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Stillwood called him a "low beast" in her most aristocratic tones, and swept out of the room. Not that old Stillwood himself ever expressed fondness for the law. "I am not at all sure, Kelver," I remember his saying to me on one occasion, "that you have done wisely in choosing the law. It makes one regard humanity morally as the medical profession regards it physically: as universally unsound.
I have got all the keys in my pocket, and we shall be quiet. It will be sad work for me, and I had rather we were alone. A couple of hours will show us everything." We lighted the wax candles old Stillwood could never tolerate gas in his own room and opening the safe took out the heavy ledgers one by one, and from them Gadley dictated figures which I wrote down and added up.
It was my first introduction to the comedy of life, which is apt to be more brutal than the comedy of fiction. But nearing home, the serious side of the matter forced itself uppermost. Fortunately, our supposed dividends had been paid to us by Mr. Stillwood only the month before. Could I keep the thing from troubling my mother's last days? It would be hard work.
Gadley alone was not afraid of her; but, on the contrary, kept her always very much in fear of him, often speaking to her with refreshing candour. He had known her in the days it was her desire should be buried in oblivion, and had always resented as a personal insult her entry into the old established aristocratic firm of Stillwood & Co. Her history was peculiar. Mr.
Stillwood, its sole surviving representative, declined to be troubled with new partners, explaining frankly, in answer to all applications, that the business was a dying one, and that attempting to work it up again would be but putting new wine into worn-out skins.
Barbara had gone abroad to put the finishing touches to her education to learn the tricks of the Nobs' trade, as old Hasluck phrased it; and I had left school and taken employment with Mr. Stillwood, without salary, the idea being that I should study for the law. "You are in luck's way, my boy, in luck's way," old Mr. Gadley had assured me.
"Told you so," remarked my aunt. In this way every case in the Stillwood annals was reviewed, and light thrown upon it by my aunt's insight into the hidden springs of human action. Fortunate that the actors remained mere Mr. X. and Lady Y., for into the most innocent seeming behaviour my aunt read ever dark criminal intent. "I think you are a little too severe," Mr.
Stillwood, when a blase man about town, verging on forty, had first seen her, then a fair-haired, ethereal-looking child, in spite of her dirt, playing in the gutter. To his lasting self-reproach it was young Gadley himself, accompanying his employer home from Westminster, who had drawn Mr.
Stillwood, who passed away rich in honour and regret, and was buried with much ostentation and much sincere sorrow; for he had been to many of his clients, mostly old folk, rather a friend than a mere man of business, and had gained from all with whom he had come in contact, respect, and from many real affection.
"To have commenced your career in the office of Stillwood, Waterhead and Royal will be a passport for you anywhere. It will stamp you, my boy." Mr. Stillwood himself was an extremely old and feeble gentleman so old and feeble it seemed strange that he, a wealthy man, had not long ago retired. "I am always meaning to," he explained to me one day soon after my advent in his office.
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