Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
"'Pon me sowl!" he wheezed, poking the young man in the ribs with his
stick, an implement which he had grasped a moment before as though he
meditated putting it to a less pacific use, "you young divils of
business-men are too much for poor old Tobias. Ged, sir, to think of
being stuck in the mud for the want of a paltry tenner! Tommy Heathcote
will laugh when he hears of it. You know Tommy of the 81st? He gave me
good advice: 'Always sew a fifty-pound note into the lining of each
waistcoat you've got. Then you can't go short.' Tried it once, and, be
George! if me demned man-servant didn't stale that very waistcoat and
sell it for six and sixpence. You're not going, are you?"
"Yes; I'm due in the City. The governor leaves at four. Good-bye.
Shall I see you to-night?"
"Card-room, as per usual," quoth the clean-shaven warrior. He looked
after the retreating figure of his late companion with anything but a
pleasant expression upon his face. The young man happened to glance
round as he was half-way down the street, on which the major smiled
after him paternally, and gave a merry flourish with his stick.
As the old soldier stood on the top of the club steps, pompous,
pigeon-chested, and respectable, posing himself as though he had been
placed there for the inspection of passers-by as a sample of the
aristocracy within, he made several attempts to air his grievances to
passing members touching the question of the expectant Jorrocks and the
missing purse. Beyond, however, eliciting many sallies of wit from the
younger spirits, for it was part of the major's policy to lay himself
open to be a butt, his laudable perseverance was entirely thrown away.
At last he gave it up in disgust, and raising his stick hailed a passing
'bus, into which he sprang, taking a searching glance round to see that
no one was following him. After a drive which brought him to the other
side of the City, he got out in a broad, busy thoroughfare, lined with
large shops. A narrow turning from the main artery led into a long,
dingy street, consisting of very high smoke-coloured houses, which ran
parallel to the other, and presented as great a contrast to it as the
back of a painting does to the front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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