The Story of Antony Grace

He busied himself behind his secretary, rustling papers and making notes, and now and then looking at me and tapping his teeth with a heavy gold pencil-case, while I furtively watched him and wondered how he managed to make his jet black hair so shiny, and why it was he spoke as if he had been poking cottonwool up his nose, till it suddenly occurred to me that he must be a German.

“Ah!” he said, at last; “let me see – let me see – let me see – see – see. Mr Lister quite well?”

“Yes, sir; quite well, thank you.”

“That’s right. Let me see – let me – how’s business?”

“Oh! we’ve been very busy, sir. The men have often had to stop up all night to get things finished.”

“Have they really, though?” he said, nodding and smiling; “and did you stay up, too?”

“No, sir; I read for Mr Jabez Rowle, and he said he wouldn’t sit up all night and upset himself for anybody.”

“Mr Jabez Rowle is quite right, my lad.”

“He said, sir, his work was so particular that after he had been correcting for twelve hours his eyes and mind were exhausted, and he could not do his work properly.”

“Mr Jabez Rowle is a man of business, my lad, evidently. And Mr Lister, is he pretty busy?”

“I think he comes to the office every day.”

“Have a glass of wine, my lad,” he said, getting up and taking a decanter, glass, and a dish of biscuits from a cellaret. “No. Good sherry won’t hurt you. Take some biscuits, then.”

I took some of the sweet biscuits, and Mr Brandsheim nodded approval.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said; “but I must compare these papers. You are not going anywhere else, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir; I am going up to Westmouth Street, Cavendish Square.”

“Indeed! Hah! that’s a good walk for you; or, no, I suppose Mr Lister told you to take a cab?”

“No, sir,” I said colouring; “I am going to walk.”

“Oh, absurd! Too far. Lawrence,” he cried, after touching a bell, and the boy clerk appeared, “have a cab to the door in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That will pay for the cab, my lad,” continued Mr Brandsheim, slipping a couple of shillings into my hand. “I must keep you waiting a little while. Let me see – let me see – you didn’t go to the races, I suppose?”

“Oh no, sir.”

“Mr Ruddle and Mr Lister did, eh?”

“Mr Lister did, sir, I believe. Mr Ruddle never goes, I think.”

“Doesn’t he, though? How strange! I always go. Let me see – five hundred and sixty-six is – is – So Mr Lister’s going to be married, eh?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so.”

“That’s right. Everybody should marry when the time comes. You will some day. I hope the lady’s young and rich.”

“She’s beautiful, sir,” I said, with animation, feeling sorry, though, the next moment, for I did not like the idea of this man being so interested in her.

“Is she, though?” he said insidiously. “But you’ve not seen her.”

“Oh yes, sir, more than once.”

“Have you, though? Well, you are favoured. Let me see,” he continued, consulting a little thick book which he took from a drawer. “Seven hundred and fifty and two hundred and – er – er – oh, to be sure, yes; I think I heard who it was to be. Beautiful Miss Wilson, the doctor’s daughter. Let’s see, she’s very poor, though.”

I did not want to say more, but he seemed to lead me on, and get answers from me in an insidious way that I could not combat; and in spite of myself I said:

“No, sir, it is Miss Carr; and she is very rich.”

“You don’t say so!” he exclaimed, staring at me in surprise. “You don’t mean the Carrs of Westmouth Street?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I am surprised,” he exclaimed. “Lister’s a lucky dog. Why, I see, you dog!” he said, in a bantering way, “you carry the love-letters backwards and forwards.”

“Oh no, sir, I – ”

“Hush, hush, hush! Not a word. I won’t listen to you. Don’t betray your master’s secrets, my lad. You’re a confidential messenger, and must clap a seal upon your lips.”

“But, sir, I – ”

“No, no. How much?” he said, with mock severity. “Don’t speak, don’t interrupt me; I’m reckoning up. Let me see – let me see – ha! that’s it exactly. There we are,” he continued, fastening down a note and handing it to me. “Run along, my young Mercury, and if I were you I should make cabby drive me to Oxford Street for a shilling, and save the other. That’s the way to grow rich. Off you go. Take care of this.”

He thrust a letter into my hands, and almost pushed me out of the room, so that I had not time to speak; and before I had quite recovered from my confusion, I was in the cab, and heard the boy clerk say:

“Put him down at Oxford Circus.”

Then the wheels began to rattle, and the door to jangle, and I sit feeling angry with myself for saying so much about Mr Lister and Miss Carr, as I recalled William Revitts’ advice, often given, to “let other people talk while you make notes.”

The thought of where I was going soon drove my interview with Mr Brandsheim out of my head, and getting out of the cab at the Circus, I made the best of my way to the great imposing house in Westmouth Street, rang, and asked to see Miss Carr.

The man-servant looked at me rather dubiously, and asked my name. Then, bidding me sit down in the great sombre-looking hall, he went up the heavy staircase, and came back to bid me follow him.

I noticed as I went upstairs that the place was heavily but handsomely furnished. There were pictures on the walls of staircase and landing, and the stone steps were covered with a rich thick carpet. The wealthy look of the place, however, did not seem to abash me, for the atmosphere of refinement in which I found myself recalled old days; and the thoughts of the past seemed strengthened, as I was ushered into a prettily furnished little drawing-room, all bright with flowers, water-colour drawings, and books, from a table strewn with which latter Miss Carr arose to welcome me.

And again the feeling was strengthened at her first words:

“Ah, Antony!”

For the printing-office, Mr Revitts’ shabby room, Hallett’s attic, my own downfall, were forgotten, and, bright and eager, I half ran to meet her, and caught her extended hand.

Her sad face brightened as she saw the eager pleasure in my eyes, and retaining my hand, she led me to a couch and seated herself by my side.

“Then you had not forgotten me?” she said.