Do you find yourself a little easier, Miss, now they’ve put poor Master Wilding in the ground? There’s no consolation going, like the consolation of a funeral—provided the undertaker does his duty.
Sally. We must all learn to submit to our losses in this world, Mr. Joey. I am learning, I hope, to submit to mine.
(She goes out by the side door.)
Joey (looking after her). Beautiful language! The parson himself couldn’t have put it prettier than that! (Trying to repeat SALLY’S words.) I’ll say it over again, after her, like the catechism. “We must all submit to learning, Mr. Joey—which is one of our losses in this world.” Lord! how true!
Vendale. (crushing the letter in his hand). Another misfortune, coming close on Wilding’s death! A loss of five hundred pounds, at the time of all others when money is of most consequence to me!
Joey. Anything wrong, Master Vendale?
Vendale. As wrong as can be, Joey.
Joey. Ah! I said it would come. “You’ve been and changed the name of the firm; mind you haven’t been and changed the luck of the firm!” My own words to him as is gone. It’s foreign to my nature, Master George, to crow over the house I serve. Please to understand, I don’t set myself up for a prophet! (VENDALE makes a gesture of impatience.) You won’t get over it, that way, sir! You’d better open your heart to me. I know what’s at the bottom of this—it’s them six cases of red wine.
Vendale. The devil take the six cases of red wine!
Joey. The devil brought ’em, sir! (VENDALE withdraws to an office-desk, smoothes out the letter, takes other letters from the desk, and compares them one with the other. JOEY goes on.) Now let’s put the thing plainly. Here’s a large consignment of Swiss champagne comes to this house, from our foreign correspondents at the place they call Nooshattle. And among that consignment I find six cases of red wine that didn’t ought to be. I says to myself, “In the time of Pebbleson Nephew no mistake was ever made in a consignment delivered at these doors; the luck’s gone—Lord help us at Cripple Corner! the luck’s gone!” And what follows? You write out, sir, to tell ’em at Nooshattle of the mistake. And they write back to you. Not satisfied on your side, you write again. Not satisfied on their side, they write again. There’s their letter on the desk before you, as full of bad news as an egg’s full of meat! And here am I that foretold it all—took it in, you may say, at the pores. Do I crow over the house I serve? No! Do I set myself up for a prophet? No! I return, with molloncolly steps, to the Wapours below—respectfully reminding you, sir, of what the precious woman, Miss Goldstraw, said just now. “We must all submit to losses, Mr. Joey—which is one of our learnings in this world.” Golden words, Master George. Take ’em to heart, sir! take ’em to heart!
(Exit into the yard.)
Vendale. (still absorbed over the letters). Letter number one:—I write to tell Defresnier and Company of the red wine being sent with the white. And I refer incidentally to a payment of five hundred pounds made by our house to theirs, some time since. Letter number two:—Defresniers write back to apologise for the mistake, and then add that the five hundred pounds alluded to has never been received by their house. Letter number three:—I write back, enclosing them a copy of their own receipt for the sum. Letter number four—is Defresniers’ answer, just put into my hands. (Leaving the desk, and coming forward with the letter in his hand.) Let me read it again. (Reads.)
“DEAR SIR,—I write to you, in the absence of my partner who has gone on business to Milan. The receipt of which you enclose a copy can be nothing but a forgery. The remittance of five hundred pounds must have been intercepted and stolen on its way to our hands. Suspicion points at a person who was not long since in our employment. We refrain from mentioning his name, until we are sure of his guilt.”—Who can this man be? In my position, it is useless to inquire!—“Let us at once see the original receipt, and compare the handwriting in it, with certain specimens of handwriting in our possession. Don’t trust the post. Send a private messenger—and let him be a man who has been long in your service; who is accustomed to travelling, who is capable of speaking French, and who can be trusted to let no stranger scrape acquaintance with him on the route.”—Where am I to find the man, in this office? None of the clerks are accustomed to travelling abroad. None of the clerks can speak French. And what is the reason for this extraordinary caution? Here it is:—“If the person whom we suspect is really guilty, circumstances may have occurred to put him on his guard—and, in that case, he is a man to hesitate at nothing, if he can get possession of the receipt which is the only evidence against him. Tell no one in existence of the turn things have taken. Everything depends on your interpreting literally the warning I give you in this letter.”—I know the man who writes those words—I am certain he would not have written them, without a serious reason for it. What am I to do? I have nobody whom I can rely on to send.
(OBENREIZER enters from the court-yard, shown in by JOEY. JOEY stands apart for a moment, watching.)
Obenreizer. (to VENDALE). A thousand pardons! I am afraid I disturb you!
Joey (aside, looking at OBENREIZER). It was him as stole in when that bit of stuff fell on Master George’s breast! It’s him as steals in again, now, when bad news comes to Master George. He brings ill luck. I don’t like Mr. Openrazor!
(JOEY returns to the yard, looking back suspiciously, before he closes the door.)
Obenreizer. Is there any business this morning that I can do?
Vendale. You come at a bad time, Mr. Obenreizer. You find my business threatened with a loss of five hundred pounds.
Obenreizer. (starting). Five hundred pounds!
Vendale. A remittance of ours to that amount has been stolen from the correspondents to whom we sent it.
Obenreizer. Stolen!
Vendale. And a forged receipt sent to us in their name—the name of your old employers, Defresnier and Company.
(He looks again at the letter in his hand.)
Obenreizer. How—how has it happened?
Vendale. (pointing to the desk). There is the correspondence. You can see for yourself. (OBENREIZER goes to the desk, and reads the letters. VENDALE continues, aside.) Obenreizer was in Defresnier’s employment. He may be able to throw some light upon it! Suppose I show him the forged receipt? (Takes a key and opens the door of the iron safe in which his papers are kept.)
Obenreizer. (watching VENDALE from the desk). Has he got the receipt? Oh, if he only takes it out of the safe!
Vendale. (producing the receipt). Here it is! (He drops the letter which he has hitherto kept mechanically in his hand—picks it up again—and looks at it. At the same moment OBENREIZER stealthily advances a step towards him from the desk—then looks back to see that the door leading into the yard is closed.