The Blotting Book (3 page)

What a happy thing it was too—here the smile of pleasure illuminated Mr.
Taynton's face again—that the boy whom he had dismissed two years before
for some petty pilfering in his own house, should have turned out such a
promising lad and should have found his way to so pleasant a berth as
that of factotum to Morris. Kindly and charitable all through and ever
eager to draw out the good in everybody and forgive the bad, Mr. Taynton
had often occasion to deplore the hardness and uncharity of a world which
remembers youthful errors and hangs them, like a mill-stone, round the
neck of the offender, and it warmed his heart and kindled his smile to
think of one case at any rate where a youthful misdemeanour was lived
down and forgotten. At the time he remembered being in doubt whether he
should not give the offender up to justice, for the pilfering, petty
though it had been, had been somewhat persistent, but he had taken the
more merciful course, and merely dismissed the boy. He had been in two
minds about it before, wondering whether it would not be better to let
Martin have a sharp lesson, but to-night he was thankful that he had not
done so. The mercy he had shown had come back to bless him also; he felt
a glow of thankfulness that the subject of his clemency had turned out so
well. Punishment often hardens the criminal, was one of his settled
convictions. But Morris—again his thoughts went back to Morris, who was
already standing on the verge of manhood, on the verge, too, he made no
doubt of married life and its joys and responsibilities. Mr. Taynton was
himself a bachelor, and the thought gave him not a moment of jealousy,
but a moment of void that ached a little at the thought of the common
human bliss which he had himself missed. How charming, too, was the girl
Madge Templeton, whom he had met, not for the first time, that evening.
He himself had guessed how things stood between the two before Morris had
confided in him, and it pleased him that his intuition was confirmed.
What a pity, however, that the two were not going to meet next day, that
she was out with her mother and would not get back till late. It would
have been a cooling thought in the hot office hours of to-morrow to
picture them sitting together in the garden at Falmer, or under one of
the cool deep-foliaged oaks in the park.

Then suddenly his face changed, the smile faded, but came back next
instant and broadened with a laugh. And the man who laughs when he is by
himself may certainly be supposed to have strong cause for amusement.

Mr. Taynton had come by this time to the West Pier, and a hundred yards
farther would bring him to Montpellier Road. But it was yet early, as he
saw (so bright was the moonlight) when he consulted his watch, and he
retraced his steps some fifty yards, and eventually rang at the door of a
big house of flats facing the sea, where his partner, who for the most
part, looked after the London branch of their business, had his
pied-à-terre
. For the firm of Taynton and Mills was one of those
respectable and solid businesses that, beginning in the country, had
eventually been extended to town, and so far from its having its
headquarters in town and its branch in Brighton, had its headquarters
here and its branch in the metropolis. Mr. Godfrey Mills, so he learned
at the door had dined alone, and was in, and without further delay Mr.
Taynton was carried aloft in the gaudy bird-cage of the lift, feeling
sure that his partner would see him.

The flat into which he was ushered with a smile of welcome from the man
who opened the door was furnished with a sort of gross opulence that
never failed to jar on Mr. Taynton's exquisite taste and cultivated mind.
Pictures, chairs, sofas, the patterns of the carpet, and the heavy
gilding of the cornices were all sensuous, a sort of frangipanni to the
eye. The apparent contrast, however, between these things and their
owner, was as great as that between Mr. Taynton and his partner, for Mr.
Godfrey Mills was a thin, spare, dark little man, brisk in movement, with
a look in his eye that betokened a watchfulness and vigilance of the most
alert order. But useful as such a gift undoubtedly is, it was given to
Mr. Godfrey Mills perhaps a shade too obviously. It would be unlikely
that the stupidest or shallowest person would give himself away when
talking to him, for it was so clear that he was always on the watch for
admission or information that might be useful to him. He had, however,
the charm that a very active and vivid mind always possesses, and though
small and slight, he was a figure that would be noticed anywhere, so keen
and wide-awake was his face. Beside him Mr. Taynton looked like a
benevolent country clergyman, more distinguished for amiable qualities of
the heart, than intellectual qualities of the head. Yet those—there were
not many of them—who in dealings with the latter had tried to conduct
their business on these assumptions, had invariably found it necessary to
reconsider their first impression of him. His partner, however, was
always conscious of a little impatience in talking to him; Taynton, he
would have allowed, did not lack fine business qualities, but he was a
little wanting in quickness.

Mills's welcome of him was abrupt.

"Pleased to see you," he said. "Cigar, drink? Sit down, won't you?
What is it?"

"I dropped in for a chat on my way home," said Mr. Taynton. "I have been
dining with Mrs. Assheton. A most pleasant evening. What a fine delicate
face she has."

Mills bit off the end of a cigar.

"I take it that you did not come in merely to discuss the delicacy of
Mrs. Assheton's face," he said.

"No, no, dear fellow; you are right to recall me. I too take it—I take
it that you have found time to go over to Falmer yesterday. How did you
find Sir Richard?"

"I found him well. I had a long talk with him."

"And you managed to convey something of those very painful facts which
you felt it was your duty to bring to his notice?" asked Mr. Taynton.

Godfrey Mills laughed.

"I say, Taynton, is it really worth while keeping it up like this?" he
asked. "It really saves so much trouble to talk straight, as I propose
to do. I saw him, as I said, and I really managed remarkably well. I
had these admissions wrung from me, I assure you it is no less than
that, under promise of the most absolute secrecy. I told him young
Assheton was leading an idle, extravagant, and dissipated life. I said
I had seen him three nights ago in Piccadilly, not quite sober, in
company with the class of person to whom one does not refer in polite
society. Will that do?"

"Ah, I can easily imagine how painful you must have found—" began
Taynton.

But his partner interrupted.

"It was rather painful; you have spoken a true word in jest. I felt a
brute, I tell you. But, as I pointed out to you, something of the sort
was necessary."

Mr. Taynton suddenly dropped his slightly clerical manner.

"You have done excellently, my dear friend," he said. "And as you pointed
out to me, it was indeed necessary to do something of the sort. I think
by now, your revelations have already begun to take effect. Yes, I think
I will take a little brandy and soda. Thank you very much."

He got up with greater briskness than he had hitherto shown.

"And you are none too soon," he said. "Morris, poor Morris, such a
handsome fellow, confided to me this evening that he was in love with
Miss Templeton. He is very much in earnest."

"And why do you think my interview has met with some success?"
asked Mills.

"Well, it is only a conjecture, but when Morris asked if he might call
any time to-morrow, Miss Templeton (who was also dining with Mrs.
Assheton) said that she and her mother would be out all day and not get
home till late. It does not strike me as being too fanciful to see in
that some little trace perhaps of your handiwork."

"Yes, that looks like me," said Mills shortly.

Mr. Taynton took a meditative sip at his brandy and soda.

"My evening also has not been altogether wasted," he said. "I played what
for me was a bold stroke, for as you know, my dear fellow, I prefer to
leave to your nimble and penetrating mind things that want dash and
boldness. But to-night, yes, I was warmed with that wonderful port and
was bold."

"What did you do?" asked Mills.

"Well, I asked, I almost implored dear Morris to give me two or three
hours to-morrow and go through all the books, and satisfy himself
everything is in order, and his investments well looked after. I told him
also that the original £30,000 of his had, owing to judicious management,
become £40,000. You see, that is unfortunately a thing past praying for.
It is so indubitably clear from the earlier ledgers—"

"But the port must indeed have warmed you," said Mills quickly. "Why, it
was madness! What if he had consented?"

Mr. Taynton smiled.

"Ah, well, I in my slow synthetic manner had made up my mind that it was
really quite impossible that he should consent to go into the books and
vouchers. To begin with, he has a new motor car, and every hour spent
away from that car just now is to his mind an hour wasted. Also, I know
him well. I knew that he would never consent to spend several hours over
ledgers. Finally, even if he had, though I knew from what I know of him
not that he would not but that he
could
not, I could have—I could have
managed something. You see, he knows nothing whatever about business or
investments."

Mills shook his head.

"But it was dangerous, anyhow," he said, "and I don't understand
what object could be served by it. It was running a risk with no
profit in view."

Then for the first time the inherent strength of the quietness of the one
man as opposed to the obvious quickness and comprehension of the other
came into play.

"I think that I disagree with you there, my dear fellow," said Mr.
Taynton slowly, "though when I have told you all, I shall be of course,
as always, delighted to recognise the superiority of your judgment,
should you disagree with me, and convince me of the correctness of your
view. It has happened, I know, a hundred times before that you with your
quick intuitive perceptions have been right."

But his partner interrupted him. He quite agreed with the sentiment, but
he wanted to learn without even the delay caused by these complimentary
remarks, the upshot of Taynton's rash proposal to Morris.

"What did young Assheton say?" he asked.

"Well, my dear fellow," said Taynton, "though I have really no doubt that
in principle I did a rash thing, in actual practice my step was
justified, because Morris absolutely refused to look at the books. Of
course I know the young fellow well: it argues no perspicuity on my part
to have foreseen that. And, I am glad to say, something in my way of
putting it, some sincerity of manner I suppose, gave rise to a fresh mark
of confidence in us on his part."

Mr. Taynton cleared his throat; his quietness and complete absence of
hurry was so to speak, rapidly overhauling the quick, nimble mind of
the other.

"He asked me in fact to continue being steward of his affairs in any
event. Should he marry to-morrow I feel no doubt that he would not spend
a couple of minutes over his financial affairs, unless,
unless
, as you
foresaw might happen, he had need of a large lump sum. In that case, my
dear Mills, you and I would—would find it impossible to live elsewhere
than in the Argentine Republic, were we so fortunate as to get there.
But, as far as this goes I only say that the step of mine which you felt
to be dangerous has turned out most auspiciously. He begged me, in fact,
to continue even after he came of age, acting for him at my present rate
of remuneration."

Mr. Mills was listening to this with some attention. Here he
laughed dryly.

"That is capital, then," he said. "You were right and I was wrong. God,
Taynton, it's your manner you know, there's something of the country
parson about you that is wonderfully convincing. You seem sincere without
being sanctimonious. Why, if I was to ask young Assheton to look into his
affairs for himself, he would instantly think there was something wrong,
and that I was trying bluff. But when you do the same thing, that simple
and perfectly correct explanation never occurs to him."

"No, dear Morris trusts me very completely," said Taynton. "But, then,
if I may continue my little review of the situation, as it now stands,
you and your talk with Sir Richard have vastly decreased the danger of
his marrying. For, to be frank, I should not feel at all secure if that
happened. Miss Templeton is an heiress herself, and Morris might easily
take it into his head to spend ten or fifteen thousand pounds in building
a house or buying an estate, and though I think I have guarded against
his requiring an account of our stewardship, I can't prevent his wishing
to draw a large sum of money. But your brilliant manoeuvre may, we hope,
effectually put a stop to the danger of his marrying Miss Templeton,
and since I am convinced he is in love with her, why"—Mr. Taynton put
his plump finger-tips together and raised his kind eyes to the
ceiling—"why, the chance of his wanting to marry anybody else is
postponed anyhow, till, till he has got over this unfortunate attachment.
In fact, my dear fellow, there is no longer anything immediate to fear,
and I feel sure that before many weeks are up, the misfortunes and ill
luck which for the last two years have dogged us with such incredible
persistency will be repaired."

Mills said nothing for the moment but splashed himself out a liberal
allowance of brandy into his glass, and mixed it with a somewhat more
carefully measured ration of soda. He was essentially a sober man, but
that was partly due to the fact that his head was as impervious to
alcohol as teak is to water, and it was his habit to indulge in two, and
those rather stiff, brandies and sodas of an evening. He found that they
assisted and clarified thought.