The Complete Works of Arthur Morrison (Illustrated). Arthur Morrison

business,” Samuel responded. He pronounced it “pishness,” and it seemed his favourite word. “Like this; I will tell you. I haf known him some time, and did at first small pishness. He bought a little tiamont and haf it set in pracelet, and he pay—straightforward pishness. Then he bought some very good paste stones, all set in gold, and he pay—quite straightforward pishness. At the same time he says, ‘I am pishness man myself, Mr. Samuel,’ he says, ‘and I like to make a little moneys as well as pay out sometimes. Don’t you want any little agencies done? I do all foreign commissions, and I can forwart and receive and clear at dock and custom house. If you send any tiamonts I can consign and insure—very cheapest rates to you, special. If you want brokerage or buy and sell for you, confidential, I can do it with lowest commission. Especially I haf good connection with America. I haf many rich Americans, principals and customers,’ he says, ‘and often I could do pishness for you when they come over.’”

      “By which he meant he might sell them diamonds?” Hewitt queried.

      “Just so, Mr. Hewitt—reg’lar pishness. And after that two or three little parcels of tiamonts he bought—for American customers, he says. But he says he can do bigger pishness soon. Ay, so he has—goot heavens, he has! But I tell you. I do also one or two small pishnesses with him, and that is all right—he treat me very well and I pay when it suits. Then he says, ‘Samuel,’ he says, very friendly now inteet, ‘Samuel, could you get a nice large lot of tiamonts for an American customer I expect here soon?’ And I say, ‘Of course I can.’ ‘Enough,’ he says, ‘to fit out a rich man’s wife—that is, to pegin. He is not long rich, and he will want more soon—ah, she will make him pay! But to pegin—a good fit-out of tiamonts, eh?’

      “I tell him yes, and I offer usual commission. But no, says Denson, he wants no commission; he will make his own profit. That I don’t mind so long as I get mine; so I agree to put the tiamonts in at a price. The American, he says, is to come over about a big company deal, and when it is through he will pay well. So last week I pring a peautiful collection all cut but unset, and I wait out in that room while Denson shows them to his customer.”

      “You mean you let them out of your sight?”

      “Yes—that is not so uncommon; reg’lar pishness. You see I was out here—this is the only way out. Denson was in the inner office with the stones and the American. Neither could get out without passing here. And I had done pishness with him alretty.”

      “Well?”

      “You see I wait downstairs with my case—this case—till Denson sends down. He doesn’t want me to show—fery natural, you see, in pishness. When I sell to make a profit, perhaps for somebody else, I don’t want that somebody to know my customer, else he sells direct and I lose my profit—fery natural. See?”

      “Of course, I understand. It’s a point of business among you gentlemen to keep your own customers to yourselves. And often, no doubt, diamonds pass through several hands before reaching the eventual customer, leaving a profit in each.”

      “Always, Mr. Hewitt—always, you might say. Well, you see, Denson sends down that his customer is in, and I come up. Denson comes out from the inner office, takes my case, and I wait in there.”

      The case which Samuel showed Hewitt was of black leather, perhaps eighteen inches long by a foot wide. The arrangement of the office was simple. In this, the outer room, a small space was partitioned off by means of a ground glass screen, and it was in there that Samuel meant that he had waited.

      “Well, he took the case in, and I could hear some sound of talking—but not much, you see, the door being shut. After a time the door opens and I hear Denson say: ‘Very well, think over it; but don’t be long or you’ll lose the chance. Excuse me while I put them back in the safe.’ Then he shuts the door and brings the case to me and goes back. But of course I stay till I haf looked very carefully through all the tiamonts, in the different compartments of the case, in case one might haf dropped on the floor, or got changed, you know. That is pishness.”

      “Just so. And they were all right?”

      “All right and same as the list—I know well a tiamont that I haf seen once. So I go away, and afterwards Denson tells me that the American liked much the stones but wouldn’t quite come up to price. That, of course, is fery usual pishness. ‘But he will rise, Samuel,’ Denson says. ‘I know him quite well, and them tiamonts is as good as sold with a good profit for me; and a good one for you, too, I bet,’ he says. I was putting the lot to him for fifteen t’ousant pounds, and it would have been a nice profit in that for me. And then Denson he chaffs me and he says, ‘Ah! Samuel,’ he says, ‘wasn’t you afraid my customer and me would hook it out o’ the window with all your stones?’ I don’t like that sort o’ joke in pishness, you see, but I say, ‘All right—I wasn’t afraid o’ that. The window was a mile too high, and besides I could see it from where I was a-sitting.’ And so I could, you see, plain enough to see if it was opened.”

      The ground-glass partition, in fact, cut off a part of the window of the outer office, which, being at an angle with the inner room, gave a side view of the window that lighted that apartment.

      “Denson laughed at that,” Samuel went on. “‘Ha-ha!’ says he, ‘I never thought of that. Then you could see the American’s hat hanging up just by the window—rum hat, ain’t it?’ And that was quite true, for I had noticed it—a big, grey wideawake, almost white.”

      Hewitt nodded approvingly. “You are quite right,” he said, “to tell me everything you recollect, even of the most trivial sort; the smallest thing may be very valuable. So you took your diamonds away the first time, last week. What next?”

      “Well, I came again, just the same, to-day, by appointment. Just the same I sat in that place, and just the same Denson took the case into the inner room. ‘He’s come to buy this time, I can see,’ Denson whispers, and winks. ‘But he’ll fight hard over the price. We’ll see!’ and off he goes into the other room. Well, I waited. I waited and I waited a long time. I looked out sideways at the window, and there I see the American’s big wideawake hat hanging up just inside the other window, same as last time. So I think they are a long time settling the price, and I wait some more. But it is such a very long time, and I begin to feel uneasy. Of course, I know you cannot sell fifteen t’ousant wort’ of tiamonts in five minutes—that is not reasonable pishness. But I could hear nothing at all now—not a sound. And the boy—the boy that came down to call me up—he wasn’t come back. But there I could see the big wideawake hat still hanging inside the window, and of course I knew there was only one door out of the inner room, right before me, so it seemed foolish to be uneasy. So I waited longer still, but now it was so late, I thought they should have come out to lunch before this, and then I was fery uneasy—fery uneasy inteet. So I thought I would pretend to be a new caller, and I opened the outer office door and banged it, and walked in very loud and knocked on the boy’s table. I thought Denson would come when he heard that, but no—there was not a sound. So I got more uneasy, and I opened the window and leaned out as far as I could, to look in at the other window. There I could see nothing but the big hat and the back of a chair and a bit of the room—empty. So I went and banged the outer door again, and called out, ‘Hi! Mr. Denson, you’re wanted! Hi! d’y’ear?’ and knocked with my umbrella on the inner door; and, Mr. Hewitt—you might have knocked me down with half a feather when I got no answer at all—not a sound! I opened the door, Mr. Hewitt, and there was nobody there—nobody! There was my leather case on the table, open—and empty! Fifteen t’ousant pounds in tiamonts, Mr. Hewitt—it ruins me!”

      Hewitt rose, and flung wide the inner office door. “This is certainly the only door,” he said, “and that is the only window—quite well in view from where you sat. There is the wideawake hat still hanging there—see, it is quite new; obviously brought for you to look at, it would seem. The door and the window were not used, and the chimney is impossible—register grate. But there was one other way—there.”

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