II
It was at a quarter to nine on the evening of December 18, 1907, that Sir Franklin, who was sitting by the fire reading and thinking, suddenly got up and rang the bell.
Pembroke came in at once and said, “I’m sorry you’re troubled in your mind, sir. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Sir Franklin. “But do you know what day this is?”
“We are nearing the end of December 18,” said Pembroke.
“Yes,” said Sir Franklin, “and what is a week to-day?”
“A week to-day, sir,” said Pembroke, “is Christmas Day.”
“And what about children who won’t get any presents this Christmas?” Sir Franklin asked.
“Ah, indeed, sir,” said Pembroke.
“And what about people in trouble, Pembroke?” Sir Franklin asked.
“Ah, indeed, sir,” said Pembroke.
“And that reminds me,” Pembroke added after a pause, “that I was going to speak to you about the cook’s brother-in-law, sir: a worthy man, sir, but in difficulties.”
Sir Franklin asked for particulars.
“He keeps a toy-shop, sir, in London, and he can’t make it pay. He’s tried and tried, but there’s no money in toys in his neighbourhood—except penny toys, on which the margin of profit is, I am told, sir, very small.”
Sir Franklin poked the fire and looked into it for a little while. Then, “It seems to me, Pembroke,” he said, “that the cook’s brother-in-law’s difficulties and the little matter of the children can be solved in the same action. Why shouldn’t we take over the toy-shop and let the children into it on Christmas Eve to choose what they will?”
Pembroke stroked his chin for a moment and then said, “The very thing, sir.”
“Where does the cook’s brother-in-law live?” Sir Franklin asked.
Pembroke gave the address.
“Then if you’ll call a hansom, Pembroke, we’ll drive there at once.”