III.
Within five minutes he was following Mr. Bryany into a small parlour onthe first floor of the Turk's Head, a room with which he had no previousacquaintance, though, like most industrious men of affairs inmetropolitan Hanbridge, he reckoned to know something about the Turk'sHead. Mr. Bryany turned up the gas (the Turk's Head took pride in beinga "hostelry," and, while it had accustomed itself to incandescentmantles on the ground floor, it had not yet conquered a natural distastefor electricity) and Edward Henry saw a smart despatch-box, a dresssuit, a trouser-stretcher, and other necessaries of theatrical businesslife at large in the apartment.
"I've never seen this room before," said Edward Henry.
"Take your overcoat off and sit down, will you?" said Mr. Bryany as heturned to replenish the fire from a bucket. "It's my privatesitting-room. Whenever I am on my travels, I always take a privatesitting-room. It pays, you know. Of course I mean if I'm alone. WhenI'm looking after Mr. Sachs, of course we share a sitting-room."
Edward Henry agreed lightly:
"I suppose so."
But the fact was that he was much impressed. He himself had never takena private sitting-room in any hotel. He had sometimes felt the desire,but he had not had the "face," as they say down there, to do it. Totake a private sitting-room in a hotel was generally regarded in theFive Towns as the very summit of dashing expensiveness and futileluxury.
"I didn't know they had private sitting-rooms in this shanty," saidEdward Henry.
Mr. Bryany, having finished with the fire, fronted him, shovel in hand,with a remarkable air of consummate wisdom, and replied:
"You can generally get what you want if you insist on having it, even inthis 'shanty.'"
Edward Henry regretted his use of the word "shanty." Inhabitants of theFive Towns may allow themselves to twit the historic and excellentTurk's Head, but they do not extend the privilege to strangers. And injustice to the Turk's Head, it is to be clearly stated that it did nomore to cow and discourage travellers than any other provincial hotel inEngland. It was a sound and serious English provincial hotel; and itlinked century to century.
Said Mr. Bryany:
"'Merica's the place for hotels."
"Yes, I expect it is."
"Been to Chicago?"
"No, I haven't."
Mr. Bryany, as he removed his overcoat, could be seen politelyforbearing to raise his eyebrows.
"Of course you've been to New York?"
Edward Henry would have given all he had in his pockets to be able tosay that he had been to New York, but, by some inexplicable negligence,he had hitherto omitted to go to New York, and, being a truthful person,except in the gravest crises, he was obliged to answer miserably:
"No, I haven't."
Mr. Bryany gazed at him with amazement and compassion, apparentlystaggered by the discovery that there existed in England a man of theworld who had contrived to struggle on for forty years withoutperfecting his education by a visit to New York.
Edward Henry could not tolerate Mr. Bryany's look. It was a look whichhe had never been able to tolerate on the features of anybodywhatsoever. He reminded himself that his secret object in accompanyingMr. Bryany to the Turk's Head was to repay Mr. Bryany--in what coin heknew not yet--for the aspersions which at the music-hall he had castupon England in general and upon the Five Towns in particular, and alsoto get revenge for having been tricked into believing, even for amoment, that there was really a case of hydrophobia at Bleakridge. Itis true that Mr. Bryany was innocent of this deception, which had beenaccomplished by Robert Brindley, but that was a detail which did nottrouble Edward Henry, who lumped his grievances together--forconvenience.
He had been reflecting that some sentimental people, unused to the waysof paternal affection in the Five Towns, might consider him a rathercallous father; he had been reflecting, again, that Nellie's suggestionof blood-poisoning might not be as entirely foolish as femininesuggestions in such circumstances too often are. But now he put thesethoughts away, reassuring himself against hydrophobia anyhow, by therecollection of the definite statement of the Encyclopedia. Moreover,had he not inspected the wound--as healthy a wound as you could wishfor?
And he said in a new tone, very curtly:
"Now, Mr. Bryany, what about this little affair of yours?"
He saw that Mr. Bryany accepted the implied rebuke with the deferenceproperly shown by a man who needs something towards the man inpossession of what he needs. And studying the fellow's countenance, hedecided that, despite its brassiness and simple cunning, it was scarcelythe countenance of a rascal.
"Well, it's like this," said Mr. Bryany, sitting down opposite EdwardHenry at the centre table, and reaching with obsequious liveliness forthe despatch-box.
He drew from the despatch-box, which was lettered "W.C.B.," first acut-glass flask of whisky, with a patent stopper, and then a spaciousbox of cigarettes.
"I always travel with the right sort," he remarked, holding the goldenliquid up to the light. "It's safer, and it saves any trouble withorders after closing-time. These English hotels, you know--!"
So saying, he dispensed whisky and cigarettes, there being a siphon andglasses, and three matches in a match-stand, on the table.
"Here's looking!" he said, with raised glass.
And Edward Henry responded, in conformity with the changeless ritual ofthe Five Towns:
"I looks!"
And they sipped.
Whereupon Mr. Bryany next drew from the despatch-box a piece oftransparent paper.
"I want you to look at this plan of Piccadilly Circus and environs,"said he.
Now there is a Piccadilly in Hanbridge; also a Pall Mall, and a ChanceryLane. The adjective "metropolitan," applied to Hanbridge is just.
"London?" questioned Edward Henry. "I understood London when we werechatting over there." With his elbow he indicated the music-hall,somewhere vaguely outside the room.
"London," said Mr. Bryany.
And Edward Henry thought:
"What on earth am I meddling with London for? What use should I be inLondon?"
"You see the plot marked in red?" Mr. Bryany proceeded. "Well, that'sthe site. There's an old chapel on it now."
"What do all these straight lines mean?" Edward Henry inquired,examining the plan. Lines radiated from the red plot in variousdirections.
"Those are the lines of vision," said Mr. Bryany. "They show just wherean electric sign at the corner of the front of the proposed theatrecould be seen from. You notice the site is not in the Circus itself--ashade to the north." Mr. Bryany's finger approached Edward Henry's onthe plan and the clouds from their cigarettes fraternally mingled. "Nowyou see by those lines that the electric sign of the proposed theatrewould be visible from nearly the whole of Piccadilly Circus, parts ofLower Regent Street, Coventry Street, and even Shaftesbury Avenue. Yousee what a site it is--absolutely unique."
Edward Henry asked coldly:
"Have you bought it?"
"No," Mr. Bryany seemed to apologise, "I haven't exactly bought it; butI've got an option on it."
The magic word "option" wakened the drowsy speculator in Edward Henry.And the mere act of looking at the plan endowed the plot of land withreality. There it was. It existed.
"An option to buy it?"
"You can't buy land in the West End of London," said Mr. Bryany sagely."You can only lease it."
"Well, of course," Edward Henry concurred.
"The freehold belongs to Lord Woldo, now aged six months."
"Really!" murmured Edward Henry.
"I've got an option to take up the remainder of the lease, withsixty-four years to run, on the condition I put up a theatre. And theoption expires in exactly a fortnight's time."
Edward Henry frowned, and then asked:
"What are the figures?"
"That is to say," Mr. Bryany corrected himself, smiling courteously,"I've got half the option."
"And w
ho's got the other half?"
"Rose Euclid's got the other half."
At the mention of the name of one of the most renowned star actresses inEngland, Edward Henry excusably started.
"Not _the_--?" he exclaimed.
Mr. Bryany nodded proudly, blowing out much smoke.
"Tell me," asked Edward Henry, confidentially, leaning forward, "wheredo those ladies get their names from?"
"It happens in this case to be her real name," said Mr. Bryany. "Herfather kept a tobacconists' shop in Cheapside. The sign was kept up formany years, until Rose paid to have it changed."
"Well, well!" breathed Edward Henry, secretly thrilled by theseextraordinary revelations. "And so you and she have got it betweenyou?"
Mr. Bryany said:
"I bought half of it from her some time ago. She was badly hard up for ahundred pounds, and I let her have the money." He threw away hiscigarette half-smoked, with a free gesture that seemed to imply that hewas capable of parting with a hundred pounds just as easily.
"How did she _get_ the option?" Edward Henry inquired, putting into thequery all the innuendo of a man accustomed to look at great worldlyaffairs from the inside.
"How did she get it? She got it from the late Lord Woldo. She wasalways very friendly with the late Lord Woldo, you know." Edward Henrynodded. "Why, she and the Countess of Chell are as thick as thieves!You know something about the countess down here, I reckon?"
The Countess of Chell was the wife of the supreme local magnate.
Edward Henry answered calmly, "We do."
He was tempted to relate a unique adventure of his youth, when he haddriven the countess to a public meeting in his mule-carriage; but sheerpride kept him silent.
"I asked you for the figures," he added in a manner which requested Mr.Bryany to remember that he was the founder, chairman, and proprietor ofthe Five Towns Universal Thrift Club, one of the most successfulbusiness organisations in the Midlands.
"Here they are," said Mr. Bryany, passing across the table a sheet ofpaper.
And as Edward Henry studied them he could hear Mr. Bryany faintly cooinginto his ear: "Of course Rose got the ground-rent reduced. And when Itell you that the demand for theatres in the West End far exceeds thesupply, and that theatre rents are always going up; when I tell you thata theatre costing L25,000 to build can be let for L11,000 a year, andoften L300 a week on a short term--" And he could hear the gas singingover his head; and also, unhappily, he could hear Dr. Stirling talkingto his wife and saying to her that the bite was far more serious than itlooked, and Nellie hoping very audibly that nothing had "happened" tohim, her still absent husband. And then he could hear Mr. Bryany again:
"When I tell you--"
"When you tell me all this, Mr. Bryany," he interrupted with theferocity which in the Five Towns is regarded as mere directness, "Iwonder why the devil you want to sell your half of the option if you_do_ want to sell it. Do you want to sell it?"
"To tell you the truth," said Mr. Bryany as if up to that moment he hadtold naught but lies, "I do."
"Why?"
"Oh, I'm always travelling about, you see. England one day, America thenext." Apparently he had quickly abandoned the strictness of veracity."All depends on the governor's movements. I couldn't keep a proper eyeon an affair of that kind."
Edward Henry laughed:
"And could I?"
"Chance for you to go a bit oftener to London," said Mr. Bryany,laughing too. Then, with extreme and convincing seriousness, "You'rethe very man for a thing of that kind. And you know it."
Edward Henry was not displeased by this flattery.
"How much?"
"How much? Well, I told you frankly what I paid. I made no concealmentof that, did I now? Well, I want what I paid. It's worth it!"
"Got a copy of the option, I hope!"
Mr. Bryany produced a copy of the option.
"I am nothing but an infernal ass to mix myself up in a mad scheme likethis," said Edward Henry to his soul, perusing the documents. "It'sright off my line, right bang off it. But what a lark!" But even tohis soul he did not utter the remainder of the truth about himself,namely, "I should like to cut a dash before this insufferable patroniserof England and the Five Towns."
Suddenly something snapped within him, and he said to Mr. Bryany:
"I'm on!"
Those words and no more!
"You are?" Mr. Bryany exclaimed, mistrusting his ears.
Edward Henry nodded.
"Well, that's business anyway," said Mr. Bryany, taking a freshcigarette and lighting it.
"It's how we do business down here," said Edward Henry, quiteinaccurately; for it was not in the least how they did business downthere.
Mr. Bryany asked, with a rather obvious anxiety:
"But when can you pay?
"Oh, I'll send you a cheque in a day or two." And Edward Henry in histurn took a fresh cigarette.
"That won't do! That won't do!" cried Mr. Bryany. "I absolutely musthave the money to-morrow morning in London. I can sell the option inLondon for eighty pounds, I know that."
"You must have it?"
"Must!"
They exchanged glances. And Edward Henry, rapidly acquiring newknowledge of human nature on the threshold of a world strange to him,understood that Mr. Bryany, with his private sitting-room and hisinvestments in Seattle and Calgary, was at his wits' end for a bag ofEnglish sovereigns, and had trusted to some chance encounter to save himfrom a calamity. And his contempt for Mr. Bryany was that of a man towhom his bankers are positively servile.
"Here," Mr. Bryany almost shouted, "don't light your cigarette with myoption!"
"I beg pardon," Edward Henry apologised, dropping the document which hehad creased into a spill. There were no matches left on the table.
"I'll find you a match."
"It's of no consequence," said Edward Henry, feeling in his pockets.Having discovered therein a piece of paper, he twisted it and rose toput it to the gas.
"Could you slip round to your bank and meet me at the station in themorning with the cash?" suggested Mr. Bryany.
"No, I couldn't," said Edward Henry.
"Well, then, what--?"
"Here, you'd better take this," the Card, reborn, soothed his host, and,blowing out the spill which he had just ignited at the gas, he offeredit to Mr. Bryany.
"What?"
"This, man!"
Mr. Bryany, observing the peculiarity of the spill, seized it andunrolled it, not without a certain agitation.
He stammered:
"Do you mean to say it's genuine?"
"You'd almost think so, wouldn't you?" said Edward Henry. He wasgrowing fond of this reply, and of the enigmatic playful tone that hehad invented for it.
"But--"
"We may, as you say, look twice at a fiver," continued Edward Henry,"but we're apt to be careless about hundred-pound notes in thisdistrict. I daresay that's why I always carry one."
"But it's burnt!"
"Only just the edge, not enough to harm it. If any bank in Englandrefuses it, return it to me, and I'll give you a couple more inexchange. Is that talking?"
"Well, I'm dashed!" Mr. Bryany attempted to rise, and then subsidedback into his chair. "I am simply and totally dashed!" He smiledweakly, hysterically.
And in that instant Edward Henry felt all the sweetness of a completeand luscious revenge.
He said commandingly:
"You must sign me a transfer. I'll dictate it."
Then he jumped up.
"You're in a hurry?"
"I am. My wife is expecting me. You promised to find me a match."Edward Henry waved the unlit cigarette as a reproach to Mr. Bryany'simperfect hospitality.