“I mean,” he explained, “that I’ll see you hanged first before I confess to any one here that you are a brother of mine. Providing, of course”—here he threw back his head and laughed in a loud, common way—“providing the Governor of Newgate allows me to be present at the ceremony.”
I felt greatly relieved at this, but now and again, while the work was going on in the office, Edward gave me a start by talking in an audible voice to the other workmen about his relatives, and I knew he did this purposely. What I feared was that his companions might speak to him by his surname; it proved reassuring to find that they called him Teddy. On the night they finished the work, I happened to be staying overtime, and, taking him aside, I tried to talk pleasantly to him, asking how he progressed in the new business to which he had transferred himself, and pointing out that a rolling stone gathered no moss, but he seemed quite off-hand in his manner. I offered him sixpence that he might go out and get a drink. He said that I had better keep it and buy something to put in my face; he added that I appeared to be spending all my money on clothes, and expressed doubts whether I had enough to eat.
“Pardon me, Edward,” I said, “you are now trespassing on grounds that do not belong to you.”
“A family weakness,” he remarked. “Good-night, old man! Good luck to you!”
“Edward,” I said, “it is not luck which counts in this world, but rather a steady, dogged determination to do one’s duty; a persistent effort to keep one’s position in society; to mingle, so far as possible, with those of a superior station in life.”
“Do you know what I think of you?” he interrupted sharply. “You’re nothing more nor less than— Perhaps I’d better not say what I was going to say. After all, we’re brothers.”
“That, Edward,” I said, in my quiet way, turning to go, so that it might finish the discussion—“that is a fact which I sometimes find it difficult to realise.”
“You needn’t try,” he retorted.
On reflection, I perceived that, disturbing as this argument had been, there was no reason to allow it to cause regret, for it meant a final breaking up of friendship, and enabled me to find good plea for not acknowledging his existence should we ever meet again. Moreover, increases had been stopped in the office, and it appeared likely that I might remain at £110 a year for a time. Unless I could find some one of a fairly attractive appearance, with a little money of her own, it would inconvenience me greatly to contribute anything towards the support of my mother. This difference of opinion with Edward provided me with a good answer if ever the application should be made. “After what Edward remarked to me some time ago,” I should say, “I must decline to have anything to do with domestic expenses. He is living in the house: let him provide the sums necessary for the upkeep of the establishment.” As it proved, no necessity existed for this statement, because they very wisely refrained from making any appeal.
I heard of Edward occasionally by the medium of Miss Charlesworth; she also brought me news of my mother. I was living then in Jubilee Place, and Miss Charlesworth’s people kept a large dairy in King’s Road, Chelsea. I called in sometimes on my way home for a couple of fresh eggs. Eggs can be carried in the pocket without observation, and, if folk are careful not to crowd, without damage, whilst other eatables have to be conveyed in a parcel. I had strong objections to be seen carrying a package of any kind.