England -- Fiction; Impostors and imposture -- Fiction; Love stories; Mystery fiction
“I wanted to have a chat with you, old friend, before going away
again,” said Philip after a pause. “So—coming to Bamberton to-day—for
the last time—on business, I thought as I heard that the circus was
here that I’d walk over. And how are you prospering?”
“Never better,” replied the Captain rubbing his hands. “Whether it is,
Phil, that the experience I gained, so to speak, in a life on the
rollin’ main is valuable—or wot it is, I don’t know; but certain it is
that they comes to my circus w’erever I ’appens to stop—an’ they claps
their ’ands to a quite remarkable extent, an’ they laughs at the clown
over ’is oldest jokes, min’ yer—things as my poor ole mother used to
’ush me ter sleep with—in sich a way that the chap is a beginnin’ to
give ’isself airs. You remember the melancholy lookin’ man wot ’auled
you out of the fly that night on this ’ere very road—don’t yer?
Well—I do assure you, Phil, that that chap is a gettin’ fat on
applause alone; ’is things ’as bin let out twice in two months.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Philip laughing. “And how is Mrs.
Quist?”
“Fine—an’ ’earty,” responded the Captain. “More than all she’s a
beginnin’ to take an interest in ’osses an’ talks sometimes as if she’d
lived over a stable all ’er days. But—now you’ll be surprised to ’ear
this, Phil, I know you will—she won’t ’ear of no fat ladies. Puts ’er
foot on ’em, so to speak, I do assure you.”
“Really?” said Philip, hiding a smile. “You surprise me. But now I want
to talk for a moment about myself; for I may not have a chance of
speaking to you again—at any time.”
The Captain looked at him in dismay. “Why—wot do yer mean, Phil, my
lad?” he said.
“Well—to tell you the truth at once—I’m going abroad,” replied
Philip. “I made a mistake from one point of view in ever coming back at
all; I’ve brought endless misery on any number of innocent heads and
have done no good—for I’m poorer than when I came. My unfortunate
brother had practically got rid of everything that could be disposed of
and owed money all the way round. When after my release I came to look
into affairs, I found—or rather I was advised—that I need not pay a
single penny of his debts; that as they had been contracted by him
while the property was not his, but mine, as the elder brother, I might
repudiate everything. But of course I couldn’t do that; I made up my
mind to get rid of the place and pay as much as possible of what was
owing.”
“An’ did you?” asked the Captain.
Philip laughed somewhat bitterly. “Why no,” he said. “For I found when
it came to the point of selling that I had nothing to sell; a certain
Jew money-lender held a mortgage on the place and on every stick it
contained. He’s selling it up to-day, at this very hour. No, old
friend, the game is played out; and I start the world once more. I have
enough to carry me back to Australia and to give me a little start
there; and I sail in a few days’ time.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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