in his private office in the poor, shabby building, in which for reasons best known to himself he had chosen to establish his place of business, the tall saturnine black bearded and altogether mysterious character known already to some of our readers sat busy with books and letters.
in the outer office his bookkeeper stood at his tall desk pausing now and then to talk to those who came in, intent on some business errand, and once in a while referring some particular person to his master who sat in the inside room.
it was just twelve o’clock and during the morning all sorts of people had been coming and going in and out of that dingy little place of business. some of the visitors were well to do in appearance while others looked as if poverty and misfortune had long since claimed them as their own. some were men and others women, and there were three or four children among the clients of the place. if the visitors were noticeable for any one thing it was for 294the stealthy and mysterious manner in which they entered and made known their wishes to the bookkeeper who stood guard at the outer office. this functionary, by the way, seemed to be well acquainted with nearly every one that called, and he usually had a word of greeting that was sometimes pleasant sometimes sarcastic and often contemptuous. to a man with a cast in his eye who slouched cautiously in after having scanned the neighborhood from under his hat for at least three minutes before entering, the bookkeeper said jocosely:
“well what have you got for us to-day? any nice loose diamonds or a few watch cases?”
“hush!” exclaimed the visitor warily as he laid his finger-against his nose, “you’re always talking foolishly. can i have a word with the boss to-day?”
“i guess so; you’re a pretty good customer here. so you may walk right in.” the visitor tip-toed into the private room, closed the door behind him, drew his chair up beside the tall saturnine man who was still busy with his pen, and whispered something in his ear that caused him to sit bolt upright and gaze sharply and with amazement in the face of his visitor. for fully an hour the man with the cast in his eye 295remained in the inner office and when he finally withdrew, the other accompanied him to the door and stood for a moment talking earnestly to him in a low voice before he permitted him to depart. then he went back to his desk, and his face as he passed through the room, was so stern and troubled that one or two visitors who were seated awaiting his pleasure viewed him carefully, then shook their heads and departed, preferring to talk to him at some time when they should find him in better humor. as for the visitors they all came with one object in view which was money, for the well dressed man who sat at the desk in the inner office made a business of lending money at exorbitant rates of interest and on all sorts securities.
“but why,” some reader might inquire, “should a man of good connections and education embark in such a business and select as his headquarters a dirty cheap office in a poverty stricken part of the town?”
and the reply is that he selected a neighborhood in which he knew money to be a scarce commodity, and which all his clients, the high as well as the low, could visit without fear of detection. as has been already said he had clients of various classes. there was one man, 296for example, who could be found almost any evening in some fashionable club or drawing-room up town and who, on the very morning of which we write, had spent nearly half an hour in that little private office. this man had debts amounting to $25,000, and a father whose fortune of a million he had reasonable hopes of acquiring in due course of time. but his father was a man of the strictest honor, and the son well knew that if he were to hear of his losses at cards and horse racing he would cut him off without a dollar, and leave all his money to a distant cousin whom he had always detested. situated as he was, this man found the money-lender of eldridge street a most convenient friend, and it was an easy matter for the latter to persuade him that for the use of ten or fifteen thousand dollars in cash with which to appease the most importunate of his creditors, he could well afford to give a note for five times the amount payable after the death of his parent.
“and even now,” continued the money lender, shaking his head as he handed him a large roll of bills, “i am taking risks that i ought not to take with you or with anybody else. how do i know that you will outlive your father? how do i know that the old man 297will leave you anything when he dies? how do i know even that he has got anything to leave, or that having it now he will have it a year hence? these are ticklish times, and if i were a prudent business man, without anything of the speculator in me, i would just hang on to what money i’ve got, and let you and the rest of them like you shift for yourselves. i’ve half a mind now,” he added, suddenly, as he tightened his grip on the greenbacks, which had not quite passed out of his hand, “to tear your note up and put the money back in my safe.” but at this threat his visitor snatched the coveted roll from his hand, placed it in his inside pocket, and buttoning his coat up tightly, exclaimed, “don’t talk to me about the chances you take, mr. shylock, when you know perfectly well that i’m good for anything i put my name to, and that it won’t be long before you get your own again with a pound of my flesh into the bargain.”
it will be seen from this conversation that the mysterious bearded man had a keen eye for business, and as his little shop was full of customers from morning till night, one may readily believe that he made a large income with very little mental or physical exertion on his part.
298it was just one o’clock when, having disposed of his visiter with the cast in his eye, the money-lender sat behind his desk with his cigar in his mouth, lost in thought. something must have troubled him for his brow was ruffled and from time to time an angry blush crept into his cheek. one might have noticed too—had there been any one there to notice him—that he started uneasily at every sound that came from the little outer room and finally when he heard a woman’s voice raised in shrill anger he stepped to the door, listened for a moment or so and then come out to see what was the matter. it was an old irish woman who stood with a package in her hand talking angrily to the bookkeeper.
“an’ sure you’ll not refuse a poor old woman the loan of a ten dollar note on these little bits of things?” she was saying in a voice that betrayed her peevishness and annoyance.
“can’t give you anything to-day, madam,” returned the bookkeeper speaking very positively and then, noticing his employer he added, “there’s the boss himself, and he’ll tell you the same thing.”
but the “boss” had already caught a glimpse of the old irish woman’s face, and to the intense surprise of his subordinate he retreated 299suddenly into his private room, banged the door after him and then thinking better of his act, opened it wide enough to say in a low and guarded whisper, “give the old woman what she wants and bring the package in to me. get her address, too, while you’re about it.”
the bookkeeper did as he was ordered. and as the old woman wrote her name on the receipt with trembling fingers she uttered: “now remember, i’ll be back for this when my allowance comes. but me friends are coming back from europe soon and they will never let old ann crehan go hungry. they’ll all be back, the master and miss emma and the two young children and then i’ll have everything i want. an’ it’ll be a sorry day for that hard-hearted spalpeen who forgot the one who took care of him and will let her go to the poorhouse for the want of a few dollars. sure his fine old uncle would never threat me in that fashion.”
as the old woman departed, the clerk took the package into the inner office and laid it before his employer, and the latter before opening the paper shut and bolted the door. he found nothing within but a few thin and worn silver spoons and an old fashioned open-faced 300gold watch. inside of the case was the following inscription
“for fidelity and courage
to ann crehan
from samuel dexter.”
well did that strong, bearded man, whose face, with its deep lines and heavy, overhanging brow, was an index to his passionate, wilful nature, know what that inscription meant. it carried him back in memory to a bright, spring morning, years ago, when this same old woman, whose tottering footsteps had just passed over his threshold, was a servant in the family of his kinsman, samuel dexter, with whom he, an orphan boy, had found a home. well did he recall that day, and the accident through which he might have lost his life had it not been for the courage of the irish servant, who rushed at the peril of her own life, into a burning building, and snatched from the flames the two children who had been committed to her care.
the fierce red scar across his cheek had remained a vivid reminder of that day, and he remembered how, throughout his youth and early manhood, he had always hated his young kinsman, who had been with him in the flames, but who had escaped without disfigurement. well, the kinsman had long ago passed to his 301final reward, and he was living still, with the red scar on his face but half concealed by the thick, stiff beard. he folded up the paper containing the watch and the pieces of silver, and put the package carefully away in his safe.
“it’s a lucky thing for me, that the old creature didn’t recognize me when i put my head through the door,” he said to himself. “i’ll have to be more careful in the future about showing myself down here, for one never knows who is going to turn up. everybody wants money, and there are none too proud to come down here to this dirty street and ask for it. it’s a great thing, money, and it’s the lack of it that puts all men on the same footing.”
