Shortly after the advent of this great man, questions arose as to the propriety of drinking beer out of pewter in the Club-rooms. And as Mr. Thistleton was always ready to stand a bottle of wine to anybody who cared to call for it, the consumption of beer fell steadily off, and it became in time, the very worst possible sort of form for an Otway to be seen imbibing the produce of hops. Clay pipes had long ago been disestablished by a by-law of the committee. Cigars at ninepence and a shilling were supplied for the post-prandial smoke. And it was an understood thing that members should always dine in evening dress. When this rule came into force, it occasioned the withdrawal of some old Otways, who, although eminent in their particular walks of literature and art, hadn’t got a single dress-suit among ’em. The places of these talented but socially incomplete persons were speedily filled by gentlemen who, if devoid of genius, were possessed of dress suits of the very latest design, and had gold and silver and precious stones. And the flash of a diamond is, I take it, a much more agreeable scintillation than the flash of the greatest wit in the world.
Mr. Thistleton not only elevated the members of the Otway by means of champagne of great price; he endeavoured to give them reflected glory by inviting to the house-dinner personages of repute in Society. A Cabinet Minister once dined with him. At another time, an Indian Prince, dressed in the most gorgeous Oriental toggery, sat down to the Otway repast. Indeed, there seemed to be, practically, no limit to his influence with the great ones of the earth, and it was apparently his delight to exert that influence, with a view of introducing his brother members to all that was esteemed, wealthy, and wise, in London Society.
At last there visited England an Indian Prince, compared to whom the other Indian princes were mere nobodies. This mighty potentate was in due course brought down to the Otway, and was graciously pleased to express his approval of all that he saw and heard. And the Club, in order to show its appreciation of the compliment of the wise man from the East, invited him to a banquet. Princes have an awkward habit of making requests that are commands. And when dinner was over this dusky heathen had induced the members of the Club to guarantee him a donation of five thousand pounds, towards his fund for providing tom-toms for the Nautch girls of Hindustan. Their solemn word was given to their copper-coloured guest. There was no retreating from their promise. The sequel is soon told. In order to raise the amount the effects of the Otway were offered at public auction. All the members attended the sale, and watched their works of art, their luxurious furniture, their rare wines, and their ninepenny cigars disappear under the hammer of the auctioneer.
Mr. Thistleton bought in everything. He bid with a persistency and a viciousness that astonished the man in the rostrum. When the last article was knocked down to him, he turned upon his late fellow-members, now dissolved and houseless, and with a demoniac shout of derisive laughter cried, “I am avenged.” He had grown a beard, and he had become rich, two wonderful disguises. But there was no doubt about it. It was the Sawdust Man.
III.
LORD LUNDY’S SNUFF-BOX.
“Not another farthing, Tom. Not another farthing.”
“But my dear father—”
“But me no buts, Tom, as the man says in the playbook. You have an ample allowance. I never object to a hundred or two in advance to pay your club subscriptions, or for any other legitimate purpose. But extravagance like yours means vice, and vice I never will encourage.”
Lord Lundy shook his grey head at his son, heaved a sigh, felt in the left-hand pocket of his vest, missed something, heaved another sigh, and became absorbed in the Report with which he had been engrossed when his son entered the library.
“I only want a paltry two hundred,” pleaded Tom, not by any means willing to give up without a struggle.