THE INSCRIPTION OF YOUR NAME AND ADDRESS IN THE VOLUME UPON THE
TABLE WILL BE TAKEN AS A REQUEST TO VISIT YOUR HOUSE.
SHOULD A REQUEST TO REVISIT BE RECEIVED, YOUR ENTRY WILL BE
WAFERED.
It will be seen that the Cheviots knew their world.
They were, in fact, purveying pomps and vanity, admirably camouflaged to
resemble virtu and guaranteed to afford the purchaser a feeling of
warmth upon every remembrance of their possession.
They were also effectually exploiting moral cowardice.
Few, having read the terms, felt able to surprise the footman, who
plainly took it for granted that an entry would be made in the book and
had been specially chosen for his wholly respectful yet stern and
compelling personality: and none, having registered therein, had the
courage to allow their name to stand unwafered and so proclaim their
disregard of what could only be regarded as a debt of honour.
They had luck, of course.
That the first person to enter the shop should have been Mrs. Drinkabeer
Stoat was sheer good fortune.
Extremely rich, a firm believer in display and the accumulation of
worldly goods, the lady was secretly tormented by an anxiety lest such
as beheld her possessions should form too low an estimate of their value
as recorded by her pass-book: and since she delighted to maintain that
the advertisement of payments made was the essence of vulgarity, much of
her time was given to the contrivance of apparently innocent references
to her latest extravagance from which should emerge such data as would
enable and induce all within earshot to form an accurate opinion of what
it had cost.
There being many of Mrs. Stoat’s school, it follows that that lady’s
patronage was worth a leader in _The Times_.
Be sure she declared it from the housetops.
“A long-felt want,” she boomed. “The moment I entered the shop I felt at
home. At first I couldn’t think why. Suddenly it occurred to
me—_style_. The Cheviots can visualize style. My dear, I could have
wept with relief. When I think of how I implored Bucher’s to do the
drawing-room in dove grey . . . I almost went down on my knees, but they
wouldn’t listen. Blanche Cheviot comes to survey it, and what’s the
first thing she says? ‘Dove grey.’ I’ve just sent her opinion to
Bucher’s and told them to carry it out.”
And so on.
It was, of course, but natural that Titus should lose his nerve.
When, upon being shown the first day’s entries, he perceived ‘requests
to survey’ one library and two halls, he appeared for some moments to
have lost the power of speech. Then he gave tongue. . . .
Mercifully the storm broke behind closed doors.
“I refuse,” he raged. “It’s criminally insane, and I won’t touch it.
‘Decorate a hall.’ I couldn’t decorate a bear-pit. An’ if I did, the
bears wouldn’t work. They’d get egg-bound or something.”
“Now, don’t be silly,” purred Blanche. “It’s the easiest——”
“I’m not being silly,” raved Titus. “I’m simply announcing my
limitations. I tell you, it’s out of the question. _I cannot decorate._”
“Nobody’s asking you to decorate,” said Mrs. Cheviot. “All you’ve got to
do is to look at a room.”
Titus inspired.
“Let’s be honest,” he said. “I don’t mean with the public. On the eve of
assisting to launch one of the biggest outputs of treachery ever dreamt
of, that would be hypocritical. But let us be frank with ourselves. I
say I cannot decorate. By that I mean that I am totally incapable of
conceiving any conjunction of garniture which would not irritate or
frighten all who beheld its execution.”
“That,” said Blanche, “is because you’ve never tried. As a matter of
fact, you’ve got an excellent eye.”
“No, you don’t,” said Titus. “My vanity’s in balk. I tell you——”
“My darling,” said Mrs. Cheviot, “if I wasn’t sure of you I’d be
frightened to death. More. Unless I knew you were safe, I wouldn’t let
you touch the business with the end of a broken reed. I’m out to get
right away, Ti.” Her husband’s eyelids flickered, and a hand went up to
his mouth. “I don’t want to persevere and do my best to please. There
aren’t any stairs in my scheme—only an elevator that doesn’t know how
to stop. Well, if I couldn’t trust my partner, d’you think I’d let him
out?”
Titus Cheviot shifted in his chair.
“It’s all damned fine, old lady, but I’ve no ideas. If I’m paid to say a
room’s bad, I’ll say it’s poisonous. But when they say, ‘Very well, my
bright and bonny. Poisonous it is. Now show us a better ’ole’—I—I
shall come all unstuck.”
“Not you,” said Blanche. “Besides, you mustn’t criticize. Don’t say
anything is poisonous, for goodness’ sake. We don’t want to be hauled up
for libel. The existing decoration you entirely ignore. You simply walk
into a room. Don’t slide in. Stroll in and take a look round. If it
isn’t panelled you’re off. Panelling always looks well. Then you——”
“Supposing it is panelled.”
“Then you decide it’s too dark. It probably is. So you make a note for
the walls to be done in canary.”
“There you are,” said Titus. “It’s nothing to you. I should never have
thought of canary in fifty years. Any fool can look at a room. The thing
is to think of canary. I can think of a red or a green, but——”
“What’s the matter with red?” said Mrs. Cheviot. “A rich wine colour.
Think of a library done in the colour of port. What goes with port?”
“Gout,” said Titus. “I mean, mahogany.”
“Good. Port-coloured walls—mahogany doors with massive silver
handles—glass mantelpiece—biscuit-coloured ceiling and paint-work, and
there you are. What could be better?”
“That’s an idea,” said Cheviot. “Reproductions of familiar
circumstances. Golf, for instance. Nice, soft green walls—sand-yellow
doors and windows—white ceiling checked—mantelpiece of burnished
steel. What? Oh, an’ two or three texts.”
“Simply maddening,” cried Blanche, laughing. “And you say you’ve no
ideas.” She raised her brown eyes to heaven. “And now that’s settled. By
the way, never open your mouth while you’re in the place. Always wait
till——”
“Don’t you worry,” said Titus. “I don’t want to be assaulted before my
time. No _viva voces_ for me. They can bite the opinion if they like,
but——”
“They’re more likely to have it framed,” said Mrs. Cheviot.
The lady was perfectly right.
At the end of three weeks Blanche and Titus, who were booked up for six,
put up their fees, charging seventy guineas a room, if the house was in
town, and regretfully refusing to visit the country unless they were
asked to survey at least three rooms.
Audacity, Carelessness up, always wins.
Business at 68, Old Bond Street, actually increased.
The stalls began to be constantly occupied by patrons who were waiting
to occupy the bench. Among them was Mrs. Drinkabeer Stoat, who, somewhat
disconcerted by the reflection that, if necessary, about five thousand
people could prove that the cipher upon her drawing-room ceiling had
cost but fifty guineas, hastened to request that her hall and
dining-room might be surveyed forthwith.
Firms of decorators who had at first been plainly contemptuous changed
their coats forthwith and began to remember ‘Cheviot’s’ in their
prayers.
The weather becoming hot, the great fireplace was replaced by an oriel
out of whose leaded casements was plainly visible a blue and sunlit sky.
Its deep window-seat was laden with cushions of powder-blue. The
mountainous chair and its henchmen had gone with the fireplace, to be
replaced by a fair ‘gate’ table, which the footman laid for lunch and
later for tea. From six o’clock the gleaming paraphernalia of cocktails
burdened the board. With the approach of evening the window was not
illuminated: only the sky beyond became suffused with the glory of some
sinking sun. Even the open book, which declared its legend from the
floor, was sacrificed to this effect, which attracted much well-deserved
attention and was commended by several newspapers.
Early in September the Cheviots raised their fee to a hundred guineas
and declined to go into the country to survey less than five rooms,
_three of which_, said their gracious intimation, _may be in one house
and two in another not more than ten miles distant_.
By the end of the month they were making four thousand a week.
The two worked hard, employing five secretaries.
One controlled their movements, arranging each day what visits should be
paid on the next, and having two programmes ready each evening at six
o’clock. The same man affixed the wafers and kept the accounts. Of the
others two were always in attendance upon Mr. and Mrs. Cheviot, taking
down their ‘opinions’ in shorthand and transcribing their notes the next
day. In addition to their wages, which were high, two per cent. of the
takings was handed to them and the footmen every week. Thus was
efficiency encouraged, if not assured.
Each evening, but at no other time, the Cheviots repaired to Old Bond
Street to confer, sign their ‘opinions,’ peruse the additions to the
register, and deal with any business that awaited them.
It was at one such hour in mid-November, when the two were left alone
behind the tall oak doors, that Blanche leaned back in her chair and
looked at her watch.
“A quarter of nine,” she said, “on a Saturday night. Since ten this
morning between us we’ve netted twelve hundred and sixty quid. I lunched
off a glass of milk at a quarter to three, and I’ve had nothing since.
And now I’m too tired to eat. What about you?”
“You may cut out the milk,” said Titus. “Never mind. The figures sustain
me. This week’s been a record. Over six thousand——”
“It’s a dog’s life,” said Blanche. “Why don’t we stop?”
“Stop?”
“Stop. Chuck it. Finish. We’ve made enough.”
“My dear, you’re not serious?”
“I am indeed,” said Blanche, “and a bit over.”
“You can spend to-morrow in bed.”
“I could spend six weeks in bed. I tell you, I’m through. This—this
high-brow robbery’s getting beyond a joke. I haven’t been out for
months. I don’t even know the name of a musical play. I’ve forgotten how
to dance. Why, I haven’t changed for dinner since——”
“Sunday last,” said Titus. “Never mind. What about it, my dear? One
can’t have everything. I like changing myself, but if I can nobble a
hundred by staying foul, I’ll make the sacrifice. Why, for half six
thousand a week I’d sleep in my clothes. An’ we don’t have to.”
“But what’s the good of it all if we don’t enjoy it?”
“I hope to,” said Titus. “I hope to enjoy it very much.”
“When?” said his wife.
“When the boom’s over,” said Titus. “This sort of thing can’t last.
Don’t you believe it. It’s just on the cards that it might hang on for a
year, but——”
“A year?” screamed Blanche. “Well, if it does you needn’t count on me.
I’ve lost five months of my life and I’m not going to lose seven more.”
“Lost?” cried Titus. “Oh, the girl’s mad. Twelve hundred a day, an’ she
talks about ‘losing’ time.” He covered his eyes. “Give me strength,” he
murmured. Then—“You only get one orange,” he said solemnly. “If you
like to chuck it away before you’ve sucked it dry, you can do it all
right. Nothing’s easier. But if you do you’ll repent it. For one thing,
you’re flouting Fortune—throwing her goods in her face.”
“Rot,” said Blanche shortly. “We’ve made enough. We started in to give
me something to do—not to make money. Well, I’ve had my whack. I’ve had
enough to do to last me the rest of my life. Incidentally, I’ve been
paid—very handsomely paid. Well, I’m extremely grateful. I’ve got my
pretty cake and I’ve eaten it too. And now I’m for putting my feet up.”
“That’s very specious,” said Titus, “but the answer is this. The
‘incident,’ as you style it, has swallowed the main idea. To be
truthful, it swallowed it before we opened the shambles—or, if not
before, as soon as the sheep rolled up. When you’re out for a walk and
you strike a trail of nuggets, you’re apt to forget that you’re only out
for exercise. And quite right too. Why? Because you usually have to dig
for nuggets, and then like as not you’re wrong.”
He paused there to steal a glance at his wife.
Blanche was holding off her hand and regarding one of her rings with her
head on one side. This was a trick she practised when she was ill at
ease.
‘Before we opened the shambles.’
As though by accident, Titus had hit the nail square on the head. Yet it
was not by accident, as both of them knew.
There are occupations other than commerce.
But Blanche had chosen commerce, because commerce not only can occupy,
but may quite possibly enrich.
The woman of the world believed in apparel—its purchase, setting and
display, and cared for little else.
More money meant more clothes.
But the purchase alone of apparel was nothing worth. Clothes were meant
to be worn. An occupation which promoted the acquisition of clothes but
precluded their display was inconvenient. . . .
So the two sat still in their counting-house—the one regarding the
other, and the other regarding her ring.
There was no sign of summer.
There had been one swallow, of course, six months ago . . . _one_
swallow. . . .
Blanche lay back in her chair and achieved and then stifled a yawn.
“I seem to remember,” she said, “that the first day we struck the
nuggets, you weren’t particularly anxious to pick any up.”
“I confess it,” said Titus. “It seemed such nerve, somehow. But now I’ve
got my hand in, it’s as easy as wink. I’ve done some lovely chambers,”
he added musingly. “I shouldn’t wonder if they became historical.”
Blanche would not have been human if she had not succumbed to such
gratuitous good-humour.
She clapped her hands to her face and began to shake with laughter.
“Titus,” she said, bubbling, “when you get all wistful and dreamy about
the heritage we’re creating for posterity, I could weep for pure joy.
It’s like a lion getting all worked up about the view from his lair. Of
course, you’re nothing but a great big child who’s been given a nice new
game. But I do wish you’d tire of it, dear. Don’t you think you’ve made
enough history?”
“Not yet,” said Titus slowly. “But I’ve got a fruity idea. You go away
for a bit. Take a fortnight off, while I carry on the good work. Go to
Paris with Madge an’ take an easy.”
“And leave you here?”
“Why not? I’ve got my box of bricks. But I can’t have you ill, my lady.
Therefore be wise. Take a fortnight out of the shambles, and you’ll come
back thirsting for blood.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Blanche.
“Well, by then the boom may have cracked. Or I may have had enough. One
never can tell. But I beg that you’ll do as I say. I’ve only one wife.”
After a little Mrs. Cheviot allowed herself to be persuaded, and,
promising to clean up and follow within half an hour, Titus put her into
a taxi and sent her home.
Returning to the office, he resumed his seat at the table and opened a
drawer of which only he and the principal secretary possessed duplicate
keys.
Here lay two files, respectively labelled “ANSWERED” and “UNANSWERED.”
Cheviot took out the latter.
Somewhat to his relief, it contained but one letter.
The day before it had contained three.
Titus proceeded to read it with a faint frown.
_Malison Hall,_
_Kent._
_November 14th._
_The Manager of Cheviot’s,_
_68, Old Bond Street, W._
_SIR,_
_Upon returning from abroad yesterday after an absence of some
months I was dumbfounded to find that the character of the great
hall of this residence had been deliberately and ruthlessly
destroyed._
_I am informed that it was upon your advice that this
destruction was carried out. I am informed that you recommended
that the superb panelling should be torn down, the Grinling
Gibbons mantelpiece replaced by a steel platform, which is, of
course, already covered with rust, and the heavily timbered
ceiling overlaid with plaster and then so treated as to resemble
inferior linoleum. I am further informed that when this and
other devilry had been executed, you had the audacity to express
yourself satisfied with the result, the impudence to stencil the
ceiling with the badge of your firm and the face to accept a
cheque for three hundred guineas by way of payment for the
abominable outrage which you have committed upon this and two
other chambers, the present condition of which I prefer not to
describe._
_This morning I consulted my solicitors only to learn that,
since you were requested to advise and then unaccountably
requested to approve your vile handiwork by Mrs. Blatchbourne,
your villainous conduct is within the Law, but I find some
slight measure of relief in warning you that I shall do my
utmost by word and deed to expose what is nothing less than a
gang of dangerous charlatans who are inducing a lot of idiots to
pay unheard-of prices to have their apartments desecrated and
their sense of decency demoralized._
_I am, Sir,_
_Yours, etc._
_JAMES TORRIDGE BLATCHBOURNE._
Titus laid down the letter and looked down his nose.
“Gathering clouds,” he said thoughtfully. “An’ this is as hot a one as
we’ve ever had. If Blanche but knew . . .” He drew out a little
note-book and blinked over a page. “Seventy thousand to date,” he
continued musingly. “I’d like to get to a hundred before the crash, but
ninety would do. . . .”
Presently he closed the note-book and took up a pen.
After a little reflection he wrote his reply.
_68, Old Bond Street._
_November 15th._
_SIR,_
_I have the honour to acknowledge your letter of yesterday’s
date and to express regret that you do not share my views of
quality or style._
_I am, Sir,_
_Your obedient servant,_
_TITUS CHEVIOT._
_J.T. Blatchbourne, Esq._