Brief Candles [antikvár]

CHAWDRON From behind the outspread Times I broke a silence. 'Your friend Chawdron's dead, I see.' 'Dead?' repeated Tilney, half incredulously. 'Chawdron dead?' ' ' "Suddenly, of heart failure," ' I went on, reading from the obituary,' "at his residence in St James's Square." ' 'Yes, his heart ' He spoke meditatively. 'How old was he? Sixty?' 'Fifty-nine. I didn't realize the ruffian had been rich for so long. " the extraordinary business instinct, coupled with a truly Scottish doggedness and determination, which raised him, before he was thirty-five, from obscurity and comparative poverty to the height of opulence." Don't you wish you could write like that? My father lost a quarter of a century's savings in one of his companies.' 'Served him right for saving!' said Tilney with a sudden savagery. Surprised, I looked at him over the top of my paper. On his gnarled and ruddy face was an expression of angry gloom. The news had evidently depressed him. Besides, he was always ill-tempered at breakfast. My poor father was paying. 'What sort of jam is that by you?' he asked fiercely. 'Strawberry.' 'Then Til have some marmalade.' I passed him the marmalade and, ignoring his bad temper, 'When the Old Man,' I continued, 'and along with him, of course, most of the other shareholders, had sold out at about eighty per cent dead loss, Chawdron did a little quiet conjuring and the price whizzed up again. But by that time he was the owner of practically all the stock.' 'I'm always on the side of the ruffians,' said Tilney. 'On principle.' 'Oh, so am I. All the same, I do regret those twelve thousand pounds.' Tilney said nothing. I returned to the obituary. P. ¦ 1 I'.' iii t! i, 1' I I I r { ., • 1 i. i' i'¦