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These peculiarities indicated, beyond any doubt, that Mr. Chiffield was a wealthy man; though it might be difficult to trace the exact processes of reasoning by which this conclusion was reached. Any unprejudiced stranger, seeing Mr.
Chiffield continued: "To save any further circumlocution, sir, and in order that we may fully understand each other, I will say at once, that we are completely ruined!" "Ha! What! Who ruined?" "The house of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. I I thought you knew it." "Ruined, sir!" cried Mr. Whedell, livid with horror. He choked for further utterance.
Chiffield was about forty years of age, and had a bald head, a square, heavy face, scanty whiskers, small, shrewd eyes, and a bilious complexion. He dressed in profound black, wore his necktie negligently, exhibited neither ring nor breastpin nor gold chain, spoke as if he were always thinking inwardly of his private business, and never laughed.
Chiffield," said he, "as a wholesale dealer in dry goods, you must have observed, perhaps at times experienced, the fickleness of fortune." "Can he suspect?" thought Chiffield. "And what if he does? The truth cannot be concealed much longer. But I will pump him a little further before disclosing all."
To come to the point, then, I wish you would loan me, say two hundred dollars. It is a small amount, but will stave them off a week or two." "Two hundred dollars!" Mrs. Chiffield opened her fine eyes in amazement. "That's all. Perhaps you have saved up the amount from your pin money? Or, if you have been a little extravagant, and spent it all, why, then, perhaps you can get it from Mr.
Miss Clementina Whedell, like many other people, had an unsuspected strength of character which only a great occasion could call out. "It is perfectly atrocious," said she, at length, "and I am making a grave sacrifice of my happiness; but I suppose I must do it. Are you sure this Chiffield is rich?" "Now, you are my own dear daughter!" said Mr.
Chiffield looked in the same direction, but casually, as it were, and without one sign of impatience visible in the depths of his calm brown eyes. Mr. Chiffield was not a nervous man. In the exercise of his large charity and compassion, he pitied that unfortunate, sadly disappointed dealer in dry goods. This pity, as Matthew used to say in after days, was thrown away.
Whedell, tossing his double eyeglass up and catching it, as was his custom when exulting. "Your question is a prudent one, and worthy of you. I am happy to inform you that Chiffield is worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars." Clementina smiled faintly, though she tried to look like a martyr. "I learn this from the tax rolls.
He was pained to see that Clementina barely extended the tips of her fingers to Chiffield, while to Maltboy she gave her whole palm with great cordiality.
Whedell, not quite so savage as before. "That I have talents, energy, a large business acquaintance," said the cheerful Chiffield. "Humbug!" roared Mr. Whedell. "What is all that stuff good for, without money?" "Not much, I admit," was the conciliatory reply.
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