Sawn Off Part 21

"I say I am," shouted Fred.

"So I suppose," said the old fellow, chuckling, and looking at him with a strange expression of countenance. "Well, tell him I want to see him."

_Ting_!

There was the sharp sound of a gong heard in the next room, and Fred rose to answer it. He glanced first at the old man, and then down at his letter; but a second stroke on the gong made him hurry to the inner door, which he opened, and stood with his head half inside; but a few sharp peremptory words were heard, and he went in and closed the door, leaving Hopper waiting.

Fred was not gone many minutes; and when he returned it was to find the visitor had taken a chair, and was busy over the contents of a bulky pocket-book, which he secured as the young man appeared, and returned to the pocket in the breast of his ugly, ill-cut dress-coat.

"He says you can go in, but he can only give you ten minutes," said Fred.

"Won't see me for ten minutes?" said the old fellow.

"Says you may go in for ten minutes," shouted the young man; and then, in a whisper, "Confounded old nuisance!"

Old Hopper turned half round, and gave him a peculiar leer, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he went slowly towards the door of Max Shingle's office, putting down his stick heavily in the recurring pattern of the floorcloth, closely followed by Fred, who showed him in.

"What the governor has that deaf old beetle hanging about him for, I can't make out," said the young man, returning to his seat; and he was about to continue his task when a fresh knock at the door made him hastily thrust his papers into the drawer of the table, lock it, and take out the key.

"Ah, my dear Hopper, how are you?" said Max, smiling amiably, and making his eyes beam upon his visitor.

"Hey? How am I?" snarled the old fellow, giving his stick a thump on the floor. "What's that to you? I'm not dying yet. Ain't you sorry?"

"Sorry? Heaven forbid!" said Max unctuously, as he shook his head reproachfully at his visitor, and then, taking hold of his watch-ribbon, threw himself back in his chair and began to spin the seals round and round.

"Don't! Be quiet!" cried Hopper, thrusting out the point of his stick, so that the seals struck upon it and were arrested in their motion.

"Think I'm not bilious enough with looking at you, without having that thing spun round in my face?"

Max laughed, but looked annoyed; while the old fellow took a seat unasked.

"What can I do for you?" said Max at last, smiling blandly.

"Give me a gla.s.s of wine. I'm hot and tired."

"Really, I--" began Max.

"It's in that stand," said the old fellow, chuckling, as he pointed with his stick at a handsome mahogany cellarette at one end of the room; when Max, whose smile was tempered a good deal with a look of annoyance, rose, sighed, secured the door with a little bolt, and then unlocked the cellarette and took out a decanter and gla.s.s.

"No, thank you--I don't smoke cigars," said the old fellow, as he watched the sherry poured into the gla.s.s. "Hey! You weren't going to offer me one? Ho! I was afraid you were."

Max had not spoken; but he winced as he heard these words--preserving his smile, though, when he turned his face to his visitor and pa.s.sed the wine.

"Not bad, Max--not bad," said the old fellow, tasting the sherry and smacking his lips before pouring the rest down his throat. "How you must mug yourself here! Lucky dog, lucky dog! Now, if I had taken to stock-broking instead of ship's husbanding, I might have been as well off as you."

"Oh dear, no; I'm not well off," said Max.

"Hey?"

"I say I'm not well off," said Max, more loudly.

"That's a pity," said the old fellow. "Never mind, I'll have another gla.s.s, all the same. Fill it full this time."

Max shut his teeth with a snap, but he filled the gla.s.s br.i.m.m.i.n.g full, and then restopped the decanter.

"So you're not well off, hey?" said Hopper.

"Very, very short," said Max, with his mouth close to his visitor's ear.

"Humph! Sorry to hear it, because I want to borrow five pounds of you,"

said Hopper. "You've got that, I suppose?"

"Indeed, no. I'm very sorry," began Max.

"So am I," said the old fellow shortly. "Hah, Max Shingle, how you'd have liked to stick a dose of poison in that wine, wouldn't you?"

"Really, Mr Hopper," began Max indignantly, and he half rose.

But the old man laid his stick upon his shoulder like a sceptre, and forced him down.

"Sit still, stupid!" cried the old man. "I know what you are going to say. Surprised at my making such remarks, and so on. But you would like to, and I believe you'd do it if it was not for the fear of the law. I say, Max," he chuckled, "it would take a strong new rope to hang you."

Max laid his hands upon the arms of his handsome, well-stuffed easy chair, and turned of a pale dough colour, as he glared at his visitor.

"I don't wonder at it," chuckled Hopper. "It must be very unpleasant to have a man come to see you, and invade the sanct.i.ty--sanct.i.ty, yes, sanct.i.ty, that's the word--of your home and private office, who knows what a scoundrel you are."

"For Heaven's sake, speak lower!" cried Max, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"All right," said Hopper, nodding. "Especially to a man like you, who goes in for the religious dodge, and is so looked up to and respected by every one. Ha! ha! ha!" he chuckled--"what a wonderful deal is done in this world, Max, by humbug!"

Max began to wipe his wet face with his handkerchief, glaring the while helplessly at his tormentor.

"You're such a good man, too, now," said Hopper, laughing, and evidently enjoying the other's discomfiture. "I saw you coming from service last Sunday, with the wife, and that dear youth in the next room, Fred, all carrying limp hymn-books. I say, Max, your prayers must be precious limp, too."

"Say what you have to say, and then go, for Heaven's sake!" gasped Max.

"Hey! say what I have to say? How I can read your fat lips, Max! I never feel my deafness when you are speaking. Well, I am saying what I have to say. I don't often speak out like this."

"Only when you want money," muttered Max.

"Only when I want money? Right. There, I told you I could read off your lips every word you say, so don't begin to curse me, and wish I was dead, because it will only make me want more. Think it, if you like. I say, you must look sharp after that boy Fred, or he'll go to the bad."

Max frowned.

"If he was half such a lad as Tom!"

"Tom's a scoundrel--a vagabond!" exclaimed Max furiously.

"Yes, yes, of course. To be sure he is. Every one is who doesn't do as you wish, Max Shingle. I'm a horrible old scoundrel, and yet you're obliged to put up with me. You can't afford to offend me, and I come to your house as often as I like; and I shall keep on doing so, because it's good for you. I'm like a conscience to you, and a devilish ugly old conscience, eh?--a deaf conscience--and I keep you from being a bigger scoundrel than you are. I say, Max, you'd give a thousand pounds down, now, to hear I was dead, wouldn't you?"