Bones in London

Hamilton, "you ought to see the jolly old bathroom!"

"What do you want a bath for?" asked Hamilton innocently. "You've onlygot the place for three years."

"Now, dear old thing, don't be humorous," said Bones severely. "Don'tbe cheap, dear old comic one."

"The question is," said Hamilton, "why the dickens do you want a newflat? Your old flat was quite a palatial establishment. Are youthinking of setting up housekeeping?"

Bones turned very red. In his embarrassment he stood first upon oneleg and then the other, lifting his eyebrows almost to the roof of hishead to let in his monocle, and lifted them as violently to let it outagain.

"Don't pry, don't pry, dear old Ham," he said testily. "Great Heavensand Moses! Can't a fellow take a desirable flat, with all modernconveniences, in the most fashionable part of the West End, and allthat sort of thing, without exciting the voice of scandal, dear oldthing? I'm surprised at you, really I am, Ham. I am, Ham," herepeated. "That sounds good," he said, brightening up. "Am Ham!"

"But what is the scheme?" persisted Hamilton.

"A bargain, a bargain, dear old officer," said Bones, hurriedly, andproceeded to the next business.

That next business included the rejection of several very promisingoffers which had arrived from different directors of companies, andpeople. Bones was known as a financier. People who wanted otherpeople to put money into things invariably left Bones to the last, because they liked trying the hard things first. The inventor andpatentee of the reaping machine that could be worked by the farmer inhis study, by means of push keys, was sure, sooner or later, to meet aman who scratched his chin and said:

"Hard luck, but why don't you try that man Tibbetts? He's got anoffice somewhere around. You'll find it in the telephone book. He'sgot more money than he knows what to do with, and your invention is thevery thing he'd finance."

As a rule, it was the very thing that Bones did not finance.

Companies that required ten thousand pounds for the extension of theirpremises, and the fulfilment of the orders which were certain to comenext year, drafted through their secretaries the most wonderfulletters, offering Bones a seat on their board, or even two seats, inexchange for his autograph on the south-east corner of a cheque. Theseletters usually began somehow like this:

"At a moment when the eyes of the world are turned upon Great Britain, and when her commercial supremacy is threatened, it behoves us all toincrease production…" And usually there was some reference to "thepatriotic duty of capital."

There was a time when these appeals to his better nature would havemoved Bones to amazing extravagance, but happily that time was beforehe had any money to speak about.

For Bones was growing in wisdom and in wiliness as the days passed.Going through the pile of correspondence, he came upon a letter whichhe read thoughtfully, and then read again before he reached to thetelephone and called a number. In the City of London there was abusiness-like agency which supplied him with a great deal of usefulinformation, and it was to these gentlemen that he addressed his query: "Who are Messrs. Seepidge & Soomes?"

He waited for some time with the receiver at his ear, a far-away lookin his eyes, and then the reply came:

"A little firm of printers run by a rascal named Seepidge, who has beentwice bankrupt and is now insolvent. His firm has been visited by thepolice for illegal printing several times, and the firm is in such alow condition that it has a job to pay its wages bill."

"Thank you," said Bones. "Thank you, dear old commercial guardian.

What is the business worth?"

"It's worth your while to keep away from it," said the humorous reply, and Bones hung up the receiver.

"Ham, old dear," he said, and Hamilton looked up. "Suppose," saidBones, stretching out his legs and fixing his monocle, "suppose, myjolly old accountant and partner, you were offered a business which wasworth" – he paused – "which was worth your while keeping away fromit – that's a pretty good line, don't you think, old literary critic?"

"A very good line," said Hamilton calmly; "but you have rather aloud-speaking telephone, and I think I have heard the phrase before."

"Oh, have you?" said Bones by no means abashed. "Still, it's a verygood line. And suppose you were offered this printing business forfifteen thousand pounds, what would you say?"

"It depends on who was present," said Ham, "and where I was. Forexample, if I were in the gorgeous drawing-room of your wonderful flat,in the splendid presence of your lovely lady wife to be – "

Bones rose and wagged his finger.

"Is nothing sacred to you, dear old Ham?" he choked. "Are the mosttender emotions, dear old thing, which have ever been experienced byany human being – "

"Oh, shut up," said Hamilton, "and let's hear about this financialproblem of yours."

Bones was ruffled, and blinked, and it was some time before he couldbring himself back to sordid matters of business.

"Well, suppose this jolly old brigand offered you his perfectly beastlybusiness for fifteen thousand pounds, what would you do?"

"Send for the police," said Hamilton.

"Would you now?" said Bones, as if the idea struck him for the firsttime. "I never have sent for the police you know, and I've had simplyterrible offers put up to me."

"Or put it in the waste-paper basket," said Hamilton, and then insurprise: "Why the dickens are you asking all these questions?"

"Why am I asking all these questions?" repeated Bones. "Because, oldthing, I have a hump."

Hamilton raised incredulous eyebrows.

"I have what the Americans call a hump."

"A hump?" said Hamilton, puzzled. "Oh, you mean a 'hunch.'"

"Hump or hunch, it's all the same," said Bones airily. "But I've gotit."

"What exactly is your hunch?"

"There's something behind this," said Bones, tapping a finger solemnlyon the desk. "There's a scheme behind this – there's a swindle – there'sa ramp. Nobody imagines for one moment that a man of my reputationcould be taken in by a barefaced swindle of this character. I think Ihave established in the City of London something of a tradition," hesaid.

"You have," agreed Hamilton. "You're supposed to be the luckiest devilthat ever walked up Broad Street."

"I never walk up Broad Street, anyway," said Bones, annoyed. "It is adetestable street, a naughty old street, and I should ride up it – or,at least, I shall in a day or two."

"Buying a car?" asked Hamilton, interested.

"I'll tell you about that later," said Bones evasively, and went on:

"Now, putting two and two together, you know the conclusion I'vereached?"

"Four?" suggested Hamilton.

Bones, with a shrug ended the conversation then and there, and carriedhis correspondence to the outer office, knocking, as was his wont, until his stenographer gave him permission to enter. He shut thedoor – always a ceremony – behind him and tiptoed toward her.

Marguerite Whitland took her mind from the letter she was writing, andgave her full attention to her employer.

"May I sit down, dear young typewriter?" said Bones humbly.

"Of course you can sit down, or stand up, or do anything you like inthe office. Really," she said, with a laugh, "really, Mr. Tibbetts, Idon't know whether you're serious sometimes."

"I'm serious all the time, dear old flicker of keyboards," said Bones, seating himself deferentially, and at a respectful distance.