The Wages of Sin.
As Pilot Summerhayes turned up the street, after having deposited his
money, he might well have passed the goldsmith, hurrying towards the
warehouse of Crookenden and Co. to receive the wages of his sin.
In Tresco's pocket was the intercepted correspondence, upon his face was
a look of happiness and self-contentment. He walked boldly into the
warehouse where, in a big office, glazed, partitioned, and ramparted
with a mighty counter, was a small army of clerks, who, loyal to their
master, stood ready to pillage the goldsmith of every halfpenny he
possessed.
But, with his blandest smile, Benjamin asked one of these formidable
mercenaries whether Mr. Crookenden was within. He was ushered
immediately into the presence of that great personage, before whom
the conducting clerk was but as a crushed worm; and there, with a
self-possession truly remarkable, the goldsmith seated himself in a
comfortable chair and beamed cherubically at the merchant, though in his
sinful heart he felt much as if he were a cross between a pirate and a
forger.
"Ah! you have brought my papers?" said the merchant.
"I've brought _my_ papers," said the goldsmith, still smiling.
Crookenden chuckled. "Yes, yes," he said, "quite right, quite right.
They are yours till you are paid for them. Let me see: I gave you L50 in
advance--there's another L50 to follow, and then we are quits."
"Another hundred-and-fifty," said Tresco.
"Eh? What? How's that? We said a hundred, all told."
"Two hundred," said Tresco.
"No, no, sir. I tell you it was a hundred."
"All right," said Tresco, "I shall retain possession of the letters,
which I can post by the next mail or return to Mr. Varnhagen, just as I
think fit."
The merchant rose in his chair, and glared at the goldsmith.
"What!" cried Tresco. "You'll turn dog? Complete your part of the
bargain. Do you think I've put my head into a noose on your account for
_nothing_? D'you think I went out last night because I loved you? No,
sir, I want my money. I happen to need money. I've half a mind to make
it two-hundred-and-fifty; and I would, if I hadn't that honour which is
said to exist among thieves. We'll say one-hundred-and-fifty, and cry
quits."
"Do you think you have me in your hands?"
"I don't _think_," replied the cunning goldsmith. "I _know_ I've got
you. But I'll be magnanimous--I'll take L150. No, L160--I must pay the
boatmen--and then I'll say no more about the affair. It shall be buried
in the oblivion of my breast, it shall be forgotten with the sins of my
youth. I must ask you to be quick."
"Quick?"
"Yes, as quick as you conveniently can."
"Would you order me about, sir?"
"Not exactly that, but I would urge you on a little faster. I would
persuade you with the inevitable spur of fate."
The merchant put his hand on a bell which stood upon his table.
"That would be of no use," said Benjamin. "If you call fifty clerks and
forcibly rob me of my correspondence, you gain nothing. Listen! Every
clerk in this building would turn against you the moment he knew your
true character; and before morning, every man, woman and child in Timber
Town would know. And where would you be then? In gaol. D'you hear?--in
gaol. Take up your pen. An insignificant difference of a paltry hundred
pounds will solve the difficulty and give you all the comfort of a quiet
mind."
"But what guarantee have I that after you have been paid you won't
continue to blackmail me?"
"You cannot possibly have such a guarantee--it wouldn't be good for
you. This business is going to chasten your soul, and make you mend your
ways. It comes as a blessing in disguise. But so long as you don't refer
to the matter, after you have paid me what you owe me, I shall bury the
hatchet. I simply give you my word for that. If you don't care to take
it, leave it: it makes no difference to me."
The fat little merchant fiddled nervously with the writing materials in
front of him, and his hesitation seemed to have a most irritating effect
upon the goldsmith, who rose from his chair, took his watch from his
pocket, and walked to and fro.
"It's too much, too much," petulantly reiterated Mr. Crookenden. "It's
not worth it, not the half of it."
"That's not _my_ affair," retorted Tresco. "The bargain was for L200. I
want the balance due."
"But how do I know you have the letters?" whined the merchant.
"Tut, tut! I'm surprised to hear such foolishness from an educated man.
What you want will be forthcoming when you've drawn the cheque--take my
word for that. But I'm tired of pottering round here." The goldsmith
glanced at his watch. "I give you two minutes in which to decide. If you
can't make up your mind, well, that's your funeral. At the end of that
time I double the price of the letters, and if you want them at the new
figure then you can come and ask for them."
He held his watch in his hand, and marked the fleeting moments.
The merchant sat, staring stonily at the table in front of him.
The brief moments soon passed; Tresco shut his watch with a click, and
returned it to his pocket.
"Now," he said, taking up his hat, "I'll wish you good morning."
He was half-way to the door, when Crookenden cried, "Stop!" and reached
for a pen, which he dipped in the ink.
"He, he!" he sniggered, "it's all right, Tresco--I only wanted to test
you. You shall have the money. I can see you're a staunch man such as I
can depend on."
He rose suddenly, and went to the big safe which stood against the wall,
and from it he took a cash-box, which he placed on the table.
"Upon consideration," he said, "I have decided to pay you in cash--it's
far safer for both parties."
He counted out a number of bank notes, which he handed to the goldsmith.
Tresco put down his hat, put on his spectacles, and counted the money.
"Ten tens are a hundred, ten fives are fifty, ten ones are ten," he
said. "Perfectly correct." He put his hand into the inner pocket of his
coat, and drew out a packet, which was tied roughly with a piece of
coarse string. "And here are the letters," he added, as he placed them
on the table. Then he put the money into his pocket.
Crookenden opened the packet, and glanced at the letters.
Tresco had picked up his hat.
"I am satisfied," said the merchant. "Evidently you are a man of
resource. But don't forget that in this matter we are dependent upon
each other. I rely thoroughly on you, Tresco, thoroughly. Let us forget
the little piece of play-acting of a few minutes ago. Let us be friends,
I might say comrades."
"Certainly, sir. I do so with pleasure."
"But for the future," continued Crookenden, "we had better not appear
too friendly in public, not for six months or so."
"Certainly not, not too friendly in public," Benjamin smiled his
blandest, "not for at least six months. But any communication sent
me by post will be sure to find me, unless it is intercepted by some
unscrupulous person. For six months, Mr. Crookenden, I bid you adieu."
The merchant sniggered again, and Benjamin walked out of the room.
Then Crookenden rang his bell. To the clerk who answered it, he said:
"You saw that man go out of my office, Mr. Smithers?"
"Yes, sir."
"If ever he comes again to see me, tell him I'm engaged, or not in. I
won't see him--he's a bad stamp of man, a most ungrateful man, a man I
should be sorry to have any dealings with, a man who is likely to get
into serious trouble before he is done, a man whom I advise all my young
men to steer clear of, one of the most unsatisfactory men it has been my
misfortune to meet."
"Yes, sir."
"That's all, Mr. Smithers," said the head of the firm. "I like my young
men to be kept from questionable associates; I like them to have the
benefit of my experience. I shall do my best to preserve them from the
evil influence of such persons as the man I have referred to. That will
do. You may go, Mr. Smithers."
Meanwhile, Benjamin Tresco was striding down the street in the direction
of his shop; his speed accelerated by a wicked feeling of triumph, and
his face beaming with an acute appreciation of the ridiculous scene in
which he had played so prominent a part.
"Hi-yi!" he exclaimed exultingly, as he burst into the little room at
the back of his shop, where the Prospector was waiting for him, "the
man with whips of money would outwit Benjamin, and the man with the
money-bags was forced to shell out. Bill, my most esteemed pal, the rich
man would rob the poor, but that poor man was Benjamin, your redoubtable
friend Benjamin Tresco, and the man who was dripping with gold got,
metaphorically speaking, biffed on the boko. Observe, my esteemed and
trusty pal, observe the proceeds of my cunning."
He threw the whole of his money on the table.
"Help yourself," he cried. "Take as much as you please: all I ask is the
sum of ten pounds to settle a little account which will be very pressing
this evening at eight o'clock, when a gentleman named Rock Cod and his
estimable mate, Macaroni Joe, are dead sure to roll up, expectant."
The digger, who, in spite of his return to the regions of civilisation,
retained his wildly hirsute appearance, slowly counted the notes.
"I make it a hundred-and-sixty," he said.
"That's right," said Tresco: "there's sixty-seven for you, and the
balance for me."
Bill took out the two IOUs, and placed them on the table. They totalled
L117, of which Benjamin had paid L50.
"I guess," said the Prospector, "that sixty-seven'll square it." He
carefully counted out that sum, and put it in his pocket.
Benjamin counted the balance, and made a mental calculation.
"Ninety-three pounds," he said, "and ten of that goes to my respectable
friends, Rock Cod and Macaroni. That leaves me the enormous sum of
eighty-three pounds. After tearing round the town for three solid days,
raising the wind for all I'm worth and almost breaking my credit, this
is all I possess. That's what comes of going out to spend a quiet
evening in the company of Fortunatus Bill; that's what comes of backing
my luck against ruffians with loaded dice and lumps on their necks."
"Have you seen them devils since?" asked the Prospector.
"I've been far too busy scrapin' together this bit of cash to take
notice of folks," said Benjamin, as he tore up the IOUs and threw them
into the fireplace. "It's no good crying over spilt milk or money lost
at play. The thing is for you to go back to the bush, and make good your
promise."
"I'm going to-morrow mornin'. I've got the missus's money, which I'll
send by draft, and then I'll go and square up my bill at the hotel."
"And then," said Benjamin, "fetch your swag, and bunk here to-night.
It'll be a most convenient plan."
"We're mates," said the Prospector. "You've stood by me and done the
'an'some, an' I'll stand by you and return the compliment. An' it's my
hope we'll both be rich men before many weeks are out."
"That's so," said Benjamin. "Your hand on it."
The digger held out his horny, begrimed paw, which the goldsmith grasped
with a solemnity befitting the occasion.
"You'll need a miner's right," said the digger.
"I've got one," said Tresco. "Number 76032, all in order, entitling me
to the richest claim in this country."
"I'll see, mate, that it's as rich as my own, and that's saying a
wonderful deal."
"Damme, I'll come with you straight away!"
"Right, mate; come along."
"We'll start before dawn."
"Before dawn."
"I'll shut the shop, and prospect along with you."
"That's the way of it. You an' me'll be mates right through; and we'll
paint this town red for a week when we've made our pile."
"Jake! Drat that boy; where is he? Jake, come here."
The shock-headed youth came running from the back yard, where he was
chopping wood.
"Me and this gentleman," said his master, "are going for a little
excursion. We start to-morrow morning. See? I was thinking of closing
the shop, but I've decided to leave you in charge till I return."
The lad stood with his hands in his pockets, and blew a long, shrill
whistle. "Of all the tight corners I was ever in," he said, "this takes
the cake. I'll want a rise in wages--look at the responsibility, boss."
The goldsmith laughed. "All right," he said. "You shall have ten
shillings a week extra while I'm away; and if we have luck, Jake, I'll
make it a pound."
"Right-oh! I'll take all the responsibility that comes along. I'll get
fat on it. And when you come back, you'll find the business doubled, and
the reputation of B. Tresco increased. It'll probably end in you taking
me in as partner--but _I_ don't care: it's all the same to _me_."
The goldsmith made an attempt to box the boy's ear, but Jake dodged his
blow.
"That's your game, is it?" exclaimed the young rogue. "Bash me about,
will you? All right--I'll set up in opposition!"
He didn't wait for the result of this remark, but with a sudden dart he
passed like a streak of lightning through the doorway, and fled into the
street.