My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and authoritative
in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can do fretwork, cook a
steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong with the gas, and understand
Waterloo Station; in an emergency he is invaluable. This is just as
well, because destiny has decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING
shall be a series of emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor
quarters at the very top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in
Bloomsbury.
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One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his Club;
after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his flat for a
talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make coffee, which is
a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, nor, indeed, at many
others. So I consented.
We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, and had
just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a very marked
and curious smell. "There's something wrong about this," remarked
GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, out of a nervous
politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, that I rather liked the
smell, "Then you're an idiot," said GIDLING, who never suffers from
politeness at all. He opened the door of his sitting-room, and then we
saw at once what was the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on
fire; the fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had
fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," remarked
GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular intervals becomes
incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says that it is influenza, and
speaks of "another of them relapses;" GIDLING thinks that it is as
a rule intoxication. As a matter of fact HANKIN would not be a bad
servant if his zeal was distributed over him rather more evenly. It
is always either excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In
neglecting to have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the
way that he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently
absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount of
wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry.
"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a practical
man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire brigades. No,
not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of this kind." He went
into his bed-room, and returned with the water-jug. An iron ladder
from the main staircase led through a trap-door in the roof. GIDLING
went up this ladder with the water-jug, while I waited to see the
result in the sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the
roof, and I looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the
chimney into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING
descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug.
"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came down at
all."
"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong chimney. We'd
better clear out of this."
At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good deal to him.
HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went back again to the
Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me for laughing about his
mistake.
"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went down
somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That means
unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did it."
"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked.
"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below mine--they are really
most charming people, and I hope to goodness it wasn't their chimney
that I poured the water down. I'm on rather friendly terms with them.
Then on the first floor there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected
ape. I only hope it was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's
rather amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE
(that's the Art-student), and she loathes him--at least I believe so.
Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, I hope that was
BUDWELL's chimney, not the other."
It turned out afterwards that it _was_ BUDWELL's chimney, and he found
out that it was GIDLING who had done the deed. So BUDWELL determined
on revenge. He climbed up on to the roof with a large bath-can of
water, intending to empty it down GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to
be labelled. The whole of the contents of that can descended into Mrs.
VANE's fireplace. BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use.
They considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only
a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well pleased
at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the place for a
cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss VANE.
BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his misfortunes. He
had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, which was irrational of
him; and he determined to take a still fiercer revenge. Late at night
he conveyed the bath-can and several jugs, all full of water, on to
the roof. There was no fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by
mistake this time. One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can,
and then descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he
thought of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place.
But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had emptied all that
water down his own chimney.
After that he gave up his revenges, together with his affections and
his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with considerable unction;
the facts of it were partly derived from BUDWELL's servant and partly
from Miss VANE--with whom GIDLING is beginning to be on more than
friendly terms.
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