Mr. Tupman

“ Mr, Tupman was wrong. The fat boy, for once, had not been fast asleep. He was awake—wide awake—to what had been going forward.
The supper passed off without any attempt at a general conversation. The old lady had gone to bed; Isabella Wardle devoted herself exclusively to Mr. Trundle; the spinster’s attentions were reserved for Mr. Tupman; and Emily’s thoughts appeared to be engrossed by some distant object—possibly they were with the absent Snodgrass.
Eleven—twelve—one o’clock had struck, and the gentlemen had not arrived. Consternation sat on every face. ”

“ Tupman, with rising indignation and great importance, explained the mystic device.
‘Rather short in the waist, ain’t it?’ said the stranger, screwing himself round to catch a glimpse in the glass of the waist buttons, which were half-way up his back. ‘Like a general postman’s coat—queer coats those—made by contract—no measuring—mysterious dispensations of Providence—all the short men get long coats—all the long men short ones.’ Running on in this way, Mr. Tupman’s new companion adjusted his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle ”

“ Tupman, with an effort—‘where is—she, Sir?’ and he turned away his head, and covered his eyes with his hand. ‘She!’ said the old gentleman, with a knowing shake of the head. ‘Do you mean my single relative—eh?’
Mr. Tupman, by a nod, intimated that his question applied to the disappointed Rachael.
‘Oh, she’s gone away,’ said the old gentleman. ‘She’s living at a relation’s, far enough off. She couldn’t bear to see the girls, so I let her go. But come! Here’s the dinner. You must be hungry after your ride. I am, without any ride at all ”

“ The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot which lay in one corner, and was about to leave the arbour. Mr. Tupman detained her, and drew her to a seat beside him.
“Miss Wardle!” said he.
The spinster aunt trembled, till some pebbles which had accidentally found their way into the large watering-pot shook like an infant’s rattle.
[113]
“Miss Wardle,” said Mr. Tupman, “you are an angel.”
“Mr. Tupman!” exclaimed Rachael, blushing as red as the watering-pot itself.
“Nay,” said the eloquent Pickwickian, “I know it but too well.”
“All women are angels, they say,” murmured the lady, playfully. ”

“ It was the old lady’s habit on the fine summer mornings to repair to the arbour in which Mr. Tupman had already signalised himself, in form and manner following: first, the fat boy fetched from a peg behind the old lady’s bedroom door, a close black satin bonnet, a warm cotton shawl, and a thick stick with a capacious handle; and the old lady, having put on the bonnet and shawl at her leisure, would lean one hand on the stick and the other on the fat boy’s shoulder, and walk leisurely to the arbour, where the fat boy would leave her to enjoy the fresh air for the space of half an hour ”

“ Tupman, affected almost to tears by this expression of sympathy. "Dear, dear Madam, calm yourself."
"You are not dead?" exclaimed the hysterical lady. "Say you are not dead!"
"Don't be a fool, Rachel," said Mr. Winkle. "What the mischief is the use of his saying he isn't dead?"
"No! No! I am not," said Mr. Tupman. "I require no assistance but yours. Let me lean on your arm," he added in a whisper. Miss Rachel advanced and offered her arm. They turned into the breakfast parlor. Mr. Tupman gently pressed her hands to his lips and sunk upon the sofa. ”

“ Then they heard the heels of the fat boy's foot crunching the gravel as he retired and left the old lady alone.
Mr. Tupman would probably have found himself in considerable trouble if one of his friends, who had overheard the conversation had not told Mrs. Wardle that perhaps Joe had dreamed the entire incident, which did not seem altogether improbable. She watched Mr. Tupman at supper that evening, but this gentleman, having been warned, paid no attention whatever to Miss Rachel, and the old lady was finally persuaded that it was all a mistake. ”

“ Tupman, with conscious pride. “I let it off.”
“Well done. You’ll hit something next time, if you look sharp. Very easy, an’t it?”
“Yes, it’s very easy,” said Mr. Tupman. “How it hurts one’s shoulder, though. It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea that these small fire-arms kicked so.”
“Ah,” said the old gentleman, smiling; “you’ll get used to it in time. Now then—all ready—all right with the barrow there?”
“All right, sir,” replied Mr. Weller.
“Come along then.”
“Hold hard, sir,” said Sam, raising the barrow.
“Ay, ay,” replied Mr. Pickwick; and on they went, as briskly as need be. ”

“ Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were in a great measure cast upon their own resources. Taking but little interest in public affairs, they beguiled their time chiefly with such amusements as the Peacock afforded, which were limited to a bagatelle-board in the first floor, and a sequestered skittle-ground in the back yard. In the science and nicety of both [203] these recreations, which are far more abstruse than ordinary men suppose, they were gradually initiated by Mr. Weller, who possessed a perfect knowledge of such pastimes. ”

“ Tupman said that a famous artist looked at it once and said it was probably the work of a Spanish artist, and that from the pose of its head and the wreath in its hands he was sure it was intended to represent Hope. Was _that_ what you were going to tell me?”
The old man had rested on his oars while she hurried through this tale, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as if she thought she was forestalling him. Now he picked them up again and began rowing out into the harbor. ”

“ Tupman’s process, like many of our most sublime discoveries, was extremely simple. With the quickness and penetration of a man of genius, he had at once observed that the two great points to be attained were—first, to discharge his piece without injury to himself, and, secondly, to do so, without danger to the bystanders—obviously, the best thing to do, after surmounting the difficulty of firing at all, was to shut his eyes firmly, and fire into the air. ”

“ Tutt's comfortable, dingy old library; of a fur coat suddenly clapped upon the rounded shoulders of old Scraggs, the antiquated scrivener in the accountant's cage in the outer office, whose alcoholic career, his employer alleged, was marked by a trail of empty rum kegs, each one flying the white flag of surrender.
And yet old Ephraim Tutt could on occasion be cold as chiseled steel, and as hard. Any appeal from a child, a woman or an outcast always met with his ready response; but for the rich, successful and those in power he seemed to entertain a deep and enduring grudge. ”

“ Beresford. I have heard so much about you from Miss Tuppence”—he smiled involuntarily—“that it really seems as though I already know you quite well.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Tommy with his cheerful grin. He scanned the great lawyer eagerly. Like Tuppence, he felt the magnetism of the other’s personality. He was reminded of Mr. Carter. The two men, totally unlike so far as physical resemblance went, produced a similar effect. Beneath the weary manner of the one and the professional reserve of the other, lay the same quality of mind, keen-edged like a rapier. ”

“ I’ll be round in the car in half an hour.”
Tuppence got up.
“You’re awfully good, Julius. But I can’t help feeling that it’s rather a forlorn hope. I’m really pinning my faith to Mr. Carter.”
“Then I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Just an idea of mine.”
“Oh; but he must do something. There’s no one else. By the way, I forgot to tell you of a queer thing that happened this morning.”
And she narrated her encounter with Sir James Peel Edgerton. Julius was interested.
“What did the guy mean, do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t quite know,” said Tuppence meditatively. ”

“ Tupp describes the young lady as of agreeable manners, but looking, naturally, a bit washed out. The lady asked for Mr. Tupp, explaining that a friend of his was in trouble, which did not in the least surprise Mrs. Tupp, she herself not holding with Socialists and such like. ”

“ Tupman, as easy and unconcerned as if he had belonged to the family from the first moments of his infancy. Fastened up behind the barouche was a hamper of spacious dimensions—one of those hampers which always awakens in a contemplative mind associations connected with cold fowls, tongues, and bottles of wine—and on the box sat a fat and red-faced boy, in a state of somnolency, whom no speculative observer could have regarded for an instant without setting down as the official dispenser of the contents of the before-mentioned hamper, when the proper time for their consumption should arrive. ”

“ Tutt flushed. It was one thing to call Mrs. Allison "Georgie" in private and another to have her "Sammy" him within hearing of the office force. And just then Miss Wiggin passed by with her nose slightly in the air.
"What a perfectly wonderful idea!" went on Mrs. Allison rapturously. "A perfectly wonderful idea!"
Then she smiled a strange, mysterious, significant smile that almost tore Tutt's heart out by the roots.
"Listen, Sammy," she whispered, with a new light in those beautiful eyes. "I want five thousand dollars."
"Five?" repeated Tutt simply. "I thought you wanted ten thousand!" ”

“ Our goods are here on the ground before the chief. So are the gun and machete of the dead man. The chief is old and dried up. The one who talks is the medicine-man—an ugly brute.”
Senhor Tom did as told, and did it well. I knew the pajé would ask soon what we wanted, and Senhor Tom must know the situation first. Every eye was on him as he turned his head, frowning as if he sought a face without finding it. All the Indians except the old Bat and his pajé stared unwinking at the great Tupahn. The chief sat like a post, and the medicine-man watched through lids narrower than before. ”

“ When Willie next morning at half past eight reached the office he found the door already unlocked and Mr. Tutt busy at his desk, up to his elbows in a great mass of bonds and stock certificates.
"Gee!" he exclaimed to Miss Sondheim, the stenographer, when she made her appearance at a quarter past nine. "Just peek in the old man's door if you want to feel rich! Say, he must ha' struck pay dirt! I wonder if we'll all get a raise?" ”

“ Tutt was just rising into fame as a police-court lawyer. Tutt had only recently been admitted to the bar, having abandoned his native city of Bangor, Maine, for the metropolis.
"And may I ask why you should come to me?" Mr. Tutt had demanded severely from behind the stogy, which even at that early date had been as much a part of his facial anatomy as his long ruminative nose. "Why the devil should you come to me? I am nobody, sir—nobody! In this great city certainly there are thousands far more qualified than I to further your professional and financial advancement." ”

“ It was perhaps well that the method should have one fair and full trial. And it is certain that all who have taken part in the work have done their duty zealously and skilfully. Captain Tupman, to whom Sir George Airy, our chief official astronomer, entrusted the management of the calculations, has received, and justly, from his official superior, the highest commendation for his energy and discrimination. ”

“ If he could but for one moment "see himself as others see him"—surely he would instantly [Pg 358] wriggle out of the withering sight of man! But Mr. Tuft was not an everyday toady. Being a clever man, it occurred to him as calculated infinitely to enhance the value of his attentions, if he could get them to be regarded as those of a man of some ability and reputation. So reasonable a wish, as thus to rise to eminence in the calling in life to which he had devoted himself—viz. toadyism—stimulated him to considerable exertion, which was in time rewarded by a measure of success ”

“ He believes in being liberal with servants.”
“So I see!” observed Mr. Tutt. “And with the medical profession as well!”
“Oh. he’s very fond of both Doctor Woodman and Doctor Aspinall!” she assured him. “They have been lifelong friends!”
“Anything more?”
“Only his legacy to me—two hundred and fifty thousand—and, of course, I’m also to be the residuary legatee,” said Mrs. Baldwin, folding up her notes. “You’ll continue as executor. How soon can you have the codicil ready?” ”

“ But my friends call me Tuppence."
"Well, Miss Tuppence, then, as I'm certainly going to be a friend. Don't be offended because I think you're young. Youth is a failing only too easily outgrown. Now, about this young Tommy of yours——"
"Yes." Tuppence clasped her hands.
"Frankly, things look bad for him. He's been butting in somewhere where he wasn't wanted. Not a doubt of it. But don't give up hope."
"And you really will help us? There, Julius! ”

“ You know who Mr. Brown is, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Sir James gravely. “At last I do.”
“At last?” queried Tuppence doubtfully. “Oh, but I thought——” She paused.
“You thought correctly, Miss Tuppence. I have been morally certain of his identity for some time—ever since the night of Mrs. Vandemeyer’s mysterious death.”
“Ah!” breathed Tuppence.
“For there we are up against the logic of facts. There are only two solutions. Either the chloral was administered by her own hand, which theory I reject utterly, or else——”
“Yes?”
“Or else it was administered in the brandy you gave her. ”

“ Beresford. Where does he come in?”
“Mr. Beresford?”
“My partner,” said Tuppence with dignity. “You saw us together yesterday.”
“Ah, yes. But I’m afraid we shan’t require his services.”
“Then it’s off!” Tuppence rose. “It’s both or neither. Sorry—but that’s how it is. Good morning, Mr. Whittington.”
“Wait a minute. Let us see if something can’t be managed. Sit down again, Miss——” He paused interrogatively.
Tuppence’s conscience gave her a passing twinge as she remembered the archdeacon. She seized hurriedly on the first name that came into her head.
“Jane Finn,” she said hastily ”