CHAPTER VII
CORNER-STONE
I.
On a morning in spring Edward Henry got out of an express at Euston,which had come, not from the Five Towns, but from Birmingham. Having onthe previous day been called to Birmingham on local and profitablebusiness, he had found it convenient to spend the night there andtelegraph home that London had summoned him. It was in thisunostentatious, this half-furtive fashion, that his visits to London nowusually occurred. Not that he was afraid of his wife! Not that he wasafraid even of his mother! Oh, no! He was merely rather afraid ofhimself,--of his own opinion concerning the metropolitan, non-local,speculative, and perhaps unprofitable business to which he wascommitted. The fact was that he could scarcely look his women in theface when he mentioned London. He spoke vaguely of "real estate"enterprise, and left it at that. The women made no enquiries; they too,left it at that. Nevertheless....
The episode of Wilkins's was buried, but it was imperfectly buried. TheFive Towns definitely knew that he had stayed at Wilklns's for a bet,and that Brindley had discharged the bet. And rumours of his valet, hiselectric brougham, his theatrical supper-parties, had mysteriously hungin the streets of the Five Towns like a strange vapour. Wisps of thestrange vapour had conceivably entered the precincts of his home, butnobody ever referred to them; nobody ever sniffed apprehensively, norasked anybody else whether there was not a smell of fire. Thediscreetness of the silence was disconcerting. Happily his relationswith that angel, his wife, were excellent. She had carried angelicismso far as not to insist on the destruction of Carlo; and she hadactually applauded, while sticking to her white apron, the sudden andstartling extravagances of his toilette.
On the whole, though little short of thirty-five thousand pounds wouldultimately be involved,--not to speak of liability of nearly threethousand a year for sixty-four years for ground-rent,--Edward Henry wasnot entirely gloomy as to his prospects. He was indubitably thinner ingirth; novel problems and anxieties, and the constant annoyance of beingin complete technical ignorance of his job, had removed some flesh.(And not a bad thing either!) But, on the other hand, his chinexhibited one proof that life was worth living, and that he haddiscovered new faith in life and a new conviction of youthfulness.
He had shaved off his beard.
"Well, sir!" a voice greeted him full of hope and cheer, immediately hisfeet touched the platform.
It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier were nowin regular relations. Before Edward Henry had paid his final bill atWilkins's and relinquished his valet and his electric brougham, anddisposed forever of his mythical "man" on board the _Minnetonka_, andgot his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, Mr. Marrier hadvisited him and made a certain proposition. And such was the influenceof Mr. Marrier's incurable smile, and of his solid optimism, and of hisobvious talent for getting things done on the spot (as witness thephotography), that the proposition had been accepted. Mr. Marrier wasnow Edward Henry's "representative" in London. At the Green Room ClubMr. Marrier informed reliable cronies that he was Edward Henry's"confidential adviser." At the Turk's Head, Hanbridge, Edward Henryinformed reliable cronies that Mr. Marrier was a sort of clerk,factotum, or maid of all work. A compromise between these two verydifferent conceptions of Mr. Marrier's position had been arrived at inthe word "representative." The real truth was that Edward Henryemployed Mr. Marrier in order to listen to Mr. Marrier. He turned to Mr.Marrier like a tap, and nourished himself from a gushing stream ofuseful information concerning the theatrical world. Mr. Marrier, quiteunconsciously, was bit by bit remedying Edward Henry's acute ignorance.
The question of wages had caused Edward Henry some apprehension. He hadlearnt in a couple of days that a hundred pounds a week was a trifle onthe stage. He had soon heard of performers who worked for "nominal"salaries of forty and fifty a week. For a manager twenty pounds a weekseemed to be a usual figure. But in the Five Towns three pounds a weekis regarded as very goodish pay for any subordinate, and Edward Henrycould not rid himself all at once of native standards. He hadtherefore, with diffidence, offered three pounds a week to thearistocratic Marrier. And Mr. Marrier had not refused it, nor ceased tosmile. On three pounds a week he haunted the best restaurants,taxicabs, and other resorts, and his garb seemed always to be smarterthan Edward Henry's, especially in such details as waistcoat slips.
Of course Mr. Marrier had a taxicab waiting exactly opposite the coachfrom which Edward Henry descended. It was just this kind of efficientattention that was gradually endearing him to his employer.
"How goes it?" said Edward Henry curtly, as they drove down to the GrandBabylon Hotel, now Edward Henry's regular headquarters in London.
Said Mr. Marrier:
"I suppose you've seen another of 'em's got a knighthood?"
"No," said Edward Henry. "Who?" He knew that by "'em" Mr. Marriermeant the great race of actor-managers.
"Gerald Pompey. Something to do with him being a sheriff in the City,you know. I bet you what you laike he went in for the Common Councilsimply in order to get even with old Pilgrim. In fact, I know he did.And now a foundation-stone-laying has dan it!"
"A foundation-stone-laying?"
"Yes. The new City Guild's building, you knaow. Royalty--Temple Barbusiness--sheriffs--knighthood. There you are!"
"Oh!" said Edward Henry. And then after a pause added: "Pity _we_ can'thave a foundation-stone-laying!"
"By the way, old Pilgrim's in the deuce and all of a haole, I heah.It's all over the Clubs." (In speaking of the Clubs, Mr. Marrier alwayspronounced them with a Capital letter.) "I told you he was going tosail from Tilbury on his world-tour, and have a grand embarking ceremonyand seeing-off! Just laike him! Greatest advertiser the world ever saw!Well, since that P. and O. boat was lost on the Goodwins, Cora Pryde hasabsolutely declined to sail from Tilbury. Ab-so-lute-ly! Swears she'lljoin the steamer at Marseilles. And Pilgrim has got to go with her,too."
"Why?"
"Well, even Pilgrim couldn't have a grand embarking ceremony without hisleading lady! He's furious, I hear."
"Why shouldn't he go with her?"
"Why not? Because he's formally announced his grand embarking ceremony!Invitations are out. Barge from London Bridge to Tilbury, and so on!What he wants is a good excuse for giving it up. He'd never be able toadmit that he'd had to give it up because Cora Pryde made him! He wantsto save his face."
"Well," said Edward Henry absently, "it's a queer world. You've got mea room at the Grand Bab?"
"Rather!"
"Then let's go and have a look at the Regent first," said Edward Henry.
No sooner had he expressed the wish than Mr. Marrier's neck curved roundthrough the window, and with three words to the chauffeur he haddeflected the course of the taxi.
Edward Henry had an almost boyish curiosity about his edifice. He wouldgo and give it a glance at the oddest moments. And just now he had aswift and violent desire to behold it. With all speed the taxi shotdown Shaftesbury Avenue and swerved to the right....
There it was! Yes, it really existed, the incredible edifice of hiscaprice and of Mr. Alloyd's constructive imagination! It had alreadyreached a height of fifteen feet; and, dozens of yards above that,cranes dominated the sunlit air, swinging loads of bricks in the azure;and scores of workmen crawled about beneath these monsters. And he,Edward Henry, by a single act of volition was the author of it! Heslipped from the taxi, penetrated within the wall of hoardings, andgazed, just gazed! A wondrous thing--human enterprise! And also aterrifying thing! ... That building might be the tomb of his reputation.On the other hand it might be the seed of a new renown compared to whichthe first would be as naught! He turned his eyes away, in fear--yes, infear!
"I say," he said, "will Sir John Pilgrim be out of bed yet, d'ye think?"He glanced at his watch. The hour was about eleven.
"He'll be at breakfast.
"
"I'm going to see him, then. What's his address?"
"Twenty-five Queen Anne's Gate. But do you knaow him? I do. Shall Icam with you?"
"No," said Edward Henry shortly. "You go on with my bags to the GrandBab, and get me another taxi. I'll see you in my room at the hotel at aquarter to one. Eh?"
"Rather!" agreed Mr. Marrier, submissive.