The Complete Arthur Conan Doyle Collection. Arthur Conan Doyle
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"Ah, you are an admiral. You have been abroad, tropics, malaria, ague--I know."
"I have never had a day's illness."
"Not to your knowledge; but you have inhaled unhealthy air, and it has left its effect. You have an organic murmur--slight but distinct."
"Is it dangerous?"
"It might at anytime become so. You should not take violent exercise."
"Oh, indeed. It would hurt me to run a half mile?"
"It would be very dangerous."
"And a mile?"
"Would be almost certainly fatal."
"Then there is nothing else the matter?"
"No. But if the heart is weak, then everything is weak, and the life is not a sound one."
"You see, Admiral," remarked Mr. Metaxa, as the doctor secreted his stethoscope once more in his hat, "my remarks were not entirely uncalled for. I am sorry that the doctor's opinion is not more favorable, but this is a matter of business, and certain obvious precautions must be taken."
"Of course. Then the matter is at an end."
"Well, we might even now do business. I am most anxious to be of use to you. How long do you think, doctor, that this gentleman will in all probability live?"
"Well, well, it's rather a delicate question to answer," said Dr. Proudie, with a show of embarrassment.
"Not a bit, sir. Out with it! I have faced death too often to flinch from it now, though I saw it as near me as you are."
"Well, well, we must go by averages of course. Shall we say two years? I should think that you have a full two years before you."
"In two years your pension would bring you in L1,600. Now I will do my very best for you, Admiral! I will advance you L2,000, and you can make over to me your pension for your life. It is pure speculation on my part. If you die to-morrow I lose my money. If the doctor's prophecy is correct I shall still be out of pocket. If you live a little longer, then I may see my money again. It is the very best I can do for you."
"Then you wish to buy my pension?"
"Yes, for two thousand down."
"And if I live for twenty years?"
"Oh, in that case of course my speculation would be more successful. But you have heard the doctor's opinion."
"Would you advance the money instantly?"
"You should have a thousand at once. The other thousand I should expect you to take in furniture."
"In furniture?"
"Yes, Admiral. We shall do you a beautiful houseful at that sum. It is the custom of my clients to take half in furniture."
The Admiral sat in dire perplexity. He had come out to get money, and to go back without any, to be powerless to help when his boy needed every shilling to save him from disaster, that would be very bitter to him. On the other hand, it was so much that he surrendered, and so little that he received. Little, and yet something. Would it not be better than going back empty-handed? He saw the yellow backed chequebook upon the table. The moneylender opened it and dipped his pen into the ink.
"Shall I fill it up?" said he.
"I think, Admiral," remarked Westmacott, "that we had better have a little walk and some luncheon before we settle this matter."
"Oh, we may as well do it at once. It would be absurd to postpone it now," Metaxa spoke with some heat, and his eyes glinted angrily from between his narrow lids at the imperturbable Charles. The Admiral was simple in money matters, but he had seen much of men and had learned to read them. He saw that venomous glance, and saw too that intense eagerness was peeping out from beneath the careless air which the agent had assumed.
"You're quite right, Westmacott," said he. "We'll have a little walk before we settle it."
"But I may not be here this afternoon."
"Then we must choose another day."
"But why not settle it now?"
"Because I prefer not," said the Admiral shortly.
"Very well. But remember that my offer is only for to-day. It is off unless you take it at once."
"Let it be off, then.
"There's my fee," cried the doctor.
"How much?"
"A guinea."
The Admiral threw a pound and a shilling upon the table. "Come, Westmacott," said he, and they walked together from the room.
"I don't like it," said Charles, when they found themselves in the street once more; "I don't profess to be a very sharp chap, but this is a trifle too thin. What did he want to go out and speak to the doctor for? And how very convenient this tale of a weak heart was! I believe they are a couple of rogues, and in league with each other."
"A shark and a pilot fish," said the Admiral.
"I'll tell you what I propose, sir. There's a lawyer named McAdam who does my aunt's business. He is a very honest fellow, and lives at the other side of Poultry. We'll go over to him together and have his opinion about the whole matter."
"How far is it to his place?"
"Oh, a mile at least. We can have a cab."
"A mile? Then we shall see if there is any truth in what that swab of a doctor said. Come, my boy, and clap on all sail, and see who can stay the longest."
Then the sober denizens of the heart of business London saw a singular sight as they returned from their luncheons. Down the roadway, dodging among cabs and carts, ran a weather-stained elderly man, with wide flapping black hat, and homely suit of tweeds. With elbows braced back, hands clenched near his armpits, and chest protruded, he scudded along, while close at his heels lumbered a large-limbed, heavy, yellow mustached young man, who seemed to feel the exercise a good deal more than his senior. On they dashed, helter-skelter, until they pulled up panting at the office where the lawyer of the Westmacotts was to be found.
"There now!" cried the Admiral in triumph. "What d'ye think of that? Nothing wrong in the engine-room, eh?"
"You seem fit enough, sir.
"Blessed if I believe the swab was a certificated doctor at all. He was flying false colors, or I am mistaken."
"They keep the directories and registers in this eating-house," said Westmacott. "We'll go and look him out."
They did so, but the medical rolls contained no such name as that of Dr. Proudie, of Bread Street.
"Pretty villainy this!" cried the Admiral, thumping his chest. "A dummy doctor and a vamped up disease. Well, we've tried the rogues, Westmacott! Let us see what we can do with your honest man."
CHAPTER XIV. EASTWARD HO!
Mr. McAdam, of the firm of McAdam and Squire, was a highly polished man who dwelt behind a highly polished table in the neatest and snuggest of offices. He was white-haired and amiable, with a deep-lined aquiline face,