Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville
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said Mr Parkley, nodding his head sideways at Rasp, as he went out – but not until he had seized the poker, rammed it between the bars with a scientific twist, and made the blaze go dancing up the chimney. “See that, Pugh! He’s the real master here. He’s a tyrant.”
“Well, really, sir, he has his own way pretty well.”
“Rare stuff though, Pugh, my dear boy – rare stuff. That man’s one you can always trust in any emergency. I’d leave my life in his hands at any time.”
“I know that, sir,” said Dutch, warmly. “He is as true as steel.”
“Right, Pugh, my dear boy – right. But look here,” he continued, thrusting a finger in the young man’s button-hole, “I wish you would drop that ‘sir’ to me. I don’t like it. I’m only a business fellow, and you’ve had the education of a gentleman, and I feel sometimes as if I ought to say ‘sir’ to you.”
“My dear sir – ”
“There you go again.”
“Well, my dear Mr Parkley, then, I have you to thank for so much kindness.”
“Stuff! stuff! stuff!” cried the elder, laying his hand playfully on his mouth. “You came to me to help me, and I was to pay you for that help. Well, look here, Pugh, you’ve been no end of value to me, and get more useful every day. What I pay you is nonsense to what you are worth. Now, look here; in three months the current business year with me will be up, and I’m going to ask you to join me as junior partner.”
“Mr Parkley!” cried the young man, astounded, as his employer leaped off his stool, and took down and replaced his hat.
“Say no more,” he cried; “I don’t act without thinking, do I?”
“Never, sir.”
“Then it’s all right. Catch hold of this,” he continued, handing the young man one end of the comforter, and then, tucking the other in under his waistcoat, he slowly wound himself up in it again, tapped the letter, and said, “Big job on here – I’m going to see them about it;” and then, lifting his feet in his peculiar way, he seemed to move out of the office as if he were under water, and the door closed behind him.
Story 1-Chapter II.
Golden Promises
The last words of his employer had such an effect upon Dutch Pugh that he leaped from his stool, and began to pace the office excitedly, for this was beyond his wildest dreams. Partner in such a business, where he knew that many thousands were netted every year! He could hardly believe it. At one moment he was all exhilaration, thinking of the delight it would afford his young wife; at the next, he felt a strange sensation of depression, as of coming trouble. It was as if the sunshine of his life had been crossed by a black shadow; and minute by minute this increased upon him, till he shuddered, started, and turned round, to glance uneasily about the office, as if expecting to see trouble there.
And then it seemed to him as if the three goblinlike figures were laughing and blinking at him weirdly, menacing him with crowbar and hatchet; and, as if in a dream for the next few moments, he seemed to see himself engaged in some dangerous diving experiment, and at the mercy of an enemy who sought his life, while his young wife pleaded for him and in vain.
It was all misty and strange; his brain was confused, and he could the next minute no more have analysed this waking dream, or idealised the actors therein, than have flown; but there, for a few brief moments, was the impression upon him of coming trouble – trouble so horrible that it menaced his life and the honour of her he most dearly loved. That was the impression; but how, when, where, he could not comprehend.
“Am I going mad?” he exclaimed, dashing his hand to his forehead. “What an idiot I am!” he cried, with a forced laugh. “That old rascal has made the place like an oven, and the blood has flown to my head. There, only to think what trifles will upset a man, and, if he is weak-minded, make him superstitious and fanciful. Some men would have really believed that a terrible calamity was about to befall them, when it was only – ”
“Here’s a gentleman to see you,” said Rasp, barking out his words, and ushering in a stranger.
Dutch Pugh involuntarily started, for he seemed to be in the presence of a stranger, and yet somehow the face was familiar to him. It was that of an exceedingly handsome man of about thirty, who took off a soft sombrero hat, and loosened the folds of a heavy black cloak, one end of which was thrown over his shoulder. He was evidently a foreigner, for his complexion was of a rich creamy tinge, his crisp black hair curled closely round a broad, high forehead, his dark eyes glittered beneath straight black brows, his nose was slightly aquiline, and the lower part of his face was covered with a thick, silky, black beard.
As he loosened the cords of his heavy cloak with his carefully-gloved hand, Dutch Pugh saw that he was faultlessly dressed, and, as he smiled and showed his white teeth, he said in good English, but with a perceptible foreign accent —
“Mr Parkley, I learn, is out. I address Mr Pugh?”
“The same,” said Dutch, who seemed fascinated by his look. “Will you take a chair?”
A cold chill came over the speaker as the visitor smiled and seated himself, but only to be succeeded by a feeling of suffocation; and for an instant his brain swam, and the dreamy feeling seemed about to return, but it passed off instantly, as, rousing himself, Dutch said —
“You will find this room too hot, perhaps. Shall I open – ”
“Hot!” laughed the stranger, taking out a card and letter of introduction. “My dear sir, it is comfortable after your chilly streets. I am from Cuba, where we see the sun.”
As he spoke he handed a card, upon which was printed – “Señor Manuel Lauré.”
“You will open the letter?” he continued, passing the one he held in his hand. “No?”
“Mr Parkley will be here shortly,” said Dutch. “Would you prefer to see him?”
“Yes – no,” said the stranger. “I should like to see him, but I am content to talk to you. You Englishmen are so intelligent, and those who sent me here told me that their fellow-countrymen would be ready to help my designs.”
“May I ask what they are?” said Dutch, who began to feel suspicious of the stranger.
“Yes, for I shall betray nothing. First, am I right? Yes,” he said, glancing round, and pointing at the diving suits. “I see I am right. You work under water – dive?”
“That is our business, and the making of apparatus.”
“Apparatus? Oh, yes, I understand. Would you – would Mr Parkley like to make a great fortune?”
“Not a doubt about it,” said Mr Parkley, entering, all hat and comforter. “How do?” he continued, bluffly, as the visitor rose and bowed, and then scanned him searchingly, as hat and comforter were placed once more upon the diving suit.
“This is Mr Parkley, the head of this establishment.”
“I am delighted,” said the stranger, raising his eyebrows, and half-closing his eyes. “Will you, then, read?”
“Thinks I don’t look it, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley aside, as he took the letter handed him, opened it, glanced at the contents and superscription, and then handed it to Dutch.
“Sit down, sir,” he said, sharply, as he perched himself on a stool as jerkily as the stranger resumed his full of grace. “Read it aloud, Mr Pugh.”
Dutch still felt troubled; but he read, in a clear voice, the letter from a well-known English firm at Havana.
“Dear Sir, – The bearer of this, Señor Manuel Lauré, comes to you with our earnest recommendation. He has certain peculiar projects that he will explain. To some people they would seem wild and visionary; but to you, with your appliances, they will doubtless appear in a very different light. He is a gentleman of good position here, and worthy of your respect. If you do not see fit to carry out his wishes, kindly place him in communication