‘Mr Elseworth.’
‘…with Mr Elseworth. Am I right in thinking that you intend to purchase Wilding Park, Sir?’
I gave a curt nod. ‘You are.’
‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir, I would advise against it.’
‘Why?’ I studied the youngster intently. There was no sign of deceit in his eyes. Trepidation, certainly, but not deceit. What was his game? Did he even have one?
‘My… my grandmother lives in the vicinity of Wilding Park, Sir. I visit her now and again and have caught glimpses of the house. It is not pretty.’
I waved that away. ‘I am not concerned with whether it is pretty or not. Is it sound?’
‘That it is, Sir, that it is,’ Elseworth threw in. From the look he directed at the young man, our young friend had made an enemy today. ‘Don't listen to this foolish youth!’
‘It is not sound,’ the fellow snapped.
Ah, so he has some fire under that big topper of his, has he?
‘And you know that how?’ I wanted to know.
‘Half the roof tiles are missing and I have seen unhealthy-looking stains on the walls,’ the young man started rattling off. ‘Once, in passing, I heard the steward complain about the wilderness in the grounds and an infestation of rats. The road up to the house, from what I could see from my coach as I drove by, also looked in bad disrepair.’
‘And you remember all that just from passing?’
I looked at him again, and this time from an entirely different angle. He was young, true - there was not a shadow of beard on his chin - but not too young. His behind was rather larger than usual, but still I didn’t get the feeling that he sat on it all that often. There was a fire in his brown eyes, a desire to prove himself that burned in all people who had long moved out of Lazytown.
‘Yes?’ It sounded more like a question than like an answer. But it was answer enough for me.
I gave a curt nod. ‘I see. Exactly what I have been looking for.’
The young man blinked. ‘But I just told you the house is dilapidated and…’
I cut him off with a jerk of my hand. ‘Not the house, young man. You.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’ Glancing over my shoulder, I waved towards Mr Elseworth. Or should I say the late Mr Elseworth? In the world of business, he was as good as dead. ‘Karim, get rid of that individual. Our business relationship is terminated. I have no further use for him.’
‘Yes, Sahib.’
‘Now to you.’ Ignoring the protesting shrieks of the pig that was being carted off to slaughter, I focused all of my considerable attention on the young man in front of me. ‘I know a good man when I see one, and I need a bright young man with a good memory and quick mind as my secretary. The last one I had has just left my employment for some unfathomable reason. I think you would be exactly the man for the job.’
The young man’s eyes bugged, and he coughed. Overwhelmed by my generosity, probably.
‘Err… the man for the job? Sorry, but I don't quite think that I'm the one you want, Sir.’
What the heck? Why was he being difficult?
‘Can you read and write?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Do you have employment?’
‘No, Sir, but…’
Bloody hell, what was this? He should be kissing my feet! I didn’t have time for this.
‘Well then, it's settled.’ My gaze drilled into him, making clear that by ‘settled’, I meant ‘very, absolutely, finally settled’. ‘Be at my office, nine sharp Monday morning.’
Taking a step towards the youngster, I held out my card to him. Having those cards printed had been abominably expensive, but having to waste my time reciting my address would cost me even more time and money.
‘Here.’
As I stepped forward and the last remnants of mist between me and the young man disappeared, his jaw suddenly sagged and a glazed look came into his eyes, as if he were seeing a unicorn with an extra horn sticking out of its behind. Why was he staring at me like that? Impatiently, I waved the card.
‘Hello, young man? Are you listening to me?’
‘Err… yes. Yes, I am.’ The young man shook himself. ‘You just surprised me, Sir. I must admit, that it's not every day I get an offer like that.’
‘See that that you're not “surprised” too often when you are in my employ. I have no use for baffled fools standing around gawking for no good reason.’
Still, the youngster hadn’t taken the card I was holding out to him. What was the matter? Was he mentally retarded?
‘My card!’ I said, waving the thing impatiently. He finally took it, and studied it as if it were a particularly peculiar bug. Maybe I’d better rethink hiring him… But no. I needed a secretary, and fast. If I had to deal with one more charity request for helpless little orphans, I was going to shoot someone. Probably the orphans.
Bah! What was I waiting for? I had wasted enough time on this little worm!
‘Don't be late.’ I sent him another significant look. ‘I don't tolerate tardiness.’ With that, I turned and marched away down the street. If he showed up, good. If not, he wouldn’t have been tough enough for the job, anyway. Soon, the young man disappeared in the mist somewhere behind me.
‘Where to now, Sahib?’ Karim asked from beside me, keeping pace.
Wordlessly, I nodded at the bank down the street.
‘Very well, Sahib.’
There were quite a few customers in Bradley & Bullard’s Bank, waiting at tables, writing documents, busily chatting. At least they chatted until Karim, his sabre, his turban and his beard stepped into the main hall. All voices died, and all eyes were drawn to the huge Mohammedan. Then I followed him inside, and Karim was forgotten. There are things with which even a sabre and a turban cannot compete.
Ignoring the line of people in front of the counter, I marched up to the closest bank clerk and fixed him with my gaze.
‘You there! How much does this bank cost?’
‘Um… we offer very affordable bank accounts, and our fees for stock management are also-’
I cut him off with an impatient gesture. ‘That’s not what I asked! How much does this bank cost?’
The man blinked at me, the confusion in his eyes slowly changing to disdain. His eyes wandered over my simple black tailcoat, my lack of silk, satin and gold embroidery, and I knew he was busy judging by appearance. Bad mistake.
The bank clerk’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you, Sir.’
‘Rest assured, understanding me is no pleasure.’
‘I can readily believe it, Sir.’ He sniffed, derisively. ‘Will you please remove yourself? You are holding up the line.’
Reaching into my pocket, I took out one of my business cards and slammed it onto the counter. The bank clerk’s eyes focused on my name and widened in shock.
If I hadn’t lost the ability years ago, I might have smiled. Sometimes, a business card says more than a thousand words.
The man’s frightened eyes rose from my name to meet my gaze.
‘Get me the manager,’ I ordered.
When we left the bank five minutes later, Karim was carrying the documents detailing the sale in a suitcase that the manager had, in his generosity, gifted to me. People tend to be generous like that when they are scared of losing their jobs.
‘Is our business here concluded to your satisfaction, Sahib?’
Taking a deep breath of filthy London air, I glanced back at the bank.
‘Well… It’s not the bank of England, but it’ll do for a week or so.’
‘Quite so, Sahib.’
‘Where to next…?’ I hesitated on the sidewalk, thinking. Bloody hell, I really needed a secretary to keep track of my appointments, and fast! Hopefully, that youngster would live up to my expectations. He seemed like a bright young man. Where to now… where to-
‘Chauvinists!’ a shout rudely interrupted my thoughts. Or, to be exact, it was more of a shriek. ‘Oppressors of womanhood!’
I turned, just in time to see… What the hell?