DOUBT was melting in the mind of Sir Arthur Babraham. He was coming now to a perception of the truth. To one who lived in the world, who saw men and things at an obtuse angle, the story as told by this young man verged upon the incredible and yet he felt sure it was true. The fellow was an Original, an unkind critic might even say that he was a trifle “cracked,” but if this visionary who adored beauty for its own sake could enact such a piece of deceit it would be unwise ever to trust one’s judgment again in regard to one’s fellow creatures. And the reverse of the medal was shewn just as plainly in the face of the old dealer.
Man of affairs as Sir Arthur was, however, he knew better than to take a hasty decision upon what, after all, might prove to be wrong premises. It was his clear duty to see justice done in a strange matter, but he would leave to others the task of enforcing it. Thus when the old man renewed his demand to be allowed to go at once to Park Lane and get the picture, he was met by a refusal which if very polite was also final.
“Mr. Gedge, my daughter holds this picture in trust for your niece, who I am informed by the Hospital, has been most cruelly used by somebody. She accepts—we both accept—the story told by your niece as to how in the first instance she came to possess this most valuable thing, which by the way this young man has been able to confirm. If you persist in trying to establish your claim I am afraid you must apply to the law.”
This speech, delivered with judicial weight, was a bomb-shell. With a gasp the old man realized that the game was up; yet as soon as the first shock had passed he could hardly mask his fury. By his own folly the chance of a lifetime had been thrown away.
As he was now to find, he was bereft of more than the Van Roon. He had lost the trust and affection of William. In the first agony of defeat, S. Gedge Antiques was far from realizing what the fact would mean, but it was brought home to him poignantly two days later.
William’s first act, when Sir Arthur had left the shop, was to go to the Hospital. Here he was received by a member of its staff who told him that the patient was too ill to see anyone, and that even if she recovered, her mind might be permanently affected. The doctor who discussed the case with the young man allowed himself this frankness, because he was very anxious for light to be thrown on it. The girl had been cruelly knocked about, there were heavy bruises on her body and marks on her throat which suggested that she had had to fight for her life; and this was borne out by the delirium through which she was passing. In the main it seemed to be inspired by terror of a man whom she spoke of continually as Uncle Si.
The visitor was questioned closely as to the identity of the mysterious Uncle Si. He was pressed to say all that he knew about him, for the Hospital had to consider whether this was not a matter for the police.
William was shocked and rather terrified by the turn things had taken. The scales had been torn from his eyes with a force that left him bewildered. He had trusted his master in the way he trusted all the world, and now disillusion had come in a series of flashes which left him half blind, he felt life could never be the same. His own world of the higher reality was after all no more than the paradise of a fool. Perversely he had shut his eyes to the wickedness of men and their weak folly and in consequence he now found himself poised on the lip of a chasm.
Two days after the terrible discovery which had changed his attitude to life, he told his master that he was going to leave him. It was a heavy blow. Not for a moment had such a thing entered the old man’s calculations. He had got into the habit of regarding this good simple fellow as having so little mind of his own that for all practical purposes he was now a part of himself.
So inconceivable was it to S. Gedge Antiques that one wedded to him by years of faithful service could take such a step, that it was hard to believe the young man meant what he said. He must be joking. But the wish was the anxious parent of the thought, for even if the old man’s sight was failing, he was yet able to see the disdain in the eyes of William.
“I can’t part with you, boy,” he said bleakly.
That, indeed, was the open truth. To part with this absolutely honest and dependable fellow who had grown used to his ways, for whom no day’s work was too long, for whom no task was too exacting, who was always obliging and cheerful, whose keen young sight and almost uncanny “nose” for a good thing had become quite indispensable to one who was no longer the man he had been; for S. Gedge Antiques to lose this paragon was simply not to be thought of.
“Boy don’t talk foolishly. I’ll raise your wages five shillings a week from the first of the New Year.”
The old man could not see the look of slow horror that crept into the eyes of William; yet in spite of his other infirmity, he did not fail to catch the note of grim pain in the stifled, “I’ll have to leave you, sir. I can’t stay here.”
Obtuse the old man was, yet he now perceived the finality of these broken words. As he realized all they meant to him, the sharp pain was like the stab of a knife. William was not merely indispensable. His master loved him. And he had killed the thing he loved.
“Boy, I can’t let you go.” Human weakness fell upon the old man like a shadow; this second blow was even more terrible than the loss of the Van Roon which was still a nightmare in his thoughts. “I’m old. I’m getting deaf and my eyes are going.” He who had had no spark of pity for others did not scruple to ask it for himself.
William was a rock. Primitive as he was, now that he could respect his master no more, he must cease to serve him. The revelation of that master’s baseness had stricken him to the heart; for the time being it had taken the savour out of life itself.
One hope, one frail hope remained to S. Gedge Antiques, even when he knew at last that his assistant was “through” with him. In times so difficult the young man might not be able to get another job; yet he had only to mention it to discover it was not a staff on which he would be able to lean.
William, it seemed, had got another job already.
“At how much a week?” Habit was so strong, there was no concealing the sneer in the tone of surprised inquiry.
Three pounds a week was to be William’s salary. The old man could only gasp. It brought home to him, as perhaps nothing else could have done, the real worth of the treasure he was about to lose. It was four times the rate at which he had thought well to reward these priceless services.
“Who is being fool enough to give you that money?” he sneered, the ruling passion still strong in him.
“Mr. Hutton, sir, at the top of the street,” was the mournful answer.
S. Gedge Antiques dug a savage tooth in his lower lip. Joseph Hutton was a young and “pushful” rival whom on instinct he hated. “Fellow’s a fool to go spoiling the market,” he snarled.
Alas, the old man knew but too well that as far as William was concerned, it was not at all a question of spoiling the market. That aspect of the matter would never arise in his mind.