Fenn George Manville
The Story of Antony Grace

“Do you think so?” cried Hallett, whose eyes lighted up with pleasure.

“No, sir: I am sure so,” said the old man. “The principle is as grand as it is simple; and what I like in the invention is this – you have taken up a part of the trade where it is all hand-labour – all mechanical. You are not trying to do away with brainpower.”

“I am very glad you like my idea, Mr Rowle,” said Hallett, proceeding to cover his model, which, when set in motion, ran easily and well.

“I am delighted with it,” said Mr Jabez, poking him in the chest with his snuff-box. “Now, then, go ahead, and have the thing made on a workable scale.”

“But I have not perfected it yet,” replied Hallett.

“Never mind; perfect it as you go on. You are sure to find some weak spots. If I were you, sir, I should set a good firm of engineers to work on that at once.”

Hallett smiled sadly.

“You are proposing impossibilities, Mr Rowle. This has been one of my great troubles, sir: how I was to carry on my project when I had completed my model. During the past few days I have been thinking of trying to sell the idea for what it is worth.”

“What I and let some fellow without half an ounce of brains in his skull reap all the profit? Don’t you do anything of the kind. There’s a fortune in that contrivance, Mr Hallett. Sir, it is a great invention.”

“What would you do, then?” said Hallett, smiling.

“Do, sir? I’d – I’d – ”

Mr Jabez paused, and took a pinch of snuff.

“Do, sir, I’d – I’d – I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d take a partner who had money.”

Hallett shook his head sadly.

“Who would advance money to such a dreamer as I am?” he said sadly.

“Lots of people, as soon as they saw money in it.”

Hallett shook his head.

“You take a very sanguine view of the matter, Mr Rowle.”

“Not half so sanguine as you, sir. Why, you must have spent years of labour, and a great deal of money, over that model.”

“I have,” said Hallett sadly.

“Then don’t call me sanguine,” cried Mr Jabez, flying to his snuff-box again. “I ask, here, Hallett, how much would it take to produce that thing, patent it, and the rest of it?”

“I cannot say,” replied Hallett quietly, and with the same sad smile upon his face. “It is one of those things which keen on crying, ‘More! more!’ I dare say it would require 300 pounds or 400 pounds to produce the first machine, and then I have no doubt more would have to be spent in perfecting it.”

“Yes, I dare say,” said Mr Jabez coolly, as he uncovered and once more began to examine the model; “I tell you what, Hallett, I think I know your man.”

“What, a capitalist?”

“No, sir; a man with a selfish desire to share in the child of your brains.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes; he hasn’t much money, but I’ll be bound to say that he would find enough to carry out your plans for, say, one-third of the profits.”

“Mr Rowle, are you serious?” said Hallett earnestly.

“I never joke about business matters, Mr Hallett. As I said before, sir, that’s a great invention; and if you’ll let me, I’ll find the money for carrying it on, conditionally that I take one-third of the profits the invention makes.”

“You will! Mr Rowle!” cried Hallett incredulously.

“I will, sir; and there’s my hand upon it.”

“But do you understand the magnitude of the affair, sir?” cried Hallett, whose face flushed and eyes glittered with excitement.

“Quite so,” replied the old gentleman, diving again into his snuff-box. “The first thing is, sir, to draw out a proper document between us – we can do that without the lawyers. Then proper drawings must be made, with description, and the thing must be patented.”

“But that will take nearly a hundred pounds!” cried Hallett, panting; while I sat there hugging myself with delight.

“You can have my cheque for a hundred pounds, Mr Hallett, as soon as we have settled the preliminaries; and I bind myself to go on finding the necessary cash for construction as you go on. And now, sir, it’s pretty well my bed-time, and I want to be off. Do nothing rashly. This day week I’ll come here again for your answer, which I hope will be yes; for I think it will be a good stroke of business for both of us. Now good-night. Antony Grace, will you show me the way down to the door?”

They shook hands, and I saw the old gentleman to the street.

“There, my boy, wasn’t that done well?” he chuckled. “But look here, Antony Grace,” he added seriously; “I’d have done it without Miss Carr, that I would, for I believe in that machine. Good-night, boy, I’ll come on next week and – hang it, look at that fellow who just passed. He’s as like John Lister as two peas.”

The old man went off, and I returned to my room, where I found Hallett waiting for me in a state of intense excitement.

“Antony,” he exclaimed, “it is too good to be true. It is fortune at last – success. Good heavens! it makes me turn giddy. Mother – Linny,” he cried, in a low passionate wail, “at last there is sunshine breaking through the clouds.”

“I pray Heaven there may be, Hallett,” I exclaimed; “but I have something to say to you.”

“What is it?” he cried. “Has the old man repented?”

“Oh, no; you may be sure of him, Hallett. He is delighted at the opportunity, and thinks it will lead to fortune.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“John Lister is hanging about this street.”

“Why? How? what makes you say that?”

“I saw him pass the door, just now.”

His brow darkened, and involuntarily he uttered his sister’s name.

“No,” I said; “I don’t believe it of her. He is only trying to meet with her once more. I am sure Linny does not know it.”

“You are right, Antony; she cannot know it. We can trust her now. Let us go and sit upstairs.”

As we entered the room, Linny raised her eyes from the book which she was reading, and her calm ingenuous look was sufficient to disarm suspicion; but, all the same, Hallett and I both felt that the wolf was prowling about the fold, and that it behoved us to see that he had no further chance of carrying off our lamb.

Chapter Fifty One.
Mr Lister is Moved On

We had good reason to know that John Lister was hovering about the place, for I saw him several times, and found that in Hallett’s absence and mine he had called and endeavoured to see Linny; but she had always refused, and on Mary being warned, he received such a rebuff that he did not call again. Still, however, he hung about, making the poor girl’s life wretched, for at last she dared not go to the window for fear of being seen.

Both Hallett and I wondered whether his pertinacity would make any impression. While we were in a state of doubt, it fell to my lot one evening to become Linny’s escort to a distant part of London, and we were on our way back, when suddenly I felt her hand tighten upon my arm.

“Quick, Antony,” she whispered, “he is there!”

“He is there?” I said wonderingly, for I did not comprehend her; but the next moment I caught sight of Lister coming towards us, and evidently fixing her with his eyes.

There was a meaning smile upon his lip, and, apparently intending to ignore me, he was about to speak, when, with a gesture of horror, she shrank from him, turned her head aside, and begged me to hurry home.

“We’ll go home,” I said; “but we will not hurry;” and I turned and met Lister’s contemptuous stare, as he followed us at a little distance till we had reached the house.

I was annoyed and distressed about this pertinacious pursuit, and I had just made up my mind to consult Hallett on the best way to put a stop to it, when an idea occurred to me.

“It is very evident,” I thought, “that Lister does not know who lives here;” and I laughed to myself as I quietly determined to put my plan in force.

That evening, while Hallett was busy in his attic, slaving away with redoubled energy at his model, giving it what he looked upon as the final touches before proceeding with the patent, I went down as soon as I heard Revitts come in, his broad face expanding with pleasure as I followed him below to his own particular sanctuary, where, while he was enjoying his after-tea pipe, I opened my business.

“Revitts,” I said, “I’m going to take you into my confidence, and ask you to keep faith.”

“Which you may be sure I shall do, Master Antony, if so be I can.”

“Well, you can, Bill,” I replied; and I proceeded to tell him how Linny was annoyed.

“That’s very unpleasant,” he said thoughtfully; “but is it by that same chap?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll do,” he said, drawing a long breath; “and lookye here, Antony, my young friend, I’m sergeant, and have to set an example now to them as is under – them, I mean – no, I don’t – I mean those as – who – are under me – that’s right! One’s obliged to be particler now. Use of the truncheon forbidden, except when obliged; but if I do meet, that fellow annoying Miss Linny, I shall be obliged to give him a topper – a hangel couldn’t help it.”

“No, no, Bill – no, Mr Sergeant,” I began.

“Stow that, Antony, no larks. Bill, please, as afore.”

“Well, then, Bill, that is one of the things you must not do. All I want is for you to let him see that you live here, and that Miss Hallett is under your protection. He won’t face you, and as soon as he finds that you are here he will keep away.”

“But he must be taken for his assault on the police, Antony.”

“No, no: let him go on in his own way. If you take him, there will be a great deal of inquiry and exposure that would be most painful to all my friends. We should have to go into the witness-box and be cross-examined, and it would be extremely painful to me, both on my own behalf and that of others.”

“You wouldn’t like it, Antony?” he said.

“No, indeed I should not,” I replied.

“That’s enough, dear lad,” he exclaimed, giving the table a rap with his fist. “That’s settled; but I may give him a word or two of a sort, eh? Just show him I know him, and move him on pretty sharp?”

“As much of that as you like,” I said; “I leave it in your hands. What I ask of you is, as an officer, to see that we are not pestered by that man.”

“It’s as good as done, Ant’ny,” he exclaimed, stuffing some more tobacco in his pipe.

“It’s better than done, my dear,” said Mary decisively. “When my William says a thing’s as good as done, you may make yourself comfortable about it.”

Revitts said no more about it in the future, only once when he met me at the door, chuckling to himself, and shaking his head.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

“Only about him,” he replied. “I just run again him at the corner, and said about six words to him.”

“Well?”

“That’s all,” said Revitts, chuckling. “He showed me the back seams of his coat directly; but I followed him up and moved him on. I don’t think he’ll show himself much more about here, my lad.”

Revitts was right. Lister did not hang about our neighbourhood so much after that interview; but it had the effect of sending him back to annoy Miss Carr; so that, day by day, his actions formed a problem that it became very difficult to solve, and we little knew then how malignantly he was fighting against Hallett, whose love he must have suspected.

Time glided on. Mr Jabez used to come regularly to Ormond Street. The model and its progress seemed to give a fresh interest to the old man’s life, and, in addition, he took a remarkable liking to Linny. Mrs Hallett, too, showed a fancy for him, after a few tearful words of opposition to the way in which he encouraged Hallett in his folly.

“Folly, ma’am? it’s no such thing. He’ll be a great man yet, and a benefactor to his kind. Spread of knowledge, you know.”

“I don’t understand you, Mr Rowle,” said the poor woman plaintively; “but you may be right. All I know is, that it takes up a great deal of his time.”

“Couldn’t be better spent, my dear madam. Do you know what it means?”

“No,” said Mrs Hallett, “only neglect of his poor suffering mother.”

“Patience, my dear madam, patience,” said Mr Jabez. “I’ll tell you what it means. Pleasant changes for you; seaside; a nice invalid-carriage; silk attire for little Miss Linny here, and servants to wait upon you. Bless my soul, ma’am!” he cried flourishing his snuff-box, and taking a liberal pinch, “you ought to be proud of your son.”

“I am, Mr Rowle,” she said, plaintively; “but if you would kindly oblige me by not taking so much snuff. It makes – makes me sneeze.”

“My dear madam,” exclaimed the little man, closing his box with a snap, “I beg your pardon. Bad habit – very bad habit, really.”

Linny burst out into a merry, bird-like laugh that made me start with pleasure. It was so fresh and bright, and it was so long since anything but a faint smile had been seen upon her face, that it was like a pleasant augury of happier days to come.

The old man turned round and smiled and nodded at her, evidently enjoying it too; and when, some ten minutes after, he was going up with me to Hallett’s attic, he stopped on the landing and tapped my arm with his snuff-box.

“Grace,” he said, “I am waking up more and more to the fact that I have been an old fool!”

“Indeed! Why?”

“Because I’ve shut myself up all my life, and grown selfish and crusted. I don’t think I’m such a very bad sort of fellow when you get through the bark.”

“I’m sure you are not, Mr Rowle,” I said.

“Humph! Thankye, Grace. Well, you always did seem to like me.”

“But what do you mean about being an – ”

“Old fool? There, say it if you like. I mean about women – young girls – ladies, you know. They’re very nice.”

“Yes, that they are,” I cried eagerly.

“Yah! stuff! How do you know – a boy like you? No, no – I mean yes, of course, so they are. I’ve been thinking, you know, what might have been, if I’d met with such a lady as that Miss Carr, or our pretty little bird there, thirty or forty years ago. Hah! I should have been a different man. But I never did, my boy, I never did.”

He took a pinch of snuff very thoughtfully here.

“It’s too late now, Grace, too late now. You can’t make winter into summer; and it’s getting to the winter with me now. That’s a very nice little thing downstairs. Has she – has she any – any – ”

“Lover, Mr Rowle?”

“Yes.”

“Not now,” I said. “There was one, but it ended unhappily. He was a blackguard,” I said warmly.

“Was he, though?” he said eagerly. “That’s right, Grace, I like to see you have some spirit. Poor little lassie! No father, either.”

“Mr Hallett is more like a father to her than a brother,” I replied, as I thought it would be better not to mention John Lister’s name.

“Father – father – ” said the old man dreamily. “How curious it must be to feel that one is the father of anything; that it is your own, and that it loves you. Now, do you know, Grace, I never thought of that before.”

“You have always been such a business man, Mr Rowle,” I said.

“Yes – yes, grinding on every day, without a thought of anything but other people’s mistakes, and none about my own. You like little Miss Linny there – downstairs?”

“Oh yes,” I cried; “she always seems to have been like a sister ever since I knew her.”

“Hum! Hah! Yes! Like a sister,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, she’s a very nice little girl, Grace, and I like her; but you need not tell her so.”

“Oh no, of course not, Mr Rowle,” I said, laughing. “Shall we go upstairs?”

“Yes, my boy, directly.

“But look here, Grace,” he continued, fumbling in his pocket, and bringing out a newspaper slip. “Hum! hah! oh, here it is. Read that.”

He pointed to an advertisement of an elderly couple without children, wishing to adopt a young girl; and I read it, and then looked at him wonderingly.

“I suppose that sort of thing is done sometimes, eh?” he said.

“I don’t know, Mr Rowle,” I replied.

“Hum! No, of course you don’t,” he said thoughtfully, after another pinch. “Come along upstairs, my boy, and let’s look at the machine.”

Chapter Fifty Two.
Mr Jabez has a Spasm

There had been some little dispute about the drawing up of the terms between Hallett and Mr Rowle. The former would not listen to the old gentleman’s proposition that it should be settled by a letter between them, saying that it ought to be a proper legal document, for both their sakes; and the knot was solved, as they did not wish to consult a solicitor, by my proposing to bring Tom Girtley home with me some evening, when the legal training he was undergoing might prove sufficient for the purpose.

It was settled to be so, and a few evenings later, I called in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, at the offices where Tom was now engaged, and he accompanied me to Great Ormond Street.

Mary had had her instructions to have a “high tea” ready for us, and her ideas of delicacies took the form of hot baked potatoes and cold lobsters; and upon these, with shouts of laughter, we made an attack, for it was wonderful in those days what the youthful digestive organs would conquer without fail. Tom Girtley had several times been to my apartments, but I had never introduced him to the Halletts, for there had been too much trouble in connection with Linny’s illness for their rooms to be attractive to a casual visitor.

But now times were altered; Hallett looked brighter, Linny was nearly her own merry pretty self again, and Mrs Hallett, perhaps, a little less weak and despondent, which is not saying much.

Tom Girtley had altered very much since we had become friends, having started ahead of me, and a year had changed him from a boy into quite a man, at whose hirsute appendages I used to look with perhaps just a trace of envy. There was something very frank and manly about him, and he had all a boy’s love of a bit of fun; but at the same time, he was full of shrewdness and common-sense, the former being rubbed daily by his profession into a keener edge.

All in good time Mr Jabez arrived, according to what was fast growing into a regular custom, and he favoured Tom Girtley with a short nod and a very searching look. Then together we went upstairs, where I saw Mr Jabez frown as our legal visitor was introduced to Mrs Hallett and Linny, the latter blushing slightly at Tom’s admiring gaze.

The old man uttered a sigh of relief then as Linny rose and helped Mrs Hallett to leave the room during the transaction of the business, and I noted that he was very snappish and abrupt while the arrangement went on.

It was very simple, and soon done, Tom Girtley drawing up first on foolscap a draft of the arrangement, which was agreed to on both sides, and then transferred to a couple of stamped papers, signed and witnessed, one being kept by each party to the transaction.

All this was done in so satisfactory a manner to Mr Jabez that he became somewhat less abrupt to my companion, and even went so far as to say that he had never seen a legal document which pleased him so well.

“Not so many heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, young gentleman,” he said gruffly. “You lawyers have made a lot of money out of those parties in your time. Now, don’t you think we might ask the ladies to step back?”

This was done, and we had a very pleasant evening, Tom Girtley winning golden opinions for his merry ways, even bringing a smile to Mrs Hallett’s pale face; and at last, when it was time to go, Hallett exclaimed:

“Of course, we shall see you again, Mr Girtley?”

“May I come?” he said eagerly.

“If you can find any pleasure in our rather dull home,” replied Hallett. “Good – ”

He was going to say, “gracious,” but he refrained, and looked in a puzzled and amused way at Mr Jabez, who had kicked out one leg under the table, and his foot had come in contact with his host.

“Spasm!” said Mr Jabez abruptly; and when Tom Girtley went down with me the old man remained.

“Well, Tom, what do you think of my friends the Halletts?” I said, as we went down to the door.

“I’m delighted with them,” he cried. “I like Hallett; and as for his sister – I say, Tony, are you making play there?”

“Making play?”

“There, don’t be so innocent, man alive! Are you in love with her?”

“What nonsense! No.”

“Then I am,” he said. “I wouldn’t have poached on your preserves, but it’s all over with me now. Alas, poor me! so soon, and I am barely twenty. Good-night, old boy, and thanks for a pleasant evening.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” I exclaimed. “I’m going a little way with you.”

He was in high spirits, and we were just crossing the street, when we came suddenly upon John Lister – so suddenly, that Tom observed my start.

“Who’s that?” he said quickly.

“One of our black clouds,” I said bitterly.

“Black clouds?” he said, in a puzzled tone.

“And yours, too,” I said, “if you talk like you did just now.”

“I like solving knotty points,” he said; “but you must give me a clue.”

“Not to-night, Tom,” I said. “Say good-night now. Some other time.”

“All right, my mysterious youth,” he cried, laughing; and after shaking hands, I hurried back, to find Mr Jabez standing at the door.

“Oh, here you are,” he said. “I am just waiting to say good-night. I say, Grace, is that fellow square?”

“I believe him to be a thorough scoundrel,” I said angrily.

“He seems quite taken with little Linny there.”

“I know that,” I said bitterly.

“And yet you brought him here, sir.”

“I? Brought him here?” I exclaimed. “It was going on before I knew them.”

“What! that boy – that parchment slip?” he exclaimed.

“No, no,” I said hastily. “I meant John Lister.”

As the words were leaving my lips, he of whom I spoke passed by on the other side, and turned his face to look up at the second floor, the light from a gas-lamp making his countenance perfectly clear.

“Oh!” said Mr Jabez softly; and, after standing watching the retiring figure, he too went his way.