Chapter V (9)

“And who bid against him? You don’t know that either, I suppose?”

“Nat’rally. Was I there?”

“Well, I’ve settled for him with Bull and Hacker, and brought you their cheque, less commission and distraint. Give me a receipt for it.”

The great creature, elated with his own strategy as he was, could hardly draw it out, his hands shook so. But he managed the business somehow. The lawyer examined the paper, and buttoning it into his pocket, took up his hat.

“O, by the way!” he said, as if on an afterthought, “I was forgetting to mention that Gardener, after securing the picture, put it up to auction again, at the particular request of some late arrivals, and was bid a thousand pounds for it. It turned out to be a very good work.”

Mr. Plumley took up his pipe again quite softly, looked at it a moment, and suddenly dashed it to smithereens on the floor.

“It was a plant!” he cried in a fat, hoarse scream. “I’ll be even with him—I’ll have the money—the picture was mine—I’ll—by God, I say, it was a conspiracy!”

The lawyer at the door lashed round on him like whipcord.

“And that’s what I think,” he shouted. “The meanest, dirtiest trick that was ever played by a canting scoundrel on a poor brother. But I may get to the bottom of it yet, from the opening scheme to enlist Gardener’s sympathies for a poor martyr to conscience, to the last wicked design upon him in the saleroom. I may get to the bottom of it, cunning as it was planned; and, when I do, let some look out!”

As he flung away, he let in a new-comer, Mr. Bolton, by the opened door. Mr. Plumley, choking in the backwater of his own fury, had sunk into a chair, gasping betwixt bitterness and panic. He could not, for the moment, remember how far he had committed himself. He looked up to meet the insolent, ironic smile of his confederate. “Come along, dear boy,” said Mr. Bolton. “Curtain’s down. Cash up!”

He presented a claim for fifty pounds, and stood, his hat cocked on his head, picking his teeth.

“What’s this curst gammon?” sneered Mr. Plumley, rousing himself.

“Commission,” said the actor airily. “Five per cent. on the ultimate selling price of a picture.”

“It went at fifty.”

“Pardon _me_, sir. _Ultimate—ultimate_, see agreement” (he smacked his chest). “One thou’ was the figure, and dirt cheap. Fine example. I’ll trouble you for a cheque.”

“Two pound ten. I’ll give it you in cash.”

Mr. Bolton whistled a stave, and turned round, his hands deep in his breeches’ pockets.

“I can sell to the other party. Good day to you, and look out.”

[The End]

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ cash-box/cash box, frockcoat/frock-coat, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

[A gallows-bird]

Change “convolutions of war, the merry, the _dance-maccabre_” to _danse-macabre_.

[Our lady of refuge]

“fort of San Fernando. and the cursed French garrison,” change period to comma.

[The five insides]

(“‘Eh, says the old man, ’usky-like, and starting) add right single quotation mark after _Eh_.

“a bit forward—‘No, no, no no, no, no, no—’” add comma after third _no_.

[The jade button]

“The property was recovered—but for the heir…” add period to sentence.

[End of text]