The Famous Cases of Dr. Thorndyke (Illustrated). R. Austin Freeman

gum! It’s due this very day, the twentieth of the month. That’s why I’m here. Knowing your little weakness in the matter of dates, and having a small item to collect in Canterbury, I thought I’d just come on, and save you the useless expense that results from forgetfulness.”

      Elton understood the hint, and his face grew rigid.

      “I can’t do it, Gordon; I can’t really. Haven’t got it, and shan’t have it until I’m paid for the batch of drawings that I’m working on now.”

      “Oh, but what a pity!” exclaimed Gordon, taking the cigar from his thick, pouting lips to utter the exclamation. “Here you are, blueing your capital on seaside jaunts and reducing your income at a stroke by a clear four pounds a year.”

      “How do you make that out?” demanded Elton.

      “Tut, tut,” protested Gordon, “what an unbusinesslike chap you are! Here’s a little matter of twenty pounds quarter’s interest. If it’s paid now, it’s twenty. If it isn’t, it goes on to the principal and there’s another four pounds a year to be paid. Why don’t you try to be more economical, dear boy?”

      Elton looked askance at the vampire by his side; at the plump blue-shaven cheeks, the thick black eyebrows, the drooping nose, and the full, red lips that embraced the cigar, and though he was a mild tempered man he felt that he could have battered that sensual, complacent face out of all human likeness, with something uncommonly like enjoyment. But of these thoughts nothing appeared in his reply, for a man cannot afford to say all he would wish to a creditor who could ruin him with a word.

      “You mustn’t be too hard on me, Gordon,” said he. “Give me a little time. I’m doing all I can, you know. I earn every penny that I am able, and I have kept my insurance paid up regularly. I shall be paid for this work in a week or two and then we can settle up.”

      Gordon made no immediate reply, and the two men walked slowly eastward, a curiously ill-assorted pair: the one prosperous, jaunty, overdressed; the other pale and dejected, and, with his well-brushed but napless clothes, his patched boots and shiny-brimmed hat, the very type of decent, struggling poverty.

      They had just passed the pier, and were coming to the base of the jetty, when Gordon next spoke.

      “Can’t we get off this beastly wet pavement?” he asked, looking down at his dainty and highly-polished boots. “What’s it like down on the sands?”

      “Oh, it’s very good walking,” said Elton, “between here and Foreness, and probably drier than the pavement.”

      “Then,” said Gordon, “I vote we go down;” and accordingly they descended the sloping way beyond the jetty. The stretch of sand left by the retiring tide was as smooth and firm as a sheet of asphalt, and far more pleasant to walk upon.

      “We seem to have the place all to ourselves,” remarked Gordon, “with the exception of some half-dozen dukes like yourself.”

      As he spoke, he cast a cunning black eye furtively at the dejected man by his side, considering how much further squeezing was possible, and what would be the probable product of a further squeeze; but he quickly averted his gaze as Elton turned on him a look eloquent of contempt and dislike. There was another pause, for Elton made no reply to the last observation; then Gordon changed over from one arm to the other the heavy fur overcoat that he was carrying. “Needn’t have brought this beastly thing,” he remarked, “if I’d known it was going to be so warm.”

      “Shall I carry it for you a little way?” asked the naturally polite Elton.

      “If you would, dear boy,” replied Gordon. “It’s difficult to manage an overcoat, an umbrella and cigar all at once.”

      He handed over the coat with a sigh of relief, and having straightened himself and expanded his chest, remarked: “I suppose you’re beginning to do quite well now, Tom?”

      Elton shook his head gloomily. “No,” he answered, “it’s the same old grind.”

      “But surely they’re beginning to recognise your talents by this time,” said Gordon, with the persuasive air of a counsel.

      “That’s just the trouble,” said Elton. “You see, I haven’t any, and they recognised the fact long ago. I’m just a journeyman, and journeyman’s work is what I get given to me.”

      “You mean to say that the editors don’t appreciate talent when they see it.”

      “I don’t know about that,” said Elton, “but they’re most infernally appreciative of the lack of it.”

      Gordon blew out a great cloud of smoke, and raised his eyebrows reflectively. “Do you think,” he said after a brief pause, “you give ‘em a fair chance? I’ve seen some of your stuff. It’s blooming prim, you know. Why don’t you try something more lively? More skittish, you know, old chap; something with legs, you know, and high shoes. See what I mean, old chap? High with good full calves and not too fat in the ankle. That ought to fetch ‘em; don’t you think so?”

      Elton scowled. “You’re thinking of the drawings in ‘Hold Me Up,’” he said scornfully, “but you’re mistaken. Any fool can draw a champagne bottle upside down with a French shoe at the end of it.”

      “No doubt, dear boy,” said Gordon, “but I expect that sort of fool knows what pays.”

      “A good many fools seem to know that much,” retorted Elton; and then he was sorry he had spoken, for Gordon was not really an amiable man, and the expression of his face suggested that he had read a personal application into the rejoinder. So, once more, the two men walked on in silence.

      Presently their footsteps led them to the margin of the weed-covered rocks, and here, from under a high heap of bladder-wrack, a large green shorecrab rushed out and menaced them with uplifted claws. Gordon stopped and stared at the creature with Cockney surprise, prodding it with his umbrella, and speculating aloud as to whether it was good to eat. The crab, as if alarmed at the suggestion, suddenly darted away and began to scuttle over the green-clad rocks, finally plunging into a large, deep pool. Gordon pursued it, hobbling awkwardly over the slippery rocks, until he came to the edge of the pool, over which he stooped, raking inquisitively among the weedy fringe with his umbrella. He was so much interested in his quarry that he failed to allow for the slippery surface on which he stood. The result was disastrous. Of a sudden, one foot began to slide forward, and when he tried to recover his balance, was instantly followed by the other. For a moment he struggled frantically to regain his footing, executing a sort of splashing, stamping dance on the margin. Then, the circling sea birds were startled by a yell of terror, an ivory-handled umbrella flew across the rocks, and Mr. Solomon Gordon took a complete header into the deepest part of the pool. What the crab thought of it history does not relate. What Mr. Gordon thought of it is unsuitable for publication; but, as he rose, like an extremely up-to-date merman, he expressed his sentiments with a wealth of adjectives that brought Elton in the verge of hysteria.

      “It’s a good job you brought your overcoat, after all,” Elton remarked for the sake of saying something, and thereby avoiding the risk of exploding into undeniable laughter. The Hebrew made no reply—at least, no reply that lends itself to verbatim report—but staggered towards the hospitable overcoat, holding out his dripping arms. Having inducted him into the garment and buttoned him up, Elton hurried off to recover the umbrella (and, incidentally, to indulge himself in a broad grin), and, having secured it, angled with it for the smart billycock which was floating across the pool.

      It was surprising what a change the last minute or two had wrought. The positions of the two men were now quite reversed. Despite his shabby clothing, Elton seemed to walk quite jauntily as compared with his shuddering companion who trotted by his side with short miserable steps, shrinking into the uttermost depths of his enveloping coat, like an alarmed winkle into its shell, puffing out his cheeks and anathematising the Universe in general as well as his chattering teeth would let him.

      For some time they hurried along towards the slope by the jetty without exchanging any further remarks; then suddenly,