went into the back part of the office, and hung the woollen wrap round one of the diver’s necks.
“I’ve managed to make bread and cheese, Pugh – bread and cheese,” he said, chuckling, as he came back, climbed upon a stool by that of his assistant, and sat with his hands on his knees. “Yes, bread and cheese; beef and horse-radish. Pugh, how’s the little wife?”
“Quite well, Mr Parkley,” said Dutch, smiling.
“That’s right, bless her! Tell her I’m coming down to spend a Sunday soon.”
“We shall only be too glad, sir,” said Dutch, smiling. “When shall it be?”
“Soon, man; but not yet. Too busy. I’ve got this big job on,” he continued, rubbing his bald head, which looked as if he had worn a diver’s helmet till all the hair had been frayed off. “Oh, here’s a letter.”
For just then Rasp came into the office, not quietly, like his master – who walked slowly and heavily, as if putting down boots with massive leaden soles, and seemed as if he were wading through deep water, and liable to get entangled amongst sunken rigging – but with a bang and a rush like a big wind, and even made the letter he held in his hand rustle as he held it out to Mr Parkley, saying, with a surly snarl —
“Letter. Answer. Waiting.”
Then, uttering a snort, he walked across to the diving suits, snatched off Mr Parkley’s hat, whisked off the comforter, and dabbed them both on a hat-peg close at hand; after which he took out a large blue-check cotton pocket-handkerchief drew forward a set of short steps, and, growling as he did so, began to breathe on the bright copper, gave it a good polishing, and then went off to his den.
“See that?” said Mr Parkley, nodding his head sideways at Rasp, as he went out – but not until he had seized the poker, rammed it between the bars with a scientific twist, and made the blaze go dancing up the chimney. “See that, Pugh! He’s the real master here. He’s a tyrant.”
“Well, really, sir, he has his own way pretty well.”
“Rare stuff though, Pugh, my dear boy – rare stuff. That man’s one you can always trust in any emergency. I’d leave my life in his hands at any time.”
“I know that, sir,” said Dutch, warmly. “He is as true as steel.”
“Right, Pugh, my dear boy – right. But look here,” he continued, thrusting a finger in the young man’s button-hole, “I wish you would drop that ‘sir’ to me. I don’t like it. I’m only a business fellow, and you’ve had the education of a gentleman, and I feel sometimes as if I ought to say ‘sir’ to you.”
“My dear sir – ”
“There you go again.”
“Well, my dear Mr Parkley, then, I have you to thank for so much kindness.”
“Stuff! stuff! stuff!” cried the elder, laying his hand playfully on his mouth. “You came to me to help me, and I was to pay you for that help. Well, look here, Pugh, you’ve been no end of value to me, and get more useful every day. What I pay you is nonsense to what you are worth. Now, look here; in three months the current business year with me will be up, and I’m going to ask you to join me as junior partner.”
“Mr Parkley!” cried the young man, astounded, as his employer leaped off his stool, and took down and replaced his hat.
“Say no more,” he cried; “I don’t act without thinking, do I?”
“Never, sir.”
“Then it’s all right. Catch hold of this,” he continued, handing the young man one end of the comforter, and then, tucking the other in under his waistcoat, he slowly wound himself up in it again, tapped the letter, and said, “Big job on here – I’m going to see them about it;” and then, lifting his feet in his peculiar way, he seemed to move out of the office as if he were under water, and the door closed behind him.
Story 1-Chapter II.
Golden Promises
The last words of his employer had such an effect upon Dutch Pugh that he leaped from his stool, and began to pace the office excitedly, for this was beyond his wildest dreams. Partner in such a business, where he knew that many thousands were netted every year! He could hardly believe it. At one moment he was all exhilaration, thinking of the delight it would afford his young wife; at the next, he felt a strange sensation of depression, as of coming trouble. It was as if the sunshine of his life had been crossed by a black shadow; and minute by minute this increased upon him, till he shuddered, started, and turned round, to glance uneasily about the office, as if expecting to see trouble there.
And then it seemed to him as if the three goblinlike figures were laughing and blinking at him weirdly, menacing him with crowbar and hatchet; and, as if in a dream for the next few moments, he seemed to see himself engaged in some dangerous diving experiment, and at the mercy of an enemy who sought his life, while his young wife pleaded for him and in vain.
It was all misty and strange; his brain was confused, and he could the next minute no more have analysed this waking dream, or idealised the actors therein, than have flown; but there, for a few brief moments, was the impression upon him of coming trouble – trouble so horrible that it menaced his life and the honour of her he most dearly loved. That was the impression; but how, when, where, he could not comprehend.
“Am I going mad?” he exclaimed, dashing his hand to his forehead. “What an idiot I am!” he cried, with a forced laugh. “That old rascal has made the place like an oven, and the blood has flown to my head. There, only to think what trifles will upset a man, and, if he is weak-minded, make him superstitious and fanciful. Some men would have really believed that a terrible calamity was about to befall them, when it was only – ”
“Here’s a gentleman to see you,” said Rasp, barking out his words, and ushering in a stranger.
Dutch Pugh involuntarily started, for he seemed to be in the presence of a stranger, and yet somehow the face was familiar to him. It was that of an exceedingly handsome man of about thirty, who took off a soft sombrero hat, and loosened the folds of a heavy black cloak, one end of which was thrown over his shoulder. He was evidently a foreigner, for his complexion was of a rich creamy tinge, his crisp black hair curled closely round a broad, high forehead, his dark eyes glittered beneath straight black brows, his nose was slightly aquiline, and the lower part of his face was covered with a thick, silky, black beard.
As he loosened the cords of his heavy cloak with his carefully-gloved hand, Dutch Pugh saw that he was faultlessly dressed, and, as he smiled and showed his white teeth, he said in good English, but with a perceptible foreign accent —
“Mr Parkley, I learn, is out. I address Mr Pugh?”
“The same,” said Dutch, who seemed fascinated by his look. “Will you take a chair?”
A cold chill came over the speaker as the visitor smiled and seated himself, but only to be succeeded by a feeling of suffocation; and for an instant his brain swam, and the dreamy feeling seemed about to return, but it passed off instantly, as, rousing himself, Dutch said —
“You will find this room too hot, perhaps. Shall I open – ”
“Hot!” laughed the stranger, taking out a card and letter of introduction. “My dear sir, it is comfortable after your chilly streets. I am from Cuba, where we see the sun.”
