CHAPTER IX--_The Man who laughed Last and Loudest

Gray was not in a good temper when he reached the office next morning. He felt that George Early had added insult to injury by absenting himself after procuring five pounds by the meanest of tricks that man could resort to. His fierce wrath of the night before had settled down into a steady glow of bitter resentment, and at times he felt that only a swift and sudden display of physical force could compensate him for so cruel a deception.

Fuel was added to the glowing fire within every time he recalled his own insane behaviour towards Busby on the previous evening. His temper was not improved by observing that the cashier's eye roved in his direction several times during the morning, and that there sparkled in it a light of insolent familiarity. He had a great mind to show his appreciation of this attention as an office-boy would have done--by placing his thumb to his nose and extending his fingers. Such a course was, however, rendered unnecessary by the cashier coming forward to pass the time of day.

"I thought you were rather interested in me this morning," said Gray. "Perhaps I owe you something."

Busby grinned. "I don't think so, old man," he said. "I wish you did."

"If I did," said Gray, with brutal frankness, "I'd pawn my watch to pay up, sooner than be in your debt."

"Don't take it like that, old man," said Busby, affably.

"Don't 'old man' me," said Gray. "Keep your familiarity for your friends."

"Now you're getting out of temper," said the cashier, who was in a most angelic mood, and inclined to be considerate.

"I don't want to talk to you," said Gray, offensively.

"I'm sorry for that, Gray," said Busby. "I wanted you to do me a favour."

"You'll be doing me a favour," retorted Gray, "by taking yourself out of my sight--the sooner the better."

"I want," said Busby--"I want you to lend me ten bob, Jimmy."

"I'll see you shot first," said Gray.

Busby's reply to this discourteous remark was to fold his arms and assume a dramatic posture.

"You refuse?" he hissed.

It was an exciting moment.

"I don't lend money to people like you," said Gray.

"Gray," said Busby, solemnly, "I have asked you for the loan of ten shillings."

"That's half a sovereign," said Gray.

"Do you refuse to lend it?"

"I wouldn't lend you twopence," was the reply.

In spite of this plain answer, Busby kept his ground, and said in a low, severe voice, "I'll give you one more chance, Gray. Do you refuse?"

Gray now understood the situation, which had not been clear to him before. It relieved him immensely to find that he was not the only victim of the new private secretary. Assuming a proper reluctance to continue the conversation, he said in a milder tone--

"You know this is my busy day, Busby. I'll see you later on."

"Later on won't do for me," said Busby, severely, secretly delighted at the change of affairs. "You've been insolent, and you shall pay the price. I want your answer now."

Gray affected to be seized with fear, and said hoarsely, clutching the desk--

"What do you know?"

Busby was wild with delight. "Everything," he said.

Gray put one hand in his pocket, and said, in a stage whisper, "Ten shillings?"

"Ten shillings," repeated Busby.

Gray took his hand from his pocket and resumed his work.

"Go and hang yourself," he said brutally, dropping the mask. "I'm surprised at a cute chap like you allowing that cuckoo, Early, to bluff you. It's no go, old man, he's had you on a bit of toast."

This sudden change of front convinced Busby at once that Gray was speaking the truth, and a red glow of indignation overspread his features. As soon as he was able, he delivered himself of a scathing denunciation of the unlucky George, accompanied by threats of vengeance.

Misfortune having established more friendly relations between the two, Busby at once confessed to the knowledge of Parrott's drinking habits, at which Gray started, and then laughed contemptuously.

"All bluff," he said.

"It must be stopped," said Busby, fiercely. "We'll be the laughing-stock of the place if it gets about. Besides, it's dangerous."

Gray agreed; and the two entered thereupon into a dark and deadly conspiracy, which had for its initial object the abasement of George Early.

The next step was to secure Parrott's support. This was soon done, and the three conspirators now endeavoured to find some means of putting their adversary _hors de combat_. It was, however, much easier to discover the necessity than the means for removing such an obstacle.

"He's too artful for us," said Gray. "He's the slyest devil I've ever come across."

"I could get him the sack," said Parrott, severely; "but I don't see that that would do any good."

"More likely harm," put in Gray, quickly. "He'd never pay me any rent, and he'd be sure to blackmail me for pocket-money."

"And come to me," added Busby, "when he wanted money for clothes. My missis thinks he's 'such a nice young man,' too."

"He wouldn't be above trying to get money out of me, either," said Parrott, cautiously.

"Above it? He'd do it with all the pleasure in the world."

"We can't kidnap him and lock him in a dungeon. He's one of those slippery brutes that would wriggle out of it, and be down on us worse than ever."

Nothing short of a swift and sudden death seemed possible to repress the terrible George; but all decided that, with the present unsympathetic attitude of the law towards this means of removing troublesome persons, nothing in that direction could be thought of. Gray suggested a pleasant little scheme for taking George Early on a holiday trip, and getting him to fall over a high cliff, but it didn't sound feasible to his co-conspirators. If he would only tumble down a well, or slip in front of a steam-roller, the problem might comfortably be solved. Any such plan would, of course, need his active co-operation, which it was felt he would be disinclined to give, even to secure the peace of mind of three such good fellows as Parrott, Gray, and Busby.

At this point of the confab, when the frown of perplexity sat equally heavy on the brow of each legatee, the door of Parrott's office opened, and the trio beheld none other than the subject of their thoughts. No protecting angel had been at work warning George of the plot that was being hatched against his person, for his smile was as serene and beautiful as the morning sun that filtered in through the window panes; his manner was as easy and debonnaire as usual.

"Good morning all," he said affably. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

Nobody answered.

"It's quite a treat," said George, looking about him, "to be alive on a morning like this, and to see all your old friends with smiling faces. Now, if I were asked----"

"What do you want?" asked Parrott, sharply.

"To be sure," said George. "What do I want?" He laughed cheerfully. "What do we all want"--looking around--"but to be comfortable and cheerful? Plenty to eat and drink; money, and the love of our friends. Eh, Busby?"

The cashier gnashed his teeth.

"In this life," began George, sitting on the edge of the table, and stretching forth one hand. "In this life----"

"That's enough," said Parrott. "Remember where you are."

"Infernal cheek!" vociferated Gray, scowling at his lodger.

"I beg your pardon," said George, contritely. "Business is business, of course. I beg your pardon. It was the glorious morning that made me feel like it; and when I came in and saw all my old friends looking so happy--there, I beg your pardon."

"Early," said Parrott, rising, and fixing a cold eye upon the secretary. "I have had to speak several times about your conduct in the firm. I have had to warn you. I shall not warn you again. Leniency is quite lost upon some people, and the only way to bring a man to his senses is to show him what he is--to put him in his place. You have had your opportunities; you have failed to make use of them, and to show proper respect to your superiors. This can go on no longer; there must be a change."

"Quite right," agreed George; "there must be a change."

"I have done what I could for you," said Parrott, with a terrible frown; "but all to no purpose. You have brought this upon yourself, and you must suffer for it. To-day I shall hold a conference with Miss Fairbrother, and settle the matter. You need not ask for mercy, either from myself or from Mr. Gray, or Mr. Busby; we are done with you. Your chances in this firm have been crushed under your own feet."

"I see," said George, coolly. "That reminds me that I have a letter for you from Miss Fairbrother. It was enclosed in one sent to myself." He handed over the note, and settled himself in Parrott's armchair while he re-read his own.

There was a painful silence as Parrott read Miss Fairbrother's letter, which in turn was perused by Gray and Busby.

In view of the recent proceedings, it was somewhat disconcerting. It ran--

"DEAR MR. PARROTT,

"I shall not be at the office to-day, probably not all the week, owing to an unfortunate accident last night, the shock of which has upset me. But for the timely assistance of Mr. Early, I should probably not be alive to write this note. You are doubtless aware that Mr. Early has of late shown a thorough knowledge of the affairs of the firm; and I wish you, therefore, to make it known that during my absence he is to take my place. He will consult me on business matters when he considers it necessary.

"Yours faithfully,

"ELLEN FAIRBROTHER."

During the perusal of this letter, George pulled forth a huge cigar, carefully nipped the end and lit it. From the depth of his comfortable seat he surveyed with a masterful eye the three men who now stood undecidedly by the table.

"Now, my men," he said presently, directing a glance at Gray and Busby; "you have heard the views of your superior on duty and obedience. I don't want you to crush your chances under your own heels. Get to work, there's good fellows; follow a good example while you have one. I don't want Mr. Parrott to have to hold a conference with me about you."

Busby sidled towards the door with a snigger, and went out with his hand over his mouth. Gray assumed an insolent swagger. Hesitating a moment, he looked down upon George Early with an intention of throwing off a scathing epigram on his exit. Not finding anything to the point, he swore softly, and banged the door. George got up leisurely, and prepared to follow.

"I shall be upstairs, Parrott," he said with a drawl. "Be sure to knock before you come in."