there was no name on the doorposts, nothing beyond the number--"48"--to serve as a guide; and yet it may be doubted whether any firm in the city was better known to the postman, the bankers'-clerks, and all who had regular business to transact with them, than that of streightley and son. the firm had been streightley and son, and it had been located at 48 bullion lane, for the last hundred and fifty years. they were money-brokers and scrip-sellers at the time of the south-sea bubble, and were among the very few who were not ruined by that disastrous swindle. so little ruined were they that they prospered by it, and in the next generation extended their business and enlarged their profits; both of which, however, were consider curtailed by rash speculations during the french revolution and the american war. within the first quarter of the present century the business of streightley and son recovered itself; and, under the careful management of old sam streightley and his head clerk, mr. fowler, the house became highly esteemed as one of the safest bill-broking establishments in the city. it was not, however, until young mr. robert, following the bounden career of all the eldest sons of that family, joined the business, and, after close application, had thoroughly mastered its details, that fortune could be said to have smiled steadily on the firm. young mr. robert's views were so large and his daring so great, that his father, old mr. sam, at first stood aghast, and had to be perpetually supplicated before he gave permission to experiment on the least hazardous of all the young man's suggestions; but after the son had been about two years a partner in the firm it happened that the father was laid up with such a terrible attack of gout as to be incapable of attending to business for months; and when he at length obtained the physician's grudging assent to his visiting the city he found things so prosperous, but withal so totally changed, that the old gentleman was content to jog down to bullion lane about three times a month until his death, which was not long in overtaking him.
prosperous and changed! yes; no doubt about that. up that staircase, hitherto untrodden save by merchants'-clerks leaving bills for acceptance or notices of bills due; by stags with sham prospectuses of never-to-be-brought-out companies; or by third-rate city solicitors giving the quasi-respectability of their names to impotent semi-swindles, which, though they would never see the light, yet afforded the means for creating an indisputable and meaty bill of costs;--up that staircase now came heavy magnates of the city, directors of the bank of england, with short ill-made oxford-mixture trousers, and puckered coats, and alpaca umbrellas; or natty stockbrokers, most of them a trifle horsy in garb, all with undeniable linen, and good though large jewelry, carefully-cultivated whiskers, and glossy boots. in the little waiting-room might be found an irish member of parliament; the managing director of a great steam-shipping company; a west-end dandy, with a letter of introduction from some club acquaintance with a handle to his name, who idiotically imagined that that handle would serve as a lever to raise money out of robert streightley; a lawyer or two; and, occasionally the bronzed captain of a steamer arrived with news from the pacific; or some burnt and bearded engineer fresh from the inspection of a silver mine in central america. a long purgatory, for the most part, did these gentlemen spend in the little waiting-room, or in the clerk's room beyond it, where they were exposed to the sharp fusillade of mr. fowler's eyes and the keen glances of the two young men who assisted him. the only people who were shown by the messenger at once into mr. streightley's presence were the city editors of the various newspapers, and a very prettily-appointed young gentleman, wise withal beyond his years, who occasionally drove down to bullion lane from downing street in a hansom cab, and who was private secretary to the chancellor of the exchequer.
robert streightley had done all this by his own talent and exertion--"on his own hook," as the stock exchange men phrased it. the keenness of his business intellect was astounding. he seemed to sift a proposition as it was being laid before him; and as soon as the proposer ceased speaking, robert streightley closed with or pooh-poohed the offer, with incontrovertible reasons for his decision. he spoke out plainly and boldly before the oldest and the youngest who sought his advice; he was neither deferential nor patronising; and never sought to please--simply for the sake of pleasing--any of his clients. the young men looked up to him in wonder, and spoke of him over mid-day chops and sherry as a "cool card," a "long-headed chap," "just about one," and in other complimentary slangisms. the older men scarcely knew what to make of him; they hated him for his daring and success, for the dashing manner in which he was passing them all in the race for wealth and distinction; and they would have well liked to have shrugged their shoulders and hinted about his being "fast," and "going ahead," and finally making a grand smash of it; but they had no pretext. so long as robert streightley's business relations were thoroughly sound and wholesome it would have been against that esprit de corps which largely prevails among city men to breathe a word against him; and as for his private life, they could scarcely bring a charge of reckless extravagance against a man who went home to a seventy-pound-a-year house at brixton in the "paragon" omnibus, and there indulged in the dissipation of a "meat-tea" in the society of his mother and sister. so they found another vent for their spleen, and talked of him as a "doosid close-fisted fellow," a "mean narrow-minded hunks," and a "niggardly screw." he merited none of these appellations. he was a straightforward, honourable business-man, bred in a narrow circle, which his own innate business habits were narrowing year by year. as a boy he had had instilled into him the value of money and the secret of money-getting; as a young man the whole scope of his faculties had been directed to this end. such little fancy as he possessed--and with such a father the smallness of that fancy could be easily divined--had been ruthlessly eradicated, and all the nascent tendencies of his mind had been directed into one strong channel of fact. that jack had ever found giants to slay, that glass slippers were ever worn by cinder-wenches, or pumpkins could by any possibility become carriages, were fictions not to be found in bonnycastle and ignored by walkinghame; but that two and two made four, or that a talent of silver hid in a napkin remained an unproductive talent of silver, whereas a hundred pounds invested in consols produced yearly three pounds as interest to its holder, were as demonstrable as the light and heat of the sun at noonday.
he lived but for his business, nothing else. he was in his office at ten o'clock, and he never left it, save on some business errand, until six. he never took a holiday except on christmas-day and good friday, when the newspapers proclaimed all business suspended; he never dined out save twice or thrice a-year at the anniversary banquets of the directors of some of those companies in which his stake was large. his enemies wronged him when they said he had no heart. he had sincerely grieved for the old father who had brought him up and loved him deeply in his own peculiar way; his purse-strings were always at the command of those good samaritans on the stock exchange who do so much in such a quiet and unassuming manner; and the clergyman at brixton knew he might always count upon mr. streightley for a handsome subscription to any charity brought under his notice. his manner was odd and brusque, arising partly from his preoccupation, partly from his having never mixed in society; but there was nothing pretentious or vulgar, fast or underbred in him: he might have been thought an oddity; he never could have been set down for a snob.
see him now as he sits at his desk, poring over his diary, a tall strongly-built man, with long limbs lacking in due amount of muscular development from want of exercise. with a high forehead, a head prematurely bald, but surrounded with a thick fringe of brown hair, with sharp gray eyes looking out from overhanging brows, a thinly-cut aquiline nose, and rather full lips. he has a full whisker, after the ordinary respectable "mutton-chop" outline, and might, if he so pleased, have a large beard, as you can tell by the dark-blue outline round his chin; but robert streightley would as soon think of coming up to town outside the paragon omnibus in a turban as of committing any such unbusiness-like atrocity as growing a beard. one other person is in the room with him just now--mr. fowler, his chief clerk, known in the city as downy fowler; an old gentleman, who is looked upon as the essence of knowingness, and to whom the fortunes of streightley and son are not a little attributable. when this is hinted at, old mr. fowler smiles enigmatically; but only in strictest confidence, and to one or two very old friends, declares that, whatever he might have been to the old gentleman, he does not pretend to hold a candle to mr. robert, "whose head, my dear sir, is something won-der-ful!" a short sleek gray-headed man, mr. fowler; with a high-collared coat much too long in the sleeves, a waistcoat with traces of bygone snuff-pinches lingering in the creases, gray trousers, and gaiter boots. a silent little man, rarely speaking, but in the habit of calling his principal's attention to matters under consideration, such as letters, invoices, and share-lists, with his pointed forefinger. that forefinger was at work at the very moment when they are first presented to reader. it rested on an entry in the diary, and mr. fowler looked up into his principal's face inquiringly.
"well?" said robert streightley, "i see. markwell, 1350l.; baxter, 870l.; currie and tull, 340l.; guyon, 180l. 17s. 3d.; banks, 97l. 6s. total, 2888l. 3s. 3d.--paid to us by davidson--due to-day--what of that?"
mr. fowler did not answer, but placed his forefinger more decidedly on one of the items of the account.
"o, i see," said streightley; "guyon's acceptance! ay, ay; i recollect now. you called my attention to that, and declared that it was doubtful at the time that davidson paid it in. of course you made inquiries?"
mr. fowler nodded.
"and they were unsatisfactory? well, that's no matter to us. the usual notice has been served, of course? very well, we look to davidson; but let boswell's people have the usual instructions to proceed. so tierra del fuegos stand the same, do they? all right then; hold on. ocean marine have gone up; so that advance to walton and pycroft is well covered. let brattle step round to--well, what is it, brattle?" this to the junior clerk, who, after knocking at the door, entered the room.
"a lady, sir, to speak with you," said mr. brattle, in whom his brother lunch-convives at the bay tree would scarcely have recognised the youth who now stood blushing before his principal.
"a lady to speak with me?"
"with messrs. streightley and son, sir, she said, and in private, sir."
"must be some mistake," said robert streightley. "never mind. show the lady in through the private door, mr. brattle. leave me, fowler, and don't let any one in till i ring."
if mr. fowler could have expressed astonishment, he would have done so, for never had woman entered that sanctum since he had been connected with streightley and son. but his training did not admit of any such vagary; so he retired without a word, and the door closed behind him as mr. brattle admitted the visitor into robert streightley's presence.
robert streightley, who had been pretending to be absorbed in the diary, looked up, and carefully scrutinised his visitor. she was a girl of about twenty, above the ordinary height, slightly and gracefully built. she threw up her veil as she entered, without the smallest sign of coquetry, and showed a strikingly-handsome face, very pale, with greenish-gray eyes, delicate grecian nose, small white forehead, over which her dark-brown hair was drawn in flat bands, short upper lip, and small rounded chin. she was dressed in a dark-brown silk, with a black-lace cloak; and streightley--usually unobservant of such things--noticed the wonderful fit of her lavender gloves. streightley rose as she entered, and pointing to the usual client's chair, begged her to be seated. she bowed, and seated herself. then there was a little pause, and robert said, "you wished to see me, i believe?"
"you are messrs. streightley and son?" said the lady interrogatively, in a musical but slightly timid voice.
"i am mr. streightley, the representative of the firm."
"that is what i wished to know," she replied a little haughtily. "of course i--what i would ask is--i am not accustomed to business terms--you are the--the person--who sent this?"
she laid her parasol on the table as she spoke, and took from the purse which she carried in her hand a small printed paper. glancing at it, robert streightley saw that it was an ordinary commercial document, intimating to edward scrope guyon, of 110 queen anne street, that a bill for 180l. 17s. 3d., drawn on him by davidson brothers, lay due at streightley and son's, 48 bullion court, lombard street. as he returned it to her he said, "it is quite right; it was sent out by this house. it is the usual notice given in such cases, stating where the money is to be paid."
she was very pale as she said, "it means then that money--that the amount named--must be paid?"
"it does indeed."
"and at once?"
"this is the day for payment," said streightley. then noticing her deadly pallor, and the trembling of her lips, he said: "may i ask how this came into your hands?"
with a visible effort at self-control, the young lady replied: "i--i should have mentioned it before. i am miss guyon, daughter of mr. guyon, to whom that paper is addressed."
she hesitated for a minute, and streightley, whose eyes were fixed intently on her face, said:
"ye-es! i think i understand; and he has sent you here to----"
"my father is not in the habit of sending me about on his business-errands, sir!" interrupted miss guyon, flushing scarlet (robert thought that in his life he had never seen any thing so lovely as she looked, with heightened colour, swelling nostril, and curved lip.) "mr. guyon is out of town on--on very important and pressing business; and as he will not be back until late at night, i thought it best to come here to explain his absence, which will account for the money not being ready."
"which will account for the money not being ready!" repeated mr. streightley absently. "o, of course, of course. pray do not say another word about it, miss guyon. i am very sorry that you should have had the trouble of coming here, except that it--it has procured me the--the great pleasure of seeing you!" (robert had never before paid a woman a compliment, and was horribly awkward in his first attempt) "i'll call on mr. guyon to-morrow morning about eleven, and----"
"and you'll bring your bill with you, will you?" said miss guyon with supreme hauteur.
the word "bill" was in itself always disagreeable to her; but she had no idea but that this was an ordinary tradesman's account, and thought robert streightley was the tradesman to whom it was owing.
"ye-es!" said he; "i'll bring the bill with me, and----"
"there is nothing more to be said, i think," interrupted miss guyon. "good morning."
"good morning, miss guyon. permit me to see you downstairs."
she did not speak; but he construed a very slight bow into a gesture of assent, and proceeded down the staircase. arrived at the door he called the cabman, who was slumbering on his box; but the man's movements being slow, streightley opened the cab-door himself, and bareheaded held it as miss guyon, with just the style of acknowledgment that she would have given to the shop-walker who handed her a chair at a linendraper's, passed in. old mr. pommylow, chairman of the west india plantation company, who was crossing the street at the time, gave him a great nod and a sly wink; and made them all laugh at the board five minutes afterwards, by telling them he'd seen bob streightley "doing the polite to a doosid fine gal."
she was gone; but robert streightley still stood on the pavement, gazing after the cab that had carried her off. then, after a minute, he turned slowly round and retraced his steps up the staircase, pondering over the interview.
after remaining for about half-an-hour in a brown study, he touched the small handbell by which he was accustomed to summon mr. fowler, and, without raising his head, said to that worthy gentleman when he entered:
"give me that acceptance we were speaking of, please."
"guyon's acceptance do you men, sir?"
"mr. guyon's, if you please," said streightley rather sternly, the familiarity jarring on his ear.
"will you want the others, sir?" asked the old man. "markwell's and banks's are paid; but they haven't sent about the others yet."
"only mr. guyon's, thank you, fowler. i--i want to make a few inquiries about it."
"i don't expect you'll hear much good of the acceptor, sir," said old fowler with twinkling eyes. "i suspect it's one of davidson's private discounts, and we know what they are--he, he!" and the old gentleman laughed quietly.
"let me have the letters, if you please, mr. fowler, and any thing else there may be for signature. i shall be going soon."
"going, sir!" said old fowler in the greatest astonishment. he had never known mr. robert leave before six o'clock since he had been in the business, and now it was only four.
"yes! i'm not very well. i think i want a little fresh air, so i shall go and get it. and i shall probably not be here till twelve to-morrow, mr. fowler."
"very well, sir." he said it most mechanically. if the equestrian statue of the duke of wellington had descended from its pedestal and cantered up threadneedle street, mr. fowler would have been scarcely more astonished.
mr. robert streightley went in search of fresh air through holborn and oxford street to the west-end. he so rarely quitted the city, he was so seldom out any where in the daylight, that the bright sun and the splendid shops, the pleasure-seeking crowds idling through the streets, the handsome carriages, and the general life and bustle amazed, and under any other circumstances would have amused him. even now he felt that he was wasting his life, letting his days pass by without any adequate enjoyment, and he determined that to a certain extent he would remedy that for the future by curtailing the hours devoted to his business, which had hitherto had his every energy. at the regent circus he paused and asked his way to queen anne street; for he had determined to see the house where dwelt his lovely visitor of the morning. how lovely she was, and how confused and ridiculous she must have thought him; how different in manner to those with whom she was in the habit of associating; and how delightfully ignorant she was of all business-matters! he wondered whether he should see her the next day when he called on her father. he would like to see her again, he thought; and what would he not give to be able to talk to her, and to get her to talk to him unreservedly, as no doubt she did to--to those of her own class! yes, there was some good in his money and his business, after all. they had brought him in contact with this lovely girl; and in his transactions with her father he might perhaps be able to get to know her on other terms than those of mere business acquaintance. that was the house, no. 110, with traces of her presence in the lovely flowers in the balcony, and in the splendid indian work-box standing on the gilt table in the drawing-room window. a handsome house, looking like the expenditure of two thousand a-year at least, streightley thought to himself; the expenditure, mind, not the income,--his business education had taught him to look at those matters in their right light; and he remembered what fowler had said about mr. guyon, and knew that the old clerk never spoke at random. a carriage was at the door of no. 110; and a footman standing by it said to his mistress as streightley passed, "not at home, my lady. ridin' with miss wentworths and the major in the park." not at home! that of course meant the lady of the house. but was there a mrs. guyon, or did the young lady whom he had seen do the honours of her father's house? he should imagine so; for she had come alone, and mentioned nothing of her mother. riding in the park, eh? then he might have a chance of seeing her again! the park was free to all, any one might go there, and--and the major! who was the major? robert streightley's spirits fell to zero again, as he remembered miss guyon's manner to him that morning, and reflected how wide was the gulf between them.
he asked his way to the park, and took up his position by the railings near the achilles statue, gazing round him in wonder at all he saw and heard. the easy familiarity of the conversation between the ladies in the carriages, or on the chairs, and the gentlemen attendant on them was very different from the prim politeness of peckham, or the boisterous bonhomie of brixton; and he was particularly struck with the general acquaintance that nine-tenths of the people lounging about seemed to have with each other. robert felt painfully out of his sphere; he imagined that he was stared at as an interloper. for a long time he could not muster up courage to take his place at the railings, until he saw two carpenters returning from work in their flannel jackets, stop for a minute to look at the passing pageant, and take up their position at the railings, next to an old gentleman with a very blue coat; and a very red face, who turned round and muttered something about "d--d impudence," which delighted the carpenters immensely. when they moved off, with grins at the old gentleman which reduced him to the verge of apoplexy, robert slipped into the place they had left vacant, and remained there for some time, gazing in wonder at all he saw, and wishing--o, how fervently wishing!--to see her again.
at last his perseverance was rewarded. in the midst of a large cavalcade which came sweeping out of the row, turning their horses' heads towards the marble arch, sat miss guyon, looking, in her neat hat, with her hair drawn off her face and gathered into a large knot behind, even more lovely than she had looked in the morning. streightley's heart beat hard, and his mouth grew dry as he recognised her. as she rode past, her glance fell upon him, but she did not take the smallest notice of him; merely shifting her whip as she held out her pretty little gauntleted hand to a young man riding between her and the railings, and who, as he lifted his hat in adieu, said, "will you be at the opera to-night?"
she replied, "at the opera! o yes; box no. 70. shall we see you?"
"delighted!" he replied, bowing low, and turning his horse's head. "good day, major!" and as the old gentleman on the other side of miss guyon acknowledged his salute, the young man turned his horse's head and rode away.
"at the opera! she was going to the opera!" robert streightley found himself vaguely repeating these words as he hurried down piccadilly. he left the park so soon as the cavalcade of which miss guyon formed part had passed out of sight. good heavens, how lovely she was! how unlike any thing he had ever seen before! how elegant and graceful! he remembered noticing how closely her dark-blue riding-habit fitted her, and he could see the pretty dogskin gauntlet as she put out her hand to--ay, who was that she shook hands with? not the major; he was the old gentleman. who was that who asked her if she were going to the opera and--? what on earth was it to him? he was nothing to miss guyon; very probably he should never see her again, and--yes. he stopped suddenly in his hurried walk. yes; he would see her again, and that night too. he had never been to the opera; but any one could go there by paying; and, if he could not speak to her, he should at least be able to gaze upon her lovely face. he was a fool, and was losing his senses. what would they say in the city if they knew of this egregious folly? here was a man of six-and-thirty running about, like a schoolboy in his calf-love, after a girl whom he had only seen that morning, and had scarcely spoken to! it was very ridiculous, he acknowledged, and he would give it up. he would just call on mr. guyon in the way of business in the morning because he had promised to do so, and the affair would be at an end. but he thought he would go to the opera that night. you see, he had never been there, and had often wanted to know what the place was like.
he went into a well-known dining establishment and had some dinner, and--an unusual thing with him--drank a pint of wine. he had learned of the waiter what time the opera commenced; and as soon as the clock-hands reached half-past seven he hurried off and presented himself at the pit entrance, where, on account of his morning costume, he was refused admittance. he was told, however, that there would be no obstacle to his admission into the amphitheatre; and he accordingly climbed into that wild region, and there secured a front seat. he had hired a glass from the check-taker, and with it he now proceeded to scan the house, as yet cold and nearly, empty. miss guyon was not there. the opera commenced, and still she did not arrive. streightley, plying his glass at two minutes' intervals, at length saw her advance to the front of a box on the first tier and take the seat with her back to the stage. with her was the lady whom he had seen in the carriage at the door in queen anne street; and they had scarcely been seated ten minutes before they were joined by the young man who had been of miss guyon's party in the park. streightley recognised him in an instant, and hated him for his easy manners and his good looks; for he was a good-looking young fellow of six-and-twenty, with fair hair parted in the middle, regular features, and brilliant teeth. other men visited the box during the evening, but this young fellow only went away once, and then streightley saw him in the stalls with his glass rivetted on miss guyon, who, as he also remarked, attracted a great deal of attention. then he returned to the box and remained there during the rest of the evening, until nearly the close of the opera, indeed, when streightley saw the party preparing to move. robert instantly seized his hat, and rushing downstairs arrived at the door in time to hear loud shouts of "lady henmarsh's carriage stops the way!" and to see the visitor of the morning on the arm of an old gentleman, and miss guyon closely escorted by the fair-haired equestrian. as she stepped into the carriage miss guyon looked up at her attendant cavalier with a smile that robert streightley would at that instant have sacrificed all his wealth to have had directed at him. he was mad with rage and jealousy, and could have struck down the simpering fool, who muttered something inaudible under his breath, and raised his hat as the carriage drove off.
what had he said in return for that look? that robert streightley could never know. who was he who created the first pang of jealousy that had ever rankled in streightley's heart? that he would learn at once; he would follow the man, and see where he lived, and learn who he was.
the young man lit a cigar and strolled leisurely eastward. following him at a little distance, streightley never took his eyes from him, saw him stop at the temple gate, and reached the door as it closed behind him. to the porter mr. streightley gave the name of an acquaintance who resided in brick court, and on being admitted saw his quarry just ahead of him. he needed caution now, for theirs were the only footsteps that echoed through the courts; but the young man, without looking round, made his way to crown-office row, and entered one of the end houses nearest the river. streightley entered after him, and remained at the bottom of the staircase listening to his ascending footsteps, which paused when they reached the topmost story; and then the listener heard the grating of a key in a lock, and afterwards the clanging of a closing door. he waited a few minutes, and then crept softly to the highest story, where were two sets of chambers. one set, as announced by a painted tin placard, was to let; over the other were painted the names of mr. gordon frere and mr. charles yeldham.
