Short Fiction - M. R. James (mobile ebook reader .txt) 📗

The firm in Bermondsey which was third on his list was accustomed to handling this line. The evidence they were able to produce justified their being entrusted with the job. “Our Mr. Cattell” took a fervent personal interest in it. “It’s ’eartrending, isn’t it, sir,” he said, “to picture the quantity of reelly lovely medeevial stuff of this kind that lays well-nigh unnoticed in many of our residential country ’ouses: much of it in peril, I take it, of being cast aside as so much rubbish. What is it Shakespeare says⁠—unconsidered trifles. Ah, I often say he ’as a word for us all, sir. I say Shakespeare, but I’m well aware all don’t ’old with me there⁠—I ’ad something of an upset the other day when a gentleman came in⁠—a titled man, too, he was, and I think he told me he’d wrote on the topic, and I ’appened to cite out something about ’Ercules and the painted cloth. Dear me, you never see such a pother. But as to this, what you’ve kindly confided to us, it’s a piece of work we shall take a reel enthusiasm in achieving it out to the very best of our ability. What man ’as done, as I was observing only a few weeks back to another esteemed client, man can do, and in three to four weeks’ time, all being well, we shall ’ope to lay before you evidence to that effect, sir. Take the address, Mr. ’Iggins, if you please.”

Such was the general drift of Mr. Cattell’s observations on the occasion of his first interview with Mr. Denton. About a month later, being advised that some samples were ready for his inspection, Mr. Denton met him again, and had, it seems, reason to be satisfied with the faithfulness of the reproduction of the design. It had been finished off at the top in accordance with the indication I mentioned, so that the vertical bands joined. But something still needed to be done in the way of matching the colour of the original. Mr. Cattell had suggestions of a technical kind to offer, with which I need not trouble you. He had also views as to the general desirability of the pattern which were vaguely adverse. “You say you don’t wish this to be supplied excepting to personal friends equipped with a authorization from yourself, sir. It shall be done. I quite understand your wish to keep it exclusive: lends a catchit, does it not, to the suite? What’s every man’s, it’s been said, is no man’s.”

“Do you think it would be popular if it were generally obtainable?” asked Mr. Denton.

“I ’ardly think it, sir,” said Cattell, pensively clasping his beard. “I ’ardly think it. Not popular: it wasn’t popular with the man that cut the block, was it, Mr. ’Iggins?”

“Did he find it a difficult job?”

“He’d no call to do so, sir; but the fact is that the artistic temperament⁠—and our men are artists, sir, every man of them⁠—true artists as much as many that the world styles by that term⁠—it’s apt to take some strange ’ardly accountable likes or dislikes, and here was an example. The twice or thrice that I went to inspect his progress: language I could understand, for that’s ’abitual to him, but reel distaste for what I should call a dainty enough thing, I did not, nor am I now able to fathom. It seemed,” said Mr. Cattell, looking narrowly upon Mr. Denton, “as if the man scented something almost Hevil in the design.”

“Indeed? did he tell you so? I can’t say I see anything sinister in it myself.”

“Neether can I, sir. In fact I said as much. ‘Come, Gatwick,’ I said, ‘what’s to do here? What’s the reason of your prejudice⁠—for I can call it no more than that?’ But, no! no explanation was forthcoming. And I was merely reduced, as I am now, to a shrug of the shoulders, and a cui bono. However, here it is,” and with that the technical side of the question came to the front again.

The matching of the colours for the background, the hem, and the knots of ribbon was by far the longest part of the business, and necessitated many sendings to and fro of the original pattern and of new samples. During part of August and September, too, the Dentons were away from the Manor. So that it was not until October was well in that a sufficient quantity of the stuff had been manufactured to furnish curtains for the three or four bedrooms which were to be fitted up with it.

On the feast of Simon and Jude the aunt and nephew returned from a short visit to find all completed, and their satisfaction at the general effect was great. The new curtains, in particular, agreed to admiration with their surroundings. When Mr. Denton was dressing for dinner, and took stock of his room, in which there was a large amount of the chintz displayed, he congratulated himself over and over again on the luck which had first made him forget his aunt’s commission and had then put into his hands this extremely effective means of remedying his mistake. The pattern was, as he said at dinner, so restful and yet so far from being dull. And Miss Denton⁠—who, by the way, had none of the stuff in her own room⁠—was much disposed to agree with him.

At breakfast next morning he was induced to qualify his satisfaction to some extent⁠—but very slightly. “There is one thing I rather regret,” he said, “that we allowed them to join up the vertical bands of the pattern at the top. I think it would have been better to leave that alone.”

“Oh?” said his aunt interrogatively.

“Yes: as I was reading in bed last night they kept catching my eye rather. That is, I found myself looking across at them every now and then. There was an effect as if someone kept peeping out between the curtains in one place or another, where there was no edge, and I think that was