by W. W. Jacobs
CHAPTER III--_George Early proves that Knowledge is Power_
The firm of Fairbrother went on in the usual way after the loss of itshead. There was some speculation as to who would succeed old JosephFairbrother, and a good deal of surprise when it turned out to be adaughter, a pleasant young lady of twenty-two or so, who arrived fromAustralia just before the funeral. If the old gentleman had timed hisown death he could not have summoned his daughter with more precision.That the young lady was not steeped in grief at the loss of her parentmust be put down to the fact, as confided to the head clerk, that shehad lived in Australia the greater part of her life, and had scarcelyknown her father. More of her family history it is not necessary totell here, except that, together with an aunt, she took up herresidence at Brunswick Terrace, her father's comfortable West Endresidence.
Miss Ellen Fairbrother assumed command, and occupied the bigoffice-chair much more frequently than "Old Joe" had done. There wereno alterations in the staff, and no new rules. Miss Fairbrother was asquiet and inoffensive as her father, and seemed sensible of the factthat she could not improve on his work. She therefore allowed things togo as they had been going.
Parrott and the other important members of the firm consulted the newchief, and jogged along in the same way as before.
Nobody was different, except George Early. He alone had changed withthe change of management. To be sure, three others had changed, but notin the same way. He was an ambitious young man, was George, and itseemed as though he had seen in this new state of affairs anopportunity for the advancement of no less a person than himself. Thata casual observer might have assumed; a keen observer would havenoticed that this change began at the moment when he left the privateoffice with Parrott's half-crown in his pocket.
What the staff generally began to notice was that George had a greatdeal more confidence now than he had in the days of "Old Joe." He wasless familiar with his fellow-clerks, and more chummy with hissuperiors. He never said "sir" to the head clerk, and the head clerknever found fault with anything he did. But as the clerks had a prettyeasy time themselves, they did little more than merely notice thesechanges. Among those who were disturbed by George Early's tactics andwho understood them better was Thomas Parrott.
For the first time in his life he had lent a man money withoutquestioning his _bona fides_. The legacy compelled him to do it, andhe did it. But no sooner had George got out of the office than the headclerk began to think over things, and to wonder if his nature would beable to stand the strain that it might be subjected to.
With the arrival of Miss Fairbrother, he withdrew to the small privateoffice on the ground floor, and ventured out of it only when he wascompelled. George made a note of this move, and on the whole quiteapproved of it; as things were about to shape themselves he could nothave wished for anything better.
He walked in one morning, and closed the door carefully behind him.Parrott looked up with some uneasiness, but made no remark. He waitedfor his subordinate to speak; but as George Early seemed in no hurry toforego his inspection of the almanacks on the wall, he asked if MissFairbrother had arrived.
"Not yet," said George, without turning his head. "She doesn't hurryherself. No more would I if I had her job."
Parrott coughed sternly in reply to this free remark concerning thehead of the firm.
"Do you want to see me, Early?" he asked, with an attempt atdiscipline.
"Oh yes," said George, as if obliged for the reminder; "I was justgoing to thank you for that half-crown I borrowed. By the way, I'm abit short this week; have you got five shillings you could let me havea couple of days? Beastly nuisance being short."
Parrott turned white, and nerved himself to bear the shock.
"What do you mean, Early, by coming here to borrow money from me?" hesaid.
George put his hand over his mouth and coughed.
"Because I know you're the right sort," he said diplomatically. "I knowyou've got a heart, and you wouldn't refuse a man who is hard up."
"It'll get round the office," said Parrott, "and I shall have everybodyborrowing from me."
"Why should they?" asked George, innocently.
"Of course not," said Parrott, seeing the need for caution. "Well, I'lllet you have the money this time, Early. You needn't tell anybody else;because if others started to borrow money from me, I should have torefuse everybody. Do you see?"
"I see," said George.
He pocketed the money and went out, leaving the head clerk in a verydisturbed state of mind.
In spite of his impecunious state, George Early did not seek his usualcoffee-shop for lunch that day. He passed it by on the other side, andstopped to look at the bill of fare outside a City restaurant. Havingexamined the menus of other restaurants, he entered one where a man inuniform stood at the door.
Turning into an alcove, George came face to face with Gray, who waspreparing to begin on a prime rump-steak. Gray started, and seemedanything but pleased to see George.
"Didn't know you came here," said George--"thought you went to thePlume of Feathers."
"I've given it up," said Gray.
"Best thing," said George. "It isn't nice to be seen going into apublic-house, is it?"
Gray nearly choked himself with a piece of steak, and looked at hiscompanion out of the corner of his eye.
"Smell of whisky here," said George, suddenly, eyeing Gray's glass."They told me you'd signed the pledge."
Gray reddened, and affected not to notice.
"Better not go near the missis," said Early, referring to MissFairbrother. "Awful stuff to smell, whisky."
Gray was on the point of retorting, but changed his mind, and said--
"What are you going to have?"
"Nothing, thanks," said George, stiffly. "Don't come any of that withme, please."
"What are you talking about?" said Gray, beginning to bluster.
"All right," said George, darkly; "that'll do. What I know, I know."
"What's the mystery?" asked Gray. "You'd better get it off your chest,if it's anything important."
"It _is_ important," said George, with a frown. "And what I woulddo is to advise a certain party to be careful. I don't want to do anyspying, but duty's duty."
Gray changed colour, and proceeded with his steak; while George buriedhimself in the columns of the _Daily Telegraph_, and preserved acountenance of Spartan-like severity.
Having finished his meal, George coolly took out a notebook andproceeded to make a few entries. He could see that Gray was watchinghim narrowly, and he purposely endeavoured to put more secrecy into theperformance.
When it came to settling up, George had some difficulty in finding thecash, although it was only in his right-hand pocket.
"Funny thing," he said; "I had a half-sovereign a little while ago."
The waiter stood by stolidly with the bill on a salver.
"Would you care to take this?" said Gray, meekly, pushing forward ahalf-sovereign from among his change. "I dare say you'll find itpresently."
"Thanks," said George. "I'll settle up with that, and give it to you aswe go along. I shall find it," he said in a determined voice.
He didn't find it. But Gray said it didn't matter; he could pay himback any time.
During the afternoon George Early was in excellent spirits, and when heleft the office in the evening his usual fare of tea and toast wassupplanted by a sumptuous meal at a foreign cafe, after which heavoided his usual haunts at Walworth, and travelled to the suburbanretreat of Clapham. Here he sought out a quiet, respectable square, andstationed himself in the shadow of a doorway, opposite a corner housewith railings. He remained patiently for a quarter of an hour, when thedoor of the corner house opened, and a man that might be easilyrecognized as Busby came out. Without hesitation Busby walked slowlyacross the square, turned down one street, up another, and acrossanother, George Early following. Eventually Busby entered the FreeLibrary, stayed a few minutes, came out, and walked off briskly inanother direction.
George smiled to himself as he found Busby's destination to be awell-lighted billiard saloon. Having seen him safely inside, he turnedaway and retraced his steps to the corner house in the square. Thistime he passed through the front garden, and rang the bell. Adiminutive maid answered him, to be superseded by Mrs. Busby.
George Early inquired politely for her husband. He was not in, Mrs.Busby said. George knew that, but didn't say so. He simply said that hewas one of Fairbrother's men, who happened to be in the district,looking for a house that was near the Free Library, and he thought hisold friend might be able to give him some assistance.
"How funny!" cried Mrs. Busby. "Why, he's only just gone round to theFree Library himself. He spends all his evenings there, he's so fond ofbooks! He will be sorry he missed you!"
"I'm sure he will," said George.
"What a pity you did not come a little earlier!" said Mrs. Busby.
"I would if I'd known."
"You see," said the little woman, "Albert is so studious. He'll sit forhours and hours in the library, reading all sorts of books, and he cantell the most wonderful stories. I don't suppose you'd believe them ifyou heard."
"I don't suppose I should," said George.
"Nobody does," said Mrs. Busby, with pride. "They hear his stories, andthey smile, but they don't know where they came from."
"It's a good job they don't," thought George.
Mrs. Busby gave her visitor elaborate directions for finding thelibrary, and hoped he would come back to supper. George said he wouldbe delighted, if it was only to hear some of her husband's stories.
Halfway across the square he turned round to take another look at thehouse. "Nice little woman that," he said to himself. "I think I'll goback to supper." He lit a cigarette, and started off to find his oldfriend Busby.
The cashier was in the midst of a game of billiards and winning easily,consequently he was in high spirits. He welcomed George, and wonderedwhatever had brought him to that district.
"House-hunting," said George. "I've just been round to the FreeLibrary, looking up particulars."
At the mention of the Free Library, Busby became more serious, and thenext shot he made was a bad one.
"You're getting on well," said George, looking at the score.
"So I ought," said Busby; "it isn't often I win. These beggars are toogood for me."
"You'll win this time," said George; "that'll be good news for themissis."
Busby lighted his pipe to avoid a reply, and then made another badshot.
"You've brought me bad luck," he growled, turning to George.
"It isn't that," said George, "you played in the wrong way. I waslooking just now at the book on billiards in the Free Library, and----"
"Damn the Free Library," said Busby, savagely, making a miss.
Busby played badly for the rest of the game, and withdrew sulkily intoa corner. George sat by his side, and endeavoured to cheer him up.
"What's wrong, old chap?" he asked. "You don't mean to say Mrs. B. willbe disappointed because you lost?"
Busby gave him a pitying glance, and uttered these amazing words--
"She won't know anything about it."
George looked at him incredulously. "You don't mean to say you'll tellher you won?"
"Shan't tell her anything," said Busby. "She thinks I'm in the FreeLibrary."
He was rewarded with a severe look from George, who said, in a serioustone--
"It isn't right, old chap; no man ought to deceive his wife. Tell thetruth and shame the devil. That's my motto."
"Keep your motto," said Busby, rudely. "I don't want it. I bet you'd dothe same if you were married."
"I wouldn't," said George, decidedly. "No, not for--not for L500 Iwouldn't."
Busby was just raising a glass to his lips, but his hand began to shakeso that he had to put it down. He mopped his brow, pulled out hiswatch, and thought it was about time he was getting home.
"Let's see, you're going the station way, I suppose?" he said when theygot outside.
"I'm going your way," said George. "I'm coming home to supper, old man,to hear some of your stories."
"What?" roared Busby.
"Those you find in the books at the Free Library," said George. "Ishall enjoy them, I'll be bound."
"Look here," said Busby, assuming a threatening attitude, "that'senough of it."
"No, it isn't, old chap," said George. "I promised the missis I'd comeback with you from the Free Library, so, of course, I must. Besides,"he added gravely, "I shall have to tell her you were not there."
Busby laughed hilariously. "You are a funny devil!" he said. "Well,good night."
He turned away, and George followed him closely. They went on in thisway for twenty yards, when Busby turned, and said in low, fierce tones.
"You're following me. Now, I give you warning, Early. I've had enoughof your nonsense lately. Take my tip and clear off while you're safe.You'll get none of our supper."
George folded his arms, and assumed a theatrical posture.
"Albert Busby," he said firmly, "it can't be done. I don'twant your supper. I'm coming with you, Albert Busby, to seethat--you--tell--the--truth."
Busby collapsed, and had to support himself against a lamp-post.
"What do you mean?" he asked faintly.
"I know all," said George, in sepulchral tones.
"All? All what?"
"You know what. I'm obeying the will of a dead man. Did you ever hearof Old Joe Fairbrother?"
That was enough for Busby. He turned away his head and gave vent to agroan.
"You don't mean to say he put you on my track?" gasped Busby.
George waved his hand. "The secrets of the dead must be kept," he said."Ask me no more."
The next hundred yards were traversed in silence. They passed the FreeLibrary just as the doors were closing, and turned off towards thesquare where stood the corner house with railings. Suddenly Busbystopped in the middle of the pavement and put one hand on the arm ofhis friend.
"Early," he said, "you're not going to give me away, are you?"
George drew himself up. "The commands of a dead man----" he began.
"Stop that bosh," said Busby, irritably. "I don't want Fanny to knowall about this; what are you going to tell her,--that's the question?"
"It isn't," said George; "the question is, what are you going to tellher?"
"She doesn't know all the facts of this business," said Busby,addressing a lamp-post on the other side of the road.
"She soon will," said George.
"She doesn't know it's five hundred," said the unhappy man; "she thinksit's fifty."
"Don't worry," said George; "I'll tell her everything."
"She thinks," he mumbled with a foolish laugh, "that Old Joe left mefifty pounds a year to improve my education, because I'm so studious!"
George laughed now. "I wonder what she'll say," he cried, "when I tellher the truth!"
Busby seized his wrist with dramatic savagery. "She must never know!"he hissed.
"Let go my wrist, you silly fool!" cried George; "you're pinching me.And don't breathe in my ear."
"She must never know," repeated Busby, folding his arms; "it wouldbreak up the home, and part us for ever. She couldn't bear to think I'ddeceived her, and I dare say she'd waste away and break her heart. Ishould, too; and you'd be responsible for two deaths. Promise me,Early, that you'll keep your mouth shut, at least for to-night."
George covered his eyes with one hand and endeavoured to brace himselfup for the effort.
"I'll try," he said nobly; "but I may break down in the morning; Ican't be sure of myself."
"That won't matter," said Busby, "you won't be here then."
"I'm afraid I shall," said George; "you see, I unfortunately came outwithout any money to take me home, so I shall have to ask you to put meup for the night."
Busby viewed this prospect with cold disapproval, and after somediscussion prevailed upon George Early to acc
ept the loan of ahalf-sovereign to take a cab home. Having arrived at this satisfactorystage they entered the little front gate of the Busby cottage, Georgehaving insisted on keeping his appointment at supper.
Two hours later he left, accompanied to the front gate by his friend,whose hand he shook repeatedly, finally waving him farewell across thesquare.
"What a nice man!" cried Mrs. Busby; "and how fond he is of you,Albert!"
Albert's answer was not distinguishable.