The Firm of Girdlestone

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER X.

  DWELLERS IN BOHEMIA.

  The residence of Major Tobias Clutterbuck, late of the 119th LightInfantry, was not known to any of his friends. It is true that at timeshe alluded in a modest way to his "little place," and even went to thelength of remarking airily to new acquaintances that he hoped they wouldlook him up any time they happened to be in his direction. As hecarefully refrained, however, from ever giving the slightest indicationof which direction that might be, his invitations never led to anypractical results. Still they had the effect of filling the recipientwith a vague sense of proffered hospitality, and occasionally led tomore substantial kindness in return.

  The gallant major's figure was a familiar one in the card-room of the_Rag and Bobtail_, at the bow-window of the Jeunesse Doree. Tall andpompous, with a portly frame and a puffy clean-shaven face which peeredover an abnormally high collar and old-fashioned linen cravat, he stoodas a very type and emblem of staid middle-aged respectability.The major's hat was always of the glossiest, the major's coat waswithout a wrinkle, and, in short, from the summit of the major's baldhead to his bulbous finger-tips and his gouty toes, there was not a flawwhich the most severe critic of deportment--even the illustriousTurveydrop himself--could have detected. Let us add that theconversation of the major was as irreproachable as his person--that hewas a distinguished soldier and an accomplished traveller, with aretentive memory and a mind stuffed with the good things of alifetime. Combine all these qualities, and one would naturally regardthe major as a most desirable acquaintance.

  It is painful to have to remark, however, that, self-evident as thisproposition might appear, it was vehemently contradicted by some of theinitiated. There were rumours concerning the major which seriouslycompromised his private character. Indeed, such a pitch had theyreached that when that gallant officer put himself forward as acandidate for a certain select club, he had, although proposed by a lordand seconded by a baronet, been most ignominiously pilled. In publicthe major affected to laugh over this social failure, and to regard itas somewhat in the nature of a practical joke, but privately he wasdeeply incensed. One day he momentarily dropped his veil of unconcernwhile playing billiards with the Honourable Fungus Brown, who wasgenerally credited with having had some hand in the major's exclusion."Be Ged! sir," the veteran suddenly exclaimed, inflating his chest andturning his apoplectic face upon his companion, "in the old days I wouldhave called the lot of you out, sir, every demned one, beginning withthe committee and working down; I would, be George!" At which savageattack the Honourable Fungus's face grew as white as the major's wasred, and he began to wish that he had been more reserved in hisconfidences to some of his acquaintances respecting the exclusiveness ofthe club in question, or at least refrained from holding up the major'spilling as a proof thereof.

  The cause of this vague feeling of distrust which had gone abroadconcerning the old soldier was no very easy matter to define. It istrue that he was known to have a book on every race, and to have secretmeans of information from stud-grooms and jockeys which occasionallystood him in good stead; but this was no uncommon thing among the menwith whom he consorted. Again, it is true that Major Clutterbuck wasmuch addicted to whist, with guinea points, and to billiard matches forsubstantial sums, but these stimulating recreations are also habitual tomany men who have led eventful lives and require a strong seasoning tomake ordinary existence endurable. Perhaps one reason may have beenthat the major's billiard play in public varied to an extraordinarydegree, so that on different occasions he had appeared to be aiming atthe process termed by the initiated "getting on the money." The warmfriendships, too, which the old soldier had contracted with sundryvacuous and sappy youths, who were kindly piloted by him intoquasi-fashionable life and shown how and when to spend their money, hadbeen most uncharitably commented upon. Perhaps the vagueness about themajor's private residence and the mystery which hung over him outsidehis clubs may also have excited prejudice against him. Still, howeverhis detractors might malign him, they could not attempt to deny the factthat Tobias Clutterbuck was the third son of the Honourable CharlesClutterbuck, who again was the second son of the Earl of Dunross, one ofthe most ancient of Hibernian families. This pedigree the old soldiertook care to explain to every one about him, more particularly to thesappy youths aforementioned.

  It chanced that on the afternoon of which we speak the major wasengrossed by this very subject. Standing at the head of the broad stonesteps which lead up to the palatial edifice which its occupiersirreverently term the _Rag and Bobtail_, he was explaining to abull-necked, olive-complexioned young man the series of marriages andinter-marriages which had culminated in the production of his ownportly, stiff-backed figure. His companion, who was none other thanEzra Girdlestone, of the great African firm of that name, leaned againstone of the pillars of the portico and listened gloomily to the major'sfamily reminiscences, giving an occasional yawn which he made no attemptto conceal.

  "It's as plain as the fingers of me hand," the old soldier said in awheezy muffled brogue, as if he were speaking from under a feather-bed."See here now, Girdlestone--this is Miss Letitia Snackles of Snackleton,a cousin of old Sir Joseph." The major tapped his thumb with the silverhead of his walking-stick to represent the maiden Snackles. "Shemarries Crawford, of the Blues--one o' the Warwickshire Crawfords;that's him"--here he elevated his stubby forefinger; "and here's theirthree children, Jemima, Harold, and John." Up went three other fingers."Jemima Crawford grows up, and then Charley Clutterbuck runs away withher. This other thumb o' mine will stand for that young divil Charley,and then me fingers--"

  "Oh, hang your fingers," Girdlestone exclaimed with emphasis."It's very interesting, major, but it would be more intelligible if youwrote it out."

  "And so I shall, me boy!" the major cried enthusiastically, by no meansabashed at the sudden interruption. "I'll draw it up on a bit o'foolscap paper. Let's see; Fenchurch Street, eh? Address to theoffices, of course. Though, for that matter, 'Girdlestone, London,'would foind you. I was spakin' of ye to Sir Musgrave Moore, of theRifles, the other day, and he knew you at once. 'Girdlestone?' says he.'The same,' says I. 'A merchant prince?' says he. 'The same,' says I.'I'd be proud to meet him,' says he. 'And you shall,' says I. He's thebest blood of county Waterford."

  "More blood than money, I suppose," the young man said, smoothing outhis crisp black moustache.

  "Bedad, you've about hit it there. He went to California, and came backwith five and twinty thousand pounds. I met him in Liverpool the day hearrived. 'This is no good to me, Toby,' says he. 'Why not?' I asks.'Not enough,' says he; 'just enough to unsettle me.' 'What then?' saysI. 'Put it on the favourite for the St. Leger,' says he. And he didtoo, every pinny of it, and the horse was beat on the post by a shorthead. He dropped the lot in one day. A fact, sir, 'pon me honour!Came to me next day. 'Nothing left!' says he. 'Nothing?' says I.'Only one thing,' says he. 'Suicide?' says I. 'Marriage,' says he.Within a month he was married to the second Miss Shuttleworth, who hadfive thou. in her own right, and five more when Lord Dungeness turns uphis toes."

  "Indeed?" said his companion languidly.

  "Fact, 'pon me honour! By the way--ah, here comes Lord Henry Richardson.How d'ye do, Richardson, how d'ye do? Ged, I remember Richardson whenhe was a tow-headed boy at Clongowes, and I used to lam him with abootjack for his cheek. Ah, yes; I was going to say--it seems a demnedawkward incident--ha! ha!--ridiculous, but annoying, you know. The factis, me boy, coming away in a hurry from me little place, I left me purseon the drawers in the bedroom, and here's Jorrocks up in thebilliard-room afther challenging me to play for a tenner--but I won'twithout having the money in me pocket. Tobias Clutterbuck may be poor,me dear friend, but"--and here he puffed out his chest and tapped on itwith his round, sponge-like fist--"he's honest, and pays debts ofhonour on the nail. No, sir, there's no one can say a word againstTobias, except that he's a half-pay old fool with more heart thanbrains. However," he added, sudden
ly dropping the sentimental andcoming back to the practical, "if you, me dear boy, can obloige me withthe money until to-morrow morning, I'll play Jorrocks with pleasure.There's not many men that I'd ask such a favour of, and even from youI'd never accept anything more than a mere timporary convanience."

  "You may stake your life on that," Ezra Girdlestone said with a sneer,looking sullenly down and tracing figures with the end of his stick onthe stone steps. "You'll never get the chance. I make it a rule neverto lend any one money, either for short or long periods."

  "And you won't let me have this throifling accommodation?"

  "No," the young man said decisively.

  For a moment the major's brick-coloured, weather-beaten face assumed aneven darker tint, and his small dark eyes looked out angrily from underhis shaggy brows at his youthful companion. He managed to suppress thethreatened explosion, however, and burst into a loud roar of laughter.

  "'Pon me sowl!" he wheezed, poking the young man in the ribs with hisstick, an implement which he had grasped a moment before as though hemeditated putting it to a less pacific use, "you young divils ofbusiness-men are too much for poor old Tobias. Ged, sir, to think ofbeing stuck in the mud for the want of a paltry tenner! Tommy Heathcotewill laugh when he hears of it. You know Tommy of the 81st? He gave megood advice: 'Always sew a fifty-pound note into the lining of eachwaistcoat you've got. Then you can't go short.' Tried it once, and, beGeorge! if me demned man-servant didn't stale that very waistcoat andsell it for six and sixpence. You're not going, are you?"

  "Yes; I'm due in the City. The governor leaves at four. Good-bye.Shall I see you to-night?"

  "Card-room, as per usual," quoth the clean-shaven warrior. He lookedafter the retreating figure of his late companion with anything but apleasant expression upon his face. The young man happened to glanceround as he was half-way down the street, on which the major smiledafter him paternally, and gave a merry flourish with his stick.

  As the old soldier stood on the top of the club steps, pompous,pigeon-chested, and respectable, posing himself as though he had beenplaced there for the inspection of passers-by as a sample of thearistocracy within, he made several attempts to air his grievances topassing members touching the question of the expectant Jorrocks and themissing purse. Beyond, however, eliciting many sallies of wit from theyounger spirits, for it was part of the major's policy to lay himselfopen to be a butt, his laudable perseverance was entirely thrown away.At last he gave it up in disgust, and raising his stick hailed a passing'bus, into which he sprang, taking a searching glance round to see thatno one was following him. After a drive which brought him to the otherside of the City, he got out in a broad, busy thoroughfare, lined withlarge shops. A narrow turning from the main artery led into a long,dingy street, consisting of very high smoke-coloured houses, which ranparallel to the other, and presented as great a contrast to it as theback of a painting does to the front.

  Down this sombre avenue the major strutted with all his wontedpomposity, until about half-way down he reached a tall, grim-lookinghouse, with many notices of "apartments" glaring from the windows. The line of railings which separated this house from the street wasrusty, and broken and the whole place had a flavour of mildew.The major walked briskly up the stone steps, hollowed out by the feet ofgenerations of lodgers, and pushing open the great splotchy door, whichbore upon it a brass plate indicating that the establishment was kept bya Mrs. Robins, he walked into the hall with the air of one who treadsfamiliar ground. Up one flight of stairs, up two flights of stairs, andup three flights of stairs did he climb, until on the fourth landing hepushed open a door and found himself in a small room, which formed forthe nonce the "little place" about which he was wont at the club to makedepreciatory allusions, so skilfully introduced that the listener wasleft in doubt as to whether the major was the happy possessor of acountry house and grounds, or whether he merely owned a large suburbanvilla. Even this modest sanctum was not entirely the major's own, aswas shown by the presence of a ruddy-faced man with a long, tawny beard,who sat on one side of the empty fire-place, puffing at a greatchina-bowled pipe, and comporting himself with an ease which showedthat he was no casual visitor.

  As the other entered, the man in the chair gave vent to a guttural gruntwithout removing the mouthpiece of his pipe from between his lips; andMajor Clutterbuck returned the greeting with an off-handed nod.His next proceeding was to take off his glossy hat and pack it away in ahat-box. He then removed his coat, his collar, his tie, and hisgaiters, with equal solicitude, and put them in a place of safety.After which he donned a long purple dressing-gown and a smoking-cap, inwhich garb he performed the first steps of a mazurka as a sign of theadditional ease which he experienced.

  "Not much to dance about either, me boy," the old soldier said, seatinghimself in a camp-chair and putting his feet upon another one."Bedad, we're all on the verge. Unless luck takes a turn there's nosaying what may become of us."

  "We have been badder than this before now many a time," said theyellow-bearded man, in an accent which proclaimed him to be a German."My money vill come, or you vill vin, or something vill arrive to setall things right."

  "Let's hope so," the major said fervently. "It's a mercy to get out ofthese stiff and starched clothes; but I have to be careful of them, forme tailor--bad cess to him!--will give no credit, and there's little ofthe riddy knocking about. Without good clothes on me back I'd be like asweeper without a broom."

  The German nodded his intense appreciation of the fact, and puffed agreat blue cloud to the ceiling. Sigismond von Baumser was a politicalrefugee from the fatherland, who had managed to become foreign clerk ina small London firm, an occupation which just enabled him to keep bodyand soul together. He and the major had lodged in different rooms inanother establishment until some common leaven of Bohemianism hadbrought them together. When circumstances had driven them out of theirformer abode, it had occurred to the major that by sharing his roomswith Von Baumser he would diminish his own expenses, and at the sametime secure an agreeable companion, for the veteran was a sociable soulin his unofficial hours and had all the Hibernian dislike to solitude.The arrangement commended itself to the German, for he had a profoundadmiration for the other's versatile talents and varied experiences; sohe grunted an acquiescence and the thing was done. When the major'sluck was good there were brave times in the little fourth floor back.On the other hand, if any slice of good fortune came in the German'sway, the major had a fair share of the prosperity. During the hardtimes which intervened between these gleams of opulence, the pairroughed it uncomplainingly as best they might. The major wouldsometimes create a fictitious splendour by dilating upon the beauties ofCastle Dunross, in county Mayo, which is the headquarters of all theClutterbucks. "We'll go and live there some day, me boy," he would say,slapping his comrade on the back. "It will be mine from the dungeonsforty foot below the ground, right up, bedad, to the flagstaff fromwhich the imblem of loyalty flaunts the breeze." At these speeches thesimple-minded German used to rub his great red hands together withsatisfaction, and feel as pleased as though he had actually beenpresented with the fee simple of the castle in question.

  "Have you had your letter?" the major asked with interest, rolling acigarette between his fingers. The German was expecting his quarterlyremittance from his friends at home, and they were both anxiouslyawaiting it.

  Von Baumser shook his head.

  "Bad luck to them! they should have sent a wake ago. You should do whatJimmy Towler did. You didn't know Towler, of the Sappers? When he andI were souldiering in Canada he was vexed at the allowance which he hadfrom ould Sir Oliver, his uncle, not turning up at the right time.'Ged, Toby,' he says to me, 'I'll warm the old rascal up.' So he sitsdown and writes a letter to his uncle, in which he told him hisunbusiness-like ways would be the ruin of them, and more to the sameeffect. When Sir Oliver got the letter he was in such a divil's ownrage, that while he was dictating a codicil to his will he tumbled offthe chair
in a fit, and Jimmy came in for a clean siven thousand ayear."

  "Dat was more dan he deserved," the German remarked. "But you--how doyou stand for money?"

  Major Clutterbuck took ten sovereigns out of his trouser pocket andplaced them upon the table. "You know me law," he said; "I never, onany consideration, break into these. You can't sit down to play cardsfor high stakes with less in your purse, and if I was to change one, beGeorge! they'd all go like a whiff o' smoke. The Lord knows when I'dget a start again then. Bar this money I've hardly a pinny."

  "Nor me," said Von Baumser despondently, slapping his pockets.

  "Niver mind, me boy! What's in the common purse, I wonder?"

  He looked up at a little leather bag which hung from a brass nail on thewall. In flush times they were wont to deposit small sums in this, onwhich they might fall back in their hours of need.

  "Not much, I fear," the other said, shaking his head.

  "Well, now, we want something to pull us together on a dull day likethis. Suppose we send out for a bottle of sparkling, eh?"

  "Not enough money," the other objected.

  "Well, well, let's have something cheaper. Beaune, now; Beaune's a goodcomforting sort of drink. What d'ye say to splitting a bottle ofBeaune, and paying for it from the common purse?"

  "Not enough money," the other persisted doggedly.

  "Well, claret be it," sighed the major. "Maybe it's better in this sortof weather. Let us send Susan out for a bottle of claret?"

  The German took down the little leather bag and turned it upside down.A threepenny-piece and a penny rolled out. "Dat's all," he said."Not enough for claret."

  "But there is for beer," cried the major radiantly. "Bedad, it's justthe time for a quart of fourpinny. I remimber ould Gilder, when he wasour chief in India, used to say that a man who got beyond enjoying beerand a clay pipe at a pinch was either an ass or a coxcomb. He smoked aclay at the mess table himself. Draper, who commanded the division,told him it was unsoldier-like. 'Unsoldier-like be demned,' he said.Ged, they nearly court-martialled the ould man for it. He got the V.C.at the Quarries, and was killed at the Redan."

  A slatternly, slipshod girl answered the bell, and having received herorders and the united available funds of the two comrades, speedilyreturned with a brace of frothing pint pots. The major ruminatedsilently over his cigarette for some time, on some unpleasant subject,apparently, for his face was stem and his brows knitted. At last hebroke out with an oath.

  "Be George! Baumser, I can't stand that young fellow Girdlestone.I'll have to chuck him up. He's such a cold-blooded, flinty-hearted,calculating sort of a chap, that--" The remainder of the major'ssentence was lost in the beer flagon.

  "What for did you make him your friend, then?"

  "Well," the old soldier confessed, "it seemed to me that if he wantedto fool his money away at cards or any other divilment, TobiasClutterbuck might as well have the handling of it as any one else.Bedad, he's as cunning as a basketful of monkeys. He plays a safe gamefor low stakes, and never throws away a chance. Demned if I don't thinkI've been a loser in pocket by knowing him, while as to me character,I'm very sure I'm the worse there."

  "Vat's de matter mit him?"

  "What's not the matter with him. If he's agrayable he's not natural,and if he's natural he's not agrayable. I don't pretind to be a saint.I've seen some fun in me day, and hope to see some more before I die;but there are some things that I wouldn't do. If I live be cards it'sall fair and aboveboard. I never play anything but games o' skill, andI reckon on me skill bringing me out on the right side, taking one nightwith another through the year. Again, at billiards I may not alwaysplay me best, but that's gineralship. You don't want a whole room toknow to a point what your game is. I'm the last man to preach, but,bedad, I don't like that chap, and I don't like that handsome, brazenface of his. I've spint the greater part of my life reading folks'faces, and never very far out either."

  Von Baumser made no remark, and the two continued to smoke silently,with an occasional pull at their flagons.

  "Besides, it's no good to me socially," the major continued."The fellow can't keep quiet, else he might pass in a crowd; but thatdemned commercial instinct will show itself. If he went to heaven he'dstart an agency for harps and crowns. Did I tell you what theHonourable Jack Gibbs said to me at the club? Ged, he let me have itstraight! 'Buck,' he said, 'I don't mind you. You're one o' the rightsort when all's said and done, but if you ever inthroduce such a chap asthat to me again, I'll cut you as well as him for the future.' I'dinthroduced them to put the young spalpeen in a good humour, for, beingshort, as ye know, I thought it might be necessary to negotiate a loanfrom him."

  "Vat did you say his name vas?" Von Baumser asked suddenly.

  "Girdlestone."

  "Is his father a Kauffmann?"

  "What the divil is a Kauffmann?" the major asked impatiently. "Is it amerchant you mean?"

  "Ah, a merchant. One who trades with the Afrikaner?"

  "The same."

  Von Baumser took a bulky pocket-book from his inside pocket, and scanneda long list of names therein. "Ah, it is the same," he cried at lasttriumphantly, shutting up the book and replacing it. "Girdlestone &Co., African kauf--dat is, merchants--Fenchurch Street, City."

  "Those are they."

  "And you say dey are rich?"

  "Yes."

  "Very rich?"

  "Yes."

  The major began to think that his companion had been imbibing in hisabsence, for there was an unfathomable smile upon his face, and his redbeard and towsy hair seemed to bristle from some internal excitement.

  "Very rich! Ho, ho! Very rich!" he laughed. "I know dem; not asfriends, Gott bewahre! but I know dem and their affairs."

  "What are you driving at? Let's have it. Out with it, man."

  "I tell you," said the German, suddenly becoming supernaturally solemnand sawing his hand up and down in the air to emphasize his remarks,"in tree or four months, or a year at the most, there vill be no firm ofGirdlestone. They are rotten, useless--whoo! He blew an imaginaryfeather up into the air to demonstrate the extreme fragility of thehouse in question.

  "You're raving, Baumser," said Major Clutterbuck excitedly. "Why, man,their names are above suspicion. They are looked upon as the soundestconcern in the City."

  "Dat may be; dat may be," the German answered stolidly. "Vat I know, Iknow, and vat I say I say."

  "And how d'ye know it? D'ye tell me that you know lore about it thanthe men on 'Change and the firms that do business with them?"

  "I know vat I know, and I say vat I say," the other repeated."Dat tobacco-man Burger is a rogue. Dere is five-and-thirty in thehundred of water in this canaster tobacco, and one must be for everrelighting."

  "And you won't tell me where you heard this of the Girdlestones?"

  "It vould be no good to you. It Is enough dat vat I say is certain.Let it suffice that dere are people vat are bound to tell other peopleall dat dey know about anything whatever."

  "You don't make it over clear now," the old soldier grumbled. "You manethat these secret societies and Socialists let each other know all thatcomes in their way and have their own means of getting information."

  "Dat may be, and dat may not be," the German answered, in the sameoracular voice. "I thought, in any case, my good friend Clutterbuck,dat I vould give you vat you call in English the straight tap. It isalways vell to have the straight tap."

  "Thank ye, me boy," the major said heartily. "If the firm's in a badway, either the youngster doesn't know of it, or else he's the mostnatural actor that ever lived. Be George! there's the tay-bell; let'sget down before the bread and butther is all finished."

  Mrs. Robbins was in the habit of furnishing her lodgers with an eveningmeal at a small sum per head. There was only a certain amount of breadand butter supplied for this, however, and those who came late werelikely to find an empty platter. The two Bohemians felt that thesubject was
too grave a one to trifle with, so they suspended theirjudgment upon the Girdlestones while they clattered down to thedining-room.