Jacob's Ladder, Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  The melancholy man was seated in his favourite corner, gazing out atthe landscape. He scarcely looked up as Jacob entered. It chanced thatthey were alone.

  "Richard Dauncey," Jacob said impressively, as soon as the train hadstarted again, "you once sat in that corner and smiled at me when Igot in. I think you also wished me good morning and admired my rose."

  "It was two years ago," Dauncey assented.

  "Did you ever hear of a man," Jacob went on, "who made his fortunewith a smile? Of course not. You are probably the first. Look at mesteadfastly. This is to be a heart-to-heart talk. Why do you go aboutlooking as though you were the most miserable creature on God'searth?"

  Richard Dauncey sighed.

  "You needn't rub it in. My appearance is against me in business and inevery way. I can't help it. I have troubles."

  "They are at an end," Jacob declared. "Don't jump out of the window ordo anything ridiculous, my friend, but sit still and listen. You havebeen starving with a wife and two children on three pounds a week.Your salary from to-day is ten pounds a week, with expenses."

  Dauncey shook his head.

  "You are not well this morning, man."

  Jacob produced the letters and handed them over to his friend, whoread them with many exclamations of wonder. When he returned them,there was a little flush in his face.

  "I congratulate you, Jacob," he said heartily. "You are one of thosemen who have the knack of keeping a stiff upper lip, but I know whatyou have suffered."

  "Congratulate yourself, too, old chap," Jacob enjoined, holding outhis hand. "Exactly what I am going to do in the future I haven't quitemade up my mind, but this I do know--we start a fresh life fromlunch-time to-day, you and I. You can call yourself my secretary, forwant of a better description, until we settle down. Your screw will beten pounds a week, and if you refuse the hundred pounds I am going tooffer you at our luncheon table at Simpson's to-day, I shall knock youdown."

  Dauncey apologised shamefacedly, a few minutes later, for a briefperiod of rare weakness.

  "It's the wife, old chap," he explained, as they drew near theterminus. "You see, I married a little above my station, but there wasnever any money, and the two kids came and there didn't seem enoughto clothe them properly, or feed them properly, or put even a trifleby in case anything should happen to me. Life's been pretty hard,Jacob, and I can't make friends. Or rather I never have been able tountil you came along."

  They shook hands once more, a queer but very human proceeding in thoseoverwrought moments.

  "Just you walk to the office this morning," Jacob said, "with yourhead in the air, and keep on telling yourself there's no mistake aboutit. You're going home to-night with a hundred pounds in bank notes inyour pocket, with a bottle of wine under one arm, and a brown paperparcel as big as you can carry under the other. You're out of thewood, young fellow, and you be thankful for the rest of your life thatyou found the way to smile one morning. So long till one o'clock atSimpson's," he added, as they stepped out on to the platform. "Hi,taxi!"

  Mr. Bultiwell came hurrying along, with a good deal less than hisusual dignity. He was not one of those men who were intended by natureto proceed at any other than a leisurely pace.

  "Pratt," he called out, "wait a minute. We'll share that taxi, eh?"

  Jacob glanced over his shoulder.

  "Sorry," he answered, "I'm not going your way."

  * * * * *

  Soon after the opening of that august establishment, Jacob, notwithout some trepidation, visited the Bank of England. At half-pastten, he strolled into the warehouse of Messrs. Smith and Joyce,leather merchants, Bermondsey Street, the firm for which he had beenworking during the last two years. Mr. Smith frowned at him frombehind a stack of leather.

  "You're late this morning, Pratt," he growled. "I thought perhaps youhad gone over to see that man at Tottenham."

  "The man at Tottenham," Jacob remarked equably, "can go to hell."

  Mr. Smith was a short, thin man with a cynical expression, a bloodlessface and a loveless heart. He opened his mouth a little, a habit ofhis when surprised.

  "I suppose it is too early in the morning to suggest that you havebeen drinking," he said.

  "You are right," Jacob acknowledged. "A little later in the day Ishall be able to satisfy everybody in that respect."

  Mr. Smith came out from behind the stack of leather. He was wearing alinen smock over his clothes and paper protectors over his cuffs.

  "I don't think you're quite yourself this morning, Pratt," he observedacidly.

  "I am not," Jacob answered. "I have had good news."

  Mr. Smith was a farseeing man, with a brain which worked quickly. Heremembered in a moment the cause of Jacob's failure. Oil might befound at any time!

  "I am very glad to hear it, Pratt," he said. "Would you like to comeinto the office and have a little chat?"

  Jacob looked his employer squarely in the face.

  "Never so long as I live," he replied. "Just the few words I want tosay to you, Mr. Smith, can be said here. You gave me a job when I wasdown and out. You gave it to me not out of pity but because you knew Iwas a damned good traveller. I've trudged the streets for you, riddenin tram-cars, 'buses and tubes, sold your leather honestly andcarefully for two years. I've doubled your turnover; I've introducedyou to the soundest connection you ever had on your books. EachChristmas a clerk in the counting house has handed me an extrasovereign--to buy sweets with, I suppose! You've never raised mysalary, you've never uttered a word of thanks. I've brought you inthree of the biggest contracts you ever had in your life, and youaccepted them with grudging satisfaction, pretended they didn't payyou, forgot that I knew what you gave for every ton of your leatherthat passed through my hands. You've been a cold, calculating andselfish employer. You'll never be a rich man because you haven't theimagination, and you'll never be a poor one because you're too stingy.And now you can go on with your rotten little business and findanother traveller, for I've finished with you."

  "You can't leave without a week's notice," Mr. Smith snapped.

  "Sue me, then," Jacob retorted, as he turned away. "Put me in theCounty Court. I shall have the best part of a million to pay thedamage with. Good morning to you, Mr. Smith, and I thank Providencethat never again in this life have I got to cross the threshold ofyour warehouse!"

  Jacob passed out into the street, whistling lightly. He was beginningto feel himself.

  Half an hour later, seated in the most comfortable easy chair of Mr.Pedlar's private office, a sanctum into which he had never before beenasked to penetrate, Jacob discussed the flavour of a fine Havana cigarand issued his instructions for the payment of his debts in full. Mr.Stephen Pedlar, a suave, shrewd man of much versatility, congratulatedhimself that he had, at all times during his connection with Jacob,treated this erstwhile insignificant defaulter with the courtesy whichat least had cost him nothing.

  "Most interesting position, yours, Pratt," the man of figuresdeclared, loitering a little over the final details. "I should like totalk it over with you sometime. What about a little lunch up in theWest End to-day?"

  Jacob shook his head.

  "I am lunching with a friend," he said. "Thank you very much, all thesame."

  "Some other time, then," Mr. Pedlar continued. "Have you made anyplans at all for the future?"

  "None as yet worth speaking of."

  "You are a young man," the accountant continued. "You must haveoccupation. If the advice of a man of the world is worth having, countme at your disposal."

  "I am very much obliged," Jacob acknowledged.

  "I can be considered wholly impartial," Mr. Pedlar went on, "becauseI have no direct interest in whatever you may choose to do with yourmoney, but my advice to you, Mr. Pratt, would be to buy a partnershipin one of the leading firms engaged in the industry with which youhave been associated."

  "I see," Jacob reflected. "Go into business again on a larger scale?"
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  "Exactly," the accountant assented, "only, go into an establishedbusiness, with a partner, where you are not too much tied down. You'llwant to enjoy yourself and see a little of the world now. A bungalowdown the river for the summer, eh? A Rolls-Royce, of course, and amonth or so on the Riviera in the winter. Plenty of ways of gettingsomething out of life, Mr. Pratt, if only one has the means."

  Jacob drew a deep sigh and murmured something noncommittal.

  "My advice to you," his mentor continued, "would be to enjoyyourself, get value for your money, but--don't give up workaltogether. With the capital at your command, you could secure aninterest in one of the leading firms in the trade."

  "Were you thinking of any one in particular?" Jacob asked quietly.

  Mr. Pedlar hesitated.

  "To tell you the truth, Mr. Pratt," he admitted candidly, "I was.I know of a firm at the present moment, one of the oldest and mostrespected in the trade--I might almost say the most prominentfirm--who would be disposed to admit into partnership a person ofyour standing and capital."

  "You don't, by any chance, mean Bultiwell's?"

  The accountant's manner became more earnest. He had the air of one whoreleases a great secret.

  "Don't mention it, Pratt, whatever you do," he begged. "Mr. Bultiwellwould probably be besieged by applications from people who would bequite useless to him."

  "I shall not tell a soul," Jacob promised.

  "You see," his companion went on, watching the ash of his cigar for amoment, "the Mortimers and the Craigs have both come to an end so faras regards participation in the business. Colonel Craig was killedplaying polo in India, and had no sons, and old Mortimer, too, hadonly one son, who went into the diplomatic service. That leaves Mr.Bultiwell the sole representative of the firm, and though he has, asyou know, a great dislike for new associations, it is certainly toomuch responsibility for one man."

  "The Mortimer and Craig interests have had to be paid out, I suppose?"Jacob enquired.

  "To a certain extent, yes," Mr. Pedlar admitted. "That is where theopportunity for new capital comes in."

  "I have made no plans yet," Jacob declared, rising to take his leave."If you like to place the figures before me within the course of thenext week or so, and the suggested terms, I might consider thematter--that is, if I decide to go into business at all."

  "I can't conceive a more comfortable position for a young man withyour knowledge of the trade," Mr. Pedlar said, as he wished his guestgood morning. "You shall have all the figures placed before you. Goodmorning, and once more my heartiest congratulations, Mr. Pratt."