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Updated: April 30, 2025
And I have been down into hell, to-night and seen Archibald Enwright, of Interlaken, conniving with the devil. I presume I should go to bed; but I know I can not sleep. To-morrow is to be, beyond all question, a red-letter day in the matter of the captain's murder. And once again, against my will, I am down to play a leading part.
Haim presented his well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and calm gestures carefully shut the door. "The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I told Mr. Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and it seems to me that you are the next person who ought to be informed." "Oh yes?" "I am going to be married." "The deuce you are!"
When he got to know people he was apt to be impatient and ruthless; for example, to John Orgreave and his wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and sometimes even to Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was restrained from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a spell.
Enwright despised him, but he had met him once in the way of the firm's business and found him urbane. "Good afternoon," said George politely. The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk with quick, short steps: "Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some care " His speech was like his demeanour and his finger-nails. "Boor!" thought George.
Enwright from the office on Monday on account of examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim had not been to the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he seemed worn out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently resented sympathy that George was not sympathetic, and regarded him coldly as a tiresome old man.
George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of the old man at one moment boasting ingenuously of his career, and at the next almost hysterical with woe roused his pity in a very disconcerting manner, and from his sight the Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished utterly, and was supplanted by a tragic human being.
Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave being abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords the landlord of his house and the landlord of his office neither of whom had yet been brought to see that George's caprice for a military career entitled him in the slightest degree to slip out of contracts remunerative to the sacred caste of landlords.
"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he said, with bright amiability; and then relapsing from the effort: "it's all very nice and harmless." "Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still waving the palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, too!" "But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that we're living in the twentieth," said Enwright.
You might think Lucas & Enwright had never put up a building in their lives. Just as well to dwell now and then on what they have done instead of on what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. Besides " He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a beautiful voice. "Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, swinging his stick and gazing straight ahead.
The next day, I decided, I should be the victim of a touch. But my prediction failed; Enwright seemed to have plenty of money. On that first evening I had mentioned to him that I expected shortly to be in London, and he often referred to the fact.
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