My Lady's Money Read online

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE next day, Mr. Troy (taking Robert Moody with him as a valuablewitness) rang the bell at the mean and dirty lodging-house in which OldSharon received the clients who stood in need of his advice.

  They were led up stairs to a back room on the second floor of the house.Entering the room, they discovered through a thick cloud of tobaccosmoke, a small, fat, bald-headed, dirty, old man, in an arm-chair, robedin a tattered flannel dressing-gown, with a short pipe in his mouth, apug-dog on his lap, and a French novel in his hands.

  "Is it business?" asked Old Sharon, speaking in a hoarse, asthmaticalvoice, and fixing a pair of bright, shameless, black eyes attentively onthe two visitors.

  "It _is_ business," Mr. Troy answered, looking at the old rogue who haddisgraced an honorable profession, as he might have looked at a reptilewhich had just risen rampant at his feet. "What is your fee for aconsultation?"

  "You give me a guinea, and I'll give you half an hour." With this replyOld Sharon held out his unwashed hand across the rickety ink-splashedtable at which he was sitting.

  Mr. Troy would not have touched him with the tips of his own fingers fora thousand pounds. He laid the guinea on the table.

  Old Sharon burst into a fierce laugh--a laugh strangely accompanied by afrowning contraction of his eyebrows, and a frightful exhibition of thewhole inside of his mouth. "I'm not clean enough for you--eh?" he said,with an appearance of being very much amused. "There's a dirty old mandescribed in this book that is a little like me." He held up his Frenchnovel. "Have you read it? A capital story--well put together. Ah, youhaven't read it? You have got a pleasure to come. I say, do you mindtobacco-smoke? I think faster while I smoke--that's all."

  Mr. Troy's respectable hand waved a silent permission to smoke, givenunder dignified protest.

  "All right," said Old Sharon. "Now, get on."

  He laid himself back in his chair, and puffed out his smoke, with eyeslazily half closed, like the eyes of the pug-dog on his lap. At thatmoment, indeed there was a curious resemblance between the two. Theyboth seemed to be preparing themselves, in the same idle way, for thesame comfortable nap.

  Mr. Troy stated the circumstances under which the five hundred poundnote had disappeared, in clear and consecutive narrative. When he haddone, Old Sharon suddenly opened his eyes. The pug-dog suddenly openedhis eyes. Old Sharon looked hard at Mr. Troy. The pug looked hard at Mr.Troy. Old Sharon spoke. The pug growled.

  "I know who you are--you're a lawyer. Don't be alarmed! I never sawyou before; and I don't know your name. What I do know is a lawyer'sstatement of facts when I hear it. Who's this?" Old Sharon lookedinquisitively at Moody as he put the question.

  Mr. Troy introduced Moody as a competent witness, thoroughly acquaintedwith the circumstances, and ready and willing to answer any questionsrelating to them. Old Sharon waited a little, smoking hard and thinkinghard. "Now, then!" he burst out in his fiercely sudden way. "I'm goingto get to the root of the matter."

  He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and began hisexamination of Moody. Heartily as Mr. Troy despised and disliked the oldrogue, he listened with astonishment and admiration--literally extortedfrom him by the marvelous ability with which the questions were adaptedto the end in view. In a quarter of an hour Old Sharon had extractedfrom the witness everything, literally everything down to the smallestdetail, that Moody could tell him. Having now, in his own phrase,"got to the root of the matter," he relighted his pipe with a grunt ofsatisfaction, and laid himself back in his old armchair.

  "Well?" said Mr. Troy. "Have you formed your opinion?"

  "Yes; I've formed my opinion."

  "What is it?"

  Instead of replying, Old Sharon winked confidentially at Mr. Troy, andput a question on his side.

  "I say! is a ten-pound note much of an object to you?"

  "It depends on what the money is wanted for," answered Mr. Troy.

  "Look here," said Old Sharon; "I give you an opinion for your guinea;but, mind this, it's an opinion founded on hearsay--and you know as alawyer what that is worth. Venture your ten pounds--in plain English,pay me for my time and trouble in a baffling and difficult case--andI'll give you an opinion founded on my own experience."

  "Explain yourself a little more clearly," said Mr. Troy. "What do youguarantee to tell us if we venture the ten pounds?"

  "I guarantee to name the person, or the persons, on whom the suspicionreally rests. And if you employ me after that, I guarantee (before youpay me a halfpenny more) to prove that I am right by laying my hand onthe thief."

  "Let us have the guinea opinion first," said Mr. Troy.

  Old Sharon made another frightful exhibition of the whole inside of hismouth; his laugh was louder and fiercer than ever. "I like you!" he saidto Mr. Troy, "you are so devilish fond of your money. Lord! how rich youmust be! Now listen. Here's the guinea opinion: Suspect, in this case,the very last person on whom suspicion could possibly fall."

  Moody, listening attentively, started, and changed color at those lastwords. Mr. Troy looked thoroughly disappointed and made no attempt toconceal it.

  "Is that all?" he asked.

  "All?" retorted the cynical vagabond. "You're a pretty lawyer! What morecan I say, when I don't know for certain whether the witness who hasgiven me my information has misled me or not? Have I spoken to the girland formed my own opinion? No! Have I been introduced among the servants(as errand-boy, or to clean the boots and shoes, or what not), andhave I formed my own judgement of _them?_ No! I take your opinions forgranted, and I tell you how I should set to work myself if theywere _my_ opinions too--and that's a guinea's-worth, a devilish goodguinea's-worth to a rich man like you!"

  Old Sharon's logic produced a certain effect on Mr. Troy, in spite ofhimself. It was smartly put from his point of view--there was no denyingthat.

  "Even if I consented to your proposal," he said, "I should object toyour annoying the young lady with impertinent questions, or to yourbeing introduced as a spy into a respectable house."

  Old Sharon doubled his dirty fists and drummed with them on the ricketytable in a comical frenzy of impatience while Mr. Troy was speaking.

  "What the devil do you know about my way of doing my business?" he burstout when the lawyer had done. "One of us two is talking like a bornidiot--and (mind this) it isn't me. Look here! Your young lady goes outfor a walk, and she meets with a dirty, shabby old beggar--I look likea shabby old beggar already, don't I? Very good. This dirty old wretchwhines and whimpers and tells a long story, and gets sixpence out of thegirl--and knows her by that time, inside and out, as well as if he hadmade her--and, mark! hasn't asked her a single question, and, insteadof annoying her, has made her happy in the performance of a charitableaction. Stop a bit! I haven't done with you yet. Who blacks your bootsand shoes? Look here!" He pushed his pug-dog off his lap, dived underthe table, appeared again with an old boot and a bottle of blackening,and set to work with tigerish activity. "I'm going out for a walk, youknow, and I may as well make myself smart." With that announcement, hebegan to sing over his work--a song of sentiment, popular in England inthe early part of the present century--"She's all my fancy painted her;she's lovely, she's divine; but her heart it is another's; and it nevercan be mine! Too-ral-loo-ral-loo'. I like a love-song. Brush away! brushaway! till I see my own pretty face in the blacking. Hey! Here's a nice,harmless, jolly old man! sings and jokes over his work, and makes thekitchen quite cheerful. What's that you say? He's a stranger, and don'ttalk to him too freely. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak inthat way of a poor old fellow with one foot in the grave. Mrs. Cook willgive him a nice bit of dinner in the scullery; and John Footman willlook out an old coat for him. And when he's heard everything he wants tohear, and doesn't come back again the next day to his work--what do theythink of it in the servants' hall? Do they say, 'We've had a spy amongus!' Yah! you know better than that, by this time. The cheerful oldman has been run over in the street, or is down with the fever, or hasturne
d up his toes in the parish dead-house--that's what they say inthe servants' hall. Try me in your own kitchen, and see if your servantstake me for a spy. Come, come, Mr. Lawyer! out with your ten pounds, anddon't waste any more precious time about it!"

  "I will consider and let you know," said Mr. Troy.

  Old Sharon laughed more ferociously than ever, and hobbled round thetable in a great hurry to the place at which Moody was sitting. He laidone hand on the steward's shoulder, and pointed derisively with theother to Mr. Troy.

  "I say, Mr. Silent-man! Bet you five pounds I never hear of that lawyeragain!"

  Silently attentive all through the interview (except when he wasanswering questions), Moody only replied in the fewest words. "I don'tbet," was all he said. He showed no resentment at Sharon's familiarity,and he appeared to find no amusement in Sharon's extraordinary talk.The old vagabond seemed actually to produce a serious impression on him!When Mr. Troy set the example of rising to go, he still kept his seat,and looked at the lawyer as if he regretted leaving the atmosphere oftobacco smoke reeking in the dirty room.

  "Have you anything to say before we go?" Mr. Troy asked.

  Moody rose slowly and looked at Old Sharon. "Not just now, sir," hereplied, looking away again, after a moment's reflection.

  Old Sharon interpreted Moody's look and Moody's reply from his ownpeculiar point of view. He suddenly drew the steward away into a cornerof the room.

  "I say!" he began, in a whisper. "Upon your solemn word of honor, youknow--are you as rich as the lawyer there?"

  "Certainly not."

  "Look here! It's half price to a poor man. If you feel like coming back,on your own account--five pounds will do from _you_. There! there! Thinkof it!--think of it!"

  "Now, then!" said Mr. Troy, waiting for his companion, with the dooropen in his hand. He looked back at Sharon when Moody joined him. Theold vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with his dog in hislap, his pipe in his mouth, and his French novel in his hand; exhibitingexactly the picture of frowzy comfort which he had presented when hisvisitors first entered the room.

  "Good-day," said Mr. Troy, with haughty condescension.

  "Don't interrupt me!" rejoined Old Sharon, absorbed in his novel."You've had your guinea's worth. Lord! what a lovely book this is! Don'tinterrupt me!"

  "Impudent scoundrel!" said Mr. Troy, when he and Moody were in thestreet again. "What could my friend mean by recommending him? Fancy hisexpecting me to trust him with ten pounds! I consider even the guineacompletely thrown away."

  "Begging your pardon, sir," said Moody, "I don't quite agree with youthere."

  "What! you don't mean to tell me you understand that oracular sentenceof his--'Suspect the very last person on whom suspicion could possiblyfall.' Rubbish!"

  "I don't say I understand it, sir. I only say it has set me thinking."

  "Thinking of what? Do your suspicions point to the thief?"

  "If you will please to excuse me, Mr. Troy, I should like to wait awhile before I answer that."

  Mr. Troy suddenly stood still, and eyed his companion a littledistrustfully.

  "Are you going to turn detective-policeman on your own account?" heasked.

  "There's nothing I won't turn to, and try, to help Miss Isabel in thismatter," Moody answered, firmly. "I have saved a few hundred pounds inLady Lydiard's service, and I am ready to spend every farthing of it, ifI can only discover the thief."

  Mr. Troy walked on again. "Miss Isabel seems to have a good friend inyou," he said. He was (perhaps unconsciously) a little offended bythe independent tone in which the steward spoke, after he had himselfengaged to take the vindication of the girl's innocence into his ownhands.

  "Miss Isabel has a devoted servant and slave in me!" Moody answered,with passionate enthusiasm.

  "Very creditable; I haven't a word to say against it," Mr. Troyrejoined. "But don't forget that the young lady has other devotedfriends besides you. I am her devoted friend, for instance--I havepromised to serve her, and I mean to keep my word. You will excuse mefor adding that my experience and discretion are quite as likely to beuseful to her as your enthusiasm. I know the world well enough to becareful in trusting strangers. It will do you no harm, Mr. Moody, tofollow my example."

  Moody accepted his reproof with becoming patience and resignation."If you have anything to propose, sir, that will be of service to MissIsabel," he said, "I shall be happy if I can assist you in the humblestcapacity."

  "And if not?" Mr. Troy inquired, conscious of having nothing to proposeas he asked the question.

  "In that case, sir, I must take my own course, and blame nobody butmyself if it leads me astray."

  Mr. Troy said no more: he parted from Moody at the next turning.

  Pursuing the subject privately in his own mind, he decided on takingthe earliest opportunity of visiting Isabel at her aunt's house, and onwarning her, in her future intercourse with Moody, not to trust too muchto the steward's discretion. "I haven't a doubt," thought the lawyer,"of what he means to do next. The infatuated fool is going back to OldSharon!"