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Updated: June 28, 2025
Well, how long would it be, do you think, before paragraphs appeared, announcing to the public, not only of England but of the Channel Islands, that George Chandos was really Jimmy Cloyster?" "What rot!" I said. "Why the deuce should they want to write paragraphs about me? I'm not a celebrity. You're talking through your hat, Julian." Julian lit his pipe. "Not at all," he said.
Both the editor and the public have realised by now that his work is only second-rate. He can never hope to get a tenth of his original prices, even if his work is accepted, which it won't be; for directly I leave his market clear, someone else will collar it slap off. Besides, I've no right to stop my dialogues. My duty to Norah is greater than my duty to Mr. Cloyster.
There were supper parties.... Festive gatherings in the old studio.... Babette.... Lucille.... The artists' ball.... Were these things possible for a man with an honest, earnest, whole-hearted affection? The problem engaged me tensely till my ticket was collected at Vauxhall. Just there the solution came. I would be a Bohemian, but a misogynist. People would say, "Dear old Jimmy Cloyster.
"'E's a good man," said Blake. "Been giving you money?" asked the Reverend. "'E's put me into the way of earning it. It's the sorfest job ever I struck. 'E told me not to say nothin', and I said as 'ow I wouldn't. But it ain't fair to Mr. Cloyster, not keeping of it dark ain't. Yew don't know what a noble 'eart that man's got, an' if you weren't fren' of 'is I couldn't have told you.
Behind the lighted blind appeared the shadow of a man's figure. "It's he!" "It's him!" came respectively and simultaneously from the Reverend and myself. After a bit of waiting the latch clicked and the door opened. The door was opened by Mr. Cloyster himself. He was in evening dress and hysterics. I thought I had heard a rummy sound from the other side of the door.
He may say, 'It's rather like Cloyster's style, but he'll certainly add, 'Anyhow, it's what I want. You can scratch that difficulty, Julian. Any more?" "I think not. Of course, there's the objection that you'll lose any celebrity you might have got. No one'll say, 'Oh, Mr. Cloyster, I enjoyed your last book so much!" "And no one'll say, 'Oh, do you write, Mr. Cloyster? How interesting!
After ten the book goes into Mr. Leach's private partition, and you've got to go in there to sign. It was there when I came into the office on the morning after we'd been to talk business with Mr. Cloyster. It had been there about an hour and a half. "Lost your bonus, Price, my boy," said genial Mr. Leach. And the General Manager, Mr.
Davy Ramsey, his Majesty's clock-maker, had been informed, that there was a great quantity of treasure buried in the cloyster of Westminster-Abbey; he acquaints Dean Williams therewith, who was also then Bishop of Lincoln; the Dean gave him liberty to search after it, with this proviso, that if any was discovered, his church should have a share of it.
But it is known that there did exist an alley there, when the Cloisters were complete; for Gunton, describing it, says "The Cloyster about four square, in length 168 yards, in breadth 6 yards." The windows, contrary to the usual practice, were all glazed, and they contained a very fine series of painted glass, all destroyed in 1643.
In the May weather of 1534, two Middlesex clergy, "walking to and fro in the cloyster garden at Sion, were there overheard compassing sedition and rebellion." John Hale, an eager, tumultuous person, was prompting his brother priest, Robert Feron, with matter for a pamphlet, which Feron was to write against the king.
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