The Matador of the Five Towns and Other Stories, Arnold Bennett [top novels TXT] 📗

said Paul Ford, "I should write to the tram company to-night, and you'd get the boot to-morrow."

"All I say is," persisted the singular conductor--"all I say is--she's a lady, she is--a regular real lady! She chooses her company--and quite right too! That I do say, and nobody's going to stop my mouth." His manner was the least in the world heated.

"What's that?" asked Paul Ford, with a sudden start, not inquiring what Thomas Chadwick's mouth was, but pointing to an object which was lying on the seat in the corner which Mrs Clayton Vernon had too briefly occupied.

He rose and picked up the object, which had the glitter of gold.

"Give it here," said Thomas Chadwick, commandingly. "It's none of your business to touch findings in my car;" and he snatched the object from Paul Ford's hands.

It was so brilliant and so obviously costly, however, that he was somehow obliged to share the wonder of it with his passengers. The find levelled all distinctions between them. A purse of gold chain-work, it indiscreetly revealed that it was gorged with riches. When you shook it the rustle of banknotes was heard, and the chink of sovereigns, and through the meshes of the purse could be seen the white of valuable paper and the tawny orange discs for which mankind is so ready to commit all sorts of sin. Thomas Chadwick could not forbear to open the contrivance, and having opened it he could not forbear to count its contents. There were, in that purse, seven five-pound notes, fifteen sovereigns, and half a sovereign, and the purse itself was probably worth twelve or fifteen pounds as mere gold.

"There's some that would leave their heads behind 'em if they could!" observed Paul Ford.

Thomas Chadwick glowered at him, as if to warn him that in the presence of Thomas Chadwick noble dames could not be insulted with impunity.

"Didn't I say she was a lady?" said Chadwick, holding up the purse as proof. "It's lucky it's _me_ as has laid hands on it!" he added, plainly implying that the other occupants of the car were thieves whenever they had the chance.

"Well," said Paul Ford, "no doubt you'll get your reward all right!"

"It's not--" Chadwick began; but at that moment the driver stopped the car with a jerk, in obedience to a waving umbrella. The conductor, who had not yet got what would have been his sea-legs if he had been captain of an Atlantic liner, lurched forward, and then went out on to the platform to greet a new fare, and his sentence was never finished.


III


That day happened to be the day of Thomas Chadwick's afternoon off; at least, of what the tram company called an afternoon off. That is to say, instead of ceasing work at eleven-thirty p.m. he finished at six-thirty p.m. In the ordinary way the company housed its last Moorthorne car at eleven-thirty (Moorthorne not being a very nocturnal village), and gave the conductors the rest of the evening to spend exactly as they liked; but once a week, in turn, it generously allowed them a complete afternoon beginning at six-thirty.

Now on this afternoon, instead of going home for tea, Thomas Chadwick, having delivered over his insignia and takings to the inspector in Bursley market-place, rushed away towards a car bound for Hillport. A policeman called out to him:

"Hi! Chadwick!"

"What's up?" asked Chadwick, unwillingly stopping.

"Mrs Clayton Vernon's been to the station an hour ago or hardly, about a purse as she says she thinks she must have left in your car. I was just coming across to tell your inspector."

"Tell him, then, my lad," said Chadwick, curtly, and hurried on towards the Hillport car. His manner to policemen always mingled the veteran with the comrade, and most of them indeed regarded him as an initiate of the craft. Still, his behaviour on this occasion did somewhat surprise the young policeman who had accosted him. And undoubtedly Thomas Chadwick was scarcely acting according to the letter of the law. His proper duty was to hand over all articles found in his car instantly to the police--certainly not to keep them concealed on his person with a view to restoring them with his own hands to their owners. But Thomas Chadwick felt that, having once been a policeman, he was at liberty to interpret the law to suit his own convenience. He caught the Hillport car, and nodded the professional nod to its conductor, asking him a technical question, and generally showing to the other passengers on the platform that he was not as they, and that he had important official privileges. Of course, he travelled free; and of course he stopped the car when, its conductor being inside, two ladies signalled to it at the bottom of Oldcastle Street. He had meant to say nothing whatever about his treasure and his errand to the other conductor; but somehow, when fares had been duly collected, and these two stood chatting on the platform, the gold purse got itself into the conversation, and presently the other conductor knew the entire history, and had even had a glimpse of the purse itself.

Opposite the entrance to Mrs Clayton Vernon's grounds at Hillport Thomas Chadwick slipped neatly, for all his vast bulk, off the swiftly-gliding car. (A conductor on a car but not on duty would sooner perish by a heavy fall than have a car stopped in order that he might descend from it.) And Thomas Chadwick heavily crunched the gravel of the drive leading up to Mrs Clayton Vernon's house, and imperiously rang the bell.

"Mrs Clayton Vernon in?" he officially asked the responding servant.

"She's _in_," said the servant. Had Thomas Chadwick been wearing his broadcloth she would probably have added "sir."

"Well, will you please tell her that Mr Chadwick--Thomas Chadwick--wants to speak to her?"

"Is it about the purse?" the servant questioned, suddenly brightening into eager curiosity.

"Never you mind what it's about, miss," said Thomas Chadwick, sternly.

At the same moment Mrs Clayton Vernon's grey-curled head appeared behind the white cap of the servant. Probably she had happened to catch some echo of Thomas Chadwick's great rolling voice. The servant retired.

"Good-evening, m'm," said Thomas Chadwick, raising his hat airily. "Good-evening." He beamed.

"So you did find it?" said Mrs Vernon, calmly smiling. "I felt sure it would be all right."

"Oh, yes, m'm." He tried to persuade himself that this sublime confidence was characteristic of great ladies, and a laudable symptom of aristocracy. But he would have preferred her to be a little less confident. After all, in the hands of a conductor less honourable than himself, of a common conductor, the purse might not have been so "all right" as all that! He would have preferred to witness the change on Mrs Vernon's features from desperate anxiety to glad relief. After all, L50, 10s. was money, however rich you were!

"Have you got it with you?" asked Mrs Vernon.

"Yes'm," said he. "I thought I'd just step up with it myself, so as to be sure."

"It's very good of you!"

"Not at all," said he; and he produced the purse. "I think you'll find it as it should be."

Mrs Vernon gave him a courtly smile as she thanked him.

"I'd like ye to count it, ma'am," said Chadwick, as she showed no intention of even opening the purse.

"If you wish it," said she, and counted her wealth and restored it to the purse. "_Quite_ right--_quite_ right! Fifty pounds and ten shillings," she said pleasantly. "I'm very much obliged to you, Chadwick."

"Not at all, m'm!" He was still standing in the sheltered porch.

An idea seemed to strike Mrs Clayton Vernon.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"Well, thank ye, m'm," said Thomas.

"Maria," said Mrs Vernon, calling to someone within the house, "bring this man a glass of beer." And she turned again to Chadwick, smitten with another idea. "Let me see. Your eldest daughter has two little boys, hasn't she?"

"Yes'm," said Thomas--"twins."

"I thought so. Her husband is my cook's cousin. Well, here's two threepenny bits--one for each of them." With some trouble she extracted the coins from a rather shabby leather purse--evidently her household purse. She bestowed them upon the honest conductor with another grateful and condescending smile. "I hope you don't _mind_ taking them for the chicks," she said. "I _do_ like giving things to children. It's so much _nicer_, isn't it?"

"Certainly, m'm."

Then the servant brought the glass of beer, and Mrs Vernon, with yet another winning smile, and yet more thanks, left him to toss it off on the mat, while the servant waited for the empty glass.


IV


On the following Friday afternoon young Paul Ford was again on the Moorthorne car, and subject to the official ministrations of Thomas Chadwick. Paul Ford was a man who never bore malice when the bearing of malice might interfere with the gratification of his sense of humour. Many men--perhaps most men--after being so grossly insulted by a tram-conductor as Paul Ford had been insulted by Chadwick, would at the next meeting have either knocked the insulter down or coldly ignored him. But Paul Ford did neither. (In any case, Thomas Chadwick would have wanted a deal of knocking down.) For some reason, everything that Thomas Chadwick said gave immense amusement to Paul Ford. So the young man commenced the conversation in the usual way:

"How do, Tommy?"

The car on this occasion was coming down from Moorthorne into Bursley, with its usual bump and rattle of windows. As Thomas Chadwick made no reply, Paul Ford continued:

"How much did she give you--the perfect lady, I mean?"

Paul Ford was sitting near the open door. Thomas Chadwick gazed absently at the Town Park, with its terra-cotta fountains and terraces, and beyond the Park, at the smoke rising from the distant furnaces of Red Cow. He might have been lost in deep meditation upon the meanings of life; he might have been prevented from hearing Paul Ford's question by the tremendous noise of the car. He made no sign. Then all of a sudden he turned almost fiercely on Paul Ford and glared at him.

"Ye want to know how much she gave me, do ye?" he demanded hotly.

"Yes," said Paul Ford.

"How much she gave me for taking her that there purse?" Tommy Chadwick temporized.

He was obliged to temporize, because he could not quite resolve to seize the situation and deal with it once for all in a manner favourable to his dignity and to the ideals which he cherished.

"Yes," said Paul Ford.

"Well, I'll tell ye," said Thomas Chadwick--"though I don't know as it's any business of yours. But, as you're so curious!... She didn't give me anything. She asked me to have a little refreshment, like the lady she is. But she knew better than to offer Thomas Chadwick any pecooniary reward for giving her back something as she'd happened to drop. She's a lady, she is!"

"Oh!" said Paul Ford. "It don't cost much, being a lady!"

"But I'll tell ye what she _did_ do," Thomas Chadwick went on, anxious, now that he had begun so well, to bring the matter to an artistic conclusion--"I'll tell ye what she did do. She give me a sovereign apiece for my grandsons--my eldest daughter's twins." Then, after an effective pause: "Ye can put that in your pipe and smoke it!... A sovereign apiece!"

"And have