The Regent

  III

  Within five minutes he was following Mr. Bryany into a small parlouron the first floor of the Turk's Head--a room with which he had noprevious acquaintance, 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 pridein being a "hostelry," and, while it had accustomed itself toincandescent mantles (on the ground floor), it had not yet conquereda natural distaste for electricity--and Edward Henry saw a smartdispatch-box, a dress-suit, a trouser-stretcher and other necessariesof theatrical business life 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 he turned 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.When I'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 nevertaken a private sitting-room in any hotel. He had sometimes felt thedesire, but he had not had the "face"--as they say down there--to doit. To take a private sitting-room in a hotel was generally regardedin the Five Towns as the very summit of dashing expensiveness andfutile luxury.

  "I didn't know they had any private sitting-rooms in this shanty,"said Edward Henry.

  Mr. Bryany, having finished with the fire, fronted him, shovel inhand, with a remarkable air of consummate wisdom, and replied:

  "You can generally get what you want, if you insist on having it, evenin this 'shanty.'"

  Edward Henry regretted his use of the word "shanty." Inhabitants ofthe Five 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 hotelin England. It was a sound and serious English provincial hotel, andit linked 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 negligencehe 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 ofthe world 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 lookwhich he 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, andalso to 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 didnot trouble Edward Henry, who lumped his grievances together--forconvenience.

  He had been reflecting that some sentimental people, unused to theways of paternal affection in the Five Towns, might consider him arather callous father; he had been reflecting, again, that Nellie'ssuggestion of blood-poisoning might not be as entirely foolish asfeminine suggestions in such circumstances too often are. But nowhe put these thoughts away, reassuring himself against hydrophobiaanyhow, by the recollection of the definite statement of the_Encyclopedia_. Moreover, had he not inspected the wound--as healthy awound as you could wish for?

  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,he decided that, despite its brassiness and simple cunning, it wasscarcely the 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 dispatch-box.

  He drew from the dispatch-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 ritualof the Five Towns:

  "I looks!"

  And they sipped.

  Whereupon Mr. Bryany next drew from the dispatch-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 aChancery Lane. The adjective "metropolitan," applied to Hanbridge, isjust.

  "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 where an electric sign at the corner of the front ofthe proposed theatre could be seen from. You notice the site is notin the Circus itself--a shade to the north." Mr. Bryany's fingerapproached Edward Henry's on the plan, and the clouds from theircigarettes fraternally mingled. "Now you see by those lines that theelectric sign of the proposed theatre would be visible from nearlythe whole of Piccadilly Circus, parts of Lower Regent Street,Coventry Street and even Shaftesbury Avenue. You see what a site itis--absolutely unique."

  Edward Henry asked coldly:

  "Have you bought it?"

  "No," Mr. Bryany seemed to apologize. "I haven't exactly bought it.But I'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 who'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-actressesin England, 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 tobacconist's shop in Cheapside. The sign was kept upfor many 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 upfor a hundred pounds and I let her have the money." He threw away hiscigarette half-smoked, with a free gesture that seemed to imply thathe was capable of parting with a hundred pounds just as easily.

  "How did she _get_ the option?" Edward Henry inquired, putting intothe query all the innuendo of a man accustomed to look at greatworldly affairs 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 hehad driven the Countess to a public meeting in his mule-carriage, butsheer pride kept him silent.

  "I asked you for the figures," he added, in a manner which requestedMr. Bryany to remember that he was the founder, chairman andproprietor of the Five Towns Universal Thrift Club, one of the mostsuccessful business organizations 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 faintlycooing into his ear: "Of course Rose got the ground-rent reduced.And when I tell you that the demand for theatres in the West End farexceeds the supply, and that theatre rents are always going up ...When I tell you that a theatre costing L25,000 to build can be letfor L11,000 a year, and often L300 a week on a short term ...!" And hecould hear the gas singing over his head ... And also, unhappily, hecould hear Dr. Stirling talking to his wife and saying to her thatthe bite was far more serious than it looked, and Nellie hoping veryaudibly that nothing had "happened" to him, 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 thatferocity 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 hehad told naught but lies, "I do."

  "Why?"

  "Oh, I'm always travelling about, you see. England one day--Americathe next." (Apparently he had quickly abandoned the strictness ofveracity.) "All depends on the governor's movements! I couldn't keep aproper eye on 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 schemelike this," said Edward Henry to his soul, perusing the documents."It's right off my line, right bang off it ...! But what a lark!" Buteven to his soul he did not utter the remainder of the truth abouthimself, namely: "I should like to cut a dash before this insufferablepatronizer of 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 savehim from a calamity. And his contempt for Mr. Bryany was that of a manto whom his bankers are positively servile.

  "Here!" Mr. Bryany almost shouted. "Don't light your cigarette with myoption!"

  "I beg pardon!" Edward Henry apologized, dropping the document whichhe had 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 hostand, blowing out the spill which he had just ignited at the gas, heoffered it 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.