IN WHICH GRIGG AND LIMPET EXPLAIN.
Time?’ asked Grigg.
‘Eleven,’ said Limpet, looking at his watch.
Grigg was tall and thin. Limpet was short and fat. Admirable lawyers
and admirable men; they made admirable partners. Solicitors to dozens
of wealthy families, tin boxes, lettered in white, lined the walls of
every room. Envious neighbours said that Grigg started in the
profession with six dozen of the said boxes, bought cheap at a sale,
and that the capital which Limpet brought into the business was a gross
more.
Of course, this was merely malice. Doubtless each one of those tin
boxes was crammed with deeds relating to millions and millions and
millions of money. The statement that Grigg kept his old hats in the
one labelled ‘His Grace the Duke of Cheshire,’ and that Limpet junior
used the one labelled ‘The Candlestick Makers’ Company’ to keep the
back files of a sporting paper from injury, is on a par with the other
malicious assertions above referred to.
Limpet junior doesn’t trouble the firm much. He used to come down
occasionally about eleven, put the kettle on in his private office, and
as soon as the water was warm enough he would wash his hands and go
home again. One day he opened a letter marked ‘Immediate,’ and put it
into his pocket in order not to forget it. He wore the same coat again
when he went to Boulogne, about six months afterwards, and he found the
letter when he wanted a bit of paper to write an I O U for £50 on, for
a gentleman who had been good enough to play cards with him at the
Establishment. He posted it home with praiseworthy promptitude. Grigg
and Limpet were sued for negligence in not attending to that letter,
and it cost them £200 to stay the proceedings. After that the partners
agreed that the less Limpet junior attended to business, the more
likely he was to be worth the salary he drew.
Grigg and Limpet are sitting opposite each other to-day in room B. All
the rooms are lettered, and this has a great effect upon clients. Faney
a business so extensive that the very rooms have to be lettered for
fear they should get mixed!
‘Time?’ says Grigg, looking up again.
‘Ten past,’ answers Limpet. ‘Time they were here,’
Limpet always says more than Grigg.
A clerk comes in.
‘Dr. Birnie, if you please, sir.’
‘Room C,’ says Grigg.
Presently another clerk comes in.
‘Mrs. Turvey, please, and a little girl.’
‘Room D,’ says Limpet.
A third clerk enters.
‘Mr. John Symonds.’
‘Room F,’ says Grigg.
The clerks having retired to do their bidding, the partners sit still
for a few minutes.
‘Time?’ says Grigg.
‘Twenty-past,’ says Limpet. ‘I think that will do.’
Clients calling on Grigg and Limpet are always kept waiting from ten
minutes to a quarter of an hour. Lawyers with such an enormous business
are never disengaged at a moment’s notice.
Grigg goes to the side of the room where several speaking-tubes are
arranged. These are lettered A, B, C, D, E, and F Malice says they all
communicate with the same office; but what will not malice say?
‘Show all parties to the Egerton case in,’ says Grigg, speaking up the
tube.
Presently the three clerks appear, bringing in the doctor, Mrs. Turvey
and Topsy, and Mr. Symonds, who, judging from his appearance, is a
seafaring man.
Grigg and Limpet bow and motion the visitors to the seats. Grigg bows
to the ladies, Limpet to the gentlemen.
‘Mr. Limpet,’ says Grigg, ‘explain matters.’
‘Ahem, ’says Limpet, ‘we have thought it better, Mr. Grigg and myself,
to ask you to attend here to-day together _in re_ Egerton. I should say
in the matter of our client, Mr. Gurth Egerton—our late client, I fear
I should say. Before taking any steps, we have thought—Mr. Grigg and
myself have thought—that it would be better to hear the evidence in
this matter, in order that we—in order that Mr. Grigg and myself might,
if possible, arrive at some definite conclusion. Ahem, ahem.’
‘Will,’ said Grigg.
‘Exactly. Thank you. The will. The will of the—I fear I must say late?’
‘Say late,’ put in Grigg.
‘Exactly; we will say late, as Mr. Grigg suggests. It is better. It is
a sad description, but I fear a truthful one.’
Mr. Limpet looked at Mr. Grigg to see if any emotion was advisable.
‘No relatives,’ muttered Grigg.
‘Exactly. There are fortunately no relatives of the deceased here, so
that we can discuss this matter calmly, without yielding to that very
natural emotion which in cases of this sort, ahem—is, ahem—is, ahem——’
‘Usual,’ suggested Grigg.
‘Exactly, which is usual. The will, as you are aware, was left in our
possession when the, I fear I must say deceased, gentleman set out to
travel abroad for the—ahem—for the——’
‘Benefit of his health,’ said Grigg.
‘Exactly, the benefit of his health. Alas! his health was not
benefited, for I fear that he is now—that he is now——’
‘Bottom of the deep blue sea,’ suggested Grigg.
‘Exactly. As Mr. Grigg poetically puts it, at the bottom of the deep
blue sea. Of course, in cases of this sort there is always a difficulty
to prove death. There is always a doubt.’
‘Beggin’ your pardon, cap’en,’ interrupted the seafaring man, ‘but I’m
qualified to speak to that there point. There ain’t any doubt about it
at all. Them as goes to the bottom of the sea where the _Boney’s Paw_
went down is gone to Davy Jones right enough.’
‘Exactly. Mr.—Mr. Symonds, thank you. But that is not the point. You
see—excuse the little humour—we can’t call Mr. Jones as a witness. Ha,
ha!’
‘Ha, ha!’ groaned Grigg. Grigg’s laugh was exactly the same as his
groan.
‘There is a doubt in law, I say; but that, of course, we shall be able
to get over. We shall prove the loss of the vessel; we shall ascertain
that Mr. Egerton was on board; that he was left on board; that he is
not among the survivors, who can all be accounted for; and that, as a
matter of fact, he is, as Mr. Grigg very sympathetically and, I may
say, very poetically observed, at the bottom of the deep blue sea—in
other words, that he is dead. You, Mr. Symonds, I believe, were the
last man to leave the vessel when the boats put off? ‘I were, cap’en.’
‘And you left Mr. Egerton on board?’
‘There was a passenger o’ that name, and I left him aboard.’
‘Both boats were picked up, I believe, by a passing vessel on the
second day?’
‘They was,’ answered Mr Symonds.
‘And you are quite certain the passenger known as Mr. Egerton was not
on board either of the boats?’
‘Sartin.’
‘I think, Dr. Birnie, that is satisfactory?’ said Limpet, turning to
the gentleman addressed.
‘Quite,’ said the doctor, with a bow.
‘Dr. Birnie, I should say, that all present may understand the
position, is left sole executor of our—I fear I must say, in fact, I
will say—our late client’s will. He therefore is interested in proving
the death of our late client. Mrs. Turvey—ahem!
‘Perhaps, Mr. Grigg, you——’
‘Certainly,’ said Grigg. Grigg always talked to the ladies. ‘Mrs.
Turvey. Madam, under the provisions of the will, you receive a legacy
of five hundred pounds. Old servant. Very proper, and all the rest of
it. Go on, Mr. Limpet.’
‘Exactly. Mrs. Turvey, therefore you also are interested in proving the
death of our late client.’
Mrs. Turvey said ‘Thank you,’ and dropped a curtsey, and wondered
whether she ought to shake hands with Grigg and Limpet or not.
‘Now,’ continued Mr. Limpet, ‘everything would be satisfactory, but for
the extraordinary statement of—Mr. Grigg, perhaps you——’
‘Certainly,’ said Grigg. ‘You see, madam, you and your daughter——’
‘Niece,’ said Mrs. Turvey, rising and curtseying.
‘Same thing. You and your niece saw a ghost. Law doesn’t acknowledge
ghosts. Either you saw Mr. Egerton, not at the bottom of the deep blue
sea, but at his own front door, which is a different place altogether.
Very, Eh? You did, you know, or you didn’t. Eh? Which?’
Mrs. Turvey rose and curtseyed to the assembly.
‘Which, if it’s the last words I ever speak, gentlemen, I see Mr.
Egerton’s ghost that night a-standing at the door, all white and
looking dreadful. My niece see it first, and she screams and I comes
up, and I shudders now to think of it. I’ll take my happydavid of it,
sir, as I’m a Christian woman; and so’ll Topsy: won’t you, dear?’
‘Yes,’ said Topsy, rather scared at being appealed to. Whether the
‘happydavid’ she was required to take was a powder or a sweetmeat,
Topsy didn’t know; but in the presence of Grigg and Limpet she would
have said ‘Yes’ to anything.
‘My good lady,’ said Grigg, ‘we don’t doubt you; but the law will.
Excuse me—mere form of words—you weren’t drunk?’
‘Lor’, no, sir; I don’t do it,’ said Mrs. Turvey, bridling up.
‘Of course not. Well, then, if sober, you saw a man, not a ghost.
Little daughter—beg pardon, niece—saw a man. Both sober; both saw same
thing. What was it? Who was it? Eh?’
‘I attended this lady,’ put in Dr. Birnie, ‘and I found her suffering
from a shock to the nervous system. I am sure she saw something. It
couldn’t have been a ghost, and I really don’t see how it could have
been the lamented Mr. Egerton.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Grigg; ‘couldn’t have been. Sea don’t give up its
dead. Eh, what is it, child?’
Topsy was fidgeting on her chair and whispering to her aunt.
‘Speak out, child,’ said Grigg.
‘Speak out, little one,’ said Limpet; ‘the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth—so help—beg pardon—of course not. Speak the
truth, child; what is it?’
‘Please, sir,’ stammered Topsy, very red and shamefaced, ‘perhaps it
were the Judgment-day.’
Grigg looked at Limpet, and Limpet looked at Grigg.
As a lady, Topsy fell to Grigg’s share.
‘Judgment-day, eh? Ridiculous—queer notion, eh? What d’ye mean, child?’
‘Please, sir, it says in the Bible that the sea will give up its dead
at the Judgment-day.’
‘Ah!—of course—good girl. Always remember Bible—queer notion. But it
isn’t the Judgment-day yet—at least, I hope not—eh, Mr. Limpet?’
Mr. Limpet shook his head gravely. Topsy, who wondered if she had said
something very wrong, hid her face behind her aunt’s back.
‘The question is,’ resumed Limpet, ‘who was the man Mrs. Turvey and the
child saw? That’s it, I think, Dr. Birnie?’
Dr. Birnie nodded.
‘It was my master, Mr. Gurth Egerton’s ghost as I see,’ exclaimed Mrs.
Turvey emphatically; ‘and nothing will turn me from that.’
Mr. Limpet turned to Mr. Symonds.
‘We have your statement and your address, I think, Mr. Symonds?’
‘Yes, sir,’ answered the seafaring gentleman, ‘my address when ashore;
but I ain’t often there. I’m mostly a little beyond the four-mile
radius.’
Mr. Limpet smiled condescendingly.
‘Then for the present we can spare you, Mr. Symonds. The firm will see
you compensated for any trouble you may be put to.’
‘Thank you, cap’en and gen’l’men, one and all,’ said Mr. Symonds; ‘and
good-morning, ladies—yours most obedient.’
Mr. Symonds made a leg, swung his hat in the nautical manner and rolled
out of the room.
‘Mrs. Turvey, for the present I hope you will remain in charge of the
house now we have found a woman to be with you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ answered Mrs. Turvey; ‘I don’t mind now I’ve company; and I
never was afeard of human beings; but ghosts I was not brought up to,
and never shall be.’
‘Certainly not, my dear madam,’ said Limpet. ‘We will send to you again
when necessary. Good-morning.’
Mrs. Turvey rose to go. She curtseyed, and led Topsy to the door.
‘Good-day, child,’ said Mr. Grigg. ‘Day of Judgment—queer notion for a
child—always remember Bible.’
When Mrs Turvey and Topsy had departed, Messrs. Grigg and Limpet had a
long and earnest conversation with Dr. Birnie, the result of which was
the drawing up of an advertisement, to be inserted in the _Times_,
requesting the present address of Mr. George Englehardt, the rescued
passenger of the _Bon Espoir_. He might be able to prove even to the
law that Gurth Egerton was dead, and his property at liberty to be
dealt with.
And when his employers were busy in room B, Mr. Jabez slipped out of
the office, and, meeting Mrs. Turvey at the door, escorted her home to
what he informed her he now looked upon as a haunted house.
‘The sort of house, Susan,’ he said, ‘which I had in my mind’s eye,
Horatio, when I wrote a few lines promiscuously, beginning:
And over all there hung a sense of fear
That e’en the boldest might well have daunted;
And apparitions made it very clear
The place was haunted,’—
which mutilation of Hood, being dramatically recited in High Holborn,
caused the passers-by to stare, and Mrs. Turvey to clutch hold of
Jabez’s arm tightly, if not lovingly.