SMITH AND CO. AT WORK.
The firm of Smith and Co. was not an old-established business.
The gentlemen connected with it had for a long time traded on their own
account, but it was only quite recently that their talents had been
united for the benefit of the joint-stock enterprise. The founder of
Smith and Co. and the principal partner was, as the reader has probably
surmised, Mr. Edward Marston.
Directly that gentleman had secured the necessary capital to make a
fresh start in life, he had resolved to give his dormant business
talent a chance of distinguishing itself. His ten years’ American
experience had been of the utmost value to him, and soon after his
visit to Birnie chance flung him into the company of a gentleman who
was looking out for a good working partner in a commercial speculation.
Mr. Walter Brooks and Mr. Edward Marston, laying their heads together,
conceived the idea of starting in business in the City as financial
agents. Mr. Brooks had a peculiar talent for imitating handwriting, and
Mr. Marston acquired in America the knowledge of a process by which
signatures could be transferred from one piece of paper to another in a
manner that would defy detection.
But Mr. Marston had not round him the ‘workmen’ who were necessary
before this knowledge could be utilized on an extensive scale.
Mr. Brooks, on the contrary, was acquainted with several gentleman who
in the course of their business frequently came into possession of
blank cheques. Furthermore, he was intimately connected with Mr. Seth
Preene, a gentleman who had some mysterious connection with the police,
and yet was willing to ‘represent’ the firm of Smith and Co., and act
as traveller or confidential agent as circumstances required. Messrs.
Brooks and Marston saw at once how remarkably useful they could be to
each other; a partnership was formed, and Mr. Brooks let it be known
that he was in the market for blank cheques.
Hitherto these articles had not been of much value. They were generally
filled in for a few pounds, signed with a fancy name, and passed off
upon ignorant tradespeople.
But the process was slow and uncertain, and accompanied by considerable
risk.
Tradespeople were rapidly losing the first bloom of innocence, and
cheques from unknown customers were regarded with considerable
suspicion.
Marston with his capital and his process, and Brooks with his
connection and experience, saw means of converting what was at present
a drug in the market into a highly remunerative investment.
Brooks was to be the working partner, Marston was to be the capitalist
and secret director, and the two together were to be ‘Smith and Co.’
A small furnished office was to be taken, a week’s rent being paid in
advance, and a clerk was to be secured by advertisement.
The clerk was required to present the cheques. If the operation was
successful, Smith and Co. would vacate their office at once, and turn
up in another part of the City, ready to go on again. If the operation
failed, the clerk would be detained. Smith and Co. would take
precautions to have an early knowledge of the fact, and it is hardly
probable that the manager would be found at his office on the return of
the clerk, accompanied by the police.
Such was the nature of the business of the firm in whose service Mr.
George Smith hoped to rise to a position of independence. It is
needless to say that he played the _rôle_ intended for him. He was
merely an innocent tool in the hands of the clever rogues.
George had only presented one cheque for the firm at present. It was
for £250, and drawn by Blumson and Co. George brought the money back
all right, and the next day he was sent to an office of the firm in
quite a different part of the City.
Now, when Mr. Boss Knivett delivered the cheque-book stolen from the
tail-pocket of Mr. Limpet, junior, to Mr. Preene, who in due course
handed it over to Mr. Brooks, the latter gentleman found it necessary
to consult the senior partner.
Mr. Brooks had no knowledge of the signature of Messrs. Grigg and
Limpet.
He called at Eden Villa early the next morning and laid the case before
Mr. Marston.
‘We must get the firm’s signature somehow, and then run the cheque for
£500. Lawyers keep big balances; they’ve always a lot of their clients’
money.’
‘That’s all very well,’ said Mr. Brooks, removing the wig and gold
spectacles, in which he generally went abroad when there Was any reason
why he should avoid recognition; ‘but how are we to get the signature?’
‘I have it!’ exclaimed Marston, after thinking a moment.
‘Go and buy a shilling bill-stamp, and give me your acceptance in your
own name and at your private address for £100. Date it four months
back, and draw it for three, so that it will be a month overdue now.’
Mr. Brooks didn’t quite see what the senior partner’s idea was, but he
did as he was requested. He went out and purchased a shilling stamp in
the neighbourhood, and returned to Eden Villa to fill it up and accept
it in accordance with Marston’s instructions.
‘Now,’ said Marston, when it was finished, ‘leave the rest to me.’
Directly Mr. Brooks had gone, Mr. Marston took a hansom and drove over
to Birnie’s.
Dr. Birnie was in, and on this occasion Rebecca admitted the visitor
without any preliminary parleying through the flap. Mr. Edward Marston
was a very different-looking person in his faultless clothes to the
seedy-looking fellow who had once aroused Rebecca’s suspicions as to
the honesty of his intentions.
‘Well, Marston,’ said the doctor, as his visitor was ushered in, ‘come
to see me again?’
‘Yes, old fellow, and of course I want a favour.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it. The favours you generally want are expensive
ones.’
‘You’re needlessly rude, Birnie,’ answered Marston, eyeing his old
companion disdainfully. ‘I’ve never asked you for anything but the
payment of a just debt. I am happy to say I am now quite independent of
the assistance of my _friends_.’
He spoke the last word with a scornful accent.
As soon as Birnie understood that Marston had not come to him for
money, his manner changed, and he was as cordial as he had previously
been cold.
‘Excuse me, old boy,’ he said, ‘if I was rude; but I’ve been a good
deal worried and overworked lately, and I’m tetchy. What can I do for
you?’
‘Give me an introduction to your solicitors, Grigg and Limpet.’
‘What the deuce do you want with solicitors, Ned?’ said Birnie, with a
look of genuine astonishment.
‘Well, you see, I’ve followed your example and Gurth’s—I’ve gone up in
the world a little. I’ve had a bit of luck, and I’ve got some property
coming to me. I want a respectable firm of solicitors. I thought you
wouldn’t object to give me a letter to yours.’
Birnie hesitated a moment. He was afraid of Marston. Still, he thought
to himself, if it was anything wrong he wouldn’t go to Grigg and
Limpet.
‘You hesitate,’ said Marston, watching Birnie’s countenance. ‘What’s
your objection?’
‘None, my dear boy,’ answered the doctor hastily. ‘Of course I’ll give
it you. Glad to do anything I can for you.’
While the doctor was writing the letter of introduction for Marston to
take to Grigg and Limpet, the latter turned to the mantelpiece, where
several visiting-cards were lying about.
He handled them carelessly till he came to one which he lifted up and
looked at eagerly.
‘Hullo!’ he said, ‘then Gurth’s been here?’
‘Yes,’ said Birnie, still writing.
‘I saw a paragraph in the papers that he’d been saved from the wreck
after all, and carried back to America by a passing vessel, but I
didn’t know he was in town.’
‘Yes; he’s been back some time.’
‘Where’s he staying?’
Birnie hesitated. Should he tell him? After all, if he didn’t, Marston
could soon find out. Let Egerton take care of himself. If Marston
wanted to bleed him, he would, and nothing could stop him. Still Birnie
didn’t like the idea of anyone but himself having any influence over
Gurth, and for very good reasons.
He hesitated so long that Marston repeated the question.
‘Oh, I really don’t know for certain,’ answered the doctor, folding his
note and handing it in an open envelope to his visitor; ‘but I suppose
he’ll be at his town house for a little time.’
‘Where’s that?’
Birnie gave him the address. After all, he wasn’t committing an
indiscretion, for it was in the Post Office Directory. People of a
certain position in life are doomed. They may hide their heads in the
sand of fancied privacy as much as they like, but the agents of Messrs.
Kelly and Co. can see them. He who aspires to the dignity of rates,
taxes, and a vote cannot shield himself from the fierce light of
publicity which falls upon a registered address in the Post Office
Directory.
Marston thanked Birnie for the note and the information, and, lighting
a cigar in the hall, was smiled to the front by Rebecca, who had been
won over with a florin. It was Marston’s business now to make friends
wherever he went.
At the door the hansom that had brought him was still waiting.
He gave the driver Grigg and Limpet’s address, and was rapidly whirled
up Lilac Tree Road and out of sight.
Birnie went back into his study and sat for a moment in deep thought.
‘I wonder what the deuce he’s up to now!’ he said to himself. ‘Some
deep-laid scheme, or he’s altered considerably since the old days. It’s
devilish unfortunate his turning up at all. Gurth’s a fool, but this
man’s a rogue, and you never know how to be prepared for a rogue.’
It was hard on Birnie, now that he had settled down into a sober,
useful, respectable life, that the fellow should turn up again and
presume on their old acquaintanceship. And now if he was going to get
thick with Egerton again. ‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Birnie, ‘I’ll nip that
little game in the bud if I find it necessary.’
The next morning Mr. Brooks received a letter at his residence which
very much astonished him.
It was a letter from Messrs. Grigg and Limpet, informing him that they
were instructed by Mr. Edward Marston to require the immediate payment
of £100 and expenses on his dishonoured acceptance. To avoid further
proceedings, Mr. Brooks was requested to remit the amount without
delay.
Mr. Brooks went off: to Eden Villa at once.
‘What the dickens does this mean?’ he exclaimed, flinging down the
lawyers’ letter on the table.
Marston looked at it and laughed.
‘It means I am going to show what can be done with capital and brains
combined. Take this and pay your just debts at once, sir.’
Marston drew a hundred-pound note from his pocket-book and handed it to
Brooks. Mr. Brooks took it mechanically.
‘I’m blest if I see what you’re up to now,’ he said.
‘That shows how much your firm stood in need of new blood. Send this
note and the few shillings expenses, and then Grigg and Limpet will
have recovered the debt.’
‘And they’ll hand the money over to you,’ said Brooks. ‘I don’t see
where the pull comes in.’
‘Brooks, I’ve a great respect for you as a man of business, but, upon
my word, your faculties are beginning to fail. Grigg and Limpet will
remit this money to me _by cheque_.’
‘Oh!’
That was all Mr. Brooks said, but it contained a whole dictionary of
words. It was an ‘Oh!’ of sudden revelation, of admiration, of ecstasy,
and of triumph.
Marston watched the effect of his brilliant idea on his companion with
pleasure. It was his desire to dazzle all men with whom he came into
contact, to stand a head and shoulders above his fellows. Now that he
had what he was pleased to call ‘a fair start,’ his ambition was
boundless.
His feet, at present, were on lowly stepping-stones; as he progressed,
and the field of fortune opened out before him in a series of golden
vistas, he would spurn the humble instruments of his advancement from
him, and reign unquestioned and unchallenged in a new world.
‘Brooks, my boy,’ he said, when that gentleman had got over his mingled
admiration and enthusiasm, ‘I am only at the beginning of the work I
have to do. I am afraid you won’t be able to go very far on the road
with me if you don’t brighten up a bit.’
Mr. Brooks hoped Mr. Marston would always be able to make use of his
services.
‘Well, it will be time enough to talk about it when I can’t. At any
rate, we won’t dissolve partnership till there’s a rattling good profit
to divide. Now cut back to the office and send your messenger to the
solicitors with the money. They’ve promised to remit me at once if they
recover it, as I’ve said I’m leaving town. I shall have their cheque
to-morrow, and then we can set to work.’
‘Shall I come up to you to-morrow?’
‘No, I think not. I’ll come down to the office to you. There’s no
danger over the other cheque, I suppose? The office isn’t watched?’
‘No; Preene’s got the matter in hand, and he’s put the Yard on the
wrong scent altogether. I shall have the tip from him if there should
be danger.’
‘Very well, then, I’ll come round at eleven if I receive the cheque.
Get your clerk out of the way, so that you are alone when I come.
Good-morning.’
Mr. Marston bowed Mr. Brooks out and returned to his library to finish
his cigar and a romance he was reading when his partner interrupted
him.
Mr. Marston had just got to the death of the heroine, a very lovable
character. The description of her last hours was most pathetically
drawn by the author, and, as Marston read, the big lump came in his
throat and his eyes filled with tears.
Mr. Marston had a most sympathetic nature, and any story of human
suffering distressed him immensely.