS PLAYS HIS PART.
At five o'clock on the afternoon of that day Dr. Spenlove returned to
his apartments. Having given away the money with which he had intended
to pay his fare to London, he had bethought him of a gentleman living
in Southsea of whom he thought he could borrow a sovereign or two for
a few weeks. He had walked the distance, and had met with
disappointment; the gentleman was absent on business, and might be
absent several days.
"Upon my word," said the good doctor, as he drearily retraced his
steps, "it is almost as bad as being shipwrecked; worse, because there
are no railways on desert islands. What on earth am I to do? Get to
London I must, by hook or by crook, and there is absolutely nothing I
can turn into money."
Then he bethought himself of Mr. Moss, and in his extremity determined
to make an appeal in that quarter. Had it not been for what had
occurred last night, he would not have dreamed of going to this
gentleman, of whose goodness of heart he had had no previous
experience, and upon whose kindness he had not the slightest claim.
Arriving at Mr. Moss's establishment, another disappointment attended
him. Mr. Moss was not at home, and they could not say when he would
return. So Dr. Spenlove, greatly depressed, walked slowly on, his mind
distressed with troubles and perplexities.
He had seen nothing more of Mr. Gordon, who had left him in the early
morning with a simple acknowledgment in words of the service he had
rendered; nor had he seen anything further of Mrs. Turner. On his road
home he called at her lodgings, and heard from her fellow-lodger that
she had left the house.
"We don't know where she's gone to, sir," the woman said; "but the
rent has been paid up, and a sovereign was slipped under my door. If
it wasn't that she was so hard up I should have thought it came from
her."
"I have no doubt it did," Dr. Spenlove answered. "She has friends who
are well-to-do, and I know that one of these friends, discovering her
position, was anxious to assist her."
"I am glad to hear it," said the woman; "and it was more than kind of
her to remember me. I always had an idea that she was above us."
As he was entering his room his landlady ran up from the kitchen.
"Oh, doctor, there's a parcel and two letters for you in your room,
and Mr. Moss has been here to see you. He said he would come again."
"Very well, Mrs. Radcliffe," said Dr. Spenlove; and, cheered by the
news of the promised visit, he passed into his apartment. On the table
were the letters and the parcel. The latter, carefully wrapped in
thick brown paper, was the iron box he had given to Mrs. Turner. One
of the letters was in her handwriting, and it informed him that her
child had been taken away and that she was on the point of leaving
Portsmouth.
"I am not permitted," the letter ran, "to inform you where I am going,
and I am under the obligation of not writing to you personally after I
leave this place. This letter is sent without the knowledge of the
gentleman for whom you acted, and I do not consider myself bound to
tell him that I have written it. What I have promised to do I will do
faithfully, but nothing further. You, who of all men in the world
perhaps know me best, will understand what I am suffering as I pen
these lines. I send with my letter the box you were kind enough to
give me last night. It contains the memorial of which I spoke to you.
Dear Dr. Spenlove, I rely upon you to carry out my wishes with respect
to it. If you are acquainted with the guardian of my child, convey it
to him, and beg him to retain it until my darling is of age, or until
I am free to seek her. It is not in your nature to refuse the petition
of a heartbroken mother; it is not in your nature to violate a
promise. For all the kindnesses you have shown me receive my grateful
and humble thanks. That you will be happy and successful, and that God
will prosper you in all your undertakings, will be my constant prayer.
Farewell."
Laying this letter aside he opened the second, which was in a
handwriting strange to him:--
"Dear Sir,--
"All my arrangements are made, and the business upon which we spoke
together is satisfactorily concluded. You will find enclosed a
practical expression of my thanks. I do not give you my address for
two reasons. First, I desire no acknowledgment of the enclosure;
second, I desire that there shall be no correspondence between us upon
any subject. Feeling perfectly satisfied that the confidence I reposed
in you will be respected,
"I am,
"Your obedient servant,
"G. Gordon."
The enclosure consisted of five Bank of England notes for £20 each.
Dr. Spenlove was very much astonished and very much relieved. At this
juncture the money was a fortune to him; there was a likelihood of its
proving the turning-point in his career; and, although it had not been
earned in the exercise of his profession, he had no scruple in
accepting it. The generosity of the donor was, moreover, in some sense
an assurance that he was sincere in all the professions he had made.
"Mr. Moss, sir," said Mrs. Radcliffe, opening the door, and that
gentleman entered the room.
As usual, he was humming an operatic air; but he ceased as he closed
the door, which, after a momentary pause, he reopened, to convince
himself that the landlady was not listening in the passage.
"Can't be too careful, doctor," he observed, with a wink, "when you
have something you want to keep to yourself. You have been running
after me, and I have been running after you. Did you wish to see me
particularly?"
"To tell you the truth," replied Dr. Spenlove, "I had a special reason
for calling upon you; but," he added, with a smile, "as it no longer
exists, I need not trouble you."
"No trouble, no trouble at all. I am at your service, doctor. Anything
I could have done, or can do now, to oblige, you may safely reckon
upon. Within limits, you know, within limits."
"Of course; but the necessity is obviated. I intended to ask you to
lend me a small sum of money without security, Mr. Moss."
"I guessed as much. You should have had it, doctor, and no inquiries
made, though it isn't the way I usually conduct my business; but there
are men you can trust and are inclined to trust, and there are men you
wouldn't trust without binding them down hard and fast. Now, if you
still need the money, don't be afraid to ask."
"I should not be afraid, but I am in funds. I am not the less indebted
to you, Mr. Moss."
"All right; I am glad you don't want a loan. Now for another
affair--_my_ affair, I suppose I must call it till I have shifted it
to other shoulders, which will soon be done."
He paused a moment.
"Dr. Spenlove, that was a strange adventure last night."
"It was; a strange and sad adventure. You behaved very kindly, and I
should like to repay what you expended on behalf of the poor lady."
"No, no, doctor; let it rest where it is. I don't acknowledge your
right to repay what you don't owe, and perhaps I am none the worse off
for what I did. Throw your bread on the waters, you know. My present
visit has reference to the lady--as you call her one, I will do the
same--we picked out of the snow last night. Did you ever notice that
things go in runs?"
"I don't quite follow you."
"A run of rainy weather, a run of fine weather, a run of good fortune,
a run of ill fortune."
"Yes, I have observed it."
"You meet a person to-day you have never seen or heard of before. The
odds are that you will meet that person to-morrow, and probably the
next day as well. You begin to have bad cards, you go on having bad
cards; you begin to make money, you go on making money."
"You infer that there are seasons of circumstances, as of weather. No
doubt you are right."
"I know I am right. Making the acquaintance of your friend, Mrs.
Turner, last night, in a very extraordinary manner, I am not at all
surprised that I have business in hand in which she is concerned. You
look astonished; but it is true. You gave her a good character,
doctor."
"Which she deserves. It happens in life to the best of us that we find
ourselves unexpectedly in trouble. Misfortune is a visitor that does
not knock at the door; it enters unannounced."
"We have unlocked the door ourselves, perhaps," suggested Mr. Moss,
sagely.
"Quite likely, but we have done so in a moment of trustfulness,
deceived by specious professions. The weak and confiding become the
victims."
"It is the way of the world, doctor. Hawks and pigeons, you know."
"There are some who are neither," said Dr. Spenlove, who was not
disposed to hurry his visitor.
His mind was easy as to his departure from Portsmouth, and he divined
from the course the conversation was taking that Mr. Moss had news of
a special nature to communicate. He deemed it wisest to allow him to
break it in his own way.
"They are the best off," responded Mr. Moss; "brains well balanced--an
even scale, doctor--then you can steer straight and to your own
advantage. Women are the weakest, as you say; too much heart, too much
sentiment. All very well in its proper place, but it weighs one side
of the scale down. Mrs. Moss isn't much better than other women in
that respect. She has her whims and crotchets, and doesn't always take
the business view."
"Implying that you do, Mr. Moss?"
"Of course I do; should be ashamed of myself if I didn't. What do I
live for? Business. What do I live by? Business. What do I enjoy most?
Business, and plenty of it!"
He rubbed his hands together joyously.
"I should have no objection to paint on my shop door, 'Mr. Moss,
Business Man.' People would know it would be no use trying to get the
best of me. They don't get it as it is."
"You are unjust to yourself. Was it business last night that made you
pay the cabman, and sent you out to buy coals and food for an
unfortunate creature you had never seen before?"
"That was a little luxury," said Mr. Moss, with a sly chuckle, "which
we business men indulge in occasionally to sharpen up our faculties.
It is an investment, and it pays; it puts us on good terms with
ourselves. If you think I have a bit of sentiment in me you are
mistaken."
"I paint your portrait for myself," protested Dr. Spenlove, "and I
shall not allow you to disfigure it. Granted that you keep as a rule
to the main road--Business Road, we will call it, if you like----"
"Very good, doctor, very good."
"You walk along, driving bargains, and making money honestly----"
"Thank you, doctor," interposed Mr. Moss, rather gravely. "There are
people who don't do us so much justice."
"When unexpectedly," continued Dr. Spenlove, with tender gaiety, "you
chance upon a little narrow path to the right or the left of you, and,
your eye lighting on it, you observe a stretch of woodland, a touch of
bright colour, a picture of human suffering, that appeals to your
poetical instinct, to your musical tastes, or to your humanity. Down
you plunge towards it, to the confusion, for the time being, of
Business Road and its business attractions."
"Sir," said Mr. Moss, bending his head with a dignity which did not
sit ill on him, "if all men were of your mind the narrow prejudices of
creed would stand a bad chance of making themselves felt. But we are
wandering from the main road of the purpose which brought me here. I
have not said a word to Mrs. Moss of the adventure of last night; I
don't quite know why, because a better creature doesn't breathe; but I
gathered from you in some way that you would prefer we should keep it
to ourselves. Mrs. Moss never complains of my being out late; she
rather encourages me, and that will give you an idea of the good wife
she is. 'Enjoyed yourself, Moss?' she asked when I got home. 'Very
much,' I answered, and that was all. Now, doctor, a business man
wouldn't be worth his salt if he wasn't a thinking man as well. After
I was dressed this morning I thought a good deal of the lady and her
child, and I came to the conclusion that you took more than an
ordinary interest in them."
"You were right," said Dr. Spenlove.
"Following your lead, which is a good thing to do if you've confidence
in your partner, I found myself taking more than an ordinary interest
in them; but as it wasn't a game of whist we were playing, I had no
clue to the cards you held. You will see presently what I am leading
up to. While I was thinking and going over some stock which I am
compelled by law to put up to auction, I received a message that a
gentleman wished to see me on very particular private business. It was
then about half-past nine, and the gentleman remained with me about an
hour. When he went away he made an appointment with me to meet him at
a certain place at twelve o'clock. I met him there; he had a carriage
waiting. I got in, and where do you think he drove me?"
"I would rather you answered the question yourself," said Dr.
Spenlove, his interest in the conversation receiving an exciting
stimulus.
"The carriage, doctor, stopped at the house to which we conveyed your
lady friend and her child last night. I opened my eyes, I can tell
you. Now, not to beat about the bush, I will make you acquainted with
the precise nature of the business the gentleman had with me."
"Pardon me a moment," said Dr. Spenlove. "Was Mr. Gordon the
gentleman?"
"You have named him," said Mr. Moss, and perceiving that Dr. Spenlove
was about to speak again, he contented himself with answering the
question. But the doctor did not proceed; his first intention had been
to inquire whether the business was confidential, and if so to decline
to listen to the disclosure which his visitor desired to make. A
little consideration, however, inclined him to the opinion that this
might be carrying delicacy too far. He was in the confidence of both
Mr. Gordon and Mrs. Turner, and it might be prejudicial to the mother
and her child if he closed his ears to the issue of the strange
adventure. He waved his hand, thereby inviting Mr. Moss to continue.
"Just so, doctor," said Mr. Moss, in the tone of a man who had
disposed of an objection. "It is a singular business, but I have been
mixed up with all kinds of queer transactions in my time, and I always
give a man the length of his rope. What induced Mr. Gordon to apply to
me is his concern, not mine. Perhaps he had heard a good report of me,
and I am much obliged to those who gave it; perhaps he thought I was a
tradesman who would take anything in pledge, from a flat iron to a
flesh and blood baby. Any way, if I choose to regard his visit as a
compliment, it is because I am not thin-skinned. Mr. Gordon informed
me that he wished to find a home and to provide for a young baby whose
mother could not look after it, being imperatively called away to a
distant part of the world. Had it not been that the terms he proposed
were extraordinarily liberal, and that he gave me the names of an
eminent firm of lawyers in London who had undertaken the financial
part of the business, and had it not been, also, that as he spoke to
me I thought of a friend whom it might be in my power to serve, I
should have shut him up at once by saying that I was not a baby
farmer, and by requesting him to take his leave. Interrupting myself,
and as it was you who first mentioned the name of Mr. Gordon, I think
I am entitled to ask if you are acquainted with him?"
"You are entitled to ask the question. I am acquainted with him."
"Since when, doctor?"
"Since last night only."
"Before we met?"
"Yes, before we met."
"May I inquire if you were then acting for Mr. Gordon?"
"To some extent. Had it not been for him I should not have gone in
search of Mrs. Turner."
"In which case," said Mr. Moss, in a grave tone, "she and her child
would have been found dead in the snow. That is coming to first
causes, doctor. I have not been setting a trap for you in putting
these questions; I have been testing Mr. Gordon's veracity. When I
asked him whether I was the only person in Portsmouth whom he had
consulted, he frankly answered I was not. Upon this I insisted upon
his telling me who this other person was. After some hesitation he
said, 'Dr. Spenlove.' Any scruples I may have had were instantly
dispelled, for I knew that it was impossible you could be mixed up in
a business which had not a good end."
"I thank you."
"Hearing your name I thought at once of the lady and her child whom we
were instrumental in saving. Am I right in my impression that you are
in possession of the conditions and terms Mr. Gordon imposes?"
"I am."
"Then I need not go into them. I take it, Dr. Spenlove, that you do
not consider the business disreputable."
"It is not disreputable. Mr. Gordon is a peculiar man, and his story
in connection with the lady in question is a singular one. He is not
the father of the child, and the action he has taken is not prompted
by a desire to rid himself of a responsibility. On the contrary, out
of regard for the lady he has voluntarily incurred a very heavy
responsibility, which I have little doubt--none, indeed--that he will
honourably discharge."
"I will continue. Having heard what Mr. Gordon had to say--thinking
all the time of the friend who might be induced to adopt the child,
and that I might be able to serve him--I put the gentleman to the
test. Admitting that his terms were liberal, I said that a sum of
money ought to be paid down at once, in proof of his good faith. 'How
much?' he asked. 'Fifty pounds,' I answered. He instantly produced the
sum, in bank-notes. Then it occurred to me that it would make things
still safer if I had an assurance from the eminent firm of London
lawyers that the business was honourable and met with their approval;
and if I also had a notification from them that they were prepared to
pay the money regularly. 'Send them a telegram,' suggested Mr. Gordon,
'and make it full and complete. I will write a shorter one, which you
can send at the same time. Let the answers be addressed here, and open
them both yourself when they arrive, which should be before twelve
o'clock.' The telegrams written, I took them to the office; and before
twelve came the replies, which were perfectly satisfactory. Everything
appeared to be so straightforward that I undertook the business. A
singular feature in it is that Mr. Gordon does not wish to know with
whom the child is placed. 'My lawyers will make inquiries,' he said,
'and they will be content if the people are respectable.' Dr.
Spenlove, I thought it right that you should be informed of what I
have done; you have expressed your approval, and I am satisfied. Don't
you run away with the idea that I have acted philanthropically.
Nothing of the kind, sir; I have been paid for my trouble. And now, if
you would like to ask any questions, fire away."
"Were no conditions of secrecy imposed upon you?"
"Yes; but I said that I was bound to confide in one person. He may
have thought I meant Mrs. Moss, but it was you I had in my mind. I
promised that it should go no further, and I do not intend that it
shall. Mrs. Moss will be none the worse for not being let into the
secret."
"Where is the child now?"
"In the temporary care of a respectable woman, who is providing
suitable clothing for it, Mr. Gordon having given me money for the
purpose."
"He has not spared his purse. When do you propose taking the child to
her new home?"
"To-night."
"They are good people?"
"The best in the world. I would trust my own children with them. She
cannot help being happy with them."
"Do they live in Portsmouth?"
"No; in Gosport. I think this is as much as I have the right to
disclose."
"I agree with you. Mr. Moss, you can render me an obligation, and you
can do a kindness to the poor child's mother. She has implored me to
endeavour to place this small iron box in the care of the guardians of
her child, to be retained by them for twenty-one years, or until the
mother claims it, which she will be free to do in the event of her
husband dying during her lifetime. I do not know what it contains, and
I understand that it is to be given up to no other person than the
child or her mother. Will you do this for me or for her?"
"For both of you, doctor," replied Mr. Moss, lifting the box from the
table. "It shall be given into their care, as the mother desires. And
now I must be off; I have a busy night before me. Do you go to London
to-morrow?"
"A train leaves in a couple of hours; I shall travel by that."
"Well, good-night, and good luck to you. If you want to write to me,
you know my address."
They parted with cordiality, and each took his separate way, Dr.
Spenlove to the City of Unrest, and Mr. Moss to the peaceful town of
Gosport, humming as he went, among other snatches from his favourite
opera,--
"Dio dell' or del mondo signor,
Sei possente risplendente,
Sei possente resplendente,
Culto hai tu maggior guaggiù.
Non v'ha un uom che non t'incensi
Stan prostati innanzi a te;
Ed i popolied i re;
I bei scudi tu dispensi,
Del la terra il Dio sei tu."
BOOK THE SECOND.
_RACHEL_.