A Fair Jewess. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
off," responded Mr. Moss; "brains well balanced-an even scale, doctor-then you can steer straight, and to your own advantage. Women are the weakest, as you say; too much heart, too much sentiment. All very well in its proper place, but it weighs one side of the scale down. Mrs. Moss isn't much better than other women in that respect. She has her whims and crotchets, and doesn't always take the business view."
"Implying that you do, Mr. Moss?"
"Of course I do; should be ashamed of myself if I didn't. What do I live for? Business. What do I live by? Business. What do I enjoy most? Business-and plenty of it." He rubbed his hands together joyously. "I should like to paint on my shop door, 'Mr. Moss, Business Man.' People would know it would be no use trying to get the best of me. They don't get it as it is."
"You are unjust to yourself. Was it business last night that made you pay the cabman, and sent you out to buy coals and food for an unfortunate creature you had never seen before?"
"That was a little luxury," said Mr. Moss, with a sly chuckle, "which we business men engage in occasionally to sharpen up our faculties. It is an investment, and it pays; it puts us on good terms with ourselves. If you think I have a bit of sentiment in me you are mistaken."
"I paint your portrait for myself," protested Dr. Spenlove, "and I shall not allow you to disfigure it. Granted that you keep, as a rule, to the main road. Business Road we will call it, if you like-"
"Very good, doctor, very good."
"You walk along driving bargains, and making money honestly-"
"Thank you, doctor," interposed Mr. Moss rather gravely. "There are people who don't do us so much justice."
"When unexpectedly," continued Dr. Spenlove with tender gayety, "you chance upon a little narrow path to the right or left of you, and your eye lighting on it, you observe a stretch of woodland, a touch of bright color, a picture of human suffering, that appeals to your poetical instinct, to your musical tastes, or to your humanity. Down you plunge toward it, to the confusion for the time being of Business Road and its business attractions."
"Sir," said Mr. Moss, bending his head with a dignity which did not set ill on him, "if all men were of your mind the narrow prejudices of creed would stand a bad chance of making themselves felt. But we are wandering from the main road of the purpose which brought me here. I have not said a word to Mrs. Moss of the adventure of last night; I don't know why, because a better creature doesn't breathe, but I gathered from you in some way that you would prefer we should keep it to ourselves. Mrs. Moss never complains of my being out late; she rather encourages me, and that will give you an idea of the good wife she is. 'Enjoyed yourself, Moss?' she asked when I got home. 'Very much,' I answered, and that was all. Now, doctor, a business man wouldn't be worth his salt if he wasn't a thinking man as well. After I was dressed this morning I thought a good deal of the lady and her child, and I came to the conclusion that you took more than an ordinary interest in them."
"You are right," said Dr. Spenlove.
"Following your lead, which is a good thing to do if you've confidence in your partner, I found myself taking more than an ordinary interest in them, but as it wasn't a game of whist we were playing I had no clew to the cards you held. You will see presently what I am leading up to. While I was thinking and going over some stock which I am compelled by law to put up to auction, I received a message that a gentleman wished to see me on very particular private business. It was then about half-past nine, and the gentleman remained with me about an hour. When he went away he made an appointment with me to meet him at a certain place at twelve o'clock. I met him there; he had a carriage waiting. I got in, and where do you think he drove me?"
"I would rather you answered the question yourself," said Dr. Spenlove, his interest in the conversation receiving an exciting stimulus.
"The carriage, doctor, stopped at the house to which we conveyed your lady friend and her child last night. I opened my eyes, I can tell you. Now, not to beat about the bush, I will make you acquainted with the precise nature of the business the gentleman had with me.
"Pardon me a moment," said Dr. Spenlove. "Was Mr. Gordon the gentleman?"
"You have named him," said Mr. Moss, and perceiving that Dr. Spenlove was about to speak again, he contented himself with answering the question. But the doctor did not proceed; his first intention had been to inquire whether the business was confidential, and if so to decline to listen to the disclosure which his visitor desired to make. A little consideration, however, inclined him to the opinion that this might be carrying delicacy too far. He was in the confidence of both Mr. Gordon and Mrs. Turner, and it might be prejudicial to the mother and her child if he closed his ears to the issue of the strange adventure. He waved his hand, thereby inviting Mr. Moss to continue.
"Just so, doctor," said Mr. Moss in the tone of a man who had disposed of an objection. "It is a singular affair, but I have been mixed up in all kinds of queer transactions in my time, and I always give a man the length of his rope. What induced Mr. Gordon to apply to me is his concern, not mine. Perhaps he had heard a good report of me, and I am much obliged to those who gave it; perhaps he thought I was a tradesman who would take anything in pledge, from a flatiron to a flesh and blood baby. Anyway, if I chose to regard his visit as a compliment it is because I am not thin skinned. Mr. Gordon informed me that he wished to find a home and to provide for a young baby whose mother could not look after it, being imperatively called away to a distant part of the world. Had it not been that the terms he proposed were extraordinarily liberal, and that he gave me the names of an eminent firm of lawyers in London, who had undertaken the financial part of the business-and had it not been, also, that as he spoke to me I thought of a friend whom it might be in my power to serve-I should have shut him up at once by saying that I was not a baby farmer, and by requesting him to take his leave. Interrupting myself, and as it was you who first mentioned the name of Mr. Gordon, I think I am entitled to ask if you are acquainted with him?"
"You are entitled to ask the question. I am acquainted with him."
"Since when, doctor?"
"Since last night only."
"Before we met?"
"Yes, before we met."
"May I inquire if you were then acting for Mr. Gordon?"
"To some extent. Had it not been for him I should not have gone in search of her."
"In which case," said Mr. Moss in a grave tone, "she and her child would have been found dead in the snow. That is coming to first causes, doctor. I have not been setting a trap for you in putting these questions; I have been testing Mr. Gordon's veracity. When I asked him whether I was the only person in Portsmouth whom he had consulted he frankly answered I was not. Upon this I insisted upon his telling me who this other person was. After some hesitation he said, 'Dr. Spenlove.' Any scruples I may have had were instantly dispelled, for I knew that it was impossible you could be mixed up in a business which had not a good end."
"I thank you."
"Hearing your name, I thought at once of the lady and her child whom we were instrumental in saving. Am I right in my impression that you are in possession of the conditions and terms Mr. Gordon imposes?"
"I am."
"Then I need not go into them. I take it, Dr. Spenlove, that you do not consider the business disreputable."
"It is not disreputable. Mr. Gordon is a peculiar man, and his story in connection with the lady in question is a singular one. He is not the father of the child, and the action he has taken is not prompted by a desire to rid himself of a responsibility. On the contrary, out of regard for the lady he has taken upon himself a very heavy responsibility, which I have little doubt-none, indeed-that he will honorably discharge."
"I will continue. Having heard what Mr. Gordon had to say-thinking all the time of the friend who might be induced to adopt the child, and that I might be able to serve him-I put the gentleman to the test. Admitting that his terms were liberal, I said that a sum of money ought to be paid down at once, in proof of his good faith. 'How much?' he asked. 'Fifty pounds,' I answered. He instantly produced the sum in banknotes. Then it occurred to me that it would make things still safer if I had an assurance from the eminent firm of London lawyers that the business was honorable,