 Chapter 4 of A Man of Means. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Tim Bulkley of BigBible.org A Man of Means by P. G. Woodhouse and C. H. Boffel. The episode of the Live Weekly. It was with a start that Roland Bleak realised that the girl at the other end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far as his preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been attributing the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered from one himself. He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this particular bench. But he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation on the question of what on earth he was to do, with two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. To which figure his fortune had now risen, the sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds a year, he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this direction. But now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was crying out for assistance. Should he speak to her? He wanted to. But only a few days ago his eyes had been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of Squibs, on which in large letters was the legend Men Who Speak to Girls. And he had gathered that the accompanying article was a denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other hand, she was obviously in distress. Another sniff decided him. I say, you know, he said. The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had that air of the flowerette surprised while shrinking, which adds a good thirty-three percent to a girl's attractions. A note he noted was delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. Pardon me, he went on. But you appear to be in trouble. Is there anything I can do for you?" She looked at him again, a keen look, which seemed to get into Roland's soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied by the inspection, she spoke. No, I don't think there is, she said. Unless you happen to be the proprietor of a weekly paper with a woman's page and need an editress for it. I don't understand. Well, that's all anyone could do for me. Give me back my work or give me something else of the same sort. Oh, have you lost your job? I have. So would you mind going away? Because I want to go on crying, and I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope? But I was here first, and there are heaps of other benches. No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able, what I mean is, think of something. Tell me all about it. There is no doubt that the possession of 250,000 pounds tones down a different man's diffidence. Roland began to feel almost masterful. Why should I? Why shouldn't you? There's something in that, said the girl, reflectively. After all, you might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I've just been discharged from a paper called Squibs. I used to edit the woman's page. By Jove, did you write that article on men who speak? The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment vanished instantly. Her eyes softened, she even blushed. Just a becoming pink, you know. You don't mean to say, you read it? I didn't think that anyone ever really read Squibs. Read it? cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. I should jolly well think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that after an article like that, they actually sacked you, threw you out as a failure? Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because they couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Pedderham was very nice about it. Who's Mr. Pedderham? Mr. Pedderham's everything. He calls himself the editor. But he's really everything, except Office Boy, but I expect to be that next week. When I started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got whittled down by degrees, till there was only Mr. Pedderham and myself. It was like the crew of the Nancy Bell. They got eaten one by one, till I was the only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Pedderham is doing the whole paper now. How is it that he can't get anything better to do? Roland said. He has done lots of better things. He used to be at the Carmelite House, but they thought he was too old. Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder with a fatherly manner. Oh, he's old, is he? Twenty-four. There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung Roland. She wore a wrapped look, as if she were dreaming of the absent Pedderham. Confound him. He would show her that Pedderham was not the only man worth looking wrapped about. He rose. Would you mind giving me your address, he said? Why? In order, said Roland carefully, that I may offer you your former employment on squibs. I'm going to buy it. After all, your man of Dash and Enterprise, your Napoleon, does have his moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled her over completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, open-mouthed. Meanwhile, a voice within him was murmuring anxiously. I wonder how much this is going to cost. You're going to buy squibs? Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. I am. She gulped. Well, I think you're wonderful. So did Roland. Where will let her find you? he asked. My name is March, Bessie March. I'm living at 27 Guilford Street. Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in due course. He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps when there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. I just wanted to thank you, she said. Not at all, said Roland. Not at all. He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petherum, who was Petherum? Who in the name of goodness was Petherum? He had put Petherum in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petherum, forsooth, laughable. A copy of the current number of squibs purchased at a bookstore. Informed him after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted state of mind that he proceeded there in a cab. Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms only just escaped being covered by a few feet. Achieve the dignity of offices. There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of squibs, but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office in which a vacant face ladder 15 received Roland and instructed him to wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petherum. It was a mere box. Roland was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. The boy returned to say that Mr. Petherum would see him. Mr. Petherum was a young man with a mop of hair and an air of almost painful restraint. He was in his shirt sleeves and the table before him was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of taking his leave, was a comfortable looking man of middle age. With a red face and a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was surprised to see Mr. Petherum spring to his feet, shake his fist at the closing door and kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down several inches of discoloured plaster. Take a seat, he said, when he had finished this performance. What can I do for you? Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were less easily approached and, when approached, more brusque. The fact was that Mr. Petherum, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him for a prospective advertiser. I want to buy the paper, said Roland. He was aware that this was an abrupt way of approaching the subject but, after all, he did want to buy the paper, so why not say so? Mr. Petherum fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. Do you mean to tell me there's a single bookstore in London which is sold out? Great Scott! Perhaps they've all sold out. How many did you try? I mean by the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know. Roland felt that he was blushing and hated himself for it. He ought to be carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petherum looked at him blankly. Why, he asked. Though I don't know, said Roland, he felt the interview was going all wrong. It lacked a stateliness, which his kind of interview should have had. Honestly, said Mr. Petherum, you aren't pulling my leg. Roland nodded. Mr. Petherum appeared to struggle with his conscience and finally worsted by it. For his next remarks were limpidly honest. Don't you be an ass, he said. You don't know what you're letting yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to for life. Why, we can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors, not the present ones, thought it would give the thing a boom if they had a football competition with the first prize of a fiber a week for life. Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from proprietor to proprietor. Till now we've got him. A few days ago they tried to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he would only spend it and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed. A frown clouded Mr. Petherum's brow. And wondered if he was thinking of Bessie March. I know all about that, he said. And you still want to buy the thing? Yes. But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you landed. Why are you doing it? No, just for fun. Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go ahead. He put his feet on the table and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on the subject of squibs gave way to a wave of optimism. You know, he said, there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming the paper. Only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, what I don't know about editing, but perhaps you've got somebody else in your mind. Oh no, no, said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an office boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled him. Very well then, resumed Mr. Petherum reassured, kicking over a heap of papers to give more room for his feet. Take it that I continue as editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime, I have been doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't want to spoil the ship for a half of tar. In other words, I would sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a broken-down wreck who might spoon from starvation. About one moment, said Roland. Are you sure that the present proprietors will want to sell? Want to sell? cried Mr. Petherum enthusiastically. Why, if they know you want to buy, you have as much chance of getting away from them without the paper. As, as... Well, I can't think of anything that has such a poor chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry on your shoulder. Come along, we'll round them up now. He struggled into his coat and gave his hair an impatient brush with a notebook. There's just one other thing, said Roland. I've been a regular reader of squibs for some time, and I particularly admire the way in which the women's page you mean you want to re-engage the editors. Rather, you couldn't do better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick. Before you change your mind or wake up, within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of squibs, Roland had begun to feel much as a man might, who, an obvious at the art of steering cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. Pedram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that he was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into the business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at every poor. Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was under the impression that contributors were the lifeblood of a weekly journal. Mr. Pedram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase of a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. Nobody could accuse Mr. Pedram of lack of energy. He was willing, even anxious, to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the woman's page, now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he wanted Roland to concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital for ingenious advertising schemes. How would it be, he asked one morning. He always began his remarks with how would it be. If we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly in white skin tights with the word squibs painted in red letters across his chest. Roland thought it would certainly not be. Good sound advertising stunt urged Mr. Pedram. You don't like it. All right, you all have asked. Well, how would it be to have a squad of men dressed as zooloos with white shields bearing the legend's squibs? See what I mean? Have them sprinting along the strand, shouting. Wah, wah, wah, buy it, buy it. It would make people talk. Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest apprehension. His was a retiring nature and the thought of a zooloos sprinting down the strand, shouting. Wah, wah, wah, buy it, buy it. With reference to his personal property, appalled him. He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper as he generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of romance which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had faded entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue to captivate B when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the exclusive property of A. And Roland had long since ceased to cherish any delusion that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a mild liking for him. Young Mr. Pedram had obviously staked out an indisputable claim. Her attitude towards him was that of an affectionate devotee towards a high priest. One morning entering the office unexpectedly, Roland found her kissing the top of Mr. Pedram's head. And from that moment his interest in the fortunes of squibs sank to zero. It amazed him that he could ever have been idiot enough to have allowed himself to be entangled in this insane venture for the sake of an insignificant looking bit of a girl with a snub nose and a poor complexion. What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to the on the whole modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter the fact that he was wasting money. Mr. Pedram always talked buoyantly about turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. The old idea of flight to which he invariably had recourse in any crisis came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag and went to Paris. There in the discomforts of life in a foreign country he contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveller in London in time for dinner. Strangely enough, nothing was further from Roland's mind than his bright weekly paper as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-brom near Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven the squibs completely from his mind for the time being. The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. "'What's this?' he asked. "'The ladies are,' said the waiter vaguely. Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped him. There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant was a favourite with artisans who were permitted to look in at their theatres as late as 830. None of them looked particularly self-conscious, yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited tribute. He tore open the envelope. The message written in a flowing feminine hand was brief, and Mrs. Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. Squibs. One penny weekly, quiet, it ran. All the mellowing effects of a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. He paid his bill and left the place. A visit to a neighbouring music hall occurred to him as a suitable sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow him to begin to enjoy the performance when, in the interval between two of the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. "'Is there a doctor in the house?' There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed towards the box. A man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. "'My wife has fainted,' continued the speaker. She has just discovered that she has lost her copy of Squibs.' The audience received the statement with the bovine's solidity of an English audience in the presence of the unusual. Not so, Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out winded their leopard-like steps towards the box, he was rushing out into the street as he stored cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had sprung up. He was aware of a dense crowd proceeding towards him. It was headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a good deed in a naughty world. Nature had framed strange fellows in her time, but this one was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had ever rested upon. He was a large stout man, comfortably clad in a suit of white linen, relieved by a scarlet Squibs across the bosom. His top hat, at least four-sizes larger than any top hat worn out of a pantomime, flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, which though the weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore the device one penny weakly. The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into a taxi cab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His head was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through the window of the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong exhortations of the vendor, which eventually induced him to pay for it. With this he did with a sovereign, and the cab drove off. He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later when it occurred to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the first page. The middle column was devoted to a really capital-written account of the proceedings at Bow Street, consequent upon the arrest of six men who it was alleged had caused a crowd to collect to the disturbance of the peace by parading the strand in the undress of Zulu warriors, shouting in unison the words, Wa, wa, wa, by Squibs. Young Mr. Petherham greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm, which the hound Argus on the return of Ulysses might have equaled, but could scarcely have surpassed. It seemed to be Mr. Petherham's considered opinion that God was in his heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct this belief fell on deaf ears. Have I seen the advertisements? He cried, echoing his editor's first question, I've seen nothing else. There, said Mr. Petherham proudly, it can't go on. Yes, it can, don't worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we send them out. But bless you, the supplies endless, ever since the review boom started that actors were expected to do six different parts in seven minutes. There are platoons of music hall pros hanging about the strand, ready to take any sort of job you offer them. I have a special staff flushing the bodigas. These fellows love it. They eat and drink to them to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel ten years younger. It's wonderful the talent talking about. Those zoolos used to have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff Society contortionists. The review craze killed them professionally. They cried like children when we took them on. By the way, could you put through an expenses check before you go? The fines marked up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're coining money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. Turn it. Lay me. We whizzed around it on two wheels. Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? Then you haven't seen our new scandal page. We just want to know, you know. It's a corker. And it sent the circulation up like a rocket. Everybody reads squibs now. I was hoping you'd come back soon. I wanted to ask you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort of thing now. Roland meanwhile was reading with horrified eyes. The alleged caulking scandal page. It seemed to him, without exception, the most frightful production he had ever seen. It appalled him. This is awful, he moaned. We shall have a hundred libel actions. Oh no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff. Though the public doesn't know it. If you took to real scandals, you wouldn't get a par a week. A more moral set of blameless wasters and the blightest you constitute modern society. You never struck. He's all right, doesn't it? Of course. Every now and then one does hear or something genuine. And then it goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pooke the bookie? I have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week. The absolute limpid truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb. Roland removed his thumb and having read the paragraph in question started as if he had removed it from a snake. But this is bound to mean a libel action, he cried. Not a bit of it, said Mr. Pedram comfortably. You don't know Percy. I won't bore you with his life history, but take it from me. He doesn't rush into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough. But it appeared that Mr. Pooke, though coy in the matter of cleansing his scotch and before a judge and jury, was not holy without weapons of defence and offence. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a scene of desolation in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was reading an illustrated comic paper and appeared undisturbed by his surroundings. He's gone, he observed, looking up as Roland entered. What do you mean, Roland snapped at him? Who's gone and where did he go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors, you will rise and stop chewing that infernal gum and gets on my nerves. Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and answered. Mr. Pedderham, a couple of fellas come in and went through. There was an uproar inside there and presently out they come running. And I went in and there was Mr. Pedderham on the floor knocked silly and the furniture all broke and now he's gone to hospital. Those fellas have been putting him through it proper. Concluded Jimmy with moody relish. Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of squibs. It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of astonishment at the site of the wrecked room led to a repetition of Jimmy's story. She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken editor had been removed and returned an hour later with flashing eyes and a set jaw. Aubrey, she said, it was news to Roland that Mr. Pedderham's name was Aubrey, is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and sitting up and taking nourishment. That's good. In a spoon only. Ah, said Roland. The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain that it was that horrible bookmaker's men who did it. But, of course, he can prove nothing, but his last words to me were, slip it into Percy again this week. He's given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild. Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Poock any wilder than he appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and he addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc than he was on Earth, firmly. Miss March, he said, I realize that this is a crisis, and that we must do all we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything in reason, but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if you repeat the process, I do not care to think. You're afraid? Yes, said Roland, simply. Miss March turned on a heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house surgeon of a hospital. He belonged to the School of Thought, which holds that it is better that people should say of you, there he goes, than that they should say, how peaceful he looks. Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labours of the departed Mr. Petherham, that her work was more apparent than real. Thanks to Mr. Petherham, there was a sufficient supply of material in hand to enable Scripps to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what not he could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the scandal page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the scandal page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy, would he felt, be with her the work of a moment. Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at the white paper and chewed the pencil, which should have been marring its whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him, his brow grew damp. What sort of people, except bookmakers, did things you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody. He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird caught his eye. He is a character in the second episode of Forgell and Financia. A kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. How long ago it seemed? Since he had met that genial Financia, the paragraph was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of some large deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not understand a word of it. But he gave him an idea. Mr. Windlebird's financial standing he knew was above suspicion. Mr. Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be no possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about the manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had used during his visit came back to him and with them inspiration. Within five minutes he had compiled the following. We just want to know you know who is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his biggest deals. Whether the public would not be well advised to look a little closer into it before investing their money. If it is the fact that this gentleman has bought a first class ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents. Whether he may not have to use it at any moment. After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour he had completed a scandal page of which Mr. Petherham himself might have been proud. Without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt he could go to Mr. Poop and say, if he slipped it into you in any way whatsoever, Mr. Poop would be compelled to reply, you have not. Ms. March read the proofs of the page and sniffed. But Ms. March's blood was up and she would have sniffed at anything not directly hostile to Mr. Poop. A week later Roland sat in the office of Squibbs reading a letter. It had been sent from number 14A Greens Buildings, EC. But from Roland's point of view it had been sent from heaven. For its contents signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison and Harrison, solicitors were to the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client disposed to haggle over terms so hoped Mrs. Harrison, Harrison, Harrison and Harrison in the event of Roland being willing to sell. They could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. Any conclusion which had left him free of Squibbs without actual pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived a loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales could mitigate. He was around at Mrs. Harrison's office as soon as a swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles. The lawyers were always rapid. This chap, he said, this fellow who wants to buy Squibbs, what will he give? That, began one of the Harrison's ponderously, would of course largely depend. I'll take 5,000, lock, stock and barrel including the present staff and even 5,000. How's that? 5,000 is a large. Take it or leave it. My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our client can consider the sum you mention. Good. Well, directly I get his check for things his. By the way, who is your client? Mr. Harrison Coft. His name, he said, will be familiar to you. He is the eminent financier Mr. Jeffrey Wintlebird. End of Chapter 4 of A Man of Means Read by Tim Bulkley of BigBible.org Chapter 5 of A Man of Means This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, not a volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Tim Bulkley of BigBible.org A Man of Means by P.G. Woodhouse and C.H. Bovill the diverting episode of the Exiled Monarch. The Couchook was drawing all London. More indecent than the Salomi dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the tango out of existence, nor indeed did anybody actually Couchook. For the national dance of paranoia contained 315 recognized steps, about everybody tried to. A new review, Hello Couchook, had been produced with success and the pioneer of the dance, the Pealus Marachita, a native paranoian still performed it nightly at the music hall where she had first broken loose. The Couchook fascinated Roland Bleig. Marachita fascinated him more of all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Marachita had made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes called a fine woman. She had large flashing eyes, the physique of a rugby international forward and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. There is a period of about 50 steps somewhere in the middle of the 315, where the patient abandoning the comparative decorum of the earlier movements whizzes about till she looks like a salmon-coloured whirlwind. That was the bit that hit Roland. Night after night he sat in his stagebox gobbling at Marachita and applauding wildly. One night an attendant came to his box. Excuse me sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleig? The senorita Marachita wishes to speak to you. He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theatre it was generally recognised that when the peerless one wanted a thing, she got it quick. They were alone. With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to the conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any less beautiful at very close quarters, imposed by the limits of the dressing room. He felt that in falling in love with her he had undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet different nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was the rather small drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Marachita droop. For perhaps a minute and a half Marachita fixed her compelling eyes on his without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this leading question. You love me, hain? Roland nodded feebly. When men make love to me I send them away, so she waved her hand toward the door and Roland began to feel almost cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The woman had a fine forgiving nature. But not you. Not me. No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you in the papers in your bleak. I see your picture in the daily mirror. I say to myself, What a man! Those picture paper photographs always make one look rather weird, mumbled Roland. I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you. Oh, thanks awfully, bleated Roland. You would do anything for my sake, hain? I knew you were that kind of man directly. I see you know. As she added, as Roland writhed uneasily in his chair. Do not embrace me. Later, yes. But now, no. Not until the great day. What the great day might be, Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He could only hope that he would also be a remote one. And now, said the seniorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, you come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They will be glad and proud to meet you. After his first inspection of the house and the friends Roland came to the conclusion that he preferred Marakita's room to her company. The former was large and airy, the latter with one exception, small and airy. The exception Marakita addressed as bombito. He was a conspicuous figure. He was one of those outside hasty-looking men, once suspected him of carrying lethal weapons. Marakita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoia sounded like shorthand with a blend of Spanish. An expert could evidently squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the company was good. They were manifestly soothed, even bombito. Introductions in detail then took place. This time for Roland's benefit Marakita spoke in English and he learned that most of those present were Marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Marakita, stood the very flower of Paranoia's aristocracy driven from their native land by the infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth the infamy of 1905 might be but its mention had a marked effect on the company. Some scowled. Others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito did both. Before supper, to which they presently sat down was over, however, Roland knew a good deal about Paranoia and its history. The conversation conducted by Marakita to a ceaseless, bush-blain accompaniment from her friends bore exclusively upon the subject that Paranoia had it appeared existed fairly peacefully for centuries under the rule of the Alagandro dynasty. Then in the reign of Alagandro the 13th, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the infamy of 1905 which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. Since 1905, the one thing for which they had lived, besides the Kautchuk, was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alashandro the 13th back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end had been untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. Paranoia Marakita assured, Roland was honeycombed with intrigue. The army was disaffected. The people anxious for a return of the old order of things. A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. At the mention of the word funds, Roland who had become thoroughly bored with the lecture on Paranoian history sat up and took notice. He had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for a subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom especially by Bombito. He was right. A moment later, Marakita began to make a speech. She spoke in Paranoian, and Roland could not follow her but he gathered that it somehow had referenced himself. As at the end of it the entire company rose to their feet and extended their glasses toward him with a mighty shout. He assumed that Marakita had been proposing his health they say to the liberator of Paranoia kindly translated the peerless one You must excuse said Marakita tolerantly as a bevy of patriots surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. They are so grateful to the saviour of our country. I myself would kiss you and I have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal standard floats once more above the palace of Paranoia but that will be soon very soon she went on with you on our side we cannot fail what did the woman mean Roland asked himself wildly did she labour under the distressing delusion that he proposed and shed his blood on behalf of a deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced Marakita's next remarks made them at a clear I have told them she said that you love me that you are willing to risk everything for my sake I have promised them that you the rich senor will supply the funds for the revolution once more comrades to the saviour of Paranoia Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic enthusiasm but somehow he could not do it base sordid mercenary speculations would intrude themselves about how much was a good well furnished revolution likely to cost as delicately as he could he put the question to Marakita she said which was all very well but hardly satisfactory as a business chat however that was all Roland could get out of her the next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream it was the kind of dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare but the other two the one who was at the supper party on the subject of details connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared she now talked nothing but figures and from the confused mass which she presented to him Roland was able to gather that in financing the restoration of royalty in Paranoia he would indeed be risking everything for her sake she knew how the things should be done well or not at all there would be so much for rifles machine guns and what not there would be so much for the expense of smuggling them into the country then there would be so much to be laid out in corrupting the republican army Roland brightened a little when they came to this item as the standing army of Paranoia amounted to twenty thousand men and as it seemed possible to corrupt it thoroughly at a cost of about thirty shillings ahead the obvious course to Roland's way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of the question and avoid unnecessary bloodshed it appeared however that Marakita did not want to avoid bloodshed that she rather liked bloodshed that the leaders of the revolution would be disappointed if there were no bloodshed especially Bombito unless she pointed out there was a certain amount of carnage, looting and so on the revolution would not achieve a popular success true the beloved Alishandro might be restored but he would sit upon a throne that was insecure unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty turn by all means said Marakita corrupt the army but not at the risk of making the affair tame and unpopular Paranoia was an emotional country and liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them it was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a little more complex than he had imagined he had reconciled himself to the financial outlay it had been difficult but he had done it that his person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not foreseen the fact was born in upon him at the end of the second week of the revolution it blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after dinner cigar it consisted of three men one long and suave the other two short, stout and silent they all had the shallow complexion and undue hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native of Paranoia for a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled nobleman whom he had not had the pleasure and he waited resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem he poised himself on his toes the more readily to spring aside if they should try to kiss him on the cheek Mr. Bleak said the long man his companions drifted towards the cigar-box which stood open on the table and looked at it wistfully longly over the monarchy said Roland wearily he had gathered in the course of his dealings that this remark generally went well on the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering on the contrary the long man frowned and his two companions helped themselves to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness death to the monarchy corrected the long man coldly and he added with a wealth of meaning in his voice to all who meddle in the affairs of our beloved country and seek to do it harm I don't know what you mean said Roland Yes, Senor Bleak you do know what I mean I mean that you will be well advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the malcontents who would do my beloved land an injury the conversation was growing awkward Roland had got so into the habit of making it for granted that every paranoia he met must of necessity be a devotee of the beloved Alexandre that it came as a shock to him to realize that there were those who objected to his restoration to the throne till now he had looked on the enemy as something in the abstract it had not struck him that the people for whose correction he was buying all these rifles and machine guns were individuals with a lively distaste for having their blood shared Senor Bleak resumed the speaker frowning at one of his companions whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy you are a man of sense you know what is safe and what is not safe believe me this scheme of yours is not safe you have been led away but there is still time to withdraw do so and all is well do not so and your blood be upon your own head my blood gasped Rowland the speaker bowed that is all he said we merely came to give the warning ah Senor Bleak do not be rash you think that here in this great London of yours you are safe you look at the policemen upon the corner of the road and you say to yourself I am safe believe me not at all so it is but much the opposite we have ways by which it is of no account the policemen on the corner of the road that is all Senor Bleak we wish you a good night the deputation withdrew Maraquita informed of the incident snapped her fingers and said poof it sometimes struck Rowland that she would be more real help in a difficult situation if she could get out of the habit of saying poof it is nothing she said said Rowland we easily out trick them isn't it you make a will leaving your money to the cause and then where are they hain it was one way of looking at it but it brought little balm to Rowland he said so Maraquita scanned his face keenly you are not weakening Rowland she said you would not betray us now well of course I don't know about betraying you know but still what I mean is Maraquita's eyes seem to shoot forth two flames take care she cried with me it is nothing for I know that your heart is with paranoia but if the others once had cause to suspect that your resolve was failing ah if bombito Rowland took her point he had forgotten bombito for the moment for goodness sake he said hastily don't go saying anything to bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out of course you can rely on me and all that that's all right Maraquita's gaze softened she raised her glass and put it to her lips to the savior of paranoia she said beware whispered a voice in Rowland's ear he turned by the start a waiter was standing behind him a small dark hairy man he was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted air which waiters cultivate Rowland stared at him but he did not move that evening returning to his flat Rowland was paralyzed by the sight of the word beware scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom it had apparently been done with a diamond he rang the bell sir competent valet competent valets are in attendance at each of these flats advert has anyone been here since I left yes sir a foreign looking gentleman called he said he knew you sir and I showed him into your room the same night well on in the small hours the telephone rang Rowland dragged himself out of bed hello is that senor bleak yes what is it beware things were becoming intolerable Rowland had a certain amount of nerve but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister persecution yet what could he do suppose he did beware to the extent of withdrawing his support from the royalist movement what then bombito if ever there was a toad under the harrow he was that toad and all because a perfectly respectful admiration for the couchook had led him to occupy a stage box several nights in succession at the theatre where the peerless marakita tied herself into knots there was an air of unusual excitement in marakita's manner at their next meeting we have been in communication with him she whispered to give you he will give an audience to the saviour of paranoia eh, who will our beloved alexandro he wishes to see his faithful servant we are to go to him at once where at his own house he will receive you in person such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing of late felt but a faint interest at the prospect of meeting face to face a genuine if exiled monarch the thought did flip through his mind that they would sit up a bit at the old feinberg's office if they could hear of it but it brought him little consolation the cab drew up at a gloomy looking house in a fashionable square Roland rang the doorbell there seemed a certain element of the zarek in the action he wondered what he should say to the butler there was however no need for words the door opened and they were ushered in without parley a butler and two footmen showed them into a luxuriously furnished anti-room Roland entered with two thoughts running in his mind the first was that the beloved alexandro had gotten a commonly snug crib the second that this was exactly like going to see the dentist presently the squad of retainers returned the butler leading his majesty will receive mr bleak Roland followed him with tottering knees his majesty king alexandro the 13th on the retired list was a genial looking man of middle age comfortably stout about the middle and a little bald as to the forehead he might have been a prosperous dog broker Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him sit down mr bleak said his majesty as the door closed I have been wanting to see you for some time Roland had nothing to say he was regaining his composure but he had a long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home King alexandro produced a cigarette case and offered it to Roland who shook his head speechless the king lit a cigarette and smoked thoughtfully for a while you know mr bleak he said at last this must stop it really must I mean your devoted efforts on my behalf Roland gaped at him you are a very young man I had expected to see someone much older your youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair from a spirit of adventure I can assure you that you have nothing to gain commercially by interfering with my late kingdom I hope before we part that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this movement to restore me to the throne I don't understand your majesty I will explain please treat what I say as strictly confidential you must know mr bleak that these attempts to re-establish me as a reigning monarch in paranoia are frankly the curse of an otherwise very pleasant existence you look surprised my dear sir do you know paranoia have you ever been there have you the remotest idea what sort of life a king of paranoia leads I have tried it and I can assure you that a coal heaver is happy by comparison in the first place I always had a cold in the head secondly there is a small but energetic section of the populace whose sole recreation it seems to be to use them on a target for bombs they are not very good bombs it is true but one in say ten explodes and even an occasional bomb is unpleasant if you were the target finally I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave it I was educated in England I am a maudlin college man and I have the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it my present life suits me exactly that is all I wish to say mr bleak for both our sakes for the sake of my comfort and your purse abandon this scheme of yours Rowland walked home thoughtfully Malakita had left the royal residence long before he had finished the whiskey and soda which the genial monarch had pressed upon him as he walked the futility of his situation came home to him more and more whatever he did he was bound to displease somebody and these paranoians were so confoundedly impulsive when they were vexed for two days he avoided Malakita on the third with something of the instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the body he called at her house she was not present but otherwise there was a full gathering there were the marquises there were the counts there was Bombito he looked unhappily round the crowd somebody gave him a glass of champagne he raised it to the revolution he said mechanically there was a silence it seemed to Rowland an awkward silence as if he had said something improper the marquises and counts began to drift from the room till only Bombito was left Rowland regarded him with some apprehension he was looking larger and more unusual than ever but tonight apparently Bombito was in genial mood he came forward and slapped Rowland on the shoulder and then the remarkable fact came to light that Bombito spoke English or a sort of English my old chap he said I would have a speech with you he slapped Rowland again on the shoulder and then they say break it with senor bleak gently Marquita say break it with senor bleak gently so I break it with you gently he dealt Rowland a third stupendous punch whatever was to be broken gently it was plain to Rowland that it was not himself and suddenly they came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was nervous after all you have done for us senor bleak we shall seem to you ungrateful bounders but what is it yes no I shouldn't wonder perhaps the whole fact is that there has been political crisis in paranoia upset apple cart yes you follow no the ministry have been what do you say put through it expelled broken up no more ministry new ministry wanted to conciliate royalist party that is the cry so deputation of leading persons mighty good chaps prominent merchants and that sort of bounder call upon us they offer me to be president see no yes that's right I'm ambitious blighter senor bleak what about it no I accept I am new president of paranoia so no need for your kind assistance royalist revolution up the spout no more royalist revolution the wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an interval to enable him to think of someone but himself he was not fond of a Mariquita but he had a tender heart and this he felt would kill the poor girl but Mariquita that's all right splendid old chap no need to worry about Mariquita stout old boy where the husband goes so does the wife go as you say whether thou goest I will follow no but I'd understand Mariquita is not your wife why certainly good old heart what else have you been married to her all the time why certainly good dear boy the room swam before Roland's eyes there was no room in his mind for meditations on the perfidier of woman he groped forward and found Pompito's hand I jove he said thickly as he rung it again and again I knew you were a good sort the first time I saw you have a drink or something have a cigar or something have something anyway and sit down and tell me all about it End of Chapter 5 Recording by Tim Bulkley of BigBible.org Chapter 6 of A Man of Means This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information not a volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Tim Bulkley of BigBible.org A Man of Means by Pidgey Woodhouse and C. H. Bovell The episode of the hired past What do you mean you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish Lord Evenwood's gentle voice which had in its time lulled the house appears to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the gilded chamber had in it a note of unwanted but quite justifiable irritation if there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood disliked it was any interference with arrangements already made The man, he continued is not unsightly the man is not conspicuously vulgar the man does not eat peas with his knife the man pronounces his h's meticulous care and accuracy the man moreover is worth rather more than a quarter of a million pounds I repeat you are childish Yes I know he's a very decent little chap father said Lady Eva it's not that at all I should be gratified then to hear what in your opinion it is well do you think I could be happy with him Lady Kimbuck gave tongue she was Lord Evenwood's sister in widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches of her family we're not asking you to be happy you have such odd ideas of happiness your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Jerry whose only visible means of support so far as I can gather is the 400 a year which she draws as a member for a constituency which has every intention of throwing him out at the next election Lady Eva blushed Lady Kimbuck's faculty the secrets of her family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern Cornwall young Orion is not to be thought of said Lord Evenwood firmly not for an instant apart from anything else his politics are all wrong moreover you are engaged to this Mr. Bleak it is a sacred responsibility not likely to be evaded you cannot pledge your word one day to enter upon the most solemn contract known to ah the civilized world make it the next it is not fair to the man it's not fair to me you know that all I live for is to see you comfortably settled if I could myself do anything for you the matter would be different but these abominable land taxes and blow it especially blow it no no it's out of the question you will be very sorry if you do anything foolish I can assure you that Roland Bleak's are not to be found ah on every bush men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays especially said Lady Kimbuk into a family like ours what with blow it scandal and that shocking business of your grandfather and the circus woman to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in 85 thank you Sophia interrupted Lord Evenwood hurriedly it is unnecessary to go into all that now suffice it that there are adequate reasons apart from all moral obligations why Eva should not break her word to Mr. Bleak Lady Kimbuk's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of the utmost discomfort to her relatives it was known that more than one firm of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences and the family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while cupidity fought its ceaseless fight with laziness for the Evenwood family had at various times in various ways stimulated the circulation of the evening papers most of them were living down something and it was Lady Kimbuk's habit when thwarted in her slightest whim to retire to her bourgeois and announced that she was not to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book abject surrender followed on the instant at this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet work and rose it is absolutely necessary for you my dear to make a good match or you will be all be ruined I of course can always support my declining gears with literary work but Lady Eva groaned against this last argument there was no appeal Lady Kimbuk patted her affectionately on the shoulder there run along now she said I dare say you've got a headache or something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean go down to the drawing room I expect Mr. Bleak is waiting there to say good night to you I'm sure he must be getting quite impatient down in the drawing room Roland Bleak was hoping against hope that Lady Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to bed with a headache and that he might escape the nightly interview which he so dreaded reviewing his career as he sat there Roland came to the conclusion that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary insanity they temporarily changed his whole nature they made him feel for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the highest flights of love it was only later that reaction came and he realized that he was nothing of the sort at heart he was afraid of women and in the entire list of the women of whom he had been afraid he could not find one who had terrified him so much as Lady Eva blighted other women Lady Marakita now happily helping to direct the destinies of paranoia had frightened him by the individuality Lady Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed he had no idea whatever what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of an earl daughters of earls had been to him till now in the society columns of the morning paper the very rules of the game were beyond him he felt like a confirmed association footballer suddenly called upon to play in an international rugby match all along from the very moment when to his unbounded astonishment she had accepted him he had known that he was making a mistake but he never realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening he was filled with a sort of blind terror he cursed the fate which had taken him to the charity bazaar at which she had first come under the notice of Lady Kimbuk the fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap at her invitation to spend a few days at evenwood towers he regretted but for that he blamed himself less further acquaintance with Lady Kimbuk had convinced him that if she had wanted him she would have got him somehow whether he had accepted or refused what he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal there had been no need for it true Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in his breast from the moment they met but he should have had the sense to realize that she was not the right mate for him even though he might have a quarter of a million tucked away in guilt-age securities their lives could not possibly mix he was a commonplace young man with a fondness for the pleasures of the people he liked cheap papers picture palaces and association football merely to think of association football in connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct clear he ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some inaccessible goddess a light step outside the door made his heart stop beating I've just looked in to say good night Mr. Rowland she said holding out her hand do excuse me I've got such a headache oh yes rather I'm awfully sorry if there was one person in the world Rowland despised and hated at that moment it was himself are you going out with the guns tomorrow asked Lady Eva languidly oh yes rather I mean no I'm afraid I don't shoot the back of his neck began to glow he had no illusions about himself he was the biggest ass in Christendom perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf then oh yes rather I mean no there it was again that awful phrase he was certain he had not intended to utter it she must be thinking him a perfect lunatic I don't play golf they stood looking at each other for a moment it seemed to Rowland that her gaze was partly contemptuous partly pitying he longed to tell her that though she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of sport there were things he could do an insane desire came upon him to babble about his school football team should he ask her to feel his quite respectable biceps no never mind she said kindly I dare say we shall think of something to amuse you she held out her hand again he took it in his for the briefest possible instant painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from the emotion through which she had been passing good night good night thank heaven she was gone that let him out for another 12 hours at least a quarter of an hour later found Rowland still sitting where she had left him his head in his hands the groan of an overroared soul escaped him I can't do it he sprang to his feet I won't do it a smooth voice from behind him spoke I think you are quite right sir if I may make the remark Rowland had hardly ever been so startled in his life in the first place he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud in the second he had imagined that he was alone in the room and so a moment before he had been but the owner of the voice possessed among other qualities the cat-like faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly a fact which had won for him in the course of a long career in the service of the best families the flattering position of star witness in a number of England's raciest divorce cases Mr. Teal the butler for it was no lesser celebrity who had broken in on Rowland's reverie was a long thin man of somewhat priestly cast of countenance he lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many butlers possess and it was for this reason that Rowland had felt drawn to him during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers Teal had been uncommonly nice to him on the whole he had seemed to Rowland stricken by interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck the only human thing in the place he liked Teal on the other hand Teal was certainly taking a liberty he could if he so pleased tell Teal to go to the juice technically he had the right to freeze Teal with a look at his things he was feeling very lonely and very forlorn in a strange and depressing world and Teal's voice and manner was soothing hearing you speak and seeing nobody else in the room went on the butler I thought for a moment that you were addressing me this was not true and Rowland knew that it was not true Instinct told him that Teal knew that he knew that it was not true but he did not press the point what do you mean you think I'm quite right he said I don't know what I was thinking about Teal smiled indulgently on the contrary sir a child could have guessed it you've just come to the decision in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one that your engagement to her ladyship cannot be allowed to go on you are quite right sir it won't do personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins Rowland was perfectly well aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady Eva's intimate affairs with a butler but such was Teal's magnetism that he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own business Teal you forget yourself would have covered the situation Rowland however was physically incapable of saying Teal you forget yourself the bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand talking to the snake but he is incapable of ending the conversation Rowland was conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who could tell butlers that they forgot themselves but then that sort of man would never have been in this sort of trouble the Teal you forget yourself type of a man would be a first class shot a plus golfer and would certainly consider himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady Eva the question is went on Mr Teal how are we to break it off Teal felt that as he had sinned against all the distances and allowing the butler to discuss his affairs with him he might just as well go the whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course and it was an undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to someone he nodded gloomily and committed himself Teal resumed his remarks with the gusto of a fellow conspirator it's not an easy thing to do gracefully sir believe me it isn't to be done gracefully or not at all you can't go to her ladyship and say it's all off and so am I and catch the next train for London the rupture must be of her ladyships making if in fact some disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her ladyship's ears that would be a simple way out of the difficulty he eyed Roland meditatively near for instance you had ever been in jail sir but I haven't the defense intended sir I'm sure I merely remembered that you had made a great deal of money very quickly my experience of gentlemen who have made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally done their bit of time but of course if you let me think you drink sir no Mr. Teal sighed Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing the old man a good deal you do not I suppose chance to have a past asked Mr. Teal not very hopefully I used the word in its technical sense a deserted wife some poor creature you have treated shamefully at the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem Roland was compelled to answer in the negative I was afraid not said Mr. Teal shaking his head thinking it all over yesterday I said to myself I'm afraid he wouldn't have one you don't look like the sort of gentlemen who had done much with his time thinking it over and not on your account sir explained Mr. Teal on the families I disapproved of this match from the first a man who has served a family for as long as I have had the honor of serving his lordships comes to entertain a high regard for the family prestige and with no offence to yourself sir this would not have done well looks as if it would have to do said Roland gloomily I can't see any way out of it I can sir my niece at Aldershot Mr. Teal whacked his head at him with a kind of priestly archness you cannot have forgotten my niece at Aldershot Roland stared at him dumbly it was like a line out of a melodrama he feared first for his own and then for the butler's sanity the latter was smiling gently as one who sees light in a difficult situation I've never been at Aldershot in my life for our purposes you have sir but I'm afraid I'm puzzling you let me explain I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much good she's not very particular I'm sure she would do it for a consideration do what? be your past sir I don't mind telling you that as a past she's had some experience she looks the part too she's a barmaid and you would get it the first time he went on with enthusiasm done all frizzy just the sort of young person that a young gentleman like yourself would have had a past with you couldn't find a better if you tried for a twelve month but I say I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you well no I suppose not but then put the whole thing in my hands sir I'll ask leave off tomorrow and pop over and see her I'll arrange for her to come here from the day after to see you leave it all to me tonight you must write the letters letters? naturally there would be letters sir it is an inseparable feature of these cases do you mean that I've got to write to her I shouldn't know what to say I've never seen her that will be quite all right sir if you place yourself in my hands I will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed and help you write those letters with a paper with your own address on it then it will all be perfectly simple when some hours later he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly passionate epistles which with the butler's assistance he had succeeded in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers Roland came to the conclusion that there must have been a time when Mr. Thiel was a good deal less respectable than he appeared to be at present Byronic was the only adjective applicable to his collaborator's style of amateury composition in every letter there were passages against which Roland had felt compelled to make a modest protest a thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth don't you think that's a little too warmly colored and I am languishing for the pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken hair against my cheek what I mean is well what about it you know the phrase is who said Mr. Thiel not without a touch of displeasure to which you take exception are taken bodily from correspondence which I happened to have the advantage of perusing addressed by the late lord Evenwood to an immaculate queen of the high wire at Astley's circus his lordship I may add was considered an authority in these matters Roland criticised no more he handed over the letters which at Mr. Thiel's direction he had headed with various dates covering roughly a period of about two months and his sedent to his arrival at the towers that Mr. Thiel explained will make your conduct definitely unpardonable with this woman's kisses hot upon your lips Mr. Thiel was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship with Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo the atmosphere the butler found himself unable to agree you can't make yourself out too bad if you don't pitch it hot and strong her ladyship might quite likely forgive you then where would you be Miss Maud Chilvers of Aldershot burst into Roland's life like one of the shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the afternoon it was an entrance of which any stage manager might have been proud of having arranged the lighting the grouping, the lead up were all perfect the family had just finished tea in the long drawing room Lady Kimbock was crocheting Lord Evenwood dozing Lady Eva reading and Roland thinking a peaceful scene a soft rippling murmur scarcely to be reckoned a snore had just proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips when the door opened and Teal announced Miss Chilvers Roland stiffened in his chair now that the ghastly moment had come he felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which she had been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal he simply sat and did nothing it was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the actual doing that was necessary the butler had drawn no false picture of her personal appearance dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one fact of her many sided impossibilities in the serene surroundings of the long drawing room she looked more unspeakably not much good than Roland had ever imagined her with such a leading lady his drama could not fail of success he should have been pleased he was merely appalled the thing might have a happy ending but while it lasted it was going to be terrible she had a flatteringly attentive reception nobody failed to notice her Lord even would work with a start and stared at her as if she had been some ghost from his trouble of 85 Lady Eva's face expressed sheer amazement Lady Kimbuck laying down her crochet work took one look at the apparition and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring relatives had been at it again of all the persons in the room she was possibly the only one completely cheerful she was used to these situations and enjoyed them her mind roaming into the past recalled the night when her cousin had been pinked by a stiletto in his own drawing room by a lady from South America happy days Lord even would had by this time come to the conclusion that Lady Eva of Blowick must be responsible for this visitation he rose with dignity to what are we he began his children's resolute young woman had no intention of standing there while other people talked she shook her gleaming head and burst into speech oh yes I know I have no right to be coming walking in here among a lot of perfect strangers at their teas but what I say is right's right and wrong's wrong all the world over feelings no thank you I won't sit down I've not come for the weekend I've come to say a few words and when I've said them I'll go and not before a lady friend of mine happened to be reading her daily sketch the other day and she said hello hello and she passed it on to me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Rowland Bleak and when I read that I said hello hello too I give you my word and not being able to travel at once owing to being prostrated with a shock I came along today just to have a look at Mr. Rowland Bleam in Bleak and ask him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me that's all I know it's the sort of thing that might slip any gentleman's mind but I thought it might be worth mentioning so now Mr. Rowland perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room felt that Miss Chilvers was overdoing it there was no earthly need for all this sort of thing just a simple announcement of the engagement would have been quite sufficient it was too obvious to him that his ally was thoroughly enjoying herself she had the centre of the stage and did not intend lightly to relinquish it my good girl said Lady Kimbock talk less and prove more did Mr. Bleak promise to marry you oh that's all right I'm not expecting you to believe my word I've got all the proofs you'll want here's his letters Lady Kimbock's eyes gleamed she took the package eagerly she never lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters she enjoyed them as literature and there was never any knowing when they might come in useful Rowland said Lady Eva quietly haven't you anything to contribute to this conversation? Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice cinema palaces were a passion with her and she was up in the correct business is he here in this room Rowland slunk from the shadows Mr. Bleak said Lord Evenwood sternly who is this woman Rowland uttered a kind of strangled cough are these letters in your handwriting asked Lady Kimbock almost cordially she had seldom read better compromising letters in her life and she was agreeably surprised that one whom she had always imagined a colourless stick should have been capable of them Rowland nodded well it's lucky you're rich said Lady Kimbock philosophically what are you asking for these she inquired of Miss Chilvers exactly said Lord Evenwood relieved precisely your sterling common sense is admirable Sophia you place the whole matter at once on a business like footing do you imagine for a moment began Miss Chilvers slowly yes said Lady Kimbock how much Miss Chilvers sobbed if I have lost him forever Lady Eva Rose but you haven't she said pleasantly I wouldn't dream of standing in your way she drew a ring from her finger and placed it on the table and walked to the door I am not engaged to Mr. Bleak she said as she reached it Rowland never knew quite how he had got away from the towers he had confused memories in which the principles of the drawing room scene figured in various ways all unpleasant it was a portion of his life on which he did not care to dwell safely back in his flat however he gradually recovered his normal spirits indeed now that the tumult and the shouting had so to speak died he was free to take a broad view of his position he felt distinctly happier than usual that Lady Kimbock had passed forever from his life was enough to make for gaiety he was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters outside the sky was blue and the sun was shining it was good to be alive he opened the first letter the sky was still blue the sun still shining dear sir it ran we have been instructed by our client Miss Mord Chilvers of the Goten compasses Aldershot to institute proceedings against you for breach of promise of marriage in the event of your being to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation we are instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against you we would further add that in support of her case our client has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to her all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged promise to marry and she will be able in addition to call as witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood Lady Kimbock and Lady Eva Blyton in whose presence at a recent date you acknowledge that you had promised to marry our client trusting that we hear from you in the course of post we are dear sir yours faithfully Harrison Harrison Harrison and Harrison end of chapter six recording by Tim Bulkley of bigbible.org end of a man of means by P. G. Woodhouse and C. H. Bovell