Archibald Cronin - The Stars Look Down

“Hello! Dick Jobey there? Hello… what?… Mr. Jobey left early… oh, all right, I’ll ring again in the morning.”

So Dick had left early; well, no wonder, thought Joe pleasantly, Dick couldn’t have had none too good a day. He rose, whistling, straightening his tie. Then the door opened and Dick Jobey walked into the room.

“Why, he- lo , Dick, this is great…. I didn’t expect you here…”

“Shut up, Gowlan. And sit down.” Quiet and unsmiling, Dick Jobey indicated the chair.

Joe’s jaw dropped:

“But, Dick, ole man…” Then Joe went a sickly green. Behind Dick Jobey, young Tracy came in, and behind Tracy an extremely large red-faced man with shoulders like the side of a house and a hard unpleasant eye. The large man shut the door and leant carefully against it. Young Tracy, looking a little less like a mug, put a woodbine in his mouth and gazed without pity upon Joe.

“Gowlan,” Jobey said, “you’re a dirty rotten rigger.”

“What!” Joe gathered himself together, made an agonised effort to carry off a bluff. “Half a chance, Dick. What are you talking about? I’ve just rung you up at Tynecastle a minute ago trying to get you to tell you I’d forgotten to put through Hydrangea. His bet…” He indicated Tracy and went on with growing indignation, “Honest to God, Dick, I did forget and I rang you up the minute I remembered.”

“Shut up, Gowlan. It isn’t only to-day you’ve cribbed me. For a month Tracy has been punting with you. He’s lost thirty-five pounds and I haven’t had a penny of it.”

“What!” roared Joe. “He says that, does he, the dirty liar. Don’t you believe him, Dick. It’s a blasted lie. My word’s as good as his…”

“Shut up, Gowlan,” Jobey said for the third time, almost wearily. “Tracy’s with me. He works a month on all my branches like he’s done with you. What kind of a leg do you take me for? D’you think I don’t check up on everything? Everything, you fool! I know you’ve been cribbing me. You’ve had a good job, and a good chance. But now you’re out, see, out on your neck, you low-down dirty rigger!”

All up, thought Joe. Rage burst over him. He blustered.

“Look out who you’re calling a rigger. I could have you up for that… I…” He choked, for two pins he’d have taken a crack at Jobey, but there were three of them, curse it, three of them. And besides, he didn’t care, he was well in over the business, yes, he was quids in. Then he went absolutely cold. Jobey, turning aside with a gesture of distaste, remarked:

“Go through him, Jim.”

Jim removed himself from the door, came forward hard eye and all as if he meant to go through the wall. Oh, God! thought Joe, he’s going to scrounge my dough. A sudden fury burst over him. I’ll be damned, he flamed, I’ll be damned if I let them. He set himself in a crouch and took a vicious crack at Jim’s jaw. The blow landed but the jaw was cast iron. Jim lowered his bullet head and rushed in.

For three minutes the office rocked under the riot of the scrap. But it was no use. Joe was giving away two stone, at the end of it he took the floor with a terrific bump. He lay prone, Jim sitting on his chest. No use… no use at all… I’m giving him two stone… he had to let Jim go through him: five-pound notes and the mottled bank-book were placed upon the desk.

As Dick Jobey delicately pocketed the notes and lifted the bank-book Joe picked himself off the floor and began to blubber.

“For Gord’s sake, Mr. Jobey, sir. It’s my own money, my own savings…”

Jobey looked at his watch, quickly took up the ’phone, called the manager of the bank. Blubbering, Joe listened dazedly.

“I’m sorry to trouble you after hours but this is most important. Mr. Gowlan wants to cash a cheque most urgently. It’s Jobey of Tynecastle speaking, yes, Mr. Dick Jobey… would you as a special favour to me oblige Mr. Gowlan. Thank you, yes, right away, I’m extremely obliged to you.”

“I won’t go,” shrieked Joe. “I’ll be damned if I go.”

“I give you one minute to make up your mind,” Jobey said sadly. “If you don’t go I’ll call up the police.”

Joe went. The silent procession of four marched to the bank, and as silently marched back to the office.

“Hand it over,” Jobey said.

“For the love of Gord,” Joe howled, “some of it’s my own money.”

“Hand it over,” Jobey said. Jim stood there, ready.

O Christ, thought Joe, he’ll only bounce me again. He handed it over, all of it, in twenties, fives and sovereigns, all of his lovely money, his lovely two hundred pounds, all that he had…

“For Gord’s sake, Mr. Jobey,” he implored abjectly.

On his way to the door Dick Jobey paused. A look of contempt came into his face. He picked a single sovereign from the money in his pocket, flung it at Joe.

“Here,” he said. “Buy yourself a hat.” And with Tracy and Jim he went out.

For ten minutes Joe sat rocking himself in a passion of misery, tears running down his cheeks. Then he rose and picked up the sovereign. A perfect fury possessed him. He kicked at a chair, kicked and kicked at it. He began to wreck the office. He wrecked the office thoroughly, viciously. It was all second-hand cheap furniture and very little of it. What there was he battered to matchwood. He spat upon the floor. He cursed Jobey, cursed and cursed him. He took a blue pencil and wrote big on the wall, Jobey is a dirty bastard . He wrote further fierce, unutterable obscenities. Then he sat down on the window-sill and counted his money. With the pound and some change in his pocket he had exactly thirty shillings. Thirty shillings. Thirty pieces of silver!

He banged out of the ruined office, went straight to the Fountain. He put ten shillings in his waistcoat pocket. With the rest he got drunk. He sat drinking, until half-past ten, all by himself. At half-past ten he was broodingly, rampantly drunk. He rose and swayed over to the Picturedrome.

At eleven Minnie came out, blasé, yellow-haired, narrow-chested, sporting her gold-crowned tooth and all. There was no doubt about it, Minnie was a tart.

Joe took Minnie in, swaying gently, looking her up and down.

“Come on, Minnie,” he said thickly. “I’ve got your winnings here. Ten bob. Nothing to what I’ll get you tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Minnie in a disillusioned voice. “You all want the same thing.”

“Come on,” said Joe.

Minnie came on. Joe didn’t buy himself a hat that night. But because of that night he bought several later on.

The trees of the Avenue stood silent in the teeming rain, their smoke-grimed branches dripping water, vague dismal shapes, like mourning women, lining the Avenue in the dank twilight, weeping. But David, walking quickly up the wet pathway, paid no attention to the weeping trees. His head was bent, his expression concentrated and fixed. Under the stress of some positive emotion, he entered the grounds of the Law, rang the bell and waited. In a moment the door was opened, not by Ann, the maid, but by Hilda Barras, and at the sight of him she flushed unexpectedly.

“You’re early!” she exclaimed, controlling herself immediately. “Much too early. Arthur’s with father in the study.”

He entered the hall and took off his wet coat.

“I came early because I wanted to see your father.”

“Father?” For all her assumption of irony she observed his face intently. “You sound serious.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, quite painfully serious.”

He felt the sarcasm in her voice but he did not answer. Somehow he liked Hilda, her uncompromising rudeness was at least sincere. A pause followed. Though clearly she was curious to know what was in his mind she did not press him further. Indifferently she remarked: