Hunted Down: The Detective Stories of Charles Dickens, Page 3

  III.

  ON the very next day but one I was sitting behind my glass partition, asbefore, when he came into the outer office, as before. The moment I sawhim again without hearing him, I hated him worse than ever.

  It was only for a moment that I had this opportunity; for he waved histight-fitting black glove the instant I looked at him, and came straightin.

  ‘Mr. Sampson, good-day! I presume, you see, upon your kind permission tointrude upon you. I don’t keep my word in being justified by business,for my business here—if I may so abuse the word—is of the slightestnature.’

  I asked, was it anything I could assist him in?

  ‘I thank you, no. I merely called to inquire outside whether my dilatoryfriend had been so false to himself as to be practical and sensible.But, of course, he has done nothing. I gave him your papers with my ownhand, and he was hot upon the intention, but of course he has donenothing. Apart from the general human disinclination to do anything thatought to be done, I dare say there is a specialty about assuring one’slife. You find it like will-making. People are so superstitious, andtake it for granted they will die soon afterwards.’

  ‘Up here, if you please; straight up here, Mr. Sampson. Neither to theright nor to the left.’ I almost fancied I could hear him breathe thewords as he sat smiling at me, with that intolerable parting exactlyopposite the bridge of my nose.

  ‘There is such a feeling sometimes, no doubt,’ I replied; ‘but I don’tthink it obtains to any great extent.’

  ‘Well,’ said he, with a shrug and a smile, ‘I wish some good angel wouldinfluence my friend in the right direction. I rashly promised his motherand sister in Norfolk to see it done, and he promised them that he woulddo it. But I suppose he never will.’

  He spoke for a minute or two on indifferent topics, and went away.

  I had scarcely unlocked the drawers of my writing-table next morning,when he reappeared. I noticed that he came straight to the door in theglass partition, and did not pause a single moment outside.

  ‘Can you spare me two minutes, my dear Mr. Sampson?’

  ‘By all means.’

  ‘Much obliged,’ laying his hat and umbrella on the table; ‘I came early,not to interrupt you. The fact is, I am taken by surprise in referenceto this proposal my friend has made.’

  ‘Has he made one?’ said I.

  ‘Ye-es,’ he answered, deliberately looking at me; and then a bright ideaseemed to strike him—‘or he only tells me he has. Perhaps that may be anew way of evading the matter. By Jupiter, I never thought of that!’

  Mr. Adams was opening the morning’s letters in the outer office. ‘Whatis the name, Mr. Slinkton?’ I asked.

  ‘Beckwith.’

  I looked out at the door and requested Mr. Adams, if there were aproposal in that name, to bring it in. He had already laid it out of hishand on the counter. It was easily selected from the rest, and he gaveit me. Alfred Beckwith. Proposal to effect a policy with us for twothousand pounds. Dated yesterday.

  ‘From the Middle Temple, I see, Mr. Slinkton.’

  ‘Yes. He lives on the same staircase with me; his door is opposite. Inever thought he would make me his reference though.’

  ‘It seems natural enough that he should.’

  ‘Quite so, Mr. Sampson; but I never thought of it. Let me see.’ He tookthe printed paper from his pocket. ‘How am I to answer all thesequestions?’

  ‘According to the truth, of course,’ said I.

  ‘O, of course!’ he answered, looking up from the paper with a smile; ‘Imeant they were so many. But you do right to be particular. It standsto reason that you must be particular. Will you allow me to use your penand ink?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘And your desk?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  He had been hovering about between his hat and his umbrella for a placeto write on. He now sat down in my chair, at my blotting-paper andinkstand, with the long walk up his head in accurate perspective beforeme, as I stood with my back to the fire.

  Before answering each question he ran over it aloud, and discussed it.How long had he known Mr. Alfred Beckwith? That he had to calculate byyears upon his fingers. What were his habits? No difficulty about them;temperate in the last degree, and took a little too much exercise, ifanything. All the answers were satisfactory. When he had written themall, he looked them over, and finally signed them in a very pretty hand.He supposed he had now done with the business. I told him he was notlikely to be troubled any farther. Should he leave the papers there? Ifhe pleased. Much obliged. Good-morning.

  I had had one other visitor before him; not at the office, but at my ownhouse. That visitor had come to my bedside when it was not yet daylight,and had been seen by no one else but by my faithful confidential servant.

  A second reference paper (for we required always two) was sent down intoNorfolk, and was duly received back by post. This, likewise, wassatisfactorily answered in every respect. Our forms were all compliedwith; we accepted the proposal, and the premium for one year was paid.