the breakfasts in great walpole-street, looked upon as meals, were neither satisfactory nor satisfying. of all social gatherings a breakfast is perhaps the one most difficult to make agreeable to yourself and your guests. there are men, at other periods of the day bright, sociable, and chatty, who insist upon breakfasting by themselves, who glower over their tea and toast, and growl audibly if their solitude is broken in upon; there are women capable of everything in the way of self-sacrifice and devotion except getting up to breakfast. a breakfast after the scotch fashion, with enormous quantities of finnan-haddy, chops, steaks, eggs and ham, jam and marmalade, tea and coffee, is a good thing; so is a french breakfast with two delicate cutlets, or a succulent filet, a savoury omelette, a pint bottle of nuits, a chasse, and a cigarette. but the morning meals in great walpole-street were not after either of these fashions. after the servants had risen from their knees, and shuffled out of the room in indian file at the conclusion of morning prayers, the butler re-entered bearing a hissing silver urn, behind which mrs. calverley took up her position, and proceeded to brew a tepid amber-coloured fluid, which she afterwards dispensed to her guests. the footman had followed the butler, bearing, in his turn, a dish containing four thin greasy strips of bacon, laid out side by side in meek resignation, with a portion of kidney keeping guard over them at either end. there was a rack filled with dry toast, which looked and tasted like the cover of an old latin dictionary; there was a huge bread-platter, with a scriptural text round its margin, and a huge bread-knife with a scriptural text on its blade; and on the sideboard, far away in the distance, was the shadowy outline of what had once been a ham, and a mountain and a promontory of flesh, with the connecting link between them almost cut away, representing what had once been a tongue. on two or three occasions, shortly after madame du tertre had first joined the household, she mentioned to mrs. calverley that she was subject to headaches, which were only to be gotten rid of by taking a sharp half-hour's walk in the air immediately after breakfast; the fact being that pauline was simply starved, and that if she had been followed she would have been found in the small room of monsieur verrey's café in regent-street engaged with a cutlet, a pint of beaune, and the siècle newspaper. to john calverley, also, these gruesome repasts were most detestable, but he made up for his enforced starvation by a substantial and early luncheon in the city.
on the morning after humphrey statham's departure for cornwall, the breakfast-party was assembled in great walpole-street. but the host was not among them. he had gone away to his ironworks in the north, as he told his guest: "on his own vagaries," as his wife had phrased it, with a defiant snort: and mrs. calverley, madame du tertre, and martin gurwood were gathered round the festive board. the two ladies were sipping the doubtful tea, and nibbling the leathery toast, while mr. garwood, who was an early riser, and who, before taking his morning constitutional in guelph park, had solaced himself with a bowl of bread-and-milk, had pushed aside his plate, and was reading out from the times such scraps of intelligence as he thought might prove interesting. on a sudden he stopped, the aspect of his face growing rather grave, as he said:
"here is some news, mother, which i am sure will prove distressing to mr. calverley, even if his interests do not suffer from the event which it records."
"i can guess what it is," said mrs. calverley, in her thin acid voice; "i have an intuitive idea of what has occurred. i always predicted it, and i took care to let mr. calverley know my opinion--the swartmoor iron works have failed?"
"no, not so bad as that," said mr. gurwood, "nor, indeed, is it any question of the swartmoor ironworks. i will tell you what is said, and you will be able to judge for yourself how far mr. calverley may be interested." and in the calm, measured tone habitual to him from constant pulpit practice, martin gurwood read out the paragraph which had so startled humphrey statham on the previous evening.
when martin gurwood finished reading, madame du tertre, who had listened attentively, wheeled round in her chair and looked hard at mrs. calverley. that lady's placidity was, however, perfectly undisturbed. with her thin bony hand she still continued her employment of arranging into fantastic shapes the crumbs on the table-cloth, nor did she seem inclined to speak until pauline said:
"to me this seems a sad and terrible calamity. if i, knowing nothing of this unfortunate gentleman, am grieved at what i hear, surely you, madame, to whom he was doubtless well known, must feel the shock acutely."
"i am glad to say," said mrs. calverley coldly, "that i am not called upon to exhibit any emotion in the present instance. so little does mr. calverley think fit to acquaint me with the details of his business, that i was not aware that it was in contemplation to establish an agency at ceylon, nor did i ever hear of the name of the person who, doubtless by his own imprudence, seems to have lost his life."
"you never saw mr.--mr.--how is he called, monsieur gurwood?"
"durham is the name given here," said martin, referring to the newspaper.
"ah, you never saw mr. durham, madame?"
"i never saw him; i never even heard mr. calverley mention his name."
"poor man, poor man!" murmured madame du tertre with downcast eyes; "lost so suddenly, as your shakespeare says--'sent to his account with all his imperfections on his head.' it is terrible to think of; is it not monsieur martin?"
"to be cut off with our sins yet inexpiated," said martin gurwood, not meeting the searching glance riveted upon him, "is, as you say, madame du tertre, a terrible thing. let us trust this unfortunate man was not wholly unprepared."
"if he were a friend of mr. calverley's," hissed the lady at the end of the table, "and he must have been to have been placed in a position of trust, it is, i should say, most improbable that he was fitted for the sudden change."
that morning madame du tertre, although her breakfast had been of the scantiest, did not find it necessary to repair to verrey's. when the party broke up she retired to her room, took the precaution of locking the door, and having something to think out, at once adopted her old resource of walking up and down.
she said to herself: "the news has arrived, and just at the time that i expected it. he has been bold, and everything has turned out exactly as he could have wished. people will speak kindly of him and mourn over his fate, while he is far away and living happily, and laughing in his sleeve at the fools whose compassion he evokes. what would i give to be there with him on the same terms as those of the old days! i hate this dull british life, this ghastly house, these people, precise, exact, and terrible. i loathe the state of formality in which i live, the restraint and reticence i am obliged to observe! what is it to me to ride in a carriage by the side of that puppet downstairs, to sit in the huge dull rooms, to be waited upon by the silent solemn servants?" and her eyes blazed with fire as she sang in a soft low voice:
"les gueux, les gueux sont les gens heureux; ils s'aiment entre eux. vivent les gueux!"
as she ceased singing she stopped suddenly in her walk, and said, "what a fool i am to think of such things, to dream of what might have been, when all my hope and desire is to destroy what is, to discover the scene of tom durham's retreat, and to drive him from the enchanted land where he and she are now residing! and this can only be done by steady continuance in my present life, by passive endurance, by never-flagging energy and perpetual observation. tiens! have i not done some good this morning, even in listening to the bêtise talk of that silly woman and her sombre son? she had never seen tom durham," she said, "had never heard of him, he has never been brought to the house: this, then, gives colour to all that i have suspected. it is, as i imagined, through the influence of the old man claxton that tom was nominated as agent of the house of calverley. mr. calverley himself probably knows nothing of him, or he would most assuredly have mentioned the name to his wife, have asked him to dinner, after the english fashion, before sending him out to such a position. but no, his very name is unknown to her, and it is evident that he is the sole protégé of monsieur claxton--claxton, from whom the pale-faced woman who is his wife, his mistress--what do i know or care--obtained the money with which tom durham thought to buy my silence and his freedom. not yet, my dear friend, not yet! the game between us promises to be long, and to play it properly with a chance of success will require all my brains and all my patience. but the cards are already beginning to get shuffled into their places, and the luck has already declared on my side."
a few mornings afterwards mrs. calverley, on coming down to breakfast, held an open paper in her hand; laying it on the table and pointing at it with her bony finger, when the servants had left the room, she said, "i have an intimation here that mr. calverley will return this evening. he has not thought fit to write to me, but a telegram has been received from him at the office; and the head-clerk, who, i am thankful to say, still preserves some notion of what is due to me, has forwarded the information."
"is not this return somewhat unexpected?" asked pauline, looking inquisitively at her hostess.
"mr. calverley's return is never either unexpected or expected by me," said the lady; "he is immersed in business, which i trust may prove as profitable as he expects, though in my father's time--"
"perhaps," interrupted martin gurwood, cutting in to prevent the repetition of that wail over the decadence of the ancient firm which he had heard a thousand times, "perhaps mr. calverley's return has on this occasion been hastened by the news of the loss of his agent, which i read out to you the other day. there is more about it in the paper this morning."
"more! what more?" cried pauline, eagerly.
"nothing satisfactory, i am sorry to say. the body has not been found, nor is there any credible account of how the accident happened; the farther news is contained in a letter from one of the passengers. it seems that this unfortunate gentleman, mr. durham, had, even during the short time which he was on board the ship, succeeded in making himself very popular with the passengers. he had talked to some of them of the importance of the position which he was going out to fill, of his devotion to business and to his employer; and it is agreed on all sides that the well-known firm of which he was the agent will find it difficult to replace him, so zealous and so interested in their behalf did he show himself. he was one of the last who retired to rest; and when in the morning he did not put in an appearance, nothing was thought of it, as it was imagined--not that he had succumbed to sea-sickness, as he had described himself as an old sailor, who had made many voyages--but that he was fatigued by the exertions of the previous day. late in the evening, as nothing had been heard of him, the captain resolved to send the steward to his cabin; and the man returned with the report that the door was unlocked, the berth unoccupied, and mr. durham not to be found. an inquiry was at once set on foot, and a search made throughout the ship; but without any result. the only idea that could be arrived at was, that, finding the heat oppressive, or being unable to sleep, he made his way to the deck, and, in the darkness of the night, had missed his footing and fallen overboard. against this supposition was the fact that mr. durham was not in the least the worse for liquor when last seen, and that neither the officers nor the men on duty throughout the night had heard any splash in the water or any cry for help. the one thing certain was, that the man was gone; and all that could now be done was to transship his baggage at gibraltar, that it might be returned to england, and to make public the circumstances for the information of his friends."
"it seems to me," said martin gurwood, as he finished reading, "that unless the drowning of this poor man had actually been witnessed, nothing could be much clearer. he is seen to retire to rest in the night; he is never heard of again; there is no reason why he should attempt self-destruction; on the contrary, he is represented as glorying in the position to which he had been appointed, and full of life, health, and spirits."
"there is one point," said mrs. calverley, "to which i think exception may be taken, and that is, that he was sober. these sort of persons have, i am given to understand, a great tendency to drink and vice of every description, and the fact that he was probably a boon companion of mr. calverley's, and on that account appointed to this agency, makes me think it more than likely that he had a private store of liquor, and was drowned when in a state of intoxication."
"there is nothing in the evidence which has been made public," said martin gurwood, in a hard caustic tone, "to warrant any supposition of that kind. in any case, it is not for us to judge the dead and--"
"perhaps," said pauline, interposing, to avert the storm which she saw gathering in mrs. calverley's knitted brows, "perhaps when mr. calverley returns to-night, he will be able to give us some information on the subject. a man so trusted, and appointed to such a position, must naturally be well known to his employer."
the lamps were lit in the drawing-room, and the solemn servants were handing round the tea, when a cab rattled up to the door, and immediately afterwards john calverley, enveloped in his travelling-coat and many wrappers, burst into the apartment. he made his way to his wife, who was seated at the berlin-wool frame, on which the jael and sisera had been supplanted by a new and equally interesting subject, and bending down offered her a salute, which she received on the tip of her ear; he shook hands heartily with martin garwood, politely with pauline, and then discarding his outer garments, planted himself in the middle of the room, smiling pleasantly, and inquired, "well, what's the news?"
"there is no news here," said mrs. calverley, looking across the top of the berlin-wool frame with stony glance; "those who have been careering about the country are most likely to gather light and frivolous gossip. do you desire any refreshment, mr. calverley?"
"no, thank you, my dear," said john. "i had dinner at six o'clock, at peterborough--swallowed it standing--cold meat, roll, glass of ale. you know the sort of thing, martin--hurried, but not bad, you know--not bad."
"but after such a slight refreshment, monsieur calverley," said pauline, rising and going towards him, "you would surely like some tea?"
"no, thank you, madame du tertre; no tea for me. i will have a little--a little something hot later on, perhaps--and you too, martin, eh?--no, i forgot, you are no good at that sort of thing. and so," he added, turning to his wife, "you have, you say, no news?"
"mrs. calverley does herself injustice in saying any such thing," said pauline, interposing; "the interests of the husband are the interests of the wife, and, when it is permitted, of the wife's friends; and we have all been distressed beyond measure to hear of the sad fate which has befallen your trusted agent."
"eh," said john calverley, looking at her blankly, "my trusted agent? i don't understand you."
"these celebrated swartmoor ironworks are not beyond the reach of the post-office, i presume?" said mrs. calverley, with a vicious chuckle.
"certainly not," said john.
"and telegrams occasionally find their way there, i suppose?"
"undoubtedly."
"how is it, then, mr. calverley, that you have not heard what has been in all the newspapers, that some man named durham, calling himself your agent, has been drowned on his way to india, where he was going in your employ?"
"drowned!" said john calverley, turning very pale, "tom durham drowned! is it possible?"
"not merely possible, but strictly true," said his wife. "and what i want to know is, how is it that you, buried down at your swartmoors, or whatever you call them, have not heard of it before?"
"it is precisely because i was buried down there that the news failed to reach me. when i am at the ironworks i have so short a time at my disposal that i never look at the newspapers, and the people at mincing-lane have strict instructions never to communicate with me by letter or telegram except in the most pressing cases; and mr. jeffreys, i imagine, with that shrewdness which distinguishes him, saw that the reception of such news as this would only distress me, while i could be of no possible assistance, and so wisely kept it back until my return."
"i am sure i don't see why you should be so distressed because one of your clerks got drunk and fell overboard," said mrs. calverley. "i know that in my father's time--"
"this mr. durham must have been an especially gifted man, i suppose, or you would scarcely have appointed him to such an important berth? was it not so?" asked pauline.
"yes," said mr. calverley, hesitating. "tom durham was a smart fellow enough."
"what i told you," said mrs. calverley, looking round. "a smart fellow, indeed! but not company for his employer's wife, whatever he may have been for--"
"he was a man whom i knew but little of jane," said john calverley, with a certain amount of sternness in his voice; "but he was introduced to me by a person of whom i have the highest opinion, and whom i wished to serve. on this recommendation i took mr. durham, and the little i saw of him was certainly in favour of his zeal and brightness. now, if you please, we will change the conversation."
that night, again, madame du tertre might have been seen pacing her room. "the more i see of these people," she said to herself, "the more i learn of the events with which my life is bound up, so much the more am i convinced that my first theory was the right one. this monsieur calverley, the master of this house--what was his reason for being annoyed, contrarié, as he evidently was, at being questioned about durham? simply because he himself knew nothing about him, and could not truthfully reply to the pestering inquiries of that anatomie vivante, his wife, as to who he was, and why he had not been presented to her, the reigning queen of the great firm. was i not right there in my anticipations? 'he was introduced to me,' he said, 'by a person of whom i have the highest opinion, and whom i wished to serve;' that person, without doubt, was claxton--claxton, the old man, who, in his turn, was the slave of the pale-faced woman, whom tom durham had befooled! a bon chat, bon rat! they are well suited, these others, and messrs. calverley and claxton are the dupes, though perhaps"--and she stopped pondering, with knitted brow--"mr. calverley knows all, or rather half, and is helping his friend and partner in the matter. i will take advantage of the first opportunity to press this subject farther home with monsieur calverley, who is a sufficiently simple bon homme; and perhaps i may learn something that may be useful to me from him."
the opportunity which pauline sought occurred sooner than she expected. on the very next evening, martin gurwood being away from home, attending some public meeting on a religious question, and mrs. calverley being detained in her room finishing some letters which she was anxious to dispatch, pauline found herself in the drawing-room before dinner, with her host as her sole companion.
when she entered she saw that mr. calverley had the newspaper in his hand, but his eyes were half closed and his head was nodding desperately. "you are fatigued, monsieur, by the toils of the day," she said. "i fear i interrupted you?"
"no," said john calverley, jumping up, "not at all, madame du tertre; i was having just forty winks, as we say in english; but i am quite refreshed and all right now, and am very glad to see you."
"it must be hard work for you, having all the responsibility of that great establishment in the city on your shoulders."
"well, you see, madame du tertre," said john, with a pleasant smile, "the fact is i am not so young as i used to be, and though i work no more, indeed considerably less, i find myself more tired at the end of the day."
"ah, monsieur," said pauline, "that is the great difference between the french and english commerce, as it appears to me. in france our négociants have not merely trusted clerks such as you have here, but they have partners who enjoy their utmost confidence, who are as themselves, in fact, in all matters of their business."
"yes, madame, but that is not confined to france; we have exactly the same thing in england. my house is calverley and co.; co. stands for 'company,' vous savvy," said john, with a great dash at airing his french.
"ah, you have partners?" asked pauline. "well, no, not exactly," said john evasively, looking over her bead, and rattling the keys in his trousers-pockets.
"i think i heard of one monsieur claxton."
"eh," said john, looking at her disconcertedly, "claxton, eh? o yes, of course."
"and yet it is strange that, intimate, lié, bound up as this monsieur claxton must be with you in your affairs, you have never brought him to this house--madame calverley has never seen him. i should like to see this monsieur claxton, do you know? i should--"
but john calverley stepped hurriedly forward and laid his hand upon her arm. "stay, for god's sake," he said, with an expression of terror in every feature; "i hear mrs. calverley's step on the stairs. do not mention mr. claxton's name in this house; i will tell you why some other time--only--don't mention it!"
"i understand," said pauline quietly; and when mrs. calverley entered the room, she found her guest deeply absorbed in the photographic album.
that night the party broke up early. mr. calverley, though he used every means in his power to disguise the agitation into which his conversation with pauline had thrown him, was absent and embarrassed; while pauline herself was so occupied in thought over what had occurred, and so desirous to be alone, in order that she might have the opportunity for full reflection, that she did not, as usual, encourage her hostess in the small and spiteful talk in which that lady delighted, and none were sorry when the clock, striking ten, gave them an excuse for an adjournment.
"allons donc," said pauline, when she had once more regained her own chamber, "i have made a great success to-night, by mere chance-work too, arising from my keeping my eyes and ears always open. see now! it is evident, from some cause or other--why, i cannot at present comprehend--that this man, monsieur calverley, is frightened to death lest his wife should see his partner! what does it matter to me, the why or the wherefore? the mere fact of its being so is sufficient to give me power over him. he is no fool; he sees the influence which i have already acquired over mrs. calverley, and he knows that were i just to drop a hint to that querulous being, that jealous wretch, she would insist on being made known to claxton, and having all the business transactions between them explained to her. threaten monsieur calverley with that, and i can obtain from him what i will, can be put on tom durham's track, and then left to myself to work out my revenge in my own way! ah, monsieur and madame mogg, of poland-street, how can i ever be sufficiently grateful for the chance which sent me to lodge in your mansarde, and first gave me the idea of making the acquaintance of the head of the great firm of calverley and company!"
the next morning, when, after breakfast, and before starting for the city, mr. calverley went into the dull square apartment behind the dining-room, dimly lighted by a window, overlooking the leads, which he called his study, where some score of unreadable books lay half reclining against each other on shelves, but the most used objects in which were a hat and clothes-brush, some walking-canes and umbrellas, he was surprised to find himself closely followed by madame du tertre; more surprised when that lady closed the door quietly, and turning to him said, with meaning:
"now, monsieur, five words with you."
"certainly, madame," said john very much taken aback; "but is not this rather an odd place--would not mrs. calverley think--?"
"ah, bah," said pauline, with a shrug and a gesture very much more reminiscent of the dame du comptoir than of the dame de compagnie. "mrs. calverley has gone down-stairs to battle with those wretched servants, and she is, as you know, safe to be there for half an hour. what i have to say will not take ten minutes--shall i speak?"
john bowed in silence, looking at the same time anxiously towards the study-door.
"you do not know much of me, monsieur calverley, but you will before i have done. i am at present--and am, i fancy, likely to remain--an inmate of your house; i have established myself in mrs. calverley's good graces, and have, as you must know very well, a certain amount of influence with her; but it was you to whom i made my original appeal; it is you whom i wish to retain as my friend."
john calverley, with flushing cheeks, and constantly-recurring glance towards the door, said, "that he was very proud, and that if he only knew what madame du tertre desired--"
"you shall know at once, monsieur calverley: i want you to accept me as your friend, and to prove that you do so by giving me your confidence."
john calverley started.
"yes, your confidence," continued pauline. "i have talent and energy, and, when i am trusted, could prove myself a friend worth having; but i am too proud to accept half-confidences, and where no trust is reposed in me i am apt to ally myself with the opposite faction. why not trust in me, monsieur calverley--why not tell me all?"
"all--what all, madame?"
"about your partner, monsieur claxton, and the reason why you do not bring him--"
"hush! pray be silent, i implore you!" said john calverley, stepping towards her and taking both her hands in his. "i cannot imagine," he said, after a moment's pause, "what interest my business affairs can have for you; but since you seem to wish it, you shall know them all; only not here and not now."
"yes," said pauline, with provoking calmness, '"in the city, perhaps?"
"yes; at my office in mincing-lane."
"and when?"
"to-morrow week, at four o'clock; come down there then, and i will tell you all you wish to know."
"right," said pauline, slipping out of the room in an instant. and before john calverley let himself out at the street-door, he heard the drawing-room piano ringing out the grand march from the prophète under her skilful hands.
three days afterwards a man came up from the office with a letter for mrs. calverley. it was from her husband, stating he had a telegram calling him down to swartmoor at once, and requesting that his portmanteau might be packed and given to the messenger. this worthy was seen and interrogated by the mistress of the house. "he knew nothing about the telegram," he said, "but when his master gave him the letter he looked bothered and dazed-like."
mrs. calverley shook her head, and opined that her prophecies anent the downfall of the swartmoor ironworks were about to be realised. but pauline did not seem to be much put out at the news. "it is important, doubtless," she said to herself, "and he must go; but he will return in time to keep his appointment with me."
the day arrived and the hour, and pauline was punctual to her appointment, but mr. calverley had not arrived, though one of the clerks said he had left word that it was probable he might return on that day. that was enough for pauline; she would await his arrival.
an hour passed.
then there was a great tearing up and down stairs, and hurrying to and fro, and presently, when a white-faced clerk came in to get his hat, he stared to see her there. he had forgotten her, though it was he who had ushered her into the waiting-room.
"there was no use in her remaining there any longer," he said; "the head-clerk, mr. jeffreys, had been sent for to great walpole-street; and though nobody knew anything positive, everybody felt that something dreadful had occurred."
