"I say, look here! You know, Litton, I'm the last man on earth to
complain; but you know, damn it, you don't do your duty by me."
"You don't give me credit for what I do do, Elbraham, 'pon my soul you
don't!" said the gentleman addressed--a rather fashionably-dressed,
stylish young fellow of eight-and-twenty or thirty, whose hair was
closely cropped in the latest style, his well-worn clothes scrupulously
brushed, and his hands particularly white.
As he answered he screwed his glass very tightly into his eyes and gazed
at the first speaker--a little, pudgy, high-shouldered man, with a very
short neck and a very round head, slightly bald. He was carefully
dressed, and a marked point in his attire was the utter absence of
everything in the shape of jewellery or ornament. His fat white hands
did not display so much as a ring; and though a slight prominence in his
vest proclaimed the presence of a watch, it was attached to his person
by a guard of the finest black silk. His countenance, however, did not
match with the refinement of his attire, for it betrayed high living and
sensual indulgence. There was an unpleasant look, too, about his eyes;
and if to the least cultured person he had asserted in the most emphatic
manner that he was a gentleman, it would not have been believed.
But, all the same, he was a man of mark, for this was Samuel Elbraham,
the financier, the man who was reputed to have made hundreds of
thousands by his connection with the Khedive. Men in society and on
'Change joked about Elbraham, and said that he was a child of Israel,
who went down into Egypt and spoiled the Egyptians for everybody's
buying but his own. They called him Potiphar, too, and made it a
subject of jest that there was no Potiphar's wife; but they also said
that it did not matter, for these were days when people had arisen who
knew not Joseph.
Then they laughed, and wondered whether Potiphar of old went in for a
theatre, and supplied rare subsidies of hard cash to a manager, and was
very fond of taking parties of friends to his private-box to witness the
last new extravaganza, after the said friends had dined with him and
drunk his champagne.
Somehow or other, it was the friends who ate his dinners and drank his
champagne that made the most jokes about him; but though these
witticisms, real or would be, came round to him at times, they troubled
him very little.
The conversation above commenced took place in Mr Elbraham's library,
at the riverside residence at Twickenham, the handsomely-furnished place
that he, the celebrated converted Israelite, had taken of Lord
Washingtower, when a long course of ill-luck on the turf had ended in
nearly placing his lordship under the turf, for rumour said that his
terrible illness was the result of an attempt to rid himself of his woes
by a strong dose of a patent sedative medicine.
As Mr Elbraham spoke he hitched up his shoulders, thrust his hands into
his pockets, and walked up and down in front of the books he never read.
"Not give you credit for what you do?" he retorted. "Why, what do you
mean?"
"Don't talk to me like that, Elbraham, please. I'm not your servant."
"Hang it all, then, what the devil are you? I pay you regular wages."
"No. Stop, please. I accept a regulated stipend from you, Elbraham."
"Oh, very good! let's have it like that, then, Mr Rarthur Litton. I
took you up, same as I did your bills, when you were so hard hit that
you didn't know where to go for a fiver. You made certain proposals and
promises to me, and, I ask you, what have you done?"
"More than you give me credit for," was the reply, rather sullenly made.
"You dine with me, you sleep here, and make this place your home
whenever you like; and when I look for your help, as I expected, I find
that your name is in the papers as the secretary to some confounded
Small Fish Protection Society, or as managing director of the Anti-Soap
and Soda Laundry Company."
"I'm sure I've done my duty by you, Mr Elbraham," said the young man
hotly. "If you want to quarrel and get rid of me, say so."
I don't want to quarrel, and I don't mean to quarrel, Mr Rarthur
Litton. I made a bargain with you, and I mean to keep you to it. You
boasted to me of your high connections and your _entree_ into good
society, and undertook to introduce me into some of the best families,
so that I might take the position that my wealth enables me to hold.
Now, then, please, have I paid up like a man?
"Yes; you have," was the sulky response.
"And you've taken jolly good care to draw more than was your due. Now,
what have you done?"
"Well, I taught you to dress like something different to a cad."
"Humph! You did knock off my studs and rings and things."
"And I've dined with you till I've got you to be fit to eat your meals
in a Christianlike manner."
"Look here, Mr Rarthur, sir," said Elbraham hotly, "is that meant as a
sneer?"
"No; of course not."
"Oh!"
"Then I wanted time to get these things in proper course. Well, come
now, I did get you the invitation to Lady Littletown's."
"Yes; to a beggarly dinner with an old woman at Hampton. Are you going
to dine there?"
"I? No! I come in afterwards at the `at home'."
"Ah! I wanted to talk to you about that affair to-night. You promised
without my consent."
"Of course I did. It was a great chance."
"A great chance?"
"Of course. You don't know how big a thing it is to be."
"Bah! stuff! rubbish! A feed given to all the old pensioned tabbies at
Hampton Court."
"Don't you make any mistake, sir. There'll be some big people there."
"Big! Why, I could buy up dozens of them."
"Their incomes, perhaps, Mr Elbraham, but not their position and their
_entree_ to good society. Sir, you could not even buy mine."
"But I could your bills," said the other, with a grin.
"And hold them over me, you wretched little cad!" said the young man to
himself. Then aloud:
"I can assure you, Mr Elbraham, that this dinner will give you the step
you wanted. Lady Littletown stands very high in society. The Duchess
of Redesby will be there, and Lord Henry Moorpark."
"What! old Apricot--old yellow and ripe!" said Elbraham with a chuckle.
"Lord Henry Moorpark is a thorough specimen of an English nobleman, Mr
Elbraham," said the secretary stiffly; "and I consider that if the only
thing I had done was to gain you an introduction to him, I should have
earned all the wages, as you call them, that you have condescended to
pay me."
"Yes, of course--yes, to be sure. There, there, don't be so hot and
peppery, Litton. I'm a bit put out this morning. By the way, would you
have the brougham and pair or one horse?"
"Pair, decidedly," said the young man.
"You'll not go with me?"
"No; I come afterwards. You shall bring me back if you will."
"Yes; of course. I'll put some cigars in the pocket. Would you wear
the diamond studs?"
"_No_. Not a ring, even. Go in black, and hardly speak a word. Do
nothing but look the millionaire. The simpler you dress, my dear sir,
the richer they will think you."
"My dear Litton, you're a treasure--damme, that you are, sir! I say,
look here: you don't happen to want five, or ten, or twenty this
morning, do you?"
Mr Arthur Litton did happen to want twenty, not five or ten; and a
couple of crisp notes were thrust into his hand.
"Well, I suppose it's all right, Litton. I shall look out for you
there, then; but it's a deuce of a way to go."
"It's worth going to, if it were double the distance, I can assure you.
You have money; you want position."
"All right, then; that's settled. I'm going to the City now. Are you
going in?"
"No, thanks; I shall sit down and do a little writing."
"Very good; you'll find the cigars on the shelf."
"What, those cigars?" He spoke with a slight emphasis on the "those."
"No, thanks; they have too strong a flavour of a hundred-pound bill."
"What do you mean?"
"Forty pounds in cash, forty in old pale East India sherry, and twenty
in weeds."
"You're an artful one, you are, Litton--'pon my soul you are. Deuced
artful," said Mr Elbraham, with a curious puckering about the corners
of his eyes, intended to do duty for a smile. "But that reminds me,
Huish's bill falls due to-morrow--hundred pounds; mustn't forget that.
Here, pull out your case."
He unlocked a little cabinet with a tiny key, and opened two or three
drawers full of cigars, each with a paper band round its middle.
"Which is it to be?"
The young man smiled, and filled his case, selecting one as well for
present smoking. The cabinet was reclosed; there was an interchange of
nods; Elbraham went off to the station; Litton sat down and wrote a
letter, after which he made a little study of a time-table, hurried off,
and, catching a train, was soon after on his way to Hampton, where he
was just in time to catch Lady Littletown entering her carriage for a
drive.
"Ah, _mon cher_ Arthur!" she exclaimed; "you nearly missed me. There,
come in, and I'll take you part of your way back."
Litton mounted beside her ladyship, and took his seat as invited.
"Drive slowly," cried her ladyship; and as the handsome barouche, with
its well-appointed pair of bays, went gaily along the pleasant riverside
road towards the Palace, Lady Littletown turned her sharp dark eyes
searchingly upon her companion.
She was one of those elderly ladies upon whom the effect of time seems
to be that of making them sharper and possessed of a keener interest in
worldly matters, and one in whose aquiline features there was ample
promise of her proving to be a most implacable enemy if offended. Too
cautious to allow her heart to be stirred by instincts of an amatory
nature, she had found consolation in looking after the matrimonial
business of others; and hence her interest in her companion of the hour.
"Well?" she said sharply; "what news?"
"I've fixed him for certain. He would have backed out, but for a bit of
a chat this morning."
"Then the nasty, scaly, slippery gold-fish will really come?"
"Yes."
"Not disappoint me as he did Judy Millet?"
"You may depend upon him this time."
"Good boy, good boy. Now, look here, Arthur: you are behaving very well
over this, and if the affair comes off as I wish, and you behave very
nicely, I'll see next what I can do by way of finding you a wife with a
snug fortune; only you must not be too particular about her looks."
"I leave myself in your ladyship's hands."
"There, now you may get down. I'm going to make two or three calls in
the Palace."
"One moment, Lady Littletown," said Litton eagerly; "I'm just starting a
society for the preservation of ancient trees and old--"
"Now, _mon cher_, that will do," said the old lady decidedly. "You know
I never give money or--"
"I only ask for your name as a patroness or supporter."
"And you will not have it; so now be a good boy, and go. I've got your
name down upon my tablets, Arthur, so wait your time. Stop!"
The horses were checked; the footman descended and opened the door,
rattling the steps loudly; Arthur Litton leaped out, raised his hat;
Lady Littletown kissed the tips of her gloved fingers to him, and the
carriage passed on.
"I wonder whether she will," said the young man, as he walked towards
the station. "However, we shall see."
Volume 1, Chapter X.