In September, when the moon was red and full, and the sea glassy, heannounced a series of nocturnal "rocket fetes." The lifeboat, hung withChinese lanterns, put out in the evening (charge five shillings) and,followed by half the harbour's fleet of rowing-boats and cutters,proceeded to the neighbourhood of the strip of beach, where a rocketapparatus had been installed by the help of the Lifeboat Secretary. Themortar was duly trained; there was a flash, a whizz, a line of fire, anda rope fell out of the sky across the lifeboat. The effect wasthrilling and roused cheers. Never did the Lifeboat Institution receivesuch an advertisement as Denry gave it--gratis.
After the rocketing Denry stood alone on the slopes of the Little Ormeand watched the lanterns floating home over the water, and heard thelusty mirth of his clients in the still air. It was an emotionalexperience for him. "By Jove!" he said, "I 've wakened this town up!"
VI
One morning, in the very last sad days of the dying season, when hisreceipts had dropped to the miserable figure of about fifty pounds aweek, Denry had a great and pleasing surprise. He met Nellie on theParade. It was a fact that the recognition of that innocent, childlikeblushing face gave him joy. Nellie was with her father, CouncillorCotterill, and her mother. The Councillor was a speculative builder, whowas erecting several streets of British homes in the new quarter abovethe new municipal park at Bursley. Denry had already encountered himonce or twice in the way of business. He was a big and portly man offorty-five, with a thin face and a consciousness of prosperity. At onemoment you would think him a jolly, bluff fellow, and at the next youwould be disconcerted by a note of cunning or of harshness. Mrs.Councillor Cotterill was one of those women who fail to live up to theever-increasing height of their husbands. Afflicted with an eternalstage-fright, she never opened her close-pressed lips in society, thougha few people knew that she could talk as fast and as effectively asanyone. Difficult to set in motion, her vocal machinery was equallydifficult to stop. She generally wore a low bonnet and a mantle. TheCotterills had been spending a fortnight in the Isle of Man, and theyhad come direct from Douglas to Llandudno by steamer, where they meantto pass two or three days. They were staying at Craig-y-don, at theeastern end of the Parade.
"Well, young man!" said Councillor Cotterill.
And he kept on young-manning Denry with an easy patronage which Denrycould scarcely approve of. "I bet I 've made more money this summerthan you have--with all your jerrying!" said Denry silently to theCouncillor's back while the Cotterill family were inspecting thehistoric lifeboat on the beach. Councillor Cotterill said frankly thatone reason for their calling at Llandudno was his desire to see thissingular lifeboat, about which there had really been a very great dealof talk in the Five Towns. The admission comforted Denry. Then theCouncillor recommenced his young-manning.
"Look here," said Denry carelessly, "you must come and dine with me onenight, all of you--will you?"
Nobody who has not passed at least twenty years in a district wherepeople dine at one o'clock, and dining after dark is regarded as a wildidiosyncrasy of earls, can appreciate the effect of this speech.
The Councillor, when he had recovered himself, said that they would bepleased to dine with him; Mrs. Cotterill's tight lips were seen to move,but not heard; and Nellie glowed.
"Yes," said Denry, "come and dine with me at the Majestic."
The name of the Majestic put an end to the young-manning. It was thenew hotel by the pier, and advertised itself as the most luxurious hotelin the Principality. Which was bold of it, having regard to themagnificence of caravanserais at Cardiff. It had two hundred bedrooms,and waiters who talked English imperfectly; and its prices were supposedto be fantastic.
After all, the most startled and frightened person of the four wasperhaps Denry. He had never given a dinner to anybody. He had nevereven dined at night. He had never been inside the Majestic. He hadnever had the courage to go inside the Majestic. He had no notion ofthe mysterious preliminaries to the offering of a dinner in a publicplace.
But the next morning he contracted to give away the lifeboat to asyndicate of boatmen, headed by John their leader, for L35. And heswore to himself that he would do that dinner properly even if it costhim the whole price of the boat. Then he met Mrs. Cotterill coming outof a shop. Mrs. Cotterill, owing to a strange hazard of fate, begantalking at once. And Denry, as an old shorthand writer, instinctivelycalculated that not Thomas Allen Reed himself could have taken Mrs.Cotterill down verbatim. Her face tried to express pain, but pleasureshone out of it. For she found herself in an exciting contretemps whichshe could understand.
"Oh, Mr. Machin," she said, "what _do_ you think's happened? I don'tknow how to tell you, I 'in sure. Here you 've arranged for that dinnerto-morrow and it's all settled, and now Miss Earp telegraphs to ourNellie to say she 's coming to-morrow for a day or two with us. You knowRuth and Nellie are _such_ friends. It's like as if what must be, isn'tit? I don't know what to do, I do declare. What _ever_ will Ruth sayat us leaving her all alone the first fortnight she comes? I really dothink she might have----"
"You must bring her along with you," said Denry.
"But won't you--shan't you--won't she--won't it----"
"Not at all," said Denry. "Speaking for myself, I shall be delighted."
"Well, I 'm sure you 're very sensible," said Mrs. Cotterill. "I wasbut saying to Mr. Cotterill over breakfast--I said to him----"
"I shall ask Councillor Rhys-Jones to meet you," said Denry. "He 's oneof the principal members of the Town Council here; local secretary ofthe Lifeboat Institution. Great friend of mine."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Cotterill, "it'll be quite an affair."
It was.
Denry found to his relief that the only difficult part of arranging adinner at the Majestic was the steeling of yourself to enter thegorgeous portals of the hotel. After that, and after murmuring that youwished to fix up a little snack, you had nothing to do but listen tosuggestions, each surpassing the rest in splendour, and say "Yes."Similarly with the greeting of a young woman who was once to you thejewel of the world. You simply said, "Good afternoon, how are you?"And she said the same. And you shook hands. And there you were, stillalive!
The one defect of the dinner was that the men were not in evening dress.(Denry registered a new rule of life: Never travel without your eveningdress, because you never know what may turn up.) The girls wereradiantly white. And after all there is nothing like white. Mrs.Cotterill was in black silk and silence. And after all there is nothinglike black silk. There was champagne. There were ices. Nellie, notbeing permitted champagne, took her revenge in ice. Denry had found anopportunity to relate to her the history of the Chocolate Remedy. Shesaid, "How wonderful you are!" And he said it was she who waswonderful. Denry gave no information about the Chocolate Remedy to herfather. Neither did she. As for Ruth, indubitably she was responsiblefor the social success of the dinner. She seemed to have the habit ofthese affairs. She it was who loosed tongues. Nevertheless, Denry sawher now with different eyes and it appeared incredible to him that hehad once mistaken her for the jewel of the world.
At the end of the dinner Councillor Rhys-Jones produced a sensation byrising to propose the health of their host. He referred to the superbheroism of England's lifeboatmen, and in the name of the Institutionthanked Denry for the fifty-three pounds which Denry's public hadcontributed to the funds. He said it was a noble contribution and thatDenry was a philanthropist. And he called on Councillor Cotterill tosecond the toast. Which Councillor Cotterill did, in good set terms theresult of long habit. And Denry stammered that he was much obliged, andthat really it was nothing.
But when the toasting was finished Councillor Cotterill lapsed somewhatinto a patronising irony, as if he were jealous of a youthful success.And he did not stop at "young man." He addressed Denry grandiosely as"my boy."
"This lifeboat--it was just an idea, my boy, just an idea!" he said.<
br />
"Yes," said Denry; "but I thought of it."
"The question is," said the Councillor pompously, "can you think of anymore ideas as good?"
"Well," said Denry, "can _you_?"
With reluctance they left the luxury of the private dining-room, andDenry surreptitiously paid the bill with a pile of sovereigns, andCouncillor Rhys-Jones parted from them with lively grief. The otherfive walked in a row along the Parade in the moonlight. And when theyarrived in front of Craig-y-don, and the Cotterills were entering, Ruth,who loitered behind, said to Denry in a liquid voice:
"I don't feel a bit like going to sleep. I suppose you would n't carefor a stroll?"
"Well----"
"I dare say you 're very tired," she said.
"No," he replied; "it's this moonlight I 'm afraid of."
And their eyes met under the door-lamp, and Ruth wished him pleasantdreams and vanished. It was exceedingly subtle.
VII
The next afternoon the Cotterills and Ruth Earp went home, and Denrywith them. Llandudno was just settling into its winter sleep, andDenry's rather complex affairs had all been put in order. Though theothers showed a certain lassitude, he himself was hilarious. Among hisinsignificant luggage was a new hat-box, which proved to be the originof much gaiety.
"Just take this, will you?" he said to a porter on the platform atLlandudno Station, and held out the new hat-box with an air of calm.The porter innocently took it, and then, as the hat-box nearly jerkedhis arm out of the socket, gave vent to his astonishment after themanner of porters.
"By gum, mister!" said he. "That's heavy!"
It, in fact, weighed nearly two stone.
"Yes," said Denry; "it's full of sovereigns, of course."
And everybody laughed.
At Crewe, where they had to change, and again at Knype and at Bursley,he produced astonishment in porters by concealing the effort with whichhe handed them the hat-box as though its weight was ten ounces. Andeach time he made the same witticism about sovereigns.
"What _have_ you got in that hat-box?" Ruth asked.
"Don't I tell you?" said Denry, laughing. "Sovereigns!"
Lastly he performed the same trick on his mother. Mrs. Machin wasworking, as usual, in the cottage in Brougham Street. Perhaps thenotion of going to Llandudno for a change had not occurred to her. Inany case, her presence had been necessary in Bursley, for she hadfrequently collected Denry's rents for him, and collected them verywell. Denry was glad to see her again, and she was glad to see him, butthey concealed their feelings as much as possible. When he baselyhanded her the hat-box she dropped it, and roundly informed him that shewas not going to have any of his pranks.
After tea, whose savouriness he enjoyed quite as much as his own statedinner, he gave her a key and asked her to open the hat-box, which hehad placed on a chair.
"What is there in it?"
"A lot of jolly fine pebbles that I 've been collecting on the beach,"he said.
She got the hat-box on to her knee, and unlocked it, and came to a thickcloth, which she partly withdrew, and then there was a scream from Mrs.Machin, and the hat-box rolled with a terrific crash to the tiled floor,and she was ankle-deep in sovereigns. She could see sovereigns runningabout all over the parlour. Gradually even the most active sovereignsdecided to lie down and be quiet, and a great silence ensued. Denry'sheart was beating.
Mrs. Machin merely shook her head. Not often did her son deprive her ofwords, but this theatrical culmination of his home-coming really didleave her speechless.
Late that night rows of piles of sovereigns decorated the oval table inthe parlour.
"A thousand and eleven," said Denry at length, beneath the lamp."There's fifteen missing yet. We 'll look for 'em to-morrow."
For several days afterwards Mrs. Machin was still picking up sovereigns.Two had even gone outside the parlour, and down the two steps into thebackyard, and, finding themselves unable to get back, had remainedthere.
And all the town knew that the unique Denry had thought of the idea ofreturning home to his mother with a hat-box crammed with sovereigns.This was Denry's "latest," and it employed the conversation of theborough for I don't know how long.
CHAPTER VI. HIS BURGLARY
I
The fact that Denry Machin decided not to drive behind his mule to SneydHall showed in itself that the enterprise of interviewing the Countessof Chell was not quite the simple daily trifling matter that he stroveto pretend it was.
The mule was a part of his more recent splendour. It was aged seven,and it had cost Denry ten pounds. He had bought it off a farmer whosewife "stood" St. Luke's Market. His excuse was that he needed help ingetting about the Five Towns in pursuit of cottage rents, for hisbusiness of a rent collector had grown. But for this purpose a bicyclewould have served equally well, and would not have cost a shilling a dayto feed, as the mule did, nor have shied at policemen, as the mulenearly always did. Denry had bought the mule simply because he had beenstruck all of a sudden with the idea of buying the mule. Some timepreviously Jos Curtenty (the Deputy Mayor, who became Mayor of Bursleyon the Earl of Chell being called away to govern an Australian Colony)had made an enormous sensation by buying a flock of geese and drivingthem home himself. Denry did not like this. He was, indeed, jealous,if a large mind can be jealous. Jos Curtenty was old enough to be hisgrandfather, and had been a recognised "card" and "character" sincebefore Denry's birth. But Denry, though so young, had made immenseprogress as a card, and had, perhaps justifiably, come to considerhimself as the premier card, the very ace, of the town. He felt thatsome reply was needed to Curtenty's geese, and the mule was his reply.It served excellently. People were soon asking each other whether theyhad heard that Denry Machin's "latest" was to buy a mule. He obtained alittle old victoria for another ten pounds, and a good set of harnessfor three guineas. The carriage was low which enabled him, as he said,to nip in and out much more easily than in and out of a trap. In hisbusiness you did almost nothing but nip in and out. On the front seathe caused to be fitted a narrow box of japanned tin with a formidablelock and slits on the top. This box was understood to receive therents, as he collected them. It was always guarded on journeys by across between a mastiff and something unknown, whose growl would haveterrorised a lion-tamer. Denry himself was afraid of Rajah, the dog,but he would not admit it. Rajah slept in the stable behind Mrs.Machin's cottage, for which Denry paid a shilling a week. In the stablethere was precisely room for Rajah, the mule, and the carriage, and whenDenry entered to groom or to harness, something had to go out.
The equipage quickly grew into a familiar sight of the streets of thedistrict. Denry said that it was funny without being vulgar. Certainlyit amounted to a continual advertisement for him; an infinitely moreeffective advertisement than, for instance, a sandwich-man ateighteen-pence a day, and costing no more, even with the license and theshoeing. Moreover a sandwich-man has this inferiority to a turnout:when you have done with him you cannot put him up to auction and sellhim. Further, there are no sandwich-men in the Five Towns; in thatdemocratic and independent neighbourhood nobody would deign to be asandwich-man.
The mulish vehicular display does not end the tale of Denry's splendour.He had an office in St. Luke's Square, and in the office was anoffice-boy, small but genuine, and a real copying-press, and outside itwas the little square signboard which in the day of his simplicity usedto be screwed on to his mother's door. His mother's steely firmness ofcharacter had driven him into the extravagance of an office. Even afterhe had made over a thousand pounds out of the Llandudno lifeboat in lessthan three months, she would not listen to a proposal for going into aslightly larger house, of which one room might serve as an office. Norwould she abandon her own labours as a sempstress. She said that sinceher marriage she had always lived in that cottage and had always worked,and that she meant to die there, working; and that Denry
could do whathe chose. He was a bold youth, but not bold enough to dream of quittinghis mother; besides, his share of household expenses in the cottage wasonly ten shillings a week. So he rented the office; and he hired anoffice-boy, partly to convey to his mother that he should do what hechose, and partly for his own private amusement.
He was thus, at an age when fellows without imagination are frayingtheir cuffs for the enrichment of their elders and glad if they canafford a cigar once a month, in possession of a business, businesspremises, a clerical staff, and a private carriage drawn by an animalunique in the Five Towns. He was living on less than his income; and inthe course of about two years, to a very small extent by economies andto a very large extent by injudicious but happy investments, he haddoubled the Llandudno thousand and won the deference of the manager ofthe bank at the top of St. Luke's Square--one of the most unsentimentalmen that ever wrote "refer to drawer" on a cheque.
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