Joseph Le Fanu - The Tenants of Malory. Volume 2

"Of course, it's straight. I should hope, Mr. Goldshed, I have never advised any course that was not so," said Mr. Larkin, loftily.

"I don't mean religious – law blesh you – I mean safe ," said Mr. Goldshed, soothingly.

A light pink flush touched the bald forehead of the attorney.

"Whatever is right, sir, is safe; and that, I think, can hardly be wrong – I hope not – by which all parties are benefited," said the attorney.

"All parties be diddled – except our shelves. I'm thinking of my shelf – and Mr. Levi, here – and, of courshe, of you . Very much of you," he added, courteously.

Mr. Larkin acknowledged his care by a faint meek bow.

"They're swells," repeated Mr. Goldshed.

"He saysh they're swelsh," repeated Mr. Levi, whose grave look had something of the air of a bully in it, fixing his dark prominent eyes on Mr. Larkin, and turning his cheek that way a little, also. "There's a danger in handling a swell – in them matters specially."

"Suppose theresh a contempt?" said Mr. Goldshed, whose chair grew restive, and required management as he spoke.

"He saysh a contempt ," repeated Mr. Levi, "or shomething worse," and he heightened the emphasis with an oath.

"I'll guarantee you for twopence, Mr. Levi; and pray consider me, and do not swear," urged Mr. Larkin.

"If you guarantee us, with a penalty," began Mr. Levi, who chose to take him literally.

"I said that , of course , Mr. Levi, by way of illustration, only; no one, of course , dreams of guaranteeing another without a proper consideration. I should have hoped you could not have misunderstood me. I don't understand guarantees, it is a business I have never touched. I'm content, I hope, with the emoluments of my profession, and what my landed property gives me. I only mean this – that there is no risk. What do we know of Mr. Dingwell, that is not perfectly above board – perfectly? I challenge the world upon that . If anything should happen to fall through, we , surely, are not to blame. At the same time if you – looking at it with your experience – apprehend any risk, of course, I couldn't think of allowing you to go on. I can arrange, this evening, and not very far from this house, either."

As Mr. Larkin concluded, he made a feint of rising.

"Ba-ah!" exclaimed Levi. "You don't think we want to back out of thish transhaction, Mr. Larkin? no -o-oh! That's not the trick of thish offishe – is it, gov'nor? He saysh no ."

"No," echoed Goldshed.

"No, never – noways! you hear him?" reiterated Mr. Levi. "In for a penny, in for a pound – in for a shilling, in for a thousand. Ba-ah! – No, never."

"No, noways – never!" reverberated Goldshed, in deep, metallic tones. "But, Levi, there, must look an inch or two before his noshe – and sho must I – and sho, my very good friend, Mr. Larkin, must you – a bit before your noshe. I don't see no great danger. We all know, the Honourable Arthur Verney is dead . We are sure of that – and all the rest is not worth the odd ha'pensh in that book," and he touched the mighty ledger lying by him, in which millions were entered. "The rest is Dingwell's affair."

"Just so, Mr. Goldshed," acquiesced Mr. Larkin. "We go together in that view."

"Dingwell be blowed! – what need we care for Dingwell?" tolled out Mr. Goldshed, with his ringing bass.

"Ba-ah! – drat him!" echoed the junior.

"Yes – a – quite as you say – but where's the good of imprecation? With that exception, I quite go with you. It's Dingwell's affair – not ours . We , of course, go straight – and I certainly have no reason to suspect Dingwell of anything crooked or unworthy."

"Oh, no – ba-ah! — nothing !" said Levi.

"Nor I," added Goldshed.

"It'sh delicate – it izh delicate – but very promishing," said Mr. Goldshed, who was moistening a cigar in his great lips. "Very – and no -thing crooked about it."

"No-thing crooked — no !" repeated Mr. Levi, shaking his glossy curls slowly. "But very delicate."

"Then, gentlemen, it's understood – I'm at liberty to assume – that Mr. Dingwell finds one or other of you here whenever he calls after dark, and you'll arrange at once about the little payments."

To which the firm having promptly assented, Mr. Larkin took his leave, and, being a client of consideration, was accompanied to the shabby doorstep by Mr. Levi, who, standing at the hall-door, with his hands in his pockets, nodded slily to him across the flagged court-yard, into the cab window, in a way which Mr. Jos. Larkin of the Lodge thought by many degrees too familiar.

"Well — there's a cove!" said Mr. Levi, laughing lazily, and showing his long rows of ivory fangs, as he pointed over his shoulder, with the point of his thumb, towards the street.

"Rum un!" said Mr. Goldshed, laughing likewise, as he held his lighted cigar between his fingers.

And they laughed together tranquilly for a little, till, with a sudden access of gravity, Mr. Goldshed observed, with a little wag of his head —

"He's da-a-am clever!"

"Ay – yes – da-a-am clever!" echoed Levi.

"Not as much green as you'd put your finger on – I tell you – no muff – devilish good lay, as you shall see," continued Goldshed.

"Devilish good – no, no muff – nothing green," repeated Mr. Levi, lighting his cigar. "Good head for speculation – might be a bit too clever, I'm thinking," and he winked gently at his governor.

"Believe you, my son, if we'd let him – but we won't – will we?" drawled Mr. Goldshed, jocosely.

"Not if I knows it," said Mr. Levi, sitting on the table, with his feet on the stool, and smoking towards the wall.

Messrs. Goldshed and Levi owned four houses in Rosemary Court, and Miss Sarah Rumble was their tenant. The court is dark, ancient, and grimy. Miss Rumble let lodgings, worked hard, led an anxious life, and subsisted on a remarkably light diet, and at the end of the year never had a shilling over. Her Jewish landlords used to pay her a visit now and then, to receive the rent, and see that everything was right. These visits she dreaded; they were grumbling and minatory, and enlivened by occasional oaths and curses. But though it was part of their system to keep their tenants on the alert by perpetual fault-findings and menaces, they knew very well that they got every shilling the house brought in, that Miss Rumble lived on next to nothing, and never saved a shilling, and was, in fact, their underfed, overworked, and indefatigable slave.

With the uncomplaining and modest charity of the poor, Sarah Rumble maintained her little orphan niece and nephew by extra labour at needle-work, and wonderful feats of domestic economy.

This waste of resources Mr. Levi grudged. He had never done complaining of it, and demonstrating that it could only be accomplished by her holding the house at too low a rent; how else could it be? Why was she to keep other people's brats at the expense of Messrs. Goldshed and Levi? What was the workhouse for? This perpetual pressure was a sore trouble to the poor woman, who had come to love the children as if they were her own; and after one of Mr. Levi's minatory visits she often lay awake sobbing, in the terror and yearnings of her unspeakable affection, whilst its unconscious objects lay fast asleep by her side.

From Mr. Levi, in his accustomed vein, Miss Rumble had received full instructions for the reception and entertainment of her new lodger, Mr. Dingwell. He could not say when he would arrive, neither the day nor the hour; and several days had already elapsed, and no arrival had taken place. This evening she had gone down to "the shop," so designated, as if there had been but one in London, to lay out a shilling and seven pence very carefully, leaving her little niece and nephew in charge of the candle and the house, and spelling out their catechism for next day.