Hatter's Castle

by Арчибальд Джозеф Кронин

  Mrs. Brodie breathed more calmly as, without removing her hat or coat, she rose to her feet, hurried to the kitchen and sat down and composed a short, but carefully worded letter, asking Adam McSevitch to attend her at her home on Monday forenoon at eleven o'clock. She sealed the letter with the utmost precaution, then dragged her tired limbs out of the house and into the town once more. In her haste the constant pain in her side throbbed more intensely, but she did not allow it to interfere with her progress and by half-past three she succeeded in reaching the general post office, where she bought a stamp and carefully posted her letter. She then composed and dispatched a wire to "Brodie: Poste Restante: Marseilles", saying,

  "Money arrives Monday sure. Love. Mamma." The cost of the message left her stricken, but though she might have reduced the cost by omitting the last two words, she could not force herself to do so. Matt must be made to understand, above everything, that it was she who, with her own hands, had sent the wire, and that she, his mother, loved him.

  A sense of comfort assuaged her on her way home; the feeling that she had accomplished something and that on Monday she would assuredly obtain the money, reassured her, yet nevertheless, as the day dragged slowly to its end, she began to grow restless and impatient. The consolation obtained from her definite action gradually wore of! and left her sad, inert and helpless, obsessed by distressing doubts. She fluctuated between extremes of indecision and terror; felt that she would not obtain the money, then that she would be surely discovered; questioned her ability to carry through the undertaking; fled in her mind from the fact, as from an unreal and horrid nightmare, that she of all people should be attempting to deal with money-lenders.

  Sunday dragged past her in an endless succession of interminable minutes, during the passage of which she glanced at the clock a hundred times, as if she might thus hasten the laboured transit of time and so terminate her own anxiety and the painful expectancy of her son. During the slow hours of the tardily passing day, she formed and reformed the simple plan she had made, trembled to think how

  she would address Mr. McSevitch, was convinced that he would treat her as a lady, then felt certain that he would not, reread his advertisement secretly, was cheered by his comforting offer to lend ^500, then shocked by the amazing effrontery of it. When she retired eventually to rest, her head whirled with confusion, and she dreamed she was overwhelmed by an avalanche of golden pieces.

  On Monday morning she could hardly maintain her normal demeanour, she shook so palpably with apprehension, but mercifully her anxiety was not detected and she sighed with relief when first Nessie, and then Brodie, disappeared through the front door. She now had only Grandma Brodie to dispose of, for from the moment she had written her letter she had fully appreciated the obvious danger of having the inquisitive, garrulous and hostile old woman about the house at the time fixed for the interview. The danger that she might stumble upon the entire situation was too great to be risked, and Mamma, with unthought-of cunning, prepared to attack her upon her weakest point. At half-past nine therefore, when she took up to the old woman her usual breakfast of porridge and milk, she did not, as was her custom, immediately leave the room, but instead sat down upon the bed and regarded its aged occupant with an assumed and exaggerated expression of concern.

  "Grandma," she began, "you never seem to get out the house these days at all. You look real peaky to me the now. Why don't you take a bit stroll this morning?" The old dame poised the porridge spoon in her yellow claw and cast a suspicious eye upon Mamma from under her white, frilled nightcap.

  "And where would I stroll to on a winter's day?" she asked distrustfully. "Do ye want me to get inflammation of the lungs so as you can get rid o' me?"

  Mamma forced a bright laugh, an exhibition of gaiety which it tortured her heart to perform.

  "It's a lovely day!" she cried. "And do ye know what I'm goin' to do with ye? I'm just going to give you a florin, to go and get yourself some Deesides and some oddfellows."

  Grandma looked at the other with a dubious misgiving, sensing immediately a hidden motive but tempted by the extreme richness of the enticement. In her senile greediness she loved particularly the crisp biscuits known as "Deeside"; she doted upon those large, flat, round sweets so inappropriately named oddfellows; in her own room she endeavoured, always, to maintain a stock of each of these delicacies in two separate tins inside her top drawer; but now, as Mamma was well aware, her supplies were exhausted. It was a tempting offer!

  "Where's the money?" she demanded craftily. Without speaking, Mamma revealed the shining florin in the middle of her palm.

  The crone blinked her bleared eyes at it, thinking with rapid, calculating glances that there would be enough for the Deesides, the oddfellows, and maybe a wee dram over and above.

  "I micht as weel take a dauner, then," she muttered slowly, with the semblance of a yawn to indicate indifference.

  "That's right, Grandma I'll help ye," encouraged Mamma as, trembling with an exultation she feared to display, realising that so far victory was hers, she assisted the other out of bed. Before the old woman could have time to change her mind, she wrapped her in her voluminous clothing, tied a multitude of tapes, drew on the elastic-sided boots, brought her the jet-spangled bonnet, held out and enveloped her in the black, beaded cape. Then she presented her with her false teeth upon the charger of a cracked saucer, handed her the two-shilling piece and, having thus finally supplied her with the weapons and the sinews of the war about to be waged on the Deesides, she led the old woman down the stairs and saw her go tottering out along the road, before the clock showed half -past ten. Exercising the utmost dispatch, she now made all the beds, washed the dishes, tidied the house, made herself, in her own phrase, decent, and sat down

  breathlessly at the parlour window to await her visitor.

  As the hands of the marble timepiece on the parlour mantelpiece drew near to eleven, Mamma shook with trepidation, as though she expected a cab to dash up to the house and the front bell to ring, simultaneously with the first stroke of the hour. As the clock eventually struck eleven strokes and was silent, she wondered if Mr, McSevitch would bring the money in golden sovereigns in a bag, or present it to her in immaculate notes; then, as the hands indicated five minutes, ten minutes, then fifteen minutes past the appointed time and still no one came, she grew restless. If her visitor did not come at the hour she had specially indicated, all her carefully thought-out arrangements would go for nothing and she shuddered to think what would happen if he arrived during the dinner hour, when her husband would be in the house.

  At twenty minutes to twelve she had almost abandoned hope when, suddenly, she observed two strange gentlemen appear opposite the house. They arrived on foot and carried no bag, but were dressed exactly alike, in a manner which Mrs. Brodie felt might represent the peak of elegance, the most dashing summit of contemporary male fashion. Their Derby hats, that curled till brim met crown, were tilted rakishly above glossy side whiskers; their very short jackets were tight to the waist, with long rolling lapels, so that the chest of each had the appearance of swelling forward like that of a pouter pigeon, whilst the curve of the lower part of the back swept protrudingly, but equally enticingly, in an obverse direction; their check trousers, maintaining an agreeable looseness in the upper portions, clung more sympathetically to the figure as they descended, and terminated finally with the tightness of spats around small, inconspicuous, but none the less shining, shoes. Each wore a large, heavy watch chain high up across his spotted, fancy waistcoat whilst, even at such a distance as that from which she viewed them, she noted upon their fingers a coruscation of jewelled rings which sparkled and flashed with every fluent movement. No strangers of such composed address or brilliant plumage had, in the memory of Mrs. Brodie, ever flitted down upon the town of Levenford and, with a beating heart and a fascinated eye, she realised instinctively although her anticipation had visualised a patriarchal gentleman in an Inverness cloak with a bluff manner and a benevol
ent shaggy beard that these men of the world were the emissaries of McSevitch genuine Scotsman.

  From the middle of the roadway they looked knowingly at the house, as though their eyes, having embraced and criticised every architectural feature of its outer aspect, bored like gimlets through the hard stone walls, examining the inadequacies of its inner structure and contemptuously discovering a host of deficiencies hitherto concealed even from its occupants.

  At length, after a prolonged, impassive stare, one of the two turned his head slowly and, out o the corner of his mouth, said something to his companion, who on his part pushed his hat farther back upon his head, veiled his protuberant eyeballs and laughed with an experienced air.

  Like a sudden, startled victim of diplopia, Mrs. Brodie now saw them advance simultaneously, proceed through the gateway abreast, saw them glance in unison at every stone on the courtyard, and, as they paused before the cannon in front of the porch, she shrank teck behind the concealment of her curtain.

  "Bit o' junk that, but solid stuff brass by the look on it," she heard one say, as he fingered his large, pearly tie-pin. The other flicked the gun barrel with his finger nail, as though he wished to see if it might ring true, but immediately he withdrew the finger and thrust it hastily into his mouth, "Ow! It's bloody hard, anyway," floated in through the half-open window towards Mamma's astounded ears.

  The bell rang. Mechanically she went to answer it and, as she threw open the door, she was confronted by two identically competent smiles which met and returned her shrinking gaze with a dazzling exhibition of gold and ivory.

  "Mrs. Brodie?" said one, extinguishing his smile.

  "You wrote?" said the other, doing likewise.

  "Are you from Mr. McSevitch?" she stammered.

  "Sons," said the first easily.

  "Partners," said the second gracefully.

  Overcome by the ease of their manners, but none the less shaken by a faint misgiving, she hesitatingly took them into the parlour. Immediately their sharp gaze, which had beeu glued upon her, became detached and darted around every object in the room in abstracted yet eager estimation, until finally, as the orbits of their inspection intersected, their glances met significantly and one addressed the other in a tongue unknown to Mrs. Brodie. The language was strange, but the tone familiar and, even as she winced at its disparaging note, her cheeks coloured with a faint indignation, as she thought that such words as these were, at least, not genuine Scottish. Then, alternately, they began to bombard her.

  "You want forty pounds, lady ?"

  "On the quiet without any one knowin' not evert the old man, lady."

  "Been havin' a little flutter, perhaps?"

  "What do you want it for, lady?"

  Their well-informed glances devastated her as they moved their fingers, sparkling their rings affluently, demonstrating agreeably that they had the money, that she it was who desired it. She was at their mercy.

  When they had drawn everything from her regarding the house, her husband, herself, and her family, they exchanged a nod and, as one man, arose. They toured the parlour, then tramped loudly and indifferently through the house, fingering, handling, stroking, twiddling and weighing everything in it, peering, poking and prying into every room with Mamma at their heels like a debased and submissive dog. When they had reviewed the most intimate details of the life of the household as manifested to them in the interior of cupboards, the inside of wardrobes, the contents of drawers, and made her blush painfully as, penetrating even to her bedroom, they regarded with a knowing air the space beneath her bed, they at last descended the stairs, looking everywhere but at her. She could see refusal in their faces.

  "I'm afraid it's no good, lady. Your furniture's poor stuff, heavy, old-fashioned; won't sell!" said one at last, with an odious show of candour. "We might lend you two tens on it or say even twenty-four pounds. Yes, say twenty-five at the outside limit and on our own terms of interest," he continued, as he produced a quill tooth-pick from his waistcoat pocket and assisted his calculations by, its assiduous application. "What say?"

  "Yes, lady," said the other; "times is bad these days and you're not what you might call a good loan. We're always polite to a lady funny the number of ladies we does business with but you haven't got the security."

  "But my things are all good," quavered Mamma in a faint voice; "they've been handed down in the family."

  "You couldn't give them away now, ma'am," the gentleman with the toothpick assured her, shaking his head sadly. "No, not even in a downright gift. We've reached the limit, the fair limit. How about that twenty-five pounds of good money?"

  "I must have forty pounds," said Mamma weakly; "anything else is no good." She had set the fixed sum in her mind and nothing short of its complete achievement would satisfy her.

  "You've nothing else to show, lady ?" said one insinuatingly. "Funny what you ladies will shake out when you're put to it. You've nothing up your sleeve for the last?"

  "Only the kitchen," replied Mrs. Brodie humbly, as she threw open the door, loath to allow them to depart, desiring despairingly to entice them into the plain apartment for a last consideration of her appeal. They went in, following her reluctantly, disdainfully, but immediately their attention was riveted by a picture which hung conspicuously upon the wall, framed in a wood of mottled, light yellow walnut. It was an engraving entitled "The Harvesters", was marked

  First Proof, and signed J. Bell.

  "Is that yours, lady?" said one, after a significant pause.

  "Yes," said Mrs. Brodie, "it's mine. It was my mother's before me. That small pencil sketch in the corner of the margin has been much admired."

  They talked in low tones before the picture, peered at it through a glass, rubbed it, pawed it possessively.

  "Would you like to sell this, lady ? Of course, it's nothing to make a noise on oh, dear, no! but we would offer you yes five pounds for it," said the second eventually, in an altered, ingratiating tone.

  "I can sell nothing," whispered Mamma. "Mr. Brodie would notice it at once."

  "Say ten pounds then, lady," exclaimed the first, with a great show of magnanimity.

  "No! No!" returned Mamma, "But if it's worth something, will ye not lend me the rest of the money on it? If it's worth something to buy, it's surely worth something to lend on." She waited in a fever of anxiety, hanging upon the inflection of their voices, upon their quick, expressive gestures, upon the very lift of their eyebrows while they held colloquy together upon her picture. At last, after prolonged argument, they agreed.

  "You win, then, lady," said one, "We'll lend you the forty pounds, but you'll have to give us your bond on the picture and the rest of the furniture as well."

  "We're giving the money away, lady," said the other, "but we'll do it for your sake. We see you need the money bad; but you must understand that if you don't pay up, that picture and your furniture belongs to us."

  She nodded dumbly, feverishly, filled with a choking, unendurable sense of a hard-fought victory. They went back into the parlour and sat down at the table, where she signed the endless papers that they produced for her, appending her signature where they indicated with a blind, reckless indifference. She understood that she would have to repay three pounds a month for two years, but she cared nothing for that and, as they counted out the money in crisp pound notes, she took it like a woman in a dream, and, like a sleepwalker, she showed them to the door. In spite of everything, she had got the money for Matt.

  Early that afternoon she wired the money. In the overwrought state of her imagination she seemed to see the clean bank notes actually rushing through the blue to the salvation of her son and, when they had gone, for the first time in three days she breathed peacefully and a mantle of tranquillity descended upon her.

  VI

  ON the following morning Brodie sat at breakfast, cold, moody, detached, the two, sharp, vertical furrows lately become more intensely grooved marking the centre of his forehead between his sunk eyes like cica
triced wounds and giving to his gloomy visage a perpetual air of brooding perplexity. Caught in the unrelieved severity of the pale morning light, his unwary countenance, relieved

  of observation, seemed to justify the idle remark uttered in the Paxton home that now he was beyond his depth, and from behind that low wall of his harassed forehead, the confusion of his mind seemed to obtrude itself so forcibly that even as he sat still and quiet at table, he appeared to flounder helplessly with all the impotent brute strength of a harpooned whale. His diminutive intellect, so disproportionate to his gigantic body, could not direct him towards safety and while he lashed out in the most mistaken directions in his efforts to avoid a final catastrophe, he still saw disaster steadily closing in upon him.

  He, of course, knew nothing of the wire or of Mamma's action on the previous day. Mercifully, he was not aware of the unauthorised feet that had so boorishly tramped through his domain, yet his own worries and misfortunes were more than sufficient to render his temper like tinder, ready to ignite and flame furiously at the first spark of provocation. Now, having finished his porridge, he awaited

  with ill-concealed impatience his special cup of coffee which Mrs. Brodie was pouring out for him at the scullery stove.

  This morning cup of coffee was one of the minor tribulations of Mamma's harassed existence, for although she made tea admirably she rarely succeeded in making coffee to Brodie's exacting taste, which demanded that it must be freshly brewed, freshly poured, and steaming hot. This innocent beverage had become a convenient peg upon which to hand any matutinal grievance, and most mornings he complained bitterly about it, on any or every pretext. It was too sweet, not strong enough, had too many grounds in it; it burned his tongue or was full of the straggling skin of boiled milk. No matter how she made it the result was declared unsatisfactory. The very action of carrying his cup to the table became to her a penance as, knowing the tremor of her hand, he insisted further that the cup must be brimming full and not a single drop must be spilled upon the saucer. This last transgression was the most deadly that she could commit, and when it occurred he would wilfully allow the drop from the bottom of the cup to fall upon his coat, and would then roar: