1
On his arrival at the office next morning Luke was somewhat surprised to receive a visit in his office from Mr. Arthur Dobson. Apparently Mr. Dobson had something on his mind. He wandered about nervously saying incoherent things about the weather.
“Anything doing?” asked Luke.
“Nothing much. I say, I’ve found a new place to lunch at. It’s run by an Italian, Malodorato. Quite a little place, in Mud Lane. Still there it is, you know. Five courses for one and threepence. That takes some beating.”
“Stuff must be pretty bad.”
“Well, possibly yes. But think what a lot of it you get for your money. Come and lunch there to-day.”
“Thanks. I have promised to go up to Gallows to-day to lunch with the Tyburns.”
“You and your aristocratic friends. Well, I could tell you something, Mr. Sharper. I ought not to. It would have to be distinctly understood that you don’t breathe a word about it to a soul.”
“Of course, of course.”
“Very well, then. You look at that sheet of office paper. Old Cain has got his name above the line, and yours and mine beneath it. Well, I may tell you that in a few days’ time the only name below the line will be your own. I’m being taken into partnership.”
“What a damned shame! I mean to say, I congratulate you. That old blighter has been talking about taking me into partnership for the last two years. At any rate, I have.”
“I only talked to him about it once. You see, I happen to be the only one of us three that understands the manufacturing side. You’ve never been inside the factory in your life. Diggle hardly ever goes, except to make a fool of himself by some damn silly suggestion. No, he keeps to the financial side. He’s got a whole pack of doubtful financial dodges, and he’ll get seven years for one of them some day. All I did was to tell Diggle that I was applying for the post of manager in a certain rival firm, having had twenty years’ experience here. And I asked him if he would give me a testimonial. He said: ‘No, but I will give you a partnership.’ You don’t seem to get hold of the right way of doing things, Sharper.”
“All the same,” said Sharper, “I’m going straight off to Diggle’s room now, and I’m going to give him hell.”
“Oh, I say, you can’t do that. If he knew I’d told you, there’d be the very devil of a row.”
“Oh, he won’t know. I may be a high-minded sufferer, but I’m a very fair liar as well. I’ll put it right for you.”
He entered Mr. Diggle’s room. Mr. Diggle, seated with his back to him, continued the letter he was writing.
“Look here,” said Sharper impulsively, “what have you been and done with that partnership of mine?”
“That you, Sharper? Sit down. I shall be a minute or two. I said, sit down. I did not ask you to twist your feet round the legs of the chair. Refrain also from waggling your toes violently. It interrupts my train of thought. Keep the hand still, if you please. Thank you.”
There were three minutes of absolute silence during which Diggle, in the most leisurely way possible, finished and blotted his letter.
“And now, Sharper,” said Diggle, “I think you wished to say something.”
“Well, I mean to say, what have you been and done with my partnership?”
“I was not aware that you had one.”
“No, but you promised me. And now you’ve gone and given it to Dobson.”
“I promised you nothing. And that, I think, is what you have got. Dobson is very gravely in error in telling you anything at all about it. If you will kindly send him here, I will speak to him on the subject.”
“Dobson never said a single word about it. I’ll take my Bible oath he never did. He came into my room and began to speak in rather a dictatorial way, and I said, ‘You might be a partner,’ and he blushed.”
“I do not think so,” said Diggle. “Dobson does not blush. If he did blush it could not show on that complexion.”
“But on my word of honor he did. White-faced men blush red. Red-faced men blush purple. Any man of science will tell you that.”
“The appointment of a partnership is entirely within my discretion. It has nothing to do with you. If you have nothing further to say, I need not detain you.”
“I’ve a lot more to say, only I can’t think of it. I never can. But it’s there. Inside my head. On the letter paper you and he will have your names above the line, and mine will be below it.”
“That merely shows that I know where to draw the line. I wish you did.”
“It’s not for myself I mind so much. It’s those dear little books of mine. All bound in lilac morocco. Sitting down. It’s just as if they were slighted. If this kind of thing goes on, I shan’t play any more.”
“I’m not asking you to. But you can return to your work. And you remind me. I have had a bill from the binders of those books sent in to the firm’s account. I have explained that this should be charged to your private account. You will get it in due course. Close the door quietly, please, as you go out.”
On his way back to his own room Luke again encountered Arthur Dobson.
“It’s all right,” said Luke, “I said you didn’t tell me, but had given it away by blushing when I chanced to speak of it.”
“Couldn’t you have thought of a better one than that?”
“Oh, it’s all right. And I don’t mind telling you I’ve given him a pretty good dressing-down. I let him have the rough side of my tongue.”
“Ah,” said Dobson, “now that really is something like a lie.”
Luke went back to his own room and sat there deep in thought. Why was everybody so hard and cold? Diggle, Dobson, Mabel—they were all so cruel and rude to him. Nobody loved him. Except Dot and Dash, and possibly ...
No, that was not to be thought of.
All the same it reminded him that it was time for him to brush his hair and wash his little hands, and go up to lunch at Gallows.