<h2 id="id02783" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER LIII.</h2>
<h5 id="id02784">THE VICAR'S COMPLICATIONS, WHICH LIVELY PEOPLE HAD BETTER NOT READ.</h5>
<p id="id02785" style="margin-top: 2em">William Wylder's reversion was very tempting. But Lawyer Larkin knew the
value of the precious metals, and waited for more data. The more he
thought over his foreign correspondence, and his interview with Lake, the
more steadily returned upon his mind the old conviction that the gallant
captain was deep in the secret, whatever it might be.</p>
<p id="id02786">Whatever his motive—and he always had a distinct motive, though
sometimes not easily discoverable—he was a good deal addicted now to
commenting, in his confidential talk, with religious gossips and others,
upon the awful state of the poor vicar's affairs, his inconceivable
prodigality, the unaccountable sums he had made away with, and his own
anxiety to hand over the direction of such a hopeless complication of
debt, and abdicate in favour of any competent skipper the command of the
water-logged and foundering ship.</p>
<p id="id02787">'Why, his Brother Mark could get him cleverly out of it—could not he?'
wheezed the pork-butcher.</p>
<p id="id02788">'More serious than you suppose,' answered Larkin, with a shake of his
head.</p>
<p id="id02789">'It can't go beyond five hundred, or say nine hundred—eh, at the
outside?'</p>
<p id="id02790">'Nine <i>hundred</i>—say double as many <i>thousand</i>, and I'm afraid you'll be
nearer the mark. You'll not mention, of course, and I'm only feeling my
way just now, and speaking conjecturally altogether; but I'm afraid it is
enormous. I need not remind you not to mention.'</p>
<p id="id02791">I cannot, of course, say how Mr. Larkin's conjectures reached so
prodigious an elevation, but I can now comprehend why it was desirable
that this surprising estimate of the vicar's liabilities should prevail.
Mr. Jos. Larkin had a weakness for enveloping much of what he said and
wrote in an honourable mystery. He liked writing <i>private</i> or
<i>confidential</i> at top of his notes, without apparent right or even reason
to impose either privacy or confidence upon the persons to whom he wrote.
There was, in fact, often in the good attorney's mode of transacting
business just a <i>soupçon</i> or flavour of an <i>arrière pensée</i> of a remote
and unseen plan, which was a little unsatisfactory.</p>
<p id="id02792">Now, with the vicar he was imperative that the matter of the reversion
should be strictly confidential—altogether 'sacred,' in fact.</p>
<p id="id02793">'You see, the fact is, my dear Mr. Wylder, I never meddle in speculative
things. It is not a class of business that I like or would touch with one
of my fingers, so to speak,' and he shook his head gently; 'and I may
say, if I were supposed to be ever so slightly engaged in these risky
things, it would be the <i>ruin</i> of me. I don t like, however, sending you
into the jaws of the City sharks—I use the term, my dear Mr. Wylder,
advisedly—and I make a solitary exception in your case; but the fact is,
if I thought you would mention the matter, I could not touch it even for
you. There's Captain Lake, of Brandon, for instance—I should not be
surprised if I lost the Brandon business the day after the matter reached
his ears. All men are not like you and me, my dear Mr. Wylder. The sad
experience of my profession has taught me that a suspicious man of the
world, without religion, my dear Mr. Wylder,' and he lifted his pink
eyes, and shook his long head and long hands in unison—'without
religion—will imagine anything. They can't understand us.'</p>
<p id="id02794">Now, the fifty pounds which good Mr. Larkin had procured for the
improvident vicar, bore interest, I am almost ashamed to say, at thirty
per cent. per annum, and ten per cent. more the first year. But you are
to remember that the security was altogether speculative; and Mr. Larkin,
of course, made the best terms he could.</p>
<p id="id02795">Annual premium on a policy for £100 [double insurance } £ <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i>
being insisted upon by lender, to cover contingent ex- } 10 0 0
penses, and life not insurable, a delicacy of the lungs }
being admitted, on the ordinary scale] }</p>
<p id="id02796">Annuity payable to lender, clear of premium, the } 7 10 0<br/>
security being unsatisfactory }<br/>
———————<br/>
£17 10 0<br/></p>
<p id="id02797">Ten pounds of which (the premium), together with four pounds ten
shillings for expenses, &c. were payable in advance. So that thirty-two
pounds, out of his borrowed fifty, were forfeit for these items within a
year and a month. In the meantime the fifty pounds had gone, as we know,
direct to Cambridge; and he was called upon to pay forthwith ten pounds
for premium, and four pounds ten shillings for 'expenses.' <i>Quod
impossibile.</i></p>
<p id="id02798">The attorney had nothing for it but to try to induce the lender to let
him have another fifty pounds, pending the investigation of
title—another fifty, of which he was to get, in fact, eighteen pounds.
Somehow, the racking off of this bitter vintage from one vessel into
another did not seem to improve its quality. On the contrary, things were
growing decidedly more awful.</p>
<p id="id02799">Now, there came from Messrs. Burlington and Smith a peremptory demand for
the fourteen pounds ten shillings, and an equally summary one for
twenty-eight pounds fourteen shillings and eight pence, their costs in
this matter.</p>
<p id="id02800">When the poor vicar received this latter blow, he laid the palm of his
hand on the top of his head, as if to prevent his brain from boiling
over. Twenty-eight pounds fourteen shillings and eight pence! <i>Quod
impossibile.</i> again.</p>
<p id="id02801">When he saw Larkin, that conscientious guardian of his client's interests
scrutinised the bill of costs very jealously, and struck out between four
and five pounds. He explained to the vicar the folly of borrowing
insignificant and insufficient sums—the trouble, and consequently the
cost, of which were just as great as of an adequate one. He was
determined, if he could, to pull him through this. But he must raise a
sufficient sum, for the expense of going into title would be something;
and he would write sharply to Burlington, Smith, and Co., and had no
doubt the costs would be settled for twenty-three pounds. And Mr. Jos.
Larkin's opinion upon the matter was worthy of respect, inasmuch as he
was himself, under the rose, the 'Co.' of that firm, and ministered its
capital.</p>
<p id="id02802">'The fact is you must, my dear Mr. Wylder, make an effort. It won't do
peddling and tinkering in such a case. You will be in a worse position
than ever, unless you boldly raise a thousand pounds—if I can manage
such a transaction upon a security of the kind. Consolidate all your
liabilities, and keep a sum in hand. You are well connected—powerful
relatives—your brother has Huxton, four hundred, a year, whenever
old—the—the present incumbent goes—and there are other things
beside—but you must not allow yourself to be ruined through timidity;
and if you go to the wall without an effort, and allow yourself to be
slurred in public, what becomes of your chance of preferment?'</p>
<p id="id02803">And now 'title' went up to Burlington, Smith, and Co. to examine and
approve; and from that firm, I am sorry to say, a bill of costs was
coming, when deeds were prepared and all done, exceeding three hundred
and fifty pounds; and there was a little reminder from good Jos. Larkin
for two hundred and fifty pounds more. This, of course, was to await Mr.
Wylder's perfect convenience. The vicar knew <i>him</i>—<i>he</i> never pressed
any man. Then there would be insurances in proportion; and interest, as
we see, was not trifling. And altogether, I am afraid, our friend the
vicar was being extricated in a rather embarrassing fashion.</p>
<p id="id02804">Now, I have known cases in which good-natured debauchees have interested
themselves charitably in the difficulties of forlorn families; and I
think <i>I</i> knew, almost before they suspected it, that their generous
interference was altogether due to one fine pair of eyes, and a pretty
<i>tournure</i>, in the distressed family circle. Under a like half-delusion,
Mr. Jos. Larkin, in the guise of charity, was prosecuting his designs
upon the vicar's reversion, and often most cruelly and most artfully,
when he frankly fancied his conduct most praiseworthy.</p>
<p id="id02805">And really I do not myself know, that, considering poor William's
liabilities and his means, and how many chances there were against that
reversion ever becoming a fact, that I would not myself have advised his
selling it, if a reasonable price were obtainable.</p>
<p id="id02806">'All this power will I give thee,' said the Devil, 'and the glory of
them; for that is delivered unto me, and to whomsoever I will I give it.'
The world belongs to the rascals. It is like 'the turf,' where, everyone
admits, an honest man can hardly hold his own. Jos. Larkin looked down on
the seedy and distracted vicar from an immense moral elevation. He heard
him talk of religion with disgust. He owed him costs, and, beside, costs
also to Burlington, Smith, and Co. Was there not Talkative in 'Pilgrim's
Progress?' I believe there are few things more provoking than that a man
who owes you money, and can't pay the interest, should pretend to
religion to your face, except, perhaps, his giving sixpence in charity.</p>
<p id="id02807">The attorney was prosperous. He accounted for it by his attributes, and
the blessing that waits on industry and integrity. He did not see that
luck and selfishness had anything to do with it. No man ever failed but
through his own fault—none ever succeeded but by his deservings. The
attorney was in a position to lecture the Rev. Mr. Wylder. In his
presence, religion, in the vicar's mouth, was an impertinence.</p>
<p id="id02808">The vicar, on the other hand, was all that we know. Perhaps, in
comparison, his trial is, in some sort, a blessing; and that there is no
greater snare than the state of the man with whom all goes smoothly, and
who mistakes his circumstances for his virtues.</p>
<p id="id02809">The poor vicar and his little following were got pretty well into the
Furcae Caudinae. Mr. Jos. Larkin, if he did not march him out, to do him
justice, had had no hand in primarily bringing him there. There was no
reason, however, why the respectable lawyer should not make whatever was
to be fairly made of the situation. The best thing for both was, perhaps,
that the one should sell and the other buy the reversion. Larkin had no
apprehensions about the nature of the dealing. He was furnished with an
excellent character—his cheques were always honoured—his 'tots' always
unexceptionable—his vouchers never anything but exact. He had twice been
publicly complimented in this sense, when managing Lord Hedgerow's
estate. No man had, I believe, a higher reputation in his walk—few men
were more formidable. I think it was Lawyer Larkin's private canon, in
his dealings with men, that everything was moral that was not contrary to
an Act of Parliament.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />