THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY
Whispered words are ever more potent than words proclaimed aloud upon
the house-top. If the envious man from the house-top denounces a man of
reputation as a thief, a gambler, a patricide, a sororicide, amicocide,
no man regardeth his voice, though he call out with the voice of
Stentor: people only stare: these are the words of a madman or a
malignant. But whisper these charges in the ear of your neighbour:
whisper them with bated breath: say that, as yet, the thing is a
profound secret. Then that rumour swiftly flies abroad, until every
burgess in the town regards that man askance; and when the time for
voting comes, he votes for another man, and will not have him as beadle,
sexton, verger, schoolmaster, turncock, policeman, parish doctor,
workhouse chaplain, common-councilman, alderman, Mayor, or Member of
Parliament. And all for a whisper.
It was Checkley who set going the whisper, which at this moment was
running up and down the office, agitating all hearts, occupying all
minds, the basis of all conversation.
King Midas's servant, when he was irresistibly impelled to whisper, dug
a hole in the ground and placed his whisper at the bottom of that hole.
But the grasses grew up and sighed the words to the passing breeze, so
that the market women heard them on their way: 'The King's ears are the
ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass.' The old and
trusty servant of Dering and Son buried his secret in the leaves of his
Copying-book. Here it was found by the boy who worked the Copying-press.
As he turned over the pages, he became conscious of a sibilant,
malignant, revengeful murmur: 'Who stole the bonds? The new
Partner.--Who forged the letters? The new Partner.--Who robbed the safe?
The new Partner.' Here was a pretty thing for a pretty innocent office
boy to hear! Naturally, his very soul became aflame: when the dinner
hour arrived, he told another boy as a profound secret what he had
heard. That boy told an older boy, who told another still older, who
told another, and so up the long official ladder, until everybody in the
place knew that the new Partner--actually the new Partner--the most
fortunate of all young men that ever passed his Exam.--who had stepped
at a bound from two hundred to a thousand, at least--this young man, of
all young men in the world, had forged his partner's name, robbed his
partner's safe, made away with his partner's property. Who after this
can trust anybody?
But others there were who refused to believe this thing. They pointed
out that the new Partner continued--apparently--on the best of terms
with the old Partner: they argued that when such things are done,
friendships are killed and partnerships are dissolved. They even went so
far, though members of the great profession which believes in no man's
goodness, as to declare their belief that the new Partner could not
possibly by any temptation do such things. And there were others who
pointed to the fact that the whisper came from the boy of the
Copying-press: that he heard it whispered by the fluttering leaves: and
that it was imparted to those leaves by Checkley--old Checkley--whose
hatred towards the new Partner was notorious to all men: not on account
of any personal qualities or private injuries, but out of the jealousy
which made him regard the Chief as his own property: and because he had
been deprived of his power in the office--the power of appointment and
disappointment and the raising of screw, which he had previously
possessed. Checkley was dethroned. Therefore, Checkley spread this
rumour. Others, again, said that if the rumour was really started by
Checkley, which could not be proved, seeing that, like all whispers or
rumours, the origin was unknown, and perhaps supernatural, then Checkley
must have very strong grounds for starting such a thing.
Thus divided in opinion, the office looked on, expectant. Expectancy is
a thing which gets into the air: it fills every room with whispers: it
makes a conspirator or a partisan or a confederate of every one: it
divides a peaceful office into camps: it is the cause of inventions,
lies, and exaggerations. There were two parties in this office--one
which whispered accusations, and the other which whispered denials.
Between these hovered the wobblers or mugwumps, who whispered that while
on the one hand--on the other hand--and that while they readily
admitted--so they were free to confess----Everybody knows the wobbler.
He is really, if he knew it, the master of the situation; but, because
he is a wobbler, he cannot use his strength. When he is called upon to
act, he falls into two pieces, each of which begins to wobble and to
fall into other two pieces of its own accord. The whole process of a
Presidential Election--except the final voting--was going on in that
office of half-a-dozen rooms, but in whispers, without a single
procession, and not one German band. And all unconscious of the tumult
that raged about him--a tumult in whispers--a civil war in silence--the
object of this was going on his way unconscious and undisturbed.
Now, however, having learned that the old clerk was actually seeking to
fix this charge upon him, George perceived the whispering and understood
the charge. When he passed through the first or outer office in the
morning, he perceived that the clerks all looked at him curiously, and
that they pretended not to be looking at him, and plied their pens with
zeal. On the stairs he met an articled clerk, who blushed a rosy red
with consciousness of the thing: on his way to his own room through his
own clerks' room, he felt them looking after him curiously as he passed;
and he felt them, when his own door was closed, whispering about him.
This made him extremely angry. Yet, for a whisper, one cannot suffer
wrath to become visible. That would only please the whisperers. There
is only one thing worse than to be suspected rightly; it is to be
suspected wrongly; for the latter makes a man mad. What? That he--even
he--the man of principle and rule, should be suspected! Does nothing,
then--no amount of character, no blamelessness of record, avail? Is the
world coming to an end?
George then shut his door and sat down to his table in a very wrathful
and savage frame of mind. And while he was just beginning to nurse and
nourish this wrath, coaxing it from a red glow to a roaring flame, a
card was brought to him.
'I will see Sir Samuel at once,' he said.
It is as well that we do not hear the remarks of the clerks' room and
the servants' hall. The Service, in fact, is a body of critics whose
judgments would, if we only heard them, cause us to reconsider our
self-respect. Great Philanthropist, great Statesman, saintly
Preacher--if you only knew what they say of you--down below!
The clerks, as Sir Samuel Dering--his face composed to the solemnity of
a mute--walked into the new Partner's room, whispered to each other:
'He's going to finish him. There'll be a bolt to-night.--He won't dare
face it out.--He _have_ got a nerve!!!--The game's up at last.--They
won't prosecute; you see if they do. If it was one of us, now.--Sir
Samuel's come to warn him--now you'll see.' With other exchanges and
surmises.
Sir Samuel, big and important, coldly inclined his head and took a
chair. 'A few words,' he said--'a few serious words, if you please,
sir.'
'Pray, go on.' George sat up and listened, his upper lip stiffened. He
knew what was coming. The thing which Sir Samuel proposed to say,
apparently became difficult. He turned red and stammered. In fact, it is
very difficult to inform a highly respectable young man in a highly
respectable position that he is going to be charged with a crime of
peculiar atrocity.
'I am here,' he said, after two or three false starts, 'without my
brother's knowledge. This is a private and unofficial visit. I come to
advise. My visit must be regarded as without prejudice.'
'Is it not well to ask first of all if your advice is invited?'
'In such a case as this, I venture to obtrude advice,' Sir Samuel
replied with dignity. 'There are occasions on which a man should
speak--he is bound to speak. You will remember that I was to have been
your brother-in-law----'
'You are to be my brother-in-law. Well, Sir Samuel, go on. I will hear
what you have to say.'
'You are, as no doubt you suspect and fear, about to be charged in
company with another, with complicity in this long series of forgeries.'
'Really? I heard last night from Elsie that there was some talk of such
a charge. Now, Sir Samuel, a man of your experience must be aware that
it is not enough for a foolish old clerk to suggest a charge; but there
must be some connection between the accused person and the crime.'
'Connection? Good Heavens! There is a solid chain of evidence, without a
single weak point.'
'Is there indeed? Well, we will not ask for the production of your
chain. Let us take it for granted. Go on to the next point.'
'I wish, young gentleman, I wish most sincerely, for the credit
of yourself, and for the happiness of the unfortunate girl who
has given you her heart, that my chain was of glass, to fly into
a thousand fragments. But it is not. Everything is complete. The
motive: the tempter: the conspiracy: the working out: the apparent
success--everything complete. The motive--want of money.'
'Want of money? Well, I was pretty badly off. That cannot be denied. Go
on.'
'You wanted money--both of you--wanted money. In ninety cases out of a
hundred, this is the cause--wanted money. So you went and did it. Always
the way in the City--they want money--and so they go and do it--go and
do it.'
'I see. Well, we need not have the tempter and the rest of it. They can
wait. Let us go on to the advice.'
'Just so. What I came to say is this. You are in a devil of a mess,
young gentleman: the whole job is found out: there's no use in trying to
brazen it out. Best come down at once.'
George nodded with as much good humour as he could assume under the
circumstances.
'Down at once,' Sir Samuel repeated. 'It is always best in the long run.
In your case, there is every reason why a scandal should be avoided.
The thing hasn't got into the papers: we are only yet in the first stage
of finding out what has been actually stolen: it has not been a case in
which the police could help. Now my brother is not a vindictive man. I,
for my own part, don't want my wife's brother, to say nothing of you,
convicted of forgery. Eh? Beastly thing, to go down to the City in the
morning and to hear them whispering, "That's his wife's brother in the
papers to-day. Lagged for fifteen years." Fifteen years for certain, it
will be, my fine fellow.'
'Fifteen years for certain,' George repeated.
'Let me help you out of the mess. Don't make difficulties. Don't stick
out your chin. Think of Elsie!'
George nearly lost his self-control--not quite.
'Think of Elsie!' he cried. 'Best not mention her name, Sir Samuel, if
you please.'
'She would be heart-broken if it went so far. If it stops short of that,
she will soon get over the little disappointment.'
'Go on to the next point.'
'Well--it is just this. I'll help you both--Athelstan as well as
you--yes--I'll help Athelstan. Hang the fellow! Why couldn't he stay at
Camberwell? Who cares about him and his bad company, if he keeps himself
out of people's way? Now, then. Let me have back the money. You haven't
drawn anything out of the Bank. Give me the papers. Then I'll square it
with my brother. I will advance you a hundred or two: you shall go clear
out of the country, and never come back again. And then, though it's
compounding a felony, we'll just put everything back again, and say
nothing more about it.'
'Oh! That is very good of you.'
'Yes, I know. But I want to make things easy. I don't want a beastly row
and a scandal. As for Athelstan, I shouldn't know the fellow if I ever
saw him. I hardly remember him. But for you I've always had a liking,
until these little events happened.'
'Very good, indeed, of you.'
'When the thing came out, I said to Lady Dering. "My dear," I said, "I'm
very sorry for your sister, because it will vex her more than a bit. The
engagement, of course, will be broken off; but we must not have a
scandal. We cannot afford it. We can not"--he smiled--"we are positively
not rich enough. Only the very richest people can afford to have such a
scandal. I will try and get things squared," I said, "for all our
sakes." That is what I said to Lady Dering. Now, be persuaded. Do the
right thing. Tell Athelstan what I have told you. The warrant for the
arrest of the man Edmund Gray will be issued to-morrow, I suppose, or
next day. After that, nothing can save you.'
'Nothing can save me,' George repeated. 'Is that all you came to say,
Sir Samuel?'
'That is all. A clean breast is all we ask.'
'Then, Sir Samuel'--George rose and took a bundle of papers from the
table--'let us find my Partner. You shall hear what I have to say.'
'Ah! that's right--that's sensible. I knew that you would be open to
reason. Come. He is sure to be alone at this early hour. Come at once.'
They went out together. The clerks noted their faces full of 'business,'
as we poetically put it--matters of buying and selling being notoriously
of the highest importance conceivable. Evidently something very serious
indeed had passed. But the chief personage still held up his head.
'Game, sir, game to the last. But there will be a bolt.'
Mr. Dering was in his usual place, before the letters, which were still
unopened. He looked ill, worn, and worried.
'Brother,' said Sir Samuel, 'I bring you a young gentleman who has a
communication to make of great importance.'
'Is it about this case? Have you--at last found out something?' The
tone, the words, suggested extreme irritability.
'I fear not. You know, I believe, all that we have found out. But now,'
said Sir Samuel, rubbing his hands--'now comes the long-expected----'
George interrupted--'What I have to say will not take long. I hear from
Sir Samuel that he and Checkley between them have got up a case which
involves me in these forgeries.'
'Quite right,' said Sir Samuel. 'Involves you inextricably.'
'And that things have gone so far that I am about to be arrested, tried,
and convicted. Which he rightly thinks will be a great scandal. So it
will--so it certainly will. He therefore proposes that I should make a
clean breast of the whole business, and give back the stolen bonds. I am
sorry that I cannot do this, for a very simple reason--namely, that
there is nothing to confess. But there is one thing that I must do. You
placed the case in my hands----'
'I did. I asked you to find out. I have brought no charge against you.
Have you found out?'
Mr. Dering spoke like a schoolmaster in one of his least amiable moods.
'It is a very improper thing for a person accused of a crime to be
engaged in detecting it. So I resign the case--there are the papers. You
had better go to some solicitor accustomed to this kind of work.'
'Stuff and rubbish!' cried Mr. Dering.
'Sir, you have deceived me.' Sir Samuel's face was gradually resuming
its normal length. 'You promised to confess, and you have not. You as
good as confessed just now.--This man is clearly, unmistakably guilty,'
he added, turning to his brother.
'I have not asked you, my Partner,' Mr. Dering added, more softly, 'to
give up the case. I have heard what is said. I have observed that the
so-called case is built up entirely on conjecture.'
'No--no,' said Sir Samuel. 'It is a sound structure, complete in every
part.'
'And there is nothing as yet to connect any man with the thing--not even
the man Edmund Gray.'
'Quite wrong--quite wrong,' said Sir Samuel. 'In the City, we may not be
lawyers, but we understand evidence.'
'I cannot choose but give up the case,' George replied. 'Consider.
Already Mrs. Arundel has requested her daughter to break off her
engagement; I am forbidden the house; Elsie has left her mother and gone
to her brother. No, sir--take the papers, and give them to some other
person.'
Mr. Dering mechanically took the papers, and laid his hand upon them.
'Let me remind you,' George continued, 'how far we have got. We have
proved that Edmund Gray is a real person, known to many. We have not
proved the connection between him and the robberies committed in his
name. He is apparently a most respectable person. The problem before you
is still to fix the crime on someone. I shall be glad to hear that it
has been successfully solved.'
'Glad?' asked Sir Samuel. 'You will be glad? This is amazing!'
'Eight years ago, Mr. Dering, another man stood here, and was accused of
a similar crime. He refused to stay in the house under such a charge.
That was foolish. Time has established his innocence. I shall stay. I am
your Partner. The Partnership can only be dissolved by mutual consent. I
remain.'
Mr. Dering laid his head upon his hand and sighed. 'I believe I shall be
driven mad before long with this business,' he said querulously. He had
lost something of his decision of speech. 'Well, I will give the case to
somebody else. Meantime, look here. Tell me how these things came here.'
The 'things' were two envelopes containing letters. They were addressed
to Edmund Gray, and had been opened. One of them was George's own note
inviting him to call. The other was the letter from the Manager of the
Bank asking for other references.
'How did they get here?' asked Mr. Dering again.
'Had you not better ask Checkley?' George rang the bell.
'I found these on the top of my letters, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering.
'You were the first in the room. You put the letters on the table. I
found them on the top of the heap. Nobody had been in the room except
you and me. You must have put them there.'
Checkley looked at the envelopes, and began to tremble. 'I don't know,'
he said. 'I put the letters on the table. They were not among them.
Somebody must have put them there'--he looked at the new Partner--'some
friend of Mr. Edmund Gray, between the time that I left the room and the
time when you came.'
'I entered the room,' Mr. Dering replied, 'as you were leaving it.'
'Observe,' said George, 'that in the whole conduct of this business
there has been one man engaged who has control of the letters. That
man--the only man in the office--is, I believe, the man before us--your
clerk--Checkley.'
'How came the letters here?' Mr. Dering repeated angrily.
'I don't know,' answered Checkley. 'He'--indicating George--'must have
put them there.'
'The Devil is in the office, I believe. How do things come here? How do
they vanish? Who put the notes in the safe? Who took the certificates
out of the safe? All you can do is to stand and accuse each other. What
good are you--any of you? Find out. Find out. Yesterday, there was a
handbill about Edmund Gray in the safe. The day before there was a
handful of Socialist tracts on the letters. Find out, I say.'
'Give the things to detectives,' said George.
'Let me take the case in hand, brother.' Sir Samuel laid hands on the
papers. 'I flatter myself that I will very soon have the fellow under
lock and key. And then, sir'--he turned to George--'scandal or no
scandal, there shall be no pity--no mercy--none.'
George laughed. 'Well, Sir Samuel, in a fortnight or so I shall call
myself your brother-in-law. Till then, farewell.' He left the office and
returned to his own room, the ripple of the laughter still upon his lips
and in his eyes, so that the clerks marvelled, and the faith of those
who believed in him was strengthened.
'Before then, young crowing bantam,' cried Sir Samuel after him, 'I
shall have you under lock and key.'
'Ah!' This was Checkley. The little interjection expressed, far more
than any words could do, his satisfaction at the prospect. Then he left
the room grumbling and muttering.
'I believe that this business will finish me off.' Mr. Dering sighed
again, and passed his hand over his forehead. 'Night and day it worries
me. It makes my forgetfulness grow upon me. I am as good as gone. This
hour I cannot remember the last hour. See--I had breakfast at home as
usual. I remember that. I remember setting out. It is ten minutes walk
from Bedford Row to here. I have taken an hour and a half. How? I do not
know. What did I do last night? I do not know; and I am pursued by this
forger--robber--demon. He puts things in my safe--yesterday, a placard
that Edmund Gray was going to give a lecture on something or other--the
day before, a bundle of tracts by Edmund Gray. What do these things
mean? What can I do?'