Denry the Audacious Page 4

  "Anybody but me would have knuckled down to Duncalf and remained ashorthand clerk for evermore."

  "Who but me would have had the idea of going to the ball and asking theCountess to dance? ... And then that business with the fan!"

  "Who but me would have had the idea of taking his rent-collecting offDuncalf?"

  "Who but me would have had the idea of combining these loans with therent-collecting. It's simple enough! It's just what they want! And yetnobody ever thought of it till I thought of it!"

  And he knew of a surety that he was that most admired type in thebustling, industrial provinces--a card.

  IV

  The desire to become a member of the Sports Club revived in his breast.And yet, celebrity though he was, rising though he was, he secretlyregarded the Sports Club at Hillport as being really a bit above him.The Sports Club was the latest and greatest phenomenon of social life inBursley, and it was emphatically the club to which it behoved the goldenyouth of the town to belong. To Denry's generation the ConservativeClub and the Liberal Club did not seem like real clubs; they weremachinery for politics, and membership carried nearly no distinctionwith it. But the Sports Club had been founded by the most dashing youngmen of Hillport, which is the most aristocratic suburb of Bursley andset on a lofty eminence. The sons of the wealthiest earthenwaremanufacturers made a point of belonging to it, and, after a period ofdisdain, their fathers also made a point of belonging to it. It washoused in an old mansion with extensive grounds and a pond and tenniscourts; it had a working agreement with the Golf Club and with theHillport Cricket Club. But chiefly it was a social affair. Thecorrectest thing was to be seen there at nights, rather late than early;and an exact knowledge of card games and billiards was worth more in itthan prowess on the field.

  It was a club in the Pall Mall sense of the word.

  And Denry still lived in insignificant Brougham Street, and his motherwas still a sempstress! These were apparently insurmountable truths.All the men whom he knew to be members were somehow more dashing thanDenry--and it was a question of dash; few things are more mysteriousthan dash. Denry was unique, knew himself to be unique; he had dancedwith a Countess; and yet ... those other fellows! ... Yes there arepuzzles, baffling puzzles, in the social career.

  In going over on Tuesdays to Hanbridge, where he had a few triflingrents to collect, Denry often encountered Harold Etches in the tram-car.At that time Etches lived at Hillport, and the principal Etchesmanufactory was at Hanbridge. Etches partook of the riches of hisfamily and, though a bachelor, was reputed to have the spending of atleast a thousand a year. He was famous, on summer Sundays, on the pierat Llandudno, in white flannels. He had been one of the originators ofthe Sports Club. He spent far more on clothes alone than Denry spent inthe entire enterprise of keeping his soul in his body. At their firstmeetings little was said. They were not equals and nothing butdress-suits could make them equals. However, even a king could notrefuse speech with a scullion whom he had allowed to win money from him.And Etches and Denry chatted feebly. Bit by bit they chatted lessfeebly. And once, when they were almost alone in the car, they chattedwith vehemence during the complete journey of twenty minutes.

  "He is n't so bad," said Denry to himself, of the dashing Harold Etches.

  And he took a private oath that at his very next encounter with Etcheshe would mention the Sports Club--"just to see." This oath disturbedhis sleep for several nights. But with Denry an oath was sacred.Having sworn that he would mention the Club to Etches, he was bound tomention it. When Tuesday came he hoped that Etches would not be on thetram, and the coward in him would have walked to Hanbridge instead oftaking the tram. But he was brave. And he boarded the tram. AndEtches was already in it. Now that he looked at it close, theenterprise of suggesting to Harold Etches that he, Denry, would be asuitable member of the Sports Club at Hillport seemed in the highestdegree preposterous. Why! He could not play at any games at all! Hewas a figure only in the streets! Nevertheless--the oath!

  He sat awkwardly silent for a few moments, wondering how to begin, anddetermined to get it over. And then Harold Etches leaned across thetram to him and said:

  "I say, Machin. I 've several times meant to ask you. Why don't youput up for the Sports Club? It's really very good, you know."

  Denry blushed. Quite probably for the last time in his life. And hesaw with fresh clearness how great he was, and how large he must loom inthe life of the town. He perceived that he had been too modest.

  V

  You could not be elected to the Sports Club all in a minute. There wereformalities; and that these formalities were complicated and took timeis simply a proof that the Club was correctly exclusive, and worthbelonging to. When at length Denry received notice from the "Secretaryand Steward" that he was elected to the most sparkling fellowship in theFive Towns, he was, positively, afraid to go and visit the Club. Hewanted some old and experienced member to lead him gently into the Cluband explain its usages and introduce him to the chief habitues. Or elsehe wanted to slip in unobserved while the heads of clubmen were turned.And then he had a distressing shock. Mrs. Codleyn took it into her headthat she must sell her cottage property. Now Mrs. Codleyn's cottageproperty was the backbone of Denry's livelihood; and he could by nomeans be sure that a new owner would employ him as rent-collector. A newowner might have the absurd notion of collecting rents in person.Vainly did Denry exhibit to Mrs. Codleyn rows of figures showing thather income from the property had increased under his control. Vainlydid he assert that from no other form of investment would she derivesuch a handsome interest. She went so far as to consult an auctioneer.The auctioneer's idea of what would constitute a fair reserve priceshook, but did not quite overthrow, her. At this crisis it was thatDenry happened to say to her, in his new large manner: "Why! if I couldafford, I 'd buy the property off you myself, just to show you...!" (Hedid not explain, to show her, and he did not perhaps know himself, whathad to be shown.) She answered that she wished to goodness he would!Then he said wildly that he _would_, in instalments! And he actuallydid buy the Widow Hullins's half-a-crown-a-week cottage for L45, ofwhich he paid L30 in cash and arranged that the balance should bededucted gradually from his weekly commission. He chose the WidowHullins's because it stood by itself--an old piece, as it were, chippedoff from the block of Mrs. Codleyn's realty. The transaction quietedMrs. Codleyn. And Denry felt secure because she could not now dispensewith his services without losing her security for L15. (He stillthought in these small sums instead of thinking in thousands.)

  He was now a property owner.

  Encouraged by this great and solemn fact, he went up one afternoon tothe Club at Hillport. His entry was magnificent, superficially. No onesuspected that he was nervous under the ordeal. The truth is that no onesuspected because the place was empty. The emptiness of the hall gavehim pause. He saw a large framed copy of the "Rules" hanging under adeer's head, and he read them as carefully as though he had not got acopy in his pocket. Then he read the Notices, as though they had beenlatest telegrams from some dire seat of war. Then, perceiving a massiveopen door of oak (the club-house had once been a pretty statelymansion), he passed through it, and saw a bar (with bottles) and anumber of small tables and wicker chairs, and on one of the tables anexample of the _Staffordshire *Signal*_ displaying in vast letters thefearful question: "Is your skin troublesome?" Denry's skin wastroublesome; it crept. He crossed the hall and went into another roomwhich was placarded "Silence." And silence was. And on a table, withcopies of _The Potter's World, The British Australasian, The Iron TradesReview_, and the _Golfer's Annual_, was a second copy of the _Signal_again demanding of Denry in vast letters whether his skin wastroublesome. Evidently the reading-room.

  He ascended the stairs and discovered a deserted billiard-room with twotables. Though he had never played at billiards he seized a cue, butwhen he touched them the balls gave such a resou
nding click in the hushof the chamber that he put the cue away instantly. He noticed anotherdoor, curiously opened it, and started back at the sight of a small roomand eight middle-aged men, mostly hatted, playing cards in two groups.They had the air of conspirators, but they were merely some of thefinest solo-whist players in Bursley. (This was before Bridge hadquitted Pall Mall.) Among them was Mr. Duncalf. Denry shut the doorquickly. He felt like a wanderer in an enchanted castle who had suddenlycome across something that ought not to be come across. He returned toearth, and in the hall met a man in shirt-sleeves--the Secretary andSteward, a nice homely man who said, in the accents of ancientfriendship, though he had never spoken to Denry before: "Is it Mr.Machin? Glad to see you Mr. Machin! Come and have a drink with me, willyou? Give it a name." Saying which, the Secretary and Steward wentbehind the bar, and Denry imbibed a little whiskey and much informationconcerning the Club.

  "Anyhow, I 've _been_!" he said to himself going home.

  VI

  The next night he made another visit to the Club, about ten o'clock.The reading-room, that haunt of learning, was as empty as ever; but thebar was full of men, smoke, and glasses. It was so full that Denry'sarrival was scarcely observed. However, the Secretary and Stewardobserved him, and soon he was chatting with a group at the bar, presidedover by the Secretary and Steward's shirt-sleeves. He glanced around,and was satisfied. It was a scene of dashing gaiety and worldlinessthat did not belie the Club's reputation. Some of the most importantmen in Bursley were there. Charles Fearns, the solicitor who practisedat Hanbridge, was arguing vivaciously in a corner. Fearns lived atBleakridge and belonged to the Bleakridge Club, and his presence atHillport (two miles from Bleakridge) was a dramatic tribute to theprestige of Hillport's Club.

  Fearns was apparently in one of his anarchistic moods. Though asuccessful business man, who voted right, he was pleased occasionally touproot the fabric of society and rebuild it on a new plan of his own.To-night he was inveighing against landlords--he who by "conveyancing"kept a wife and family, and a French governess for the family, in rathermore than comfort. The Fearnses' French governess was one of the sevenwonders of the Five Towns. Men enjoyed him in these moods; and as heraised his voice, so he enlarged the circle of his audience.

  "If the bye-laws of this town were worth a bilberry," he was saying,"about a thousand so-called houses would have to come down to-morrow.Now there's that old woman I was talking about just now--Hullins. She's a Catholic--and my governess is always slumming about amongCatholics--that's how I know. She 's paid half a crown a week for prettynear half a century for a hovel that isn't worth eighteen pence, and nowshe's going to be pitched into the street because she can't pay anymore. And she 's seventy if she 's a day! And that's the basis ofsociety. Nice, refined society, eh?"

  "Who's the grasping owner?" some one asked.

  "Old Mrs. Codleyn," said Fearns.

  "Here, Mr. Machin, they 're talking about you," said the Secretary andSteward genially. He knew that Denry collected Mrs. Codleyn's rents.

  "Mrs. Codleyn is n't the owner," Denry called out across the room,almost before he was aware what he was doing. There was a smile on hisface and a glass in his hand.

  "Oh!" said Fearns. "I thought she was. Who is?"

  Everybody looked inquisitively at the renowned Machin, the new member.

  "I am," said Denry.

  He had concealed the change of ownership from the Widow Hullins. In hisquality of owner he could not have lent her money in order that shemight pay it instantly back to himself.

  "I beg your pardon," said Fearns, with polite sincerity. "I'd noidea!..." He saw that unwittingly he had come near to committing agross outrage on club etiquette.

  "Not at all!" said Denry. "But supposing the cottage was _yours_, whatshould _you_ do, Mr. Fearns? Before I bought the property I used tolend her money myself to pay her rent."

  "I know," Fearns answered with a certain dryness of tone.

  It occurred to Denry that the lawyer knew too much.

  "Well, what should you do?" he repeated obstinately.

  "She 's an old woman," said Fearns. "And honest enough, you must admit.She came up to see my governess, and I happened to see her."

  "But what should you do in my place?" Denry insisted.

  "Since you ask, I should lower the rent, and let her off the arrears,"said Fearns.

  "And supposing she didn't pay then? Let her have it rent free, becauseshe's seventy? Or pitch her into the streets?"

  "Oh-- Well----"

  "Fearns would make her a present of the blooming house and give her aconveyance free!" a voice said humorously, and everybody laughed.

  "Well, that's what I 'll do," said Denry. "If Mr. Fearns will do theconveyance free, I 'll make her a present of the blooming house. That'sthe sort of grasping owner I am."

  There was a startled pause. "I mean it," said Denry firmly, evenfiercely, and raised his glass. "Here's to the Widow Hullins!"

  There was a sensation, because, incredible although the thing was, ithad to be believed. Denry himself was not the least astounded person inthe crowded smoky room. To him, it had been like somebody else talking,not himself. But, as always when he did something crucial, spectacular,and effective, the deed had seemed to be done by a mysterious powerwithin him, over which he had no control.

  This particular deed was quixotic, enormously unusual; a deed assuredlywithout precedent in the annals of the Five Towns. And he, Denry, haddone it. The cost was prodigious, ridiculously and dangerously beyondhis means. He could find no rational excuse for the deed. But he haddone it. And men again wondered. Men had wondered when he led theCountess out to waltz. That was nothing to this. What! Asmooth-chinned youth giving houses away--out of mere, mad, impulsivegenerosity!

  And men said, on reflection: "Of course that's just the sort of thingMachin _would_ do!" They appeared to find a logical connection betweendancing with a Countess, and tossing a house or so to a poor widow. Andthe next morning every man who had been in the Sports Club that nightwas remarking eagerly to his friends: "I say, have you heard youngMachin's latest?"

  And Denry, inwardly aghast at his own rashness, was saying to himself:"Well, no one but me would ever have done that!"

  He was now not simply a card; he was _the_ card.

  CHAPTER III. THE PANTECHNICON

  I

  "How do you do, Miss Earp?" said Denry, in a worldly manner which he hadacquired for himself by taking the most effective features of themanners of several prominent citizens, and piecing them together so thatas a whole they formed Denry's manner.

  "Oh! How do you do, Mr. Machin?" said Ruth Earp, who had opened herdoor to him at the corner of Tudor Passage and St. Luke's Square.

  It was an afternoon in July. Denry wore a new summer suit, whosepattern indicated not only present prosperity but the firm belief thatprosperity would continue. As for Ruth, that plain but piquant girl wasin one of her simpler costumes; blue linen; no jewelry. Her hair was inits usual calculated disorder; its outer fleeces held the light. Shewas now at least twenty-five, and her gaze disconcertingly combinedextreme maturity with extreme candour. At one moment a man would besaying to himself: "This woman knows more of the secrets of human naturethan I can ever know." And the next he would be saying to himself:"What a simple little thing she is!" The career of nearly every man ismarked at the sharp corners with such women. Speaking generally, RuthEarp's demeanour was hard and challenging. It was evident that she couldnot be subject to the common weaknesses of her sex. Denry was glad. Ayouth of quick intelligence, he had perceived all the dangers of themission upon which he was engaged, and had planned his precautions.

  "May I come in a minute?" he asked in a purely business tone. There wasno hint in that tone of the fact that once she had accorded him asupper-dance.

  "Please do," said Ruth.

  An agreeable flouncing sw
ish of linen skirts as she turned to precedehim down the passage! But he ignored it. That is to say, he easilysteeled himself against it.

  She led him to the large room which served as her dancing academy, thebare-boarded place in which, a year and a half before, she had taughthis clumsy limbs the principles of grace and rhythm. She occupied theback part of a building of which the front part was an empty shop. Theshop had been tenanted by her father, one of whose frequent bankruptcieshad happened there; after which his stock of the latest novelties ininexpensive furniture had been seized by rapacious creditors, and Mr.Earp had migrated to Birmingham, where he was courting the OfficialReceiver anew. Ruth had remained, solitary and unprotected, with aconsiderable amount of household goods which had been her mother's.(Like all professional bankrupts, Mr. Earp had invariably had belongingswhich, as he could prove to his creditors, did not belong to him.)Public opinion had justified Ruth in her enterprise of staying inBursley on her own responsibility and renting part of the building, inorder not to lose her "connection" as a dancing-mistress. Publicopinion said that "there would have been no sense in her going danglingafter her wastrel of a father."

  "Quite a long time since we saw anything of each other," observed Ruthin rather a pleasant style, as she sat down and as he sat down.

  It was. The intimate ecstasy of the supper-dance had never beenrepeated. Denry's exceeding industry in carving out his career, and hisdesire to graduate as an accomplished clubman, had prevented him fromgiving to his heart that attention which it deserved, having regard tohis tender years.