CHAPTER I
AN "AGONY"
It caught my eye at once. When a man is dining off his last half-crownhe is apt to have his eyes wide open. Having just disposed of a steakwhich, under the circumstances, did not seem to be so large as itmight have been, I picked up a paper which, as he had laid it down,the diner in front appeared to have done with. As it was folded, theagony column stared me in the face. And among the "agonies" wasthis:--
"If James Southam, at one time of Dulborough, will apply to theundersigned, he will hear of something to his advantage.--Messrs.Cleaver and Caxton, Solicitors, Thirteen, Bacup Street, London, S.E."
Now, I am James Southam, at one time of Dulborough, but, although I doanswer to that description, a very clear something told me that if Idid hear of anything to my advantage by applying to anybody, then theage of miracles was not yet done with. Still, as, when a man has spenton a doubtful meal one-and-sevenpence out of his last half-crown,something to his advantage is exactly what he wants to hear of, Iclipped that advertisement out of the paper under the waiter's nose,and put it in my waistcoat pocket.
On referring to a directory in a convenient post-office, I found thatBacup Street was in the neighbourhood of the Old Kent Road. That didnot seem to be a promising address, and, so far as appearances went,it fulfilled its promise. It struck me that Bacup Street, speakinggenerally, looked more than a trifle out at elbows, and NumberThirteen seemed to be the shabbiest house which it contained. Anuntidy youth received me. After keeping me waiting for a quarter of anhour in what might have served as an apology for a cupboard, heushered me into a room beyond. In this inner room there were two men.One was seated at a table, the other was standing with his hat at theback of his head in front of the empty fireplace. They looked at me,then they looked at each other; and, unless I am mistaken, theyexchanged a glance of surprise. The man at the table addressed me,without evincing any desire to rise.
"Well, sir, and what can we do for you?"
"That," I said, "is what I want to know."
The man smiled, as if he was not quite sure that there was anything tosmile at. I took the newspaper cutting out of my waistcoat pocket.
"I have just seen this advertisement. I am James Southam, at one timeof Dulborough, and if you are Messrs. Cleaver and Caxton, I have cometo you to hear of something to my advantage."
For some moments my words remained unanswered. They both stared at meas if they were endeavouring by mere force of visual inspection tofind out what sort of person I really was. Then the man at the tablespoke again.
"Of course you have evidence as to the truth of what you say?"
"I have my card in my pocket; here are letters which have beenaddressed to me. If you will tell me what I am going to hear of to myadvantage I will place you in the way of obtaining a sufficiency ofany sort of evidence you may require."
I placed a card on the table, and some old envelopes, having first ofall taken out the letters. The two men forgathered. They examined my"documents." They spoke to each other in whispers. Holding out one ofthe envelopes, the man who had already spoken pointed with a stubbyand unclean first finger to the address which was on the front of it.
"Is this your present address?"
"No; at present I have no address."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been presented with the key of the street."
"Do you mean that you are impecunious?"
"I do."
The individual with the hat on who had not yet spoken to me, spoke tome now, with a decidedly unpleasant grin. "Stone-broke?" he said.
I did not like to turn myself inside-out to strangers, especially tosuch strangers: but I had recently had to do a good many things whichI had not liked. Above all, I had begun to realise the truth of theadage which tells us that beggars must not be choosers.
"I am as nearly stone-broke as a man can be who is in possession of afair variety of pawn-tickets, the clothes he stands up in, andelevenpence in cash."
There was some further whispering between the pair, then theindividual with the hat on addressed me again.
"If you will step outside, in a few minutes we will speak to youagain."
I stepped outside. They kept me outside longer than I altogetherrelished.
I was on the point of, at all hazards, asserting my dignity, when theman with the hat on, opening the door of the inner office, invited meto enter. It was he, when I entered, who took up the conversation.
"We are not, you must understand, at liberty to furnish you withparticulars of the matter referred to in our advertisement withoutfirst of all communicating with our client."
"Who is your client?"
"That, without having received permission, we cannot tell you either.Can you not guess?"
The fellow stared at me in a manner which I instinctively resented.His glance conveyed a meaning which seemed to be the reverse offlattering.
"I certainly cannot guess, nor have I the least intention of trying. Ihave the pleasure of wishing you good-day."
I turned to go; the fellow stopped me.
"One moment! Where are you off to?" I turned to him again. This timehe was eyeing me with what I felt was an insolent grin. "For a man inthe position in which you say you are you don't seem over anxious tohear of something to your advantage."
"Nor do you seem over anxious to tell it me."
"We are solicitors, man, not principals. It is our business to act onthe instructions we have received. Listen to me." I listened. "We havereason to believe that our client would desire to be acquainted withyour address, so that he may be able to place himself in immediatecommunication with you, should you turn out to be the James Southam heis in search of. As you don't appear, at present, to have an addressof your own, we are willing to provide you with one."
"Explain yourself."
"We will take you to an hotel, and we will guarantee your reasonableexpenses there until you hear from us again. Should you not turn outto be the required James Southam, we will pay your bill, withdraw ourguarantee, and there will be an end of the matter, so far as we areconcerned. You will have received some advantage, at any rate."
I accepted the proposition. When the sum of elevenpence stands betweena man and starvation he is apt not to be over particular in pickingholes in proffered offers of board and lodging. The untidy youthfetched a cab. The individual with the hat on accompanied me in it,there and then, to one of those innumerable private hotels which arefound in the side streets off the Strand. He went inside, while Iwaited for him in the cab. When he reappeared he fetched me in,introduced me to a tall, thin woman, whom he called Mrs. Barnes, drewme aside, told me that he had made all arrangements, that I shouldhear from him again, and that, in the meantime, I should find myselfall right. Then he went, leaving me in that private hotel, for all Iknew to the contrary, a pensioner on his bounty.