Chapter 3. ANOTHER MAN

AsthedisappearingskirtsoftheladiesascendedtheVeneeringstaircase,Mortimer,followingthemforthfromthedining-room,turnedintoalibraryofbran-newbooks,inbran-newbindingsliberallygilded,andrequestedtoseethemessengerwhohadbroughtthepaper.Hewasaboyofaboutfifteen.Mortimerlookedattheboy,andtheboylookedatthebran-newpilgrimsonthewall,goingtoCanterburyinmoregoldframethanprocession,andmorecarvingthancountry. ‘Whosewritingisthis?’ ‘Mine,sir.’ ‘Whotoldyoutowriteit?’ ‘Myfather,JesseHexam.’ ‘Isithewhofoundthebody?’ ‘Yes,sir.’ ‘Whatisyourfather?’ Theboyhesitated,lookedreproachfullyatthepilgrimsasiftheyhadinvolvedhiminalittledifficulty,thensaid,foldingaplaitintherightlegofhistrousers,‘Hegetshislivingalong-shore.’ ‘Isitfar?’ ‘Iswhichfar?’askedtheboy,uponhisguard,andagainupontheroadtoCanterbury. ‘Toyourfather’s?’ ‘It’sagoodishstretch,sir.Icomeupinacab,andthecab’swaitingtobepaid.Wecouldgobackinitbeforeyoupaidit,ifyouliked.Iwentfirsttoyouroffice,accordingtothedirectionofthepapersfoundinthepockets,andthereIseenobodybutachapofaboutmyagewhosentmeonhere.’ Therewasacuriousmixtureintheboy,ofuncompletedsavagery,anduncompletedcivilization.Hisvoicewashoarseandcoarse,andhisfacewascoarse,andhisstuntedfigurewascoarsebuthewascleanerthanotherboysofhistypeandhiswriting,thoughlargeandround,wasgoodandheglancedatthebacksofthebooks,withanawakenedcuriositythatwentbelowthebinding.Noonewhocanread,everlooksatabook,evenunopenedonashelf,likeonewhocannot. ‘Wereanymeanstaken,doyouknow,boy,toascertainifitwaspossibletorestorelife?’Mortimerinquired,ashesoughtforhishat. ‘Youwouldn’task,sir,ifyouknewhisstate.Pharaoh’smultitudethatweredrownedintheRedSea,ain’tmorebeyondrestoringtolife.IfLazaruswasonlyhalfasfargone,thatwasthegreatestofallthemiracles.’ ‘Halloa!’criedMortimer,turningroundwithhishatuponhishead,‘youseemtobeathomeintheRedSea,myyoungfriend?’ ‘Readofitwithteacherattheschool,’saidtheboy. ‘AndLazarus?’ ‘Yes,andhimtoo.Butdon’tyoutellmyfather!Weshouldhavenopeaceinourplace,ifthatgottouchedupon.It’smysister’scontriving.’ ‘Youseemtohaveagoodsister.’ ‘Sheain’thalfbad,’saidtheboy‘butifsheknowsherlettersit’sthemostshedoes—andthemIlearnedher.’ ThegloomyEugene,withhishandsinhispockets,hadstrolledinandassistedatthelatterpartofthedialoguewhentheboyspokethesewordsslightinglyofhissister,hetookhimroughlyenoughbythechin,andturneduphisfacetolookatit. ‘Well,I’msure,sir!’saidtheboy,resisting‘Ihopeyou’llknowmeagain.’ EugenevouchsafednoanswerbutmadetheproposaltoMortimer,‘I’llgowithyou,ifyoulike?’So,theyallthreewentawaytogetherinthevehiclethathadbroughttheboythetwofriends(onceboystogetheratapublicschool)inside,smokingcigarsthemessengerontheboxbesidethedriver. ‘Letmesee,’saidMortimer,astheywentalong‘Ihavebeen,Eugene,uponthehonourablerollofsolicitorsoftheHighCourtofChancery,andattorneysatCommonLaw,fiveyearsand—exceptgratuitouslytakinginstructions,onanaverageonceafortnight,forthewillofLadyTippinswhohasnothingtoleave—Ihavehadnoscrapofbusinessbutthisromanticbusiness.’ ‘AndI,’saidEugene,‘havebeen“called”sevenyears,andhavehadnobusinessatall,andnevershallhaveany.AndifIhad,Ishouldn’tknowhowtodoit.’ ‘Iamfarfrombeingclearastothelastparticular,’returnedMortimer,withgreatcomposure,‘thatIhavemuchadvantageoveryou.’ ‘Ihate,’saidEugene,puttinghislegsupontheoppositeseat,‘Ihatemyprofession.’ ‘ShallIincommodeyou,ifIputmineuptoo?’returnedMortimer.‘Thankyou.Ihatemine.’ ‘Itwasforceduponme,’saidthegloomyEugene,‘becauseitwasunderstoodthatwewantedabarristerinthefamily.Wehavegotapreciousone.’ ‘Itwasforceduponme,’saidMortimer,‘becauseitwasunderstoodthatwewantedasolicitorinthefamily.Andwehavegotapreciousone.’ ‘Therearefourofus,withournamespaintedonadoor-postinrightofoneblackholecalledasetofchambers,’saidEugene‘andeachofushasthefourthofaclerk—CassimBaba,intherobber’scave—andCassimistheonlyrespectablememberoftheparty.’ ‘Iamonebymyself,one,’saidMortimer,‘highupanawfulstaircasecommandingaburial-ground,andIhaveawholeclerktomyself,andhehasnothingtodobutlookattheburial-ground,andwhathewillturnoutwhenarrivedatmaturity,Icannotconceive.Whether,inthatshabbyrook’snest,heisalwaysplottingwisdom,orplottingmurderwhetherhewillgrowup,aftersomuchsolitarybrooding,toenlightenhisfellow-creatures,ortopoisonthemistheonlyspeckofinterestthatpresentsitselftomyprofessionalview.Willyougivemealight?Thankyou.’ ‘Thenidiotstalk,’saidEugene,leaningback,foldinghisarms,smokingwithhiseyesshut,andspeakingslightlythroughhisnose,‘ofEnergy.IfthereisawordinthedictionaryunderanyletterfromAtoZthatIabominate,itisenergy.Itissuchaconventionalsuperstition,suchparrotgabble!Whatthedeuce!AmItorushoutintothestreet,collarthefirstmanofawealthyappearancethatImeet,shakehim,andsay,“Gotolawuponthespot,youdog,andretainme,orI’llbethedeathofyou”?Yetthatwouldbeenergy.’ ‘Preciselymyviewofthecase,Eugene.Butshowmeagoodopportunity,showmesomethingreallyworthbeingenergeticabout,andI’llshowyouenergy.’ ‘AndsowillI,’saidEugene. Anditislikelyenoughthattenthousandotheryoungmen,withinthelimitsoftheLondonPost-officetowndelivery,madethesamehopefulremarkinthecourseofthesameevening. Thewheelsrolledon,androlleddownbytheMonumentandbythe