MR. JABEZ MAKES A DISCOVERY.
Her master having once again departed on his travels, Mrs. Turvey had
plenty of leisure to attend to her own business, and the most important
business she had on hand was Jabez.
If the elderly clerk of Messrs. Grigg and Limpet had some reason to
complain of Mr. Gurth Egerton coming home in the unexpected manner
which has been fully related in the earlier chapters of this veracious
narrative, he had also cause to complain of his equally abrupt
departure, for it left him completely at the housekeeper’s mercy.
She gave him no peace. She pursued him, to use one of his own poetic
images, like the hunter pursues the deer; and really, in the way Jabez
endeavoured to evade the Nimrod in petticoats, he was uncommonly like
that timid quadruped.
If he saw her at the top of the street he dodged round a corner and
ran. If she called at the office, he hid and sent word he was out.
Perhaps this latter practice is hardly in keeping with the habits of
the deer, and therefore the simile breaks down. Jabez broke down at
last. He gave in, as a weak-minded man always does if he is only
resolutely hunted by a plucky sportswoman.
He found it better to hark back to his old tactics and dissemble; and
thus it came about that during Mr. Egerton’s absence he was a frequent
patron of Mr. Egerton’s tea and Mr. Egerton’s toast.
Now, upon several occasions there was a third party to these little
festive gatherings, and Jabez was by no means sorry for it, though when
he was introduced to the party aforesaid, and found him a railway guard
and brother to his lady-love, he had a strong opinion that his presence
was part of a deep-laid plot.
‘He’s to be a witness, ’thought Jabez to himself. ‘Susan’s to draw me
out, and he is to hear what I say. Jabez, my boy, be on your guard—your
railway guard.’
Jabez giggled at his own little joke, and he would doubtless have
shone, but Mrs. Turvey had taken the shine out of him. His friends had
long remarked the disappearance of his shininess. They declared him to
have become remarkably dull.
One evening, when Jabez arrived by appointment, he found Mr. and Mrs.
Turvey in earnest conversation. After tea Mrs. Turvey asked him, with a
pleasant smile, if he would do her a favour. She particularly wanted to
go out with her brother for half an lour, and she did not wish to leave
the house empty.
The servant had gone out for her monthly holiday. Would Jabez kindly
remain and smoke his pipe and make himself comfortable by the fire
until Mrs. Turvey returned?
Mr. Turvey joined his requests to those of his sister. It was his last
night in London. He had left his old employment as a railway guard, and
was going into business in the north of England. His sister was just
going to help him pack up his traps, etc., for he’d lost his right
hand, Miss Topsey having gone out to service as a nursemaid.
Jabez was quite willing to oblige without such a long explanation.
In fact, an idea had suddenly occurred to Mr. Duck which rendered him
personally anxious to be left alone in Gurth Egerton’s house.
When the brother and sister were gone, not without sundry injunctions
from the lady to Jabez to be careful and not to be frightened of noises
and ghosts, etc., that gentleman, instead of lighting his pipe and
sitting down to a comfortable smoke, hunted about, found a candle, lit
it, and stood still, in an attitude of deep consideration.
‘I’ll search the house from top to bottom but I’ll find’em, if they
ain’t locked up,’ he said. ‘At any rate I can read’em, and see how far
I have committed myself.’
Having first carefully examined the sitting-room, looked in all the
cupboards, boxes, and chimney ornaments, Jabez proceeded, candle in
hand, to find out where Mrs. Turvey’s other apartments were situated.
It was a very improper proceeding on his part—a mean and despicable
trick, which should have caused him to blush, and which will, I am
sure, gentle reader, cause you to blush for him. I will not attempt to
palliate his offence. It was shocking, but he did it; and we are
compelled, in our position of faithful chronicler and attentive reader,
to look on. But we have recorded our protest, and done our duty so far.
Jabez soon found the room dedicated to the slumbers of his Susan.
It was full of little boxes and baskets, all of which Jabez
deliberately rummaged in his search for something which he had set his
heart on finding.
But his diligence was not rewarded.
The time passed on, and his search grew hurried. He did not know how
much longer he would be undisturbed. Susan had a latch-key, and could
let herself in at any minute.
He would put up the chain at the front door. He could easily say he was
nervous.
The idea was no sooner conceived than it was carried out. Now, he was
secure from surprise. Now, he could continue his investigations without
alarm.
Routing about, Jabez dragged some boxes out of a corner. One was a
trunk—one of those old-fashioned mottled-paper covered trunks, which
servants used when their dresses were made without flounces and could
be folded small.
Holding the candle, and peering down, he was astonished to find a key
in the lock. It was one of a bunch: there were a dozen on the ring.
‘Hum!’ exclaimed Jabez; ‘here’s a bit of luck. Now if I only knew where
those precious letters are, I could get them as easy as anything.’
Inside the trunk there was something which excited Jabez’s curiosity
directly. It was a cash-box, and it was locked.
‘There!’ he muttered; ‘that’s where she keeps her savings. I wonder
what she’s got. Perhaps the letters are there.’ He rattled the box, but
there was no responding chink.
He took the keys and tried them one after the other.
The last one fitted.
He turned it, and the secrets of Mrs. Turvey’s cash-box were at his
mercy.
He lifted the lid and examined the contents. At first a look of
astonishment overspread his features, and then the long-absent shine
came back to his face once more. It broadened and spread over his bald
head—it deepened and wrapped him in one vast smile of joy.
He drew a long breath, closed the box, put it carefully away, and then
executed a small war-dance all to himself, knocking over two chairs and
causing the toilet-table to rock in response to his elephantine
gambols.
‘Hang the letters!’ he exclaimed; ‘I don’t want’em now. Who’d a thought
it? Who’d a thought it?’
Who, indeed, Mr. Jabez?
Who could have imagined that hidden away in her cash-box Mrs. Turvey
had the savings of a lifetime, all invested in substantial securities,
with interest-bearing coupons payable to bearer, and amounting to the
good round sum of one thousand pounds?
‘Oh, she’s a deep un!’ exclaimed Jabez, mopping his shiny brow; ‘she
isn’t artful at all! Oh no; certainly not. Ah, Susan, my dear, if you’d
only have told me this, what a lot of trouble you would have saved
yourself and me. A thousand pounds! It’s yours, Jabez, my boy. It’s in
your pocket. I can feel it there.’
Jabez gave his pocket an anticipatory pat of approval. Then he put
everything tidy, blew out the candle, took the chain down from the
front-door, and seated himself by the parlour fire, the prettiest
picture of innocence and contentment imaginable.
In about an hour Susan returned. She was loud in her apologies, but
Jabez silenced her at once. In his most winning manner he assisted her
off with her shawl. He was so agreeable Mrs. Turvey looked round to see
if he’d found the whisky bottle.
‘Sit down, Susan, my love; I have something to say to you,’ he
whispered, leading Mrs. Turvey to a seat.
Then he poured out his affections. Then, with all the poetry he was
capable of without referring to his Complete Edition of the Poets at
home, he told the astonished spinster how his cold and cruel conduct
had been a cloak under which he disguised his real sentiments! How he
had deceived her in order to test the reality of her affection for him!
Mrs. Turvey was completely nonplussed. It was so unexpected. But she
was too wise a woman to play the prude now. She had angled too long for
her fish to hesitate about bringing it to the bank when it had bitten.
There and then Jabez received the assurance of complete forgiveness,
there and then all differences were cleared up, the happy day more than
hinted at, and the contract sealed with a solid and substantial kiss,
that sounded through the great house and echoed along the untrodden
corridors.
Singing to himself and shining on everyone, Jabez trotted home that
evening in the seventh heaven of delight. A great trouble—the fear of
an action for breach and publicity for his poetic effusions—had
vanished, and he had found his hitherto repugnant lady-love an heiress
blessed with a thousand golden charms.
Jabez was so polite and agreeable that evening at home that Georgina
was quite astonished. She also noticed the sudden reappearance of his
long-lost shininess.
She teased him; but it was no good—he shone. She contra-dieted him—he
shone. She gave him a piece of dry cheese and some flat beer left from
dinner for his supper—he shone. She turned the gas off at the meter and
went to bed early, leaving him alone with the candle in the parlour,
but still he shone. And after Georgina had retired, he pulled the
guttering scrap of candle allowed him nearer to his elbow, produced a
lead-pencil and a piece of paper, and commenced to compose an
advertisement:
MR. JABEZ DUCK, for many years CONFIDENTIAL CLERK with Messrs. GRIGG &
LIMPET, begs to inform the Nobility and Gentry he has OPENED a PRIVATE
INQUIRY OFFICE. Investigations conducted with the Greatest Secrecy and
Dispatch.’
To start a private inquiry office, have secrets poured into his ear,
and to revel in an atmosphere of mystery, was the dream of his life.
Susan and her thousand would enable him to turn his dream into an
absolute reality.