CHAPTER XV--_Aunt Phoebe surprises her Nephew_
"Oh, George dear, do be careful!" cried Mrs. Early.
"No harm done," said George.
"There is, you bad boy! You've upset the salt. Throw a bit over yourleft shoulder--quick!"
George obeyed.
"Coffee or tea, dear?"
"Coffee," said George, briskly; "plenty of it."
Mrs. Early took up the coffee-pot and put it down again quickly with anexpression of horror.
"Oh, look what you've done now!" she cried.
"What? Upset the mustard?" said George.
"You've crossed the knives. Separate them; it's terribly unlucky."
Again George obeyed.
"It's made me quite nervous," said Mrs. Early, pouring out the coffee."I'm sure something is going to happen. There!" as a spoon slipped offthe table, "a stranger's coming!"
George looked across the table into the wide-open eyes of his wife.
"I know," he said intelligently: "it's the sweep; these chimneys are ina terrible state. I told Martha about it the other day."
"It isn't the sweep," said Mrs. Early; "its a stranger who brings badnews. Something's happened."
George pondered for a moment, and then said--
"It must be that hat you sent to the milliner. Shop burnt out, Iexpect."
"It's worse than that," said Mrs. Early, pressing one hand cautiouslyto her heart. "I can feel it."
"You're right," said George, as he opened a letter brought in byMartha. "It's worse than that."
Mrs. Early grasped the table with both hands.
"Is it too bad for me to hear?" she whispered.
George leant his head upon one hand, and frowned heavily at thetablecloth.
"I suppose I'd better tell you," he said hoarsely. "Give me your hand.Are you calm now?"
"Quite," said Mrs. Early, shaking. "Tell me."
"Are you sure you won't faint?"
"I'll--I'll try not to."
"Then, listen," said George. "Your Aunt Phoebe is coming to stay withus."
He threw a letter across the table, and drew back in time to dodge theserviette thrown by his indignant spouse.
"George," said Mrs. Early, tragically, "I hate you!"
"Then come and give me a kiss," said George.
For answer Mrs. Early tossed her head, which necessitated her husband'sgoing round the table to kiss her. This he continued to do until hiswife reversed her decision.
"And yet," said Mrs. Early, "I can't get over the feeling thatsomething is going to happen."
George looked up with the light of intelligence in his eyes.
"What is it?" said his wife.
"Perhaps Martha's going to give notice. I've seen a soldier hangingabout the front lately, and she asked me yesterday if the flats in thesuburbs were very dear?"
Mrs. Early gasped, and closed her mouth ominously.
"That must be it," she said in a terrible whisper.
"Don't worry," said George; "it hasn't happened yet."
As he left for Upper Thames Street his wife told him brightly that shebelieved that Martha was quite safe, as she had asked to have herbedroom whitewashed at Christmas.
"Funny creatures, women," thought George, as he bowled along in ahansom to the office. "Always getting some queer notions in theirheads, always making mountains out of molehills. Good creatures, too,"he mused. "Only got to be fond of 'em and tell 'em so, and they'reready to do anything for you. Well, I'm a lucky brute!"
The last thought was sufficiently good for George for the rest of thejourney, and it was still strong upon him as he looked round themagnificent room he occupied at Fairbrothers'.
"Big and roomy," said he, standing with his back to the fire; "warm,cosy, and comfortable. Easy-chairs, cigars, drinks, and amusement inthe shape of work. After work, a gorgeous house in Kensington, a gooddinner, and a charming wife to talk to. What more could a man wishfor?"
He lit a cigarette and looked about him.
"I took to this room from the first, something seemed to draw me to it;it's been my lucky room from the very beginning. I didn't think on themorning I came up here and overheard that little conversation that itwas going to be the foundation of my fortune. It was a Friday, too, ifI remember rightly. That's one for the people who say that Friday isn'ta lucky day."
A knock came at the door, and Gray entered.
"Ah, Gray," said George, seating himself at a desk, "I was ruminatingover things when you entered and broke the spell."
"I've got something to ruminate over myself," said Gray, bitterly. "Iwant to have a little talk with you."
George looked up and waited for him to continue.
"You needn't look so innocent," said Gray; "you can't bluff me now. I'mused to it."
George raised his eyebrows, and endeavoured to find a solution to themystery in the countenance of his visitor.
"Have a good look," said Gray, "so that you'll know me again."
"I know you, Gray," said his master, pleasantly, "and I must remind youthat I am the principal of this establishment. If you have anycomplaint to lodge you had better make it by letter. My time isprecious."
"It was a low-down trick," said Gray, fiercely.
He began to pace up and down the apartment.
"What's a low-down trick? Explain yourself."
"Oh, don't come that game with me," said Gray, irritably. "You've beengiving me away, and you know it!"
"I don't," said George. "I beg your pardon, Gray, but I don't know it."
"Do you mean to say you haven't been putting the lawyers on my track?"he asked in a terrible voice.
"Lawyers? What lawyers?"
Gray snatched a blue paper from his pocket, and threw it on the table.
"Look at that," he demanded, "and then get out of it if you can!"
George Early picked up the paper and read--
"To Mr. James Gray.
"WARNING!
"SIR,
"We are empowered under the will of the late Joseph Fairbrother to give you fair warning that you are not abiding by the rules of the agreement under which you received a legacy from the said gentleman hereinbefore mentioned. It having come to our knowledge that you, in the presence of a witness, did partake of alcoholic liquor on a date subsequent to that on which the legacy came into operation, you are hereby warned to discontinue the practice under pain of losing the said legacy, and forfeiting all moneys forthwith.
"We are, sir,
"Yours faithfully,
"DIBBS & DUBBS.
"FIRST WARNING."
George turned over the paper and stared at it.
"Well, I'm hanged!" he said.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Gray, sullenly.
"Do?" said George. "Nothing. Gray," he continued quietly, "upon my soulI haven't breathed a word of your secret to any person but yourself.Somebody must have told the lawyers, but, believe me, I had no hand init."
"Then who is it?" said Gray.
"Perhaps the lawyers themselves are doing it."
"They've left me alone previously. Why should they begin now? If I findthe man who did it," said Gray in a low, terrible voice, "Heaven helphim!"
It was not possible to tell Mrs. Gray of this misfortune, so herhusband, to account for his worried look, was forced to give out thathe had lost the secretaryship of the Old Friends' Club. Some miscreanthad libelled him and declared that he was a great drinker, and the clubhanded over the secretaryship to a temperance member.
"Just what I thought," said Mrs. Gray, sorrowfully; "Friday's anunlucky day, Jimmy; and when you told me his name, I had a creepyfeeling all over me. I'm not surprised."
"What are you talking about?" said her husband, irritably. "Told youwhose name?"
"Why, that man, Jimmy; 'Mould,' wasn't it?"
Gray smothered a profane word. "The skulking hound! Why, of course,he's the man who did it. Let me set eyes on him again. Hi
m and hiswonderful 'Tommy Morgan.' I'll give him 'Tommy Morgan'--I'll break hishead!"
"Oh, Jimmy, do be careful of yourself!" pleaded little Mrs. Gray.
"I'll be right enough, Em. I'll give him 'Tommy Morgan'!"
Gray kept a keen eye open for the versatile Mole, but he never appearedagain in the Cannon Street restaurant; nor was Gray sharp enough tocatch a glimpse of him in St. Paul's Passage, although he haunted thatplace in a revengeful spirit for some days.
Probably a week of temperance and an abnormal sense of safety wereresponsible for the yearning to taste liquor that seized Gray oneevening as he returned home. He determined to try his luck, so insteadof journeying to Leytonstone he got out at Stratford, and struck offinto a by-street. Having traversed one street after another, lookingcautiously behind him at intervals, he selected an ill-lightedpublic-house and slipped into the private bar. Luck favoured him, thecompartment was quite empty.
The stiff glass of whisky-and-water seemed the sweetest he had evertasted, it warmed the heart and left a delightful flavour in the mouth.As Gray turned to depart, the partition shook, and a cough arrested hisattention. He looked up and saw the face of Mole peering over the top.
Gray was furious. All the enmity he had engendered in the past weekappeared in full force at a second's command. He rushed to the door ofthe next compartment. It was empty. He tried the next bar, and caughtsight of a figure disappearing down the street. As Gray followed, theman began to run. It was an exciting chase, but Mole was too slipperyfor his pursuer, and Gray, after a vigorous hunt, was forced to confesshimself beaten.
When George Early went through his morning letters an officious-lookingblue envelope happened to be on the top. It bore the mark of Dibbs andDubbs, and was addressed to "James Gray, Esq." It had evidently beenput there by mistake.
George called a boy and sent the letter downstairs. Later in the day hewas able, by careful observation, to conclude that Gray had received asecond warning from the lawyers.
"For Mrs. Gray's sake," said George to himself, "I must see into thismatter. It won't do for Gray to lose that legacy. I must talk to himseriously--threaten him, if necessary. He'll be careful for a few days;I'll wait, and when he's in the right mood point out the terribleconsequences of his keeping to the drink."
With this virtuous resolution George Early dismissed the question, butbethought himself to mention it at the dinner-table that evening.
"Gray has had his second warning," he said, looking across at AuntPhoebe. "I've given him plenty of advice. I suppose I shall have tothreaten him now."
Aunt Phoebe looked very cross, and said that she really had nopatience with men.
"Well, it serves him right, that's all I can say. I shouldn't threatenhim. Let him go on. It's to your interest; it will punish him to losethe money, and I'm not sure that it won't do you some good to have it.I really think you'd be better as a teetotaler, too."
"What's all that to do with Gray?" asked George in astonishment. "Forgoodness' sake turn over to me all your knowledge of the complicationsof these Fairbrother wills and legacies. I'm continually gettingsurprises."
"I thought you knew all the complications of the legacies," said AuntPhoebe, raising her eyebrows.
"It seems to me that I don't," said George.
"Why, don't you know that if Mr. Gray loses his legacy, it reverts toyou, and that you get the money, and have to abide by the conditions ashe did?"
"WHAT!"
George leapt out of his seat like a man shot, and had to hold the tableto steady himself. His wife and aunt shrieked simultaneously.
"What's that you say!" roared George. "Me take the legacy? Me be ateetotaler, and take over the--the----"
He sat down in his seat at the earnest request of his aunt, whodeclared that he ought to be ashamed of himself to frighten his poordarling wife by roaring like a lion.
"I don't understand," said George, in a dazed fashion. "Me takethe--Gray lose his legacy, and me take it?"
Mrs. Early having recovered and scolded her "naughty boy," AuntPhoebe begged her nephew to be calm, and repeated her formerstatement. It was quite correct; if the legacies were lost while MissFairbrother remained unmarried, they were to go to charities, but inthe event of Miss Fairbrother being married the legacies, together withthe conditions, would revert to her husband. It was Mr. Fairbrother'sexpress wish, because he said his daughter's husband might needreforming, and if he didn't there would be no harm done.
"Very kind of him," said George; "and what about the husband? I supposehe can't lose the legacies--he's got them for life?"
"No," said Aunt Phoebe; "if he loses them the money goes to charities."
George gave a sigh of relief. "I'm afraid I should lose them," he said."However, it wouldn't much matter?"
It was Aunt Phoebe's turn to be surprised. "Wouldn't much matter, doyou say?" she almost shrieked. "Do you mean to tell me that you don'tknow all the terrible conditions attached to these legacies?"
George turned pale, and his wife was threatened with hysterics.
"What are the conditions?" asked George, hoarsely.
Aunt Phoebe rose to her feet.
"The conditions," she said, in an awesome voice, "are these: If thelegacies revert to you, and you lose them, the Fairbrother fortune goestoo. _Every penny of your wife's income goes to charities!_"
George Early's jaw dropped, and he sat in a helpless heap. His littlewife burst into tears.
Presently George roused himself and took a glass of wine.
"Aunt Phoebe," he said; "did Old Fairbrother put those conditions inhis will with regard to the three legacies?"
"I have said so," was the reply. "They were entirely the idea of Mr.Joseph Fairbrother himself."
"Then all I can say," said George--"all I can say is that he was aSILLY OLD FOOL!"