Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious. Marsh Richard

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Жанр Зарубежная классика
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      Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious

      The purse which was found

      I

      The first applicant arrived just as I was sitting down to breakfast. I went out to him in the hall at once. He was tall, thin, and distinctly seedy.

      "I have called with reference to the advertisement of the purse which was found." I bowed. He seemed to hesitate. "I have lost a purse." He looked as if he had-long years ago. "I have reason to believe that it is my purse which you have found. I shall be happy to hand you the cost of your advertisement on your returning me my property."

      "When did you lose it?"

      My question seemed to escape his notice.

      "I am a clergyman in the Orders of the Church of England, and the inscrutable laws of the Divine Benevolence have placed me in a position which makes such a loss a matter of cardinal importance."

      "Where did you lose it?"

      "In town, sir-in town."

      "In what part of town?"

      "In the west, sir-in the west."

      "Do you mean in the western postal district?"

      "My topographical knowledge of this great city is scarcely sufficient to enable me to enter into such minutiæ." He assumed an air of candour which ill became him. "I will be frank with you. I do not know where I lost it. The shock of the loss was so great as to make of my mind a tabula rasa. I have an appointment at some distance from here in less than half an hour. Might I ask you to give me my property without any unnecessary delay?"

      "With pleasure, on your describing it."

      "Unfortunately there again you have me at a disadvantage. The purse was my daughter's, lent to me only for the day. I have not preserved a sufficiently clear mental picture to enable me to furnish you with an adequate description."

      "But your daughter can?"

      "Precisely, if she were in town. But she is not in town. And it is of paramount importance that I should at once regain possession of the property. If you will allow me to look at it I shall be able to tell at a glance if it is mine."

      "I am afraid that I must request you to describe the purse lost before I show you the one I found."

      He drew himself up.

      "I trust, sir, that your words are not intended to convey a reflection?"

      "Not at all. Only, as I have not breakfasted, and you have an appointment to keep, it might be as well if you were at once to communicate with your daughter, and request her to favour you with the necessary description."

      "Excuse me, sir, but you mistake your man. I am a gentleman, sir, like you-a university man, sir. I came here to regain possession of my property; you are in possession of that property; until you return it to me I do not intend to quit this house." As he had suddenly raised his voice, and evinced symptoms of raising it higher, I opened the front door by way of a hint. On the doorstep stood one of the unemployed, the remnant of a woollen muffler twisted round his neck.

      "Beg pardon, guv'nor, I've come for my purse."

      "What purse?"

      "You know very well what purse-the purse what's advertised. You hand it over to me, and I'm game to pay all costs. It's mine. I lost it."

      "Describe the one you had the misfortune to lose."

      "It was a leather purse."

      "Then that is not the purse I found."

      "Shammy leather, I mean."

      "Nor is it shammy leather."

      "Covered with sealskin outside."

      "Nor is it covered with sealskin outside."

      "Just you take and let me have a look at it. I'll soon tell you if it's mine."

      "Before the purse is shown to any claimant he must satisfactorily describe it."

      "Very well; that's all about it. If it ain't mine, it ain't mine. You needn't be nasty."

      "I have no intention of being nasty."

      "Then don't be. Because a pore feller loses his purse he don't need to be trampled on. You can be pore but honest."

      With the utterance of this trite and, possibly, admirable observation the man strolled off, with his hands in his pockets. My clerical friend, who had lingered in the hall, endeavoured to take me by the button-hole. He addressed me in a confidential whisper.

      "Pardon me, sir, but circumstances over which I have no control have temporarily crippled my resources. Since, from motives which I understand, and which I honour, sir, you prefer to continue to be the custodian of my family property, might I with confidence ask you to oblige me with a small loan till I am able to place myself in communication with my daughter?"

      "You might not."

      "I fear that I am already late for my appointment. The only way to reach it in time will be to take a cab. May I, at least, ask you to enable me to pay the fare?"

      "You may not."

      He sighed.

      "I believe you said you had not breakfasted? Neither, sir, have I. You will hardly believe it, but it is a positive fact that I, a clergyman, a master of arts of my university, have not tasted food for more than four-and-twenty hours. If, sir, you will suffer me, a humble stranger, to join you at your morning meal-"

      "Good-day, sir."

      He sighed again. Then, putting his hand up to his mouth, he asked, in a sepulchral whisper:

      "Will you lend me sixpence?"

      "I won't-not one farthing."

      Then he went, shaking his head as he passed down the steps, as if the burden of this world pressed on him more weightily than ever. He was still descending the steps when a cab dashed up, from the interior of which an elderly gentleman flourished an umbrella.

      II

      "Hi! Is this 25, Bangley Gardens, where they advertise that a purse was found?"

      I admitted that it was.

      "Was it found in Regent Street on Wednesday afternoon-silver monogram 'E. L. T.'-containing between nine and ten pounds in silver and gold?"

      I said that it was not.

      "Sorry to have troubled you. Throgmorton Street, driver. Push along."

      I was closing the door when I was hailed by a woman, who remained standing at the foot of the steps. She was a young woman, evidently of the artisan class. She wore an air of depression, and carried a baby in her arms.

      "Was the purse which was found mine, sir?"

      "What was yours like?"

      "I lost it in the Mile End Road on Saturday night, sir. My husband's wages was in it-twenty-four and sixpence. He see the advertisement in the paper, and sent me round to see. Leather it was-leastways, imitation-red, and the clasp was broken."

      "I am sorry to say that your description bears no kind of resemblance to the one which is in my possession."

      She looked at me for a moment, scrutinizingly, as if desirous of learning if what I said was credible; then, without another word, moved off.

      I had succeeded in closing the door just as there came another rap upon the knocker. I reopened it, to find myself confronted by another of the unemployed.

      "I ask your pardon, guv'nor, but seeing an advertisement about a purse as was found, I thought I'd just come round to see if it might happen to be mine. Mine wasn't a leather purse, nor yet it wasn't a shammy leather, nor yet it wasn't one of them sealskin kind of things."

      As soon as he said that I suspected that this was a friend of the other unemployed, from whom he had recently gathered certain data.

      "Mine was more one of them sort of bag kind."

      "What bag kind?"

      "Well-"