The Last Chronicle of Barset [191]
doing--and that's about all I can do.'
'You must know whether he has used my money for his own purposes or not.'
'If you ask me, I think he has,' said Mr Musselboro.
'Then I'll go into it, and I'll find it out, and if it is so, as sure as my name's Van Siever, I'll sew him up.' Having uttered which terrible threat, the old woman drew a chair to the table and seated herself fairly down, as though she were determined to go through all the books of the office before she quitted that room. Mrs Van Siever in her present habiliments was not a thing so terrible to look at as she had been in her wiggeries at Mrs Dobbs Broughton's dinner-table. Her curls were laid aside altogether, and she wore simply a front beneath her close bonnet --and a very old front, too, which was not loudly offensive because it told no lies. Her eyes were as bright, and her little wizen face was as sharp as ever; but the wizen face and the bright eyes were not so much amiss as seen together with the old dark brown silk dress which she now wore, as they had been with the wiggeries and the evening finery. Even now, in her morning costume, in her work-a-day business dress, as we may call it, she looked to be very old--so old that nobody could guess her age. People attempting to guess would say that she must be at least over eighty. And yet she was wiry, and strong, and nimble. It was not because she was feeble that she was thought to be old. They who so judged of her were led to their opinion by the extreme thinness of her face, and by the brightness of her eyes, joined to the depth of the hollows in which they lay, and the red margin by which they were surrounded. It was not really the fact that Mrs Van Siever was so very aged, for she had still some years to live before she would reach eighty, but that she was such a weird old woman, so small, so ghastly, and so ugly! 'I'll sew him up, if he's robbing me,' she said. 'I will indeed!' And she stretched out her hand to grab at the ledger which Musselboro had been using.
'You won't understand anything from that,' said he, pushing the book over to her.
'You can explain it to me.'
'That's all straight sailing, that is.'
'And where does he keep the figures that aren't straight sailing? That's the book I want to see.'
'There is no such book.'
'Look here, Gus--if I find you deceiving me I'll throw you overboard as sure as I'm a living woman. I will indeed. I'll have no mercy. I've stuck to you, and made a man of you, and I expect you to stick to me.'
'Not much of a man,' said Musselboro, with a touch of scorn in his voice.
'You've never had a shilling yet but what I gave you.'
'Yes; I have. I've had what I've worked for--and worked confounded hard too.'
'Look here, Musselboro; if you're going to throw me over, just tell me so, and let us begin fair.'
'I'm not going to throw you over. I've always been on the square with you. Why don't you trust me out and out, and then I could do a deal better for you. You ask me now about your money. I don't know about your money, Mrs Van Siever. How am I to know anything about your money, Mrs Van Seiver? You don't give me any power of keeping a hand upon Dobbs Broughton. I suppose you have security from Dobbs Broughton, but I don't know what security you have, Mrs Van Siever. He owes you now 915 pounds 16s 2d on last year's account!'
'Why doesn't he give me a cheque for the money?'
'He says he can't spare it. You may have 500 pounds, and the rest when he can give it to you. Or he'll give you his note-of-hand at fourteen days on the whole.'
'Bother the note-of-hand. Why should I take his note-of-hand?'
'Do as you like, Mrs Van Siever.'
'It's the interest on my own money. Why don't he give it me? I suppose he has had it.'
'You must ask him that, Mrs Van Siever. You're in partnership with him, and he can tell you. Nobody knows anything about it. If you were in partnership with me, then of course I could tell you. But you're not. You've never trusted me, Mrs Van Siever.'
The lady remained there closeted with Mr Musselboro
'You must know whether he has used my money for his own purposes or not.'
'If you ask me, I think he has,' said Mr Musselboro.
'Then I'll go into it, and I'll find it out, and if it is so, as sure as my name's Van Siever, I'll sew him up.' Having uttered which terrible threat, the old woman drew a chair to the table and seated herself fairly down, as though she were determined to go through all the books of the office before she quitted that room. Mrs Van Siever in her present habiliments was not a thing so terrible to look at as she had been in her wiggeries at Mrs Dobbs Broughton's dinner-table. Her curls were laid aside altogether, and she wore simply a front beneath her close bonnet --and a very old front, too, which was not loudly offensive because it told no lies. Her eyes were as bright, and her little wizen face was as sharp as ever; but the wizen face and the bright eyes were not so much amiss as seen together with the old dark brown silk dress which she now wore, as they had been with the wiggeries and the evening finery. Even now, in her morning costume, in her work-a-day business dress, as we may call it, she looked to be very old--so old that nobody could guess her age. People attempting to guess would say that she must be at least over eighty. And yet she was wiry, and strong, and nimble. It was not because she was feeble that she was thought to be old. They who so judged of her were led to their opinion by the extreme thinness of her face, and by the brightness of her eyes, joined to the depth of the hollows in which they lay, and the red margin by which they were surrounded. It was not really the fact that Mrs Van Siever was so very aged, for she had still some years to live before she would reach eighty, but that she was such a weird old woman, so small, so ghastly, and so ugly! 'I'll sew him up, if he's robbing me,' she said. 'I will indeed!' And she stretched out her hand to grab at the ledger which Musselboro had been using.
'You won't understand anything from that,' said he, pushing the book over to her.
'You can explain it to me.'
'That's all straight sailing, that is.'
'And where does he keep the figures that aren't straight sailing? That's the book I want to see.'
'There is no such book.'
'Look here, Gus--if I find you deceiving me I'll throw you overboard as sure as I'm a living woman. I will indeed. I'll have no mercy. I've stuck to you, and made a man of you, and I expect you to stick to me.'
'Not much of a man,' said Musselboro, with a touch of scorn in his voice.
'You've never had a shilling yet but what I gave you.'
'Yes; I have. I've had what I've worked for--and worked confounded hard too.'
'Look here, Musselboro; if you're going to throw me over, just tell me so, and let us begin fair.'
'I'm not going to throw you over. I've always been on the square with you. Why don't you trust me out and out, and then I could do a deal better for you. You ask me now about your money. I don't know about your money, Mrs Van Siever. How am I to know anything about your money, Mrs Van Seiver? You don't give me any power of keeping a hand upon Dobbs Broughton. I suppose you have security from Dobbs Broughton, but I don't know what security you have, Mrs Van Siever. He owes you now 915 pounds 16s 2d on last year's account!'
'Why doesn't he give me a cheque for the money?'
'He says he can't spare it. You may have 500 pounds, and the rest when he can give it to you. Or he'll give you his note-of-hand at fourteen days on the whole.'
'Bother the note-of-hand. Why should I take his note-of-hand?'
'Do as you like, Mrs Van Siever.'
'It's the interest on my own money. Why don't he give it me? I suppose he has had it.'
'You must ask him that, Mrs Van Siever. You're in partnership with him, and he can tell you. Nobody knows anything about it. If you were in partnership with me, then of course I could tell you. But you're not. You've never trusted me, Mrs Van Siever.'
The lady remained there closeted with Mr Musselboro