Long Live the King - Guy Boothby (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

English corresponding clerk. We are on friendly terms, and I shall be very happy to take you along with me and introduce you to him at once; that is, of course, providing you think the position is likely to suit you."

It seemed to Max as if his luck were going to change at last, and, needless to say, he gladly accepted the invitation. Lighting another cigar, the senior partner led him from the office into the street, where they made their way along the pavement in the opposite direction to which Max had come. At length they reached the office of Montezma & Co.

Having requested his companion to wait in the counting house, while he interviewed the head of the firm, Brockford disappeared into the inner sanctum. Five minutes later he reappeared, and invited Max to enter. The latter did so, to find himself in the presence of a fat little man, who he soon discovered was one of the cheeriest and most popular merchants in Brazil.

"My friend, Senor Brockford, informs me that you are desirous of obtaining the position of corresponding clerk in my employment," observed the Spaniard.

"What Senor Brockford says is quite true," Max replied. "If you will give it to me, I will do my best to show you that your confidence is not misplaced."

The other smiled and rubbed his hands.

"On my friend Senor Brockford's introduction, I shall be happy to engage your services," he said, with as much dignity as if he had been conferring upon the other the order of the Golden Fleece.

After the disappointments of the morning Max felt that he had fallen upon his feet indeed.

"I only hope I shall be able to repay you for your kindness," he said. "Doubtless Mr. Brockford has informed you that I have had but little experience in business matters. If you will bear with me for a short time, however, I have no doubt I shall be able, in the end, to give you satisfaction."

"I have not the least doubt of it," the Senhor replied.

The office hours having been explained to him, the salary arranged, and various other minor details settled to their mutual satisfaction, Max and Mr. Brockford left the office together.

"I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you for what you have done for me," said the former when they were in the street once more. "It seems all the kinder for the reason that I am an entire stranger to you."

"One Englishman can never be an entire stranger to another in a foreign country," said Brockford oracularly. "We always feel called upon to do the best we can for each other. Besides----"

He stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly changed his mind, and did not feel inclined to put his thoughts into words. Five minutes later they had reached his own office.

"You will feel rather lonely on your first night in a new country," he said. "Won't you dine with me, and spend the night at my house? I am a bachelor, and live on the Island of Paqueta. I shall have much pleasure in taking you back with me. No, don't thank me! You can do that later on if you like. You are staying at Candido's Hotel, I fancy you said? In that case, if you take the first turning to the left, and then the next to the right, and afterwards continue straight on, you will reach it. I shall expect to see you at half-past four."

Without giving Max time to accept or decline his invitation, he retired into his office, leaving him free to make his way back to his hotel. This he did with a heart overflowing with gratitude for the kindness he had received.

"I certainly can't grumble at my luck now," he said to himself, as he walked along.

Punctual to the moment he returned to Mr. Brockford's office. This time he entered it with the air of a man who occupied an assured position in the world. Even the clerks, having had evidence before them that their employer was well disposed towards the stranger, treated him in a different fashion to what they had done when he had first made his appearance.

"You are punctual," said Mr. Brockford, as soon as he was admitted to his presence. "It is a good omen in a country like this, where everything is put off to be done at a future date; a business habit of that description cannot be too highly commended. Though I fear, however well we start, we all fall into evil ways in the end. Even our friend Montezma, who is an excellent business man in his way, is no exception to the rule. Now, if you are ready, let us be off."

Then they set off in the direction of the quay. As they passed through the city Max had an opportunity of seeing how well his companion was known. He was occupied almost continually receiving and returning salutations. Reaching the waterside they descended a flight of steps, at the foot of which a neat steam launch was awaiting them. They took their places and were soon steaming down the bay, bound for the Island of Paqueta, one of the loveliest spots in Rio Bay, and ten miles distant from the city.

As Max was soon to discover, Mr. Brockford's residence was on a par with his reputation. It was a charming place in every way, exquisitely quiet and restful after the bustle and excitement of the city. The house itself, a long one-storied building, surrounded by a deep verandah, was comfortably, but not ostentatiously, furnished. In the dining-room were several good pictures, among others a view of Carisbrooke Castle. It was by a well-known artist, and Max stood for some little time before it.

"Is not this Carisbrooke?" he inquired, turning to his host, who was mixing a cool drink at the sideboard.

"Yes, Carisbrooke," the other replied, turning round. "When I was a boy I lived in the Isle of Wight, not a mile from the ruins. Do you know the place?"

"We drove over there one day when I was last at Osborne," said Max, without thinking. "It was one of the jolliest excursions I can remember."

Brockford looked at him sharply. The description of man who talked of staying at Osborne with all the assurance of an old friend did not often come within the sphere of his existence. For the second time he wondered what Max's history could be.

That evening's entertainment was destined to linger in Max's memory for many a long day to come. In his diary I find a note setting forth the fact that he looks upon his acquaintance with Mr. Brockford in the light of one of, if not the best, pieces of good fortune he met with during his life in Brazil. He might well say that. Next morning he returned with his host to the city to enter upon his new employment. The day's work at an end, he was able to call upon his benefactor, in order to inform him that it had not proved so difficult as he imagined it would, and that he felt quite capable of carrying out the work expected of him. By the end of the week he had settled down to his business life, and was feeling moderately comfortable and happy in his new surroundings. A surprise, however, was in store for him.

One afternoon, a month or so after he had entered Montezma's office, a note was brought to him by a diminutive nigger. It emanated from Mr. Brockford, who was anxious that Max should pay him a call on his homeward journey that afternoon, if he could do so without inconvenience to himself. Max sent a reply by the messenger, to the effect that it would give him great pleasure to do as his friend asked; and in due course he arrived at Messrs. Brockford, Brent, & Kerton's place of business. The day's work was over and the clerks were preparing for departure. The senior partner, however, was still in his sanctum.

"I'm glad you've come, Mortimer," he said, as they shook hands, "for I want to have a little talk with you? Sit down, will you? You'll find a cigar in that box."

Max seated himself, lit a cigar, and wondered what was coming next.

"By the way, you're still staying at Candido's, are you not?" the other inquired, in what was intended to be a matter-of-fact tone.

Max replied that he was still occupying his old room, and went on to add that he thought of looking for another elsewhere, as the hotel charges made rather too large an inroad into his slender resources.

"Well, I've a little suggestion to make to you before you do that," said Brockford. "I'm a bachelor, as you know. Now what I am going to propose is that you shall come over and take up your abode with me. I like you; I've already told you that we'd be first-rate company for each other; and if you don't mind putting up with my faddy ways, I fancy we should hit it off admirably together. What have you to say to my arrangement?"

For a moment Max was too overwhelmed to say anything.

"Good gracious!" he cried at last, "do you know what you are offering me? Do you realise what it means to a man like myself, situated as I am now, to be asked to share a home like yours? Mr. Brockford, your kindness overpowers me. I don't know what to say to you."

"Say nothing at all, or, at any rate, only say that you will accept my offer," he answered. "You have no idea what a kindness it will be to me."

"You hide your own kindness too well," said Max. "I do not know how to thank you. And I haven't the pluck to refuse."

"I should not allow you to do so," the other replied. "No, we've settled it very well, I think. Have your things ready to-morrow afternoon, and we'll take them over in the launch with us."

True to the terms of their agreement, Max next day transported himself and his belongings to Brockford's island home. His life for the future seemed all smooth sailing. After the heat and bustle of the city, it was infinitely soothing at night to be able to cross to the island, and to stretch oneself out after a good dinner on a lounge chair in the broad verandah, and do nothing but listen to the sighing of the wind in the palms overhead, and the musical splash of the wavelets on the beach. He was not only bettering himself in this way, but the fact that he was living with a man so highly respected in the city was doing him a large amount of good from a social point of view. It was generally felt that if Brockford were prepared to stand sponsor for him, he might very well be admitted by other well-known men to their houses and to intercourse with their families.


CHAPTER IX.


From the moment that Mr. Brockford took Max to live with him the latter's lot in life seemed to change. Hitherto, apparently, no one had been aware of his existence; now scarcely a day passed in which he did not receive some sort of invitation from people who, as a rule, prided themselves upon their exclusiveness. Their favour may possibly have been due to the fact that he was of a different type to that to which they were accustomed. At any rate, his handsome face,