The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Definite Object, by Jeffery Farnol
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Title: The Definite Object A Romance of New York
Author: Jeffery Farnol
Release Date: June 15, 2005 [eBook #16074]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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THE DEFINITE OBJECT
A Romance of New York
by
JEFFERY FARNOL
Author of The Broad Highway, The Amateur Gentleman, The Honourable Mr. Tawnish, Beltane the Smith
1917
CHAPTER
I Which Describes, among Other Things, a Pair of Whiskers II Of a Mournful Millionaire Who Lacked an Object III How Geoffrey Ravenslee Went Seeking an Object IV Telling How He Came to Hell’s Kitchen at Peep o’ Day V How Mrs. Trapes Acquired a New Lodger, Despite her Elbows VI How Spike Initiated Mr. Ravenslee into the Gentle Art of Shopping VII Concerning Ankles, Stairs, and Neighbourliness VIII Of Candies and Confidences IX Which Recounts the End of an Episode X Tells How Mr. Ravenslee Went into Trade XI Antagonism is Born and War Declared XII Containing Some Description of a Supper Party XIII Wherein may be Found Some Particulars of the Beautiful City of Perhaps XIV Of a Text, a Letter, and a Song XV Which Introduces Joe and the Old Un XVI Of the First and Second Persons, Singular Number XVII How Geoffrey Ravenslee Made a Deal in Real Estate XVIII How Spike Hearkened to Poisonous Suggestion and Soapy Began to Wonder XIX In which the Poison Begins to Work XX Of an Expedition by Night XXI How M’Ginnis Threatened and—Went XXII Tells of an Early Morning Visit and a Warning XXIII Chiefly Concerning a Letter XXIV How the Old Un and Certain Others had Tea XXV How Spike Made a Choice and a Promise XXVI Which Makes Further Mention of a Ring XXVII Mrs. Trapes Upon the Millennium XXVIII Which should have Related Details of a Wedding XXIX In which Hermione Makes a Fateful Decision XXX How Geoffrey Ravenslee Departed from Hell’s Kitchen XXXI In which Soapy Takes a Hand XXXII Of Harmony and Discord XXXIII Of Tragedy XXXIV Of Remorse XXXV How Geoffrey Ravenslee Came Out of the Dark XXXVI Concerning a Clew XXXVII The Woes of Mr. Brimberly XXXVIII In which Soapy Takes upon Himself a New Role XXXIX The Old Un Advises and Ravenslee Acts XL Concerning a Handful of Pebbles XLI Of a Packet of Letters XLII Tells How Ravenslee Broke his Word and Why XLIII How Spike Got Even XLIV Retribution XLV Of the Old Un and Fate XLVI In which Geoffrey Ravenslee Obtains his Object
CHAPTER I
WHICH DESCRIBES, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A PAIR OF WHISKERS
In the writing of books, as all the world knows, two things are above all other things essential—the one is to know exactly when and where to leave off, and the other to be equally certain when and where to begin.
Now this book, naturally enough, begins with Mr. Brimberly’s whiskers; begins at that moment when he coughed and pulled down his waistcoat for the first time. And yet (since action is as necessary to the success of a book as to life itself) it should perhaps begin more properly at the psychological moment when Mr. Brimberly coughed and pulled down the garment aforesaid for the third time, since it is then that the real action of this story commences.
Be that as it may, it is beyond all question that nowhere in this wide world could there possibly be found just such another pair of whiskers as those which adorned the plump cheeks of Mr. Brimberly; without them he might have been only an ordinary man, but, possessing them, he was the very incarnation of all that a butler could possibly be.
And what whiskers these were! So soft, so fleecy, so purely white, that at times they almost seemed like the wings of cherubim, striving to soar away and bear Mr. Brimberly into a higher and purer sphere. Again, what Protean whiskers were these, whose fleecy pomposity could overawe the most superior young footmen and reduce page-boys, tradesmen, and the lower orders generally, to a state of perspiring humility; to his equals how calmly aloof, how blandly dignified; and to those a misguided fate had set above him, how demurely deferential, how obligingly obsequious! Indeed, Mr. Brimberly’s whiskers were all things to all men, and therein lay their potency.
Mr. Brimberly then, pompous, affable, and most sedate, having motioned his visitor into his master’s favourite chair, set down the tray of decanters and glasses upon the piano, coughed, and pulled down his waistcoat; and Mr. Brimberly did it all with that air of portentous dignity and leisurely solemnity which, together with his whiskers, made him the personality he was.
“And you’re still valeting for Barberton, are you, Mr. Stevens?” he blandly enquired.
“I’ve been with his lordship six months, now,” nodded Mr. Stevens.
“Ah!” said Mr. Brimberly, opening a certain carved cabinet and reaching thence a box of his master’s choicest Havanas, “six months, indeed! And ‘ow is Barberton? I hacted in the capacity of his confidential valet a good many years ago, as I told you, and we always got on very well together, very well, indeed. ‘ow is Barberton?”
“Oh, ‘e ‘d be right enough if it warn’t for ‘is gout which gets ‘im in the big toe now and then, and ‘is duns and creditors and sich-like low fellers, as gets ‘im everywhere and constant! ‘E’ll never be quite ‘imself until ‘e marries money—and plenty of it!”
“A American hair-ess!” nodded Mr. Brimberly. “Precisely! I very nearly married ‘im to a rich widder ten years ago. ‘E’d ‘ave been settled for life if ‘e ‘d took my advice! But Barberton was always inclined to be a little ‘eadstrong. The widder in question ‘appened to be a trifle par-say, I’ll admit, also it was ‘inted that one of ‘er—lower limbs was cork. But then, ‘er money, sir—’er jools!” Mr. Brimberly raised eyes and hands and shook his head until his whiskers quivered in a very ecstasy.
“But a wooden leg—” began Mr. Stevens dubiously.
“I said ‘limb’, sir!” said Mr. Brimberly, his whiskers distinctly agitated, “a cork limb, sir! And Lord bless me, a cork limb ain’t to be sniffed at contemptuous when it brings haffluence with it, sir! At least, my sentiments leans that way.”
“Oh—ditto, certainly, sir! I’d take haffluence to my ‘eart if she came with both le—both of ‘em cork, if it meant haffluence like this!” Mr. Stevens let his pale, prominent eyes wander slowly around the luxuriant splendour of the room. “My eye!” he exclaimed, “it’s easy to see as your governor don’t have to bother about marrying money, cork limbs or otherwise! Very rich, ain’t ‘e, Mr. Brimberly?”
Mr. Brimberly set down the decanter he chanced to be holding, and having caressed each fluffy whisker, smiled.
“I think, sir,” said he gently, “y-es, I think we may answer ‘yes’ to your latter question. I think we may tell you and admit ‘ole-‘earted and frank, sir, that the Ravenslee fortune is fab’lous, sir, stoopendious and himmense!”
“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Mr. Stevens, and his pale eyes, much wider, now wandered up from the Persian rug beneath his boots to the elaborately carved ceiling above his head. “My aunt!” he murmured.
“Oh, I think we’re fairly comfortable ‘ere, sir,” nodded Mr. Brimberly complacently, “yes, fairly comfortable, I think.”
“Comfortable!” ejaculated the awe-struck Mr. Stevens, “I should say so! My word!”
“Yes,” pursued Mr. Brimberly, “comfortable, and I ventur’ to think, tasteful, sir, for I’ll admit young Ravenslee—though a millionaire and young—’as taste. Observe this costly bricky-brack! Oh, yes, young Har is a man of taste indoobitably, I think you must admit.”