LITMIR.BIZ

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so, Mr. Goldshed," acquiesced Mr. Larkin. "We go together in that view."

      "Dingwell be blowed! – what need we care for Dingwell?" tolled out Mr. Goldshed, with his ringing bass.

      "Ba-ah! – drat him!" echoed the junior.

      "Yes – a – quite as you say – but where's the good of imprecation? With that exception, I quite go with you. It's Dingwell's affair – not ours. We, of course, go straight – and I certainly have no reason to suspect Dingwell of anything crooked or unworthy."

      "Oh, no – ba-ah! —nothing!" said Levi.

      "Nor I," added Goldshed.

      "It'sh delicate – it izh delicate – but very promishing," said Mr. Goldshed, who was moistening a cigar in his great lips. "Very – and no-thing crooked about it."

      "No-thing crooked —no!" repeated Mr. Levi, shaking his glossy curls slowly. "But very delicate."

      "Then, gentlemen, it's understood – I'm at liberty to assume – that Mr. Dingwell finds one or other of you here whenever he calls after dark, and you'll arrange at once about the little payments."

      To which the firm having promptly assented, Mr. Larkin took his leave, and, being a client of consideration, was accompanied to the shabby doorstep by Mr. Levi, who, standing at the hall-door, with his hands in his pockets, nodded slily to him across the flagged court-yard, into the cab window, in a way which Mr. Jos. Larkin of the Lodge thought by many degrees too familiar.

      "Well —there's a cove!" said Mr. Levi, laughing lazily, and showing his long rows of ivory fangs, as he pointed over his shoulder, with the point of his thumb, towards the street.

      "Rum un!" said Mr. Goldshed, laughing likewise, as he held his lighted cigar between his fingers.

      And they laughed together tranquilly for a little, till, with a sudden access of gravity, Mr. Goldshed observed, with a little wag of his head —

      "He's da-a-am clever!"

      "Ay – yes – da-a-am clever!" echoed Levi.

      "Not as much green as you'd put your finger on – I tell you – no muff – devilish good lay, as you shall see," continued Goldshed.

      "Devilish good – no, no muff – nothing green," repeated Mr. Levi, lighting his cigar. "Good head for speculation – might be a bit too clever, I'm thinking," and he winked gently at his governor.

      "Believe you, my son, if we'd let him – but we won't – will we?" drawled Mr. Goldshed, jocosely.

      "Not if I knows it," said Mr. Levi, sitting on the table, with his feet on the stool, and smoking towards the wall.

      CHAPTER VI

      MR. DINGWELL ARRIVES

      Messrs. Goldshed and Levi owned four houses in Rosemary Court, and Miss Sarah Rumble was their tenant. The court is dark, ancient, and grimy. Miss Rumble let lodgings, worked hard, led an anxious life, and subsisted on a remarkably light diet, and at the end of the year never had a shilling over. Her Jewish landlords used to pay her a visit now and then, to receive the rent, and see that everything was right. These visits she dreaded; they were grumbling and minatory, and enlivened by occasional oaths and curses. But though it was part of their system to keep their tenants on the alert by perpetual fault-findings and menaces, they knew very well that they got every shilling the house brought in, that Miss Rumble lived on next to nothing, and never saved a shilling, and was, in fact, their underfed, overworked, and indefatigable slave.

      With the uncomplaining and modest charity of the poor, Sarah Rumble maintained her little orphan niece and nephew by extra labour at needle-work, and wonderful feats of domestic economy.

      This waste of resources Mr. Levi grudged. He had never done complaining of it, and demonstrating that it could only be accomplished by her holding the house at too low a rent; how else could it be? Why was she to keep other people's brats at the expense of Messrs. Goldshed and Levi? What was the workhouse for? This perpetual pressure was a sore trouble to the poor woman, who had come to love the children as if they were her own; and after one of Mr. Levi's minatory visits she often lay awake sobbing, in the terror and yearnings of her unspeakable affection, whilst its unconscious objects lay fast asleep by her side.

      From Mr. Levi, in his accustomed vein, Miss Rumble had received full instructions for the reception and entertainment of her new lodger, Mr. Dingwell. He could not say when he would arrive, neither the day nor the hour; and several days had already elapsed, and no arrival had taken place. This evening she had gone down to "the shop," so designated, as if there had been but one in London, to lay out a shilling and seven pence very carefully, leaving her little niece and nephew in charge of the candle and the house, and spelling out their catechism for next day.

      A tapping came to the door; not timid, nor yet menacing; a sort of double knock, delivered with a walking-cane; on the whole a sharp but gentlemanlike summons, to which the little company assembled there were unused. The children lifted their eyes from the book before them, and stared at the door without answering. It opened with a latch, which, without more ado, was raised, and a tall, white-haired gentleman, with a stoop, and a very brown skin, looked in inquisitively, and said, with a smile that was not pleasant, and a voice not loud but somewhat harsh and cold —

      "Mrs. or Miss Rumble hereabouts, my dears?"

      "Miss Rumble; that's aunt, please, sir;" answered the little girl, slipping down from her chair, and making a courtesy.

      "Well, she's the lady I want to speak with, my love. Where is she?" said the gentleman, glancing round the homely chamber from under his white eyebrows with a pair of cold, gray, restless eyes.

      "She's – she's" – hesitated the child.

      "Not in bed, I see; nor in the cupboard" (the cupboard door was open). "Is she up the chimney, my charming child?"

      "No, sir, please; she's gone to Mrs. Chalk's for the bacon."

      "Mrs. Chalk's for the bacon?" echoed the gentleman. "Very good! Excellent woman! excellent bacon, I dare say. But how far away is it? – how soon shall we have your aunt back again?"

      "Just round the corner, please, sir; aunt's never no time," answered the child. "Would you please call in again?"

      "Charming young lady! So accomplished! Who taught you your grammar? So polite – so suspicious. Do you know the meaning of that word, my dear?"

      "No, sir, please."

      "And I'm vastly obliged for your invitation to call again; but I find your company much too agreeable to think of going away; so, if you allow me – and do shut that door, my sweet child; many thanks – I'll do myself the honour to sit down, if I may venture, and continue to enjoy your agreeable conversation, till your aunt returns to favour us with her charming presence – and bacon."

      The old gentleman was glancing from under his brows, from corner to corner of this homely chamber; an uneasy habit, not curiosity; and, during his ceremonious speech, he kept bowing and smiling, and set down a black leather bag that he had in his hand, on the deal table, together with his walking-cane, and pulled off his gloves, and warmed his hands at the tiny bit of fire. When his back was toward them the children exchanged a glance, and the little boy looked frightened, and on the point of bursting into tears.

      "Hish!" whispered the girl, alarmed, for she could not tell what effect the demonstration might have upon the stranger – "quiet!" – and she shook her finger in urgent warning at Jemmie. "A very nice gent, as has money for aunty —there!"

      So the tears that stood in Jemmie's big eyes were not followed by an outcry, and the gentleman, with his hat and outside wrapper on, stood, now, with his back to the little fire, looking, in his restless way, over the children's heads, with his white, cold eyes, and the same smile. There was a dreamy idea haunting Lucy Maria's head that this gentleman was very like a white animal she had seen at the Surrey Zoological Gardens when her uncle had treated her to that instructive show; the same sort of cruel grin, and the same restless

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