_The Close of One Epoch._
Before retiring to rest, Philip ascertained Mr. Abingdon's London
address, and wrote asking for an appointment the following evening.
He also interviewed the manager.
"I want the help of a thoroughly reliable solicitor," he said. "I wish
to purchase some property--not valuable property, but of importance to
me. Can you give me the address of some one known to you?"
M. Foret named a reputable firm in the locality.
"They may refer to you," added Philip. "Of course, I do not ask you to
say more than that I am staying here, but the point is, I do not wish
you to mention my age."
"Will you not see them, then?"
"No. I will endeavor to conduct the whole business by post."
The manager laughed.
"You certainly are the coolest young gentleman I ever met. However, Mr.
Anson, it may please you to know that your bank gave you the best of
recommendations. I will say so to anybody."
So Philip first drafted and then copied the following letter:
"DEAR SIRS: M. Foret, of this hotel, has given me your names as a
firm likely to transact certain negotiations for me. I want to
purchase a small property in the Mile End Road, known as Johnson's
Mews; also a shop near the entrance to the mews, tenanted by a
marine-store dealer named O'Brien. The mews is owned by the Cardiff
and Havre Coal Company, Ltd. I do not know who owns the shop. I
wish to acquire these properties for a philanthropic purpose, but I
am most desirous that my name should not figure in the transaction.
I propose, therefore, when you have ascertained the price, which
should be at the earliest possible moment, to pay to your credit
the requisite amount. You can have the properties transferred to
any nominee you choose, and again transferred to me. Kindly add
your costs, etc., to the purchase price. My movements are somewhat
uncertain, so please send all communications by letter. It will be
an obligation, and lead to future business, if you attend to this
matter to-morrow morning. Yours faithfully,
"PHILIP ANSON."
He did not compose this letter without considerable trouble. The
"philanthropic purpose" he had already decided upon, but he thought it
was rather clever to refer to the possibilities of "future business."
As for the double transfer, he distinctly remembered copying letters
dealing with several such transactions at the time of the coal company's
conversion into a limited liability concern.
He was early to bed, and his rest was not disturbed by dreams. He rose
long before the ordinary residents. Deferring his breakfast, he walked
to Fleet Street and purchased copies of morning and evening papers for
the whole of the week.
He could thus enjoy the rare luxury of seeing himself as others saw him.
He read the perfervid descriptions of the scene in court, and found
himself variously described as "pert," "masterful," "imperious," "highly
intelligent," "endowed with a thin veneer of education," and
"affected."
Philip could afford to laugh at the unfavorable epithets. Up to the age
of thirteen, he had been trained in a first-rate lycée, and his work was
supervised by his mother, a woman of very great culture. He spoke French
as well as English, and spoke both admirably. He knew some Greek and
Latin, was well advanced in arithmetic, and had a special penchant for
history and geography.
It was in the glowing articles which appeared during his imprisonment
that he took the keenest interest. Oddly enough, one ingenious
correspondent blundered onto a clew. Gifted with an analytical mind, he
had reasoned that the diamond-laden meteor fell during the extraordinary
storm of the nineteenth, and the Meteorological Department in Victoria
Street helped him by describing the center of the disturbance as
situated somewhat to the east of the London Hospital.
This writer had actually interviewed a member of the staff of that
institution who amused himself by noting barometrical vagaries. His
instrument recorded an extraordinary increase of pressure soon after ten
o'clock on the night of the storm.
"Alas!" added the scribe, "it did not indicate where the meteor fell,
and not a policeman, 'bus driver or railway official can be found who
observed anything beyond a phenomenal electrical display and a violent
downpour of rain."
That was too close to be pleasant, and Philip was glad to hear from M.
Foret that the solicitors, after telephoning to ask for some particulars
concerning Mr. Anson, were giving prompt attention to his instructions.
"What did you tell them?" asked Philip.
"I said that you impressed me as the kind of young gentleman who would
pay well for services given unsparingly."
"Did that satisfy them?"
"Perfectly. Such clients do not abound in these hard times."
Three hours later, a letter came for "Philip Anson, Esq.," by hand. It
was from the solicitors, and read:
"We are in receipt of your esteemed instructions. Although Saturday
is a day on which it is difficult to do business, we lost no time
in inspecting the premises in the Mile End Road, accompanied by a
surveyor. We found that the mews stand approximately on an area of
three thousand two hundred superficial feet, while the shop
tenanted by O'Brien has a frontage on the main road of eighteen
feet, with a probable depth of thirty or thirty-five feet. The
owner of this shop is a resident in the neighborhood, and he will
accept four hundred and fifty pounds for the freehold.
"We were fortunate in finding the managing director of the Cardiff
and Havre Coal Company, Ltd., at his office. Although the company
require the mews for the purpose of a depot, they are not unwilling
to sell, with a stipulation that the premises shall not be used by
any competing company during a period of twenty years from the date
of transfer. We stated that the site was required for a
philanthropic purpose, but the latter stipulation is insisted on.
The price asked is two thousand two hundred pounds, which we
consider excessive, there being a very inadequate approach.
Moreover, we wish to point out that O'Brien's shop does not adjoin
the mews, and it would be necessary to purchase two other houses to
make the entire property a compact one.
"However, adhering to the letter of your instructions, we have
pleasure in informing you that the two properties can be acquired
with very little delay, for two thousand six hundred and fifty
pounds. The legal and other charges will not exceed one hundred and
fifty pounds. We trust, etc."
Philip immediately wrote:
"I am greatly obliged by your promptitude in the matter of
Johnson's Mews and the shop. I inclose check herewith for two
thousand eight hundred pounds. The purchase of the other houses can
stand over for a few days."
This he dispatched by special messenger, and in a few minutes he held a
formal receipt.
A telegram came for him. It was from Mr. Abingdon.
"Can see you after six at my house."
Then Philip enjoyed his first real breathing space during hours of
daylight. He went by train to the cemetery in which his mother was
buried, carrying with him a beautiful wreath.
It was a remarkable fact that this was the first visit he had paid to
her grave. During the days of misery and partial madness which followed
her death he never lost the delusion that her spirit abided with him in
the poor dwelling they called "home."
Hence, the narrow resting place beneath the green turf in no way
appealed to him. But now, that a succession of extraordinary external
events had restored the balance of his mind, he realized that she was
really dead and buried; that what he revered as her spirit was in truth
a fragrant memory; that he would be nearest to her mortal remains when
standing in the remote corner of the burial ground allotted to the
poorest of the poor--those removed by one degree from pauperdom and a
parish grave.
It happened, by mere chance, that since Mrs. Anson's funeral no one had
been interred on one side of the small space purchased for her. There
were three vacant plots here, and a surprised official told Philip there
would be no difficulty in acquiring these for the purpose of erecting a
suitable monument.
The boy filled in the necessary forms there and then. It was some
consolation to know that he could perpetuate her memory in this way,
though he had formulated another project which should keep her name
revered through the ages.
On the site of Johnson's Mews should arise the Mary Anson Home for
Destitute Boys. He would build a place where those who were willing to
work and learn would be given a chance, and not driven, starving and
desperate, to pick up an existence in the gutter.
He was too young to devise all the details of such a splendid
institution, but he had got the idea and would possess the money. He
would leave the practical part of the undertaking to older heads.
The one essential feature was that generations yet unborn should learn
to love and honor the name of Mary Anson. Provided that were achieved,
he knew the work would be successful.
Soon after leaving the cemetery he came face to face with Bradley, the
policeman, who was in plain clothes, and walking with a lady, obviously
Mrs. Bradley, judging by the matronly manner in which she wheeled a
perambulator containing a chubby infant.
"Well, I'm blowed!" cried the policeman, "who would have thought of
meeting you! I looked in at the mews last night, but you had gone. Some
one is looking after you pretty well; eh?"
He cast a patronizing eye over Philip's garments, which were, of course,
considerably smarter in appearance than those in which the constable had
seen him on Thursday evening.
"Yes," said Philip. "I am in good hands now."
"They haven't given you a watch?" This anxiously.
"No. I am watchless."
"That's right. You'll have one soon. The inspector has your address. By
the way, he wants to know your Christian name."
"Philip."
"Thanks. I won't forget."
Philip raised his hat and took the quickest route westward. He did not
count on being recognized so easily.
Mr. Abingdon received him with some degree of reserve. The magistrate
could not understand the receipt of a letter bearing the address of the
Pall Mall Hotel, a place where he had been entertained at dinner
occasionally by one of his wealthy friends, but which was far removed
from the limit imposed on the pocket of any man whose resources depended
on the exercise of an ordinary profession.
But Philip still figured in his mind as a ragged urchin. Not even the
skilled police magistrate could picture him as the actual owner of
millions of pounds worth of portable property. Hence, the boy's
appearance now told in his favor. Cursory impressions soon yielded to
positive bewilderment when Philip began to relate his story faithfully
from beginning to end, neither exaggerating nor suppressing any salient
detail save the actual locality where his astounding adventures found
their center and genesis.
Mr. Abingdon did not doubt for one moment that the boy was telling the
truth. The romance of his narrative was far beyond fiction.
Philip himself grew enthusiastic as he went on. His brown eyes blazed
again with the memory of his wrath and shame at the arrest. He told the
magistrate exactly how the proceedings in court had affected him, and
gave a vivid picture of his bargaining with Isaacstein, the packing of
the diamonds, the fight between the policeman and a burglar, his
interviews with all sorts and conditions of men, and the ruses he had
adopted to preserve his secret.
At last he came to the transaction which secured for him the ownership
of the mews itself. He read copies of his letters to the solicitors, and
their replies, and then, of course, the magistrate knew where the meteor
had fallen.
"That is a very clever move on your part," he said, smiling. "It invests
you with all the rights and usages of that particular piece of earth,
and effectually stops anyone from disputing your possession of the
meteor. How did you come to think of it?"
"You put the idea into my mind, sir," said Philip, modestly.
"I? In what manner?"
"You hinted, at our last meeting, that some one might lay claim to my
diamonds on the ground that they had fallen on their property. I do not
intend that anyone living, except yourself, shall ever know the history
of my meteor, but I thought it best to buy the place outright in the
first instance, and then devote it to a charity which I intend to found
in memory of my mother."
Mr. Abingdon smiled again.
"Your confidence is very flattering," he said. "I suppose you took up
your quarters at the Pall Mall Hotel in order to impress people with
your importance and secure instant compliance with your wishes?"
"That was my motive, sir."
"Then, my young millionaire, in what way do you wish me to serve you? Of
course, you have not sought this interview and told me your story so
unreservedly without an ulterior object in view? You see, I am beginning
to understand you already a little better than when we first met."
Philip did not reply immediately. He did not want to risk a refusal, and
he was not yet quite sure that the magistrate fully comprehended the
extent of the fortune which had been showered on him from nature's own
mint.
"When Mr. Isaacstein returns from Amsterdam he will pay me something
like forty thousand pounds," he said.
"Yes. It would seem so from the receipt you have shown me."
"That will be determined on Wednesday next at the latest."
"Yes."
"If the money is forthcoming it will be proof positive that my diamonds
are of good quality, and, as I picked up these dirty stones quite
promiscuously, it follows that the others are of the same standard?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Well, Mr. Abingdon, I can form no estimate of their collective value,
but they must be worth many millions. According to Mr. Isaacstein's
views, I will be able to command a revenue of between a quarter and half
a million sterling per annum."
"It is marvelous, perfectly appalling in some senses," cried the
perturbed lawyer, throwing up his hands in the extremity of his
amazement.
"You are right, sir. I am only a boy, and the thing is beyond my powers.
I can see quite clearly that while I ought to be at college obtaining a
proper education, I will be worrying about the care of great sums of
money. I do not know anything about investments. How should I?
Isaacstein is a Jew, and he will probably endeavor very soon to get the
better of me in the necessary business transactions. How can I stop him?
I have no older relatives, no friends whom I can trust. For some reason,
I do feel that I can have faith in you. Will you take charge of my
affairs, advise me during the next few years, tell me how to act as my
mother would have told me--in a word, become my guardian?"
For a little while Mr. Abingdon was silent. When words came he could
only gasp:
"You certainly are the most extraordinary boy I have ever encountered."
Then Philip laughed merrily.
"I don't think, sir, that I am so much an extraordinary boy as a boy who
has been pitchforked into an extraordinary position. I hope most
sincerely that you will do what I ask. If I may say so without
presumption, it will be a good thing for you. I suppose a man who looks
after millions of money is entitled to a vastly bigger income than one
who sits hours in a police court dealing with offenses against the law."
"Such has certainly been my experience," said the magistrate, who
appreciated the nice manner in which Philip hinted at a good, fat salary
for controlling the estate of the King of Diamonds.
"Then you agree," cried Philip, joyously.
"Not so fast, my youthful friend. Even a police magistrate must bow to
his wife. Mrs. Abingdon would never forgive me if I took such an
important step without consulting her. Will you remain to dinner?"
Then Philip knew that he had gained his point. Nothing was said before
the servants, but when they were cozily ensconced in the library before
a pleasant fire, he was asked to relate again his entrancing history for
Mrs. Abingdon's benefit.
That good lady was overwhelmed. She, like everybody else, had read the
newspapers, and, of course, had the additional benefit of her husband's
views on the subject of the unkempt boy with his small parcel of
valuable gems.
But the presence of Philip under their roof, the glamour of the tale as
it fell from his lips, cast a spell over her. She was a kindly soul,
too, and tears gathered in her eyes at some portions of the recital.
"What a pity it is that your mother died," she murmured, when he had
ended.
The words endeared her to Philip instantly. A worldly, grasping woman
would have thought of nothing save the vista of wealth opened up for her
husband and herself. Not so Mrs. Abingdon. If anything, she was somewhat
afraid of the responsibilities proposed to be undertaken by her spouse,
to whom she was devoted.
The magistrate did not promise definitely that night to accept the
position offered to him. He would think over the matter. He could retire
on a pension at any time. This he would now do without delay, and Philip
could certainly count on his friendship and advice, while his house
would always be open to him.
Meanwhile, he would give one word of advice--intrust no human being with
the power to sign any binding document without his--Philip's--consent.
Then it would be difficult for anyone to deal unscrupulously with him.
The boy went away at a late hour. He left behind him an exceedingly
perplexed couple, but he felt that when Mr. Abingdon had time to
assimilate the facts, and realize the great scope of the work before
him, there was little doubt he would gladly associate himself with it.
At the hotel a telegram awaited him:
"Have realized for fifty-two thousand. Returning Monday.
ISAACSTEIN."
Here was the final proof, if proof were wanting. Philip was a
millionaire many times over.