Bones in London

Miss Stegg shook her head.

"The banks are closed, and, anyway – "

She carried the book to a table, took a sheet of paper and a pen, and, after a close study of Bones's signature, she wrote it, at firstawkwardly, then, after about a dozen attempts, she produced a copywhich it was difficult to tell apart from the original.

"Really, Clara, you're a wonder," said her sister admiringly.

Clara made no reply. She sat biting the end of the pen.

"I hate the idea of getting out of London and leaving him with all thatmoney, Bertha," she said. "I wonder – " She turned to her sister."Go out and get all the evening newspapers," she said. "There's boundto be something about him, and I might get an idea."

There was much about Bones in the papers the younger girl brought, andin one of these journals there was quite an important interview, whichgave a sketch of Bones's life, his character, and his generalappearance. Clara read this interview very carefully.

"It says he's spent a million, but I know that's a lie," she said."I've been watching that jute deal for a long time, and it's nearerhalf the sum." She frowned. "I wonder – " she said.

"Wonder what?" asked the younger girl impatiently. "What's the good ofwondering? The only thing we can do is to clear out."

Again Clara went from the room and came back with an armful ofdocuments. These she laid on the table, and the girl, looking down, saw that they were for the main part blank contracts. Clara turnedthem over and over until at last she came to one headed "Ministry ofSupplies."

"This'd be the form," she said. "It is the same that Stevenhowe had."

She was mentioning the name of a middle-aged man, who, quiteunwittingly and most unwillingly, had contributed to her very handsomebank balance. She scanned the clauses through, and then flung down thecontract in disgust.

"There's nothing mentioned about a deposit," she said, "and, anyway, Idoubt very much whether I could get it back, even on his signature."

A quarter of an hour later Miss Clara Stegg took up the contract againand read the closely-printed clauses very carefully. When she hadfinished she said:

"I just hate the idea of that fellow making money."

"You've said that before," said her sister tartly.

At six o'clock that evening Bones went home. At nine o'clock he wassitting in his sitting-room in Clarges Street – a wonderful place, though small, of Eastern hangings and subdued lights – when Hamiltonburst in upon him; and Bones hastily concealed the poem he was writingand thrust it under his blotting-pad. It was a good poem and goingwell.

It began:

How very sweet

Is Marguerite!

And Bones was, not unreasonably, annoyed at this interruption to hismuse.

As to Hamilton, he was looking ill.

"Bones," said Hamilton quietly, "I've had a telegram from my pal in

Dundee. Shall I read it?"

"Dear old thing," said Bones, with an irritated "tut-tut," "really, dear old creature, at this time of night – your friends inDundee – really, my dear old boy – "

"Shall I read it?" said Hamilton, with sinister calm.

"By all means, by all means," said Bones, waving an airy hand andsitting back with resignation written on every line of his countenance.

"Here it is," said Hamilton. "It begins 'Urgent.'"

"That means he's in a devil of a hurry, old thing," said Bones, nodding.

"And it goes on to say," said Hamilton, ignoring the interruption."'Your purchase at the present price of jute is disastrous. Jute willnever again touch the figure at which your friend tendered, Ministryhave been trying to find a mug for years to buy their jute, half ofwhich is spoilt by bad warehousing, as I could have told you, and Ireckon you have made a loss of exactly half the amount you have paid.'"

Bones had opened his eyes and was sitting up.

"Dear old Job's comforter," he said huskily.

"Wait a bit," said Hamilton, "I haven't finished yet," and went on: "'Strongly advise you cancel your sale in terms of Clause 7 Ministrycontract.' That's all," said Hamilton.

"Oh, yes," said Bones feebly, as he ran his finger inside his collar,"that's all!"

"What do you think, Bones?" said Hamilton gently.

"Well, dear old cloud on the horizon," said Bones, clasping his bony knee, "it looks remarkably like serious trouble for B. Ones, Esquire.

It does indeed. Of course," he said, "you're not in this, old Ham.

This was a private speculation – "

"Rot!" said Hamilton contemptuously. "You're never going to try adirty trick like that on me? Of course I'm in it. If you're in it,I'm in it."

Bones opened his mouth to protest, but subsided feebly. He looked atthe clock, sighed, and lowered his eyes again.

"I suppose it's too late to cancel the contract now?"

Bones nodded.

"Twenty-four hours, poor old victim," he said miserably, "expired atfive p.m."

"So that's that," said Hamilton.

Walking across, he tapped his partner on the shoulder.

"Well, Bones, it can't be helped, and probably our pal in Dundee hastaken an extravagant view."

"Not he," said Bones, "not he, dear old cheerer. Well, we shall haveto cut down expenses, move into a little office, and start again, dearold Hamilton."

"It won't be so bad as that."

"Not quite so bad as that," admitted Bones. "But one thing," he saidwith sudden energy, "one thing, dear old thing, I'll never part with.Whatever happens, dear old boy, rain or shine, sun or moon, stars orany old thing like that" – he was growing incoherent – "I will neverleave my typewriter, dear old thing. I will never desert her – never, never, never, never, never!

He turned up in the morning, looking and speaking chirpily. Hamilton, who had spent a restless night, thought he detected signs of similarrestlessness in Bones.