'I am sure it is. I have no doubt whatever about the ingratitude. But,
you see, Checkley, that vice is not one which the Courts recognise. It
is not one denounced in the Decalogue.--There is a good deal to
consider, in fact, before we get to the ingratitude. It is probably a
criminal conspiracy; it is a felony; it is a thing to be punished by a
long term of penal servitude. When we have worried through all this and
got our conspirators under lock and key, we will proceed to consider
their ingratitude. There is also the bad form of it and the absence of
proper feeling of it; and the want of consideration of the trouble they
give. Patience! We shall have to consider the business from your point
of view presently.'
'I wouldn't scoff and snigger at it, Mr. Austin, if I were you. Scoffin'
and sniggerin' might bring bad luck. Because, you know, there's others
besides yourself determined to bring this thing to a right issue.'
George put down his papers and looked at this importunate person. What
did he mean? The old man shrunk and shrivelled and grew small. He
trembled all over. But he remained standing with his hands on the
table--leaning forward. 'Eight years ago,' he went on, 'when that other
business happened--when Mr. Arundel cut his lucky----'
'I will have nothing said against Mr. Arundel. Go to your own room.'
'One word--I will speak it. If _he's_ dead I shall not stay long here.
But I shall stay so long as he's alive, though you are his partner. Only
one word, sir. If Mr. Arundel hadn't--run away--he'd 'a been a partner
instead of you.'
'Well?'
'Well, sir--s'pose he'd been found out _after_ he was made a partner,
instead of before?'
George pointed to the door. The old man seemed off his head--was it with
terror? Checkley obeyed. But at the door he turned his head and grinned.
Quite a theatrical grin. It expressed malignity and the pleasure of
anticipation. What was the matter with the old man? Surely, terror. Who,
in the office, except himself, had the control of the letters? Who drew
that quarterly cheque? Surely, terror.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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