‘I am now,’ said Somerset, ‘a barrister; but Providence and the attorneys have hitherto denied me the opportunity to shine. A select society at the Cheshire Cheese engaged my evenings; my afternoons, as Mr. Godall could testify, have been generally passed in this divan; and my mornings, I have taken the precaution to abbreviate by not rising before twelve. At this rate, my little patrimony was very rapidly, and I am proud to remember, most agreeably expended. Since then a gentleman, who has really nothing else to recommend him beyond the fact of being my maternal uncle, deals me the small sum of ten shillings a week; and if you behold me once more revisiting the glimpses of the street lamps in my favourite quarter, you will readily divine that I have come into a fortune.’
‘I should not have supposed so,’ replied Challoner. ‘But doubtless I met you on the way to your tailors.’
‘It is a visit that I purpose to delay,’ returned Somerset, with a smile. ‘My fortune has definite limits. It consists, or rather this morning it consisted, of one hundred pounds.’
‘That is certainly odd,’ said Challoner; ‘yes, certainly the coincidence is strange. I am myself reduced to the same margin.’
‘You!’ cried Somerset. ‘And yet Solomon in all his glory—’
‘Such is the fact. I am, dear boy, on my last legs,’ said Challoner. ‘Besides the clothes in which you see me, I have scarcely a decent trouser in my wardrobe; and if I knew how, I would this instant set about some sort of work or commerce. With a hundred pounds for capital, a man should push his way.’
‘It may be,’ returned Somerset; ‘but what to do with mine is more than I can fancy. Mr. Godall,’ he added, addressing the salesman, ‘you are a man who knows the world: what can a young fellow of reasonable education do with a hundred pounds?’
‘It depends,’ replied the salesman, withdrawing his cheroot. ‘The power of money is an article of faith in which I profess myself a sceptic. A hundred pounds will with difficulty support you for a year; with somewhat more difficulty you may spend it in a night; and without any difficulty at all you may lose it in five minutes on the Stock Exchange. If you are of that stamp of man that rises, a penny would be as useful; if you belong to those that fall, a penny would be no more useless. When I was myself thrown unexpectedly upon the world, it was my fortune to possess an art: I knew a good cigar. Do you know nothing, Mr. Somerset?’
‘Not even law,’ was the reply.
‘The answer is worthy of a sage,’ returned Mr. Godall. ‘And you, sir,’ he continued, turning to Challoner, ‘as the friend of Mr. Somerset, may I be allowed to address you the same question?’