England -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Socialists -- Fiction
Two men were conversing in the room. One sat at the table with a sheet
of paper before him, sketching a rough diagram and scribbling notes;
this was Richard Mutimer. He was dressed in a light tweed suit; his fair
moustache and beard were trimmed, and the hand which rested on the table
was no longer that of a daily-grimed mechanic. His linen was admirably
starched; altogether he had a very fresh and cool appearance. His
companion was astride on a chair, his arms resting on the back, a pipe
in his mouth. This man was somewhat older than Mutimer; his countenance
indicated shrewdness and knowledge of the world. He was dark and
well-featured, his glossy black hair was parted in the middle, his
moustache of the cut called imperial, his beard short and peaked. He
wore a canvas jacket, a white waistcoat and knickerbockers; at his
throat a blue necktie fluttered loose. When Hubert’s name was announced
by the servant, this gentleman stopped midway in a sentence, took his
pipe from his lips, and looked to the door with curiosity.
Mutimer rose and addressed his visitor easily indeed, but not
discourteously.
‘How do you do, Mr. Eldon? I’m glad to see that you are so much better.
Will you sit down? I think you know Mr. Rodman, at all events by name?’
Hubert assented by gesture. He had come prepared for disagreeable
things in this his first meeting with Mutimer, but the honour of an
introduction to the latter’s friends had not been included in his
anticipations. Mr. Rodman had risen and bowed slightly. His smile
carried a disagreeable suggestion from which Mutimer’s behaviour was
altogether free; he rather seemed to enjoy the situation.
For a moment there was silence and embarrassment. Richard overcame the
difficulty.
‘Come and dine with me to-night, will you?’ he said to Rodman. ‘Here,
take this plan with you, and think it over.’
‘Pray don’t let me interfere with your business,’ interposed Hubert,
with scrupulous politeness. ‘I could see you later, Mr. Mutimer.’
‘No, no; Rodman and I have done for the present,’ said Mutimer,
cheerfully. ‘By-the-by,’ he added, as his right-hand man moved to the
door, ‘don’t forget to drop a line to Slater and Smith. And, I say, if
Hogg turns up before two o’clock, send him here; I’ll be down with you
by half-past.’
Mr. Rodman gave an ‘All right,’ nodded to Hubert, who paid no attention,
and took his departure.
‘You’ve had a long pull of it,’ Richard began, as he took his chair
again, and threw his legs into an easy position. ‘Shall I close the
windows? Maybe you don’t like the draught.’
‘Thank you; I feel no draught.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account