Adventure, December 1914 — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

I1i2 WHEN Messrs. Issachar and Daniel had departed, which they did threat- ening all sorts of dire things, Mr. Adair turned his attention to the burly Pot- ter, who had been witnessing the little scene which had just taken place with what seemed anything but an air of enjoyment. ‘So your name’s Potter. Where do you come from?” “‘Messrs. Issachar and Daniel brought me, sir. I’m employed by them.” | “Tf that is so, return to your own em- ployers; you certainly are not employed by me: . Mr. Potter meekly went. Adair ad- dressed the gentleman with the dilapidated top hat, whose bearing suggested that he was in a state of considerable incertitude. “Your name, I believe, is Hackman, Ebenezer Hackman. You owed Mr. Creed money which you have repeatedly promised to pay and haven’t.” Mr. Hackman turned his hat round and round between his fingers as he delivered himself of a stammering reply. “Mr. Creed lent me sixty pounds on a bill of sale on my furniture for one hundred and fifty. I wasn’t able to pay the principal on the day arranged, so I’ve had to keep on paying fines. I’ve paid him in fines alto- gether just on ninety pounds, and he’s still got that bill of sale for a hundred and fifty. There’s a fine of five pounds due today, and I do give you my word, sir, that I’ll let you have it the day after tomorrow. And if things only begin to look up a little I’ll let you have the whole amount perhaps next month. My wife’s ill, and if you take the furniture—break up the home—I shouldn’t wonder if it would—be the death of her.”’ “I fancy, Mr. Hackman, I’ve heard you tell that story before. Your wife seems to be a chronic invalid, and you seem to have got a habit of promising to pay next month. Here’s a receipt in full for the money you owed Mr. Creed. Hackman, that if you drank more water, and did less betting, you might be able to keep out of the hands of money-lenders. Good morning to you, sir. You needn’t thank me; you know your way to the door.”’ Clearly Mr. Hackman did, because he went through it, in a state of obvious men- tal bewilderment. When he was on the landing he looked at the slip of paper which Mr. Adair had passed him across the table. I’ve a notion, Mr. ° Adventure Received from Ebenezer Hackman the sum of one hundred and fifty pounds in full settlement of any claims which the estate of the late Jerningham Creed may have against him. The bill of sale which Ebenezer Hackman gave to the late Jerningham Creed is hereby canceled. MarTIn ADAIR. Mr. Hackman read this document half aloud, then gave a little gasp. ‘“‘Who’s Martin Adair? I suppose he is. Well, if this don’t beat—anything! Now I shall be able to borrow a bit more. I'll put every farthing on Dandy Dinmont I can get—that horse ought to be worth a fortune to me.” Unconscious of Mr. Hackman’s soliloquy without, Mr. Foster said to Martin Adair within— “Is that the way in which you propose to carry on the business?”’ “Yes, Foster, you’ve hit it. actly the way.” That is ex- CHAPTER III THE MAULER R. FOSTER and Martin Adair had a long talk; they went through a great many papers together, then the lawyer de- parted. Adair, having seen him off the premises, said to himself— ‘“‘There’s something at the back of Fos- ter’s mind.” The consciousness that he was left alone in Jerningham Creed’s chambers seemed suddenly to strike him. He looked around the room. “So this is all mine. How funny! I represent the most blackguardly money- lending business in London—that seems droll. This room wants doing up. It’s full of atmosphere; the business which has been done in it has left its impress upon the walls and ceiling. They’re filthy. I no- ticed it the first time Creed brought me in here; somehow now [I notice it more than ever. I wonder why.” Going to the table he turned over idly some of the papers which he and the lawyer had been examining. ‘“‘The man still lives in these! The whole place seems full of him. I have a queer sort of feeling that at any moment I may hear that croaking voice of his. He seems all the time to be at the back of me; I’m con- scious of an inclination to look round and see if he’s there. It isn’t wholesome. It’s Gomiicovook C©