Читать книгу The Jest of Life - Arthur Gask - Страница 3

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ONE fine sunny morning Mr. Montague Twiggs, dental surgeon of Adelaide, South Australia, walked slowly up the steps of his professional chambers on North Terrace, carrying a professional-looking bag that contained a sporting paper, two apples and a packet of neatly-cut cheese sandwiches.

Ordinarily a happy, jovial-looking man, his face just now was clouded over with a dark, despondent frown.

He proceeded into his surgery, and the white-gowned young woman who was dusting over the dental chair at once exclaimed brightly: "Good morning, sir."

Mr. Twiggs forced his face into a sort of smile. "Good morning, nurse," he replied. "Anyone waiting?"

"No, sir."

"Any letters?"

"Yes, sir, four and a small packet."

Mr. Twiggs' face brightened as he started to thumb over the letters, but then at once it fell as quickly again. "No cheques!" he muttered. "Now why the deuce don't they cash up?"

He took off his coat and hat. "Oh! have you made any appointments, Hypatia?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, one for half past ten," the nurse replied. "A new patient who said he wanted a set of teeth!"

"Good! What sort of person was he?"

"Quite well-dressed, sir, and with a big gold chain. He said he kept the 'Wattle Tree Hotel,' in Hindley Street."

"Splendid! Hypatia, a publican! Publicans and sinners are the ones to attend! They always pay hard cash, and run no long-winded bills."

The telephone rang sharply and the nurse went out, returning, however, in a few moments.

"A gentleman wants to know if he can have an extraction under gas this morning," she announced. "He says he's got no nerve."

The dentist was busy with his letters. "Tell him I've got the nerve, if he's got the money," he replied, without looking up. "Yes, he can come at eleven."

"He says he's heard a lot to your credit," the nurse added.

"Credit!" ejaculated Mr. Twiggs turning angrily. "Great Scott! it's everlasting credit with the people here." He nodded significantly. "And you just mention to him, please, that the fee will be a guinea, and with anesthetic work it is customary for it to be paid at the time."

"Very good, sir," replied the nurse, and she swept softly from the room.

The dentist returned to his letters and with their perusal his despondency deepened. He opened the little packet and the broken parts of a plate of artificial teeth fell out upon the desk. A letter accompanied them in the box.

"Sir," he read, "when you made me my plate, you told me most distinctly that it would last me for twenty years, and yet it has actually broken in just over one. I was only eating a piece of bread and butter, too, at the time. I must say I am very disappointed, for my friend, Mrs. Gumby, has had her set for fifteen years and they are as good as the day when Mr. Spanker put them in. I understand Mr. Spanker is still practising and is most moderate in his charges. What do you intend to do?"

Mr. Twiggs closed his own teeth with a snap, and then with a gesture of contempt snatched up a pen and a sheet of his professional notepaper and commenced to write rapidly.

Madam [he wrote],

it was an upper set of teeth that I had the privilege of making for you in the Month of June last year, and it is a broken lower plate that you now forward to me. Its quality and lasting properties, therefore, are no concern of mine. Breaking it, however, as you inform me you did when consuming only a piece of bread and butter, I would suggest that the butter may perhaps have been a trifle strong!

With compliments, yours faithfully,

Montague Twiggs.

P.S.—By-the-bye, my secretary has just reminded me that the fee for the upper denture has not as yet been paid. Doubtless, it has escaped your notice. So may I therefore expect a cheque by return of post?"

Mr. Twiggs read the letter through and then for the first time that morning, really smiled.

"A wicked world!" he murmured. "The usual try-on!"

There was a knock upon the door and the nurse entered again. "A lady on the phone, sir. She wants to know what your charge is for a set of teeth."

The dentist sighed heavily. "I used to think it was twenty guineas, Hypatia, but I believe now that I do them for nothing. Tell her, however, to come and see me and I'll discuss it with her then."

Alone once more, Mr. Twiggs rose up from his desk and stood looking gloomily out of the window.

"Rootity-toot," he hummed abstractedly to himself—

"Rootity-toot, she plays the flute,

In a very charming manner——"

"A dog's life, a dentist's," he soliloquized, "and so much of the time it is working all for nothing! A poor thing, at any rate, to be a professional man, and don't I wish I'd got a shop or something, or was even keeping a public-house, instead! Then I'd be able to enjoy life a bit and have a day off when I wanted to, and go out with the kids."

A boy went by outside yelling shrilly: "Race-cards, race-cards for Morphettville."

Mr. Twiggs sighed deeply. "I wish I dared go," he muttered, "for I'm sure Whiskers will win to-day. He'll streak away like blue blazes in the straight and win by half a street. Blotter will be riding him, and he'll get the brute all out." He fingered a little packet of notes in his vest pocket, and then shook his head. "No, I'll not risk it. There's that wretched rent due on Wednesday and I must not be late again. I wonder now—hullo! hullo! I do believe that chap's coming in. He's stroking his face in a suspicious manner."

There was a few seconds pause and then came a ring at the bell.

"Ah!" muttered the dentist, "I thought I was right, but it'll be another God-reward-you job, probably, for he doesn't look up to much."

"Gentleman to see you, sir," announced the nurse, coming briskly into the surgery.

"Show him in," said Mr. Twiggs, "and, if anyone else comes, say I shan't be long."

The stranger was a small and elderly-looking man, dark and swarthy, with long hair and black, piercing eyes. He was shabbily dressed and the collar of his coat was buttoned up to his chin.

"Well, what can I do for you, now?" asked the dentist in the act of drying his hands.

The stranger salaamed deeply. "I want a tooth out, please," he replied. "I have a swelling under my jaw."

His voice was low and gentle and he spoke in perfect English, although it was plain to see he was a foreigner. He had the look, too, of long years under burning suns, and he held himself like one whose body was always bowed.

"I don't want chloroform," he added, "and you need put nothing on my gum, for I don't feel pain when I have willed my thoughts away." He spoke serenely. "To the initiated the body is but the servant of the mind."

"Ah!" murmured Mr. Twiggs, "a crank, of course! I thought he looked strange." He examined the tooth and then said aloud: "But it's a bad one and I'd better give you a little cocaine."

The stranger, however, shook his head. "It will not be necessary," he said, "for I shall be far away when you are taking it out."

The dentist picked up his hypodermic syringe. "Now don't be foolish," he said persuasively. "It's a bad tooth, I say, and I shall have to hurt you quite a good bit."

"But you can't hurt me," said the stranger smilingly, "for I shall be among the stars when you begin." His voice took on a note of authority. "I know what I am saying, for I am a Master in my own land."

Mr. Twiggs hesitated for a moment and then turning round proceeded to fill a tumbler with hot water.

"I shall not want that either," said the stranger, shaking his head again, "I shall not bleed, for I have willed it so."

"Good Lord!" ejaculated the dentist. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, just as you like, have it so." He picked up a pair of forceps and the stranger leant back and closed his eyes. Mr. Twiggs bent over—there was a moment of intense silence—then came a deep indrawn breath and with a click the tooth fell into the basin by the side of the chair.

"Good man!" said Mr. Twiggs, "you didn't make a sound!"

And the stranger continued to make no sound. He lay back quiet and still, but his eyes were open now and he stared dreamily before him.

Then just when Mr. Twiggs was beginning to get uneasy, the man stirred and a moment later was smiling blandly as before.

"No, I never felt anything,"' he said, "and in those few seconds I went a far journey and learnt a lot about you."

Mr. Twiggs smiled dryly. "Well, there wasn't much to learn, anyhow. My life's too darned monotonous to have any secrets and I'm just a public slave."

"But you are a worker in the vineyard," said the stranger softy. "You minister at the altar of human pain!"

"Worker in the vineyard!" echoed the dentist scornfully. "Yes, I work there right enough, but precious few of the grapes come my way any time." He took a cachou from his pocket and stared stonily at the stranger. "Do you know, my friend," he continued, warming up, "that for half the work I do here I don't get paid a penny? Look at those books there."

He pointed disgustedly to a row of ledgers upon a shelf. "Those represent my bad debts, sir—the work I've done and shall never be paid for." He shook his head gloomily. "No, there's no collection in this tabernacle here and I'm just the sacrifice upon that altar you refer to."

"You labour for no reward then?" queried the stranger, with his eyes opened very wide.

"Have to," replied the dentist sadly. "Threatening letters don't frighten them and I lose money if I summons—every time."

"Then you are a good man," said the stranger after a pause, "and you will be one of the elect, in due time."

"Eh?" exclaimed the dentist, looking rather puzzled, "what does that mean?"

"In the next world you will reap great harvests. You will be one of the lords of the skies. I, Bizrah, say it, who have great powers lent me from on high."

The dentist smiled bitterly. "That's all very well, sir, and I'm sure it's very kind of you to say so. It's certainly quite nice to know that things are going to be O.K. with me at some future time, but what about just now? That's what troubles me." His voice rose emphatically. "What about this week, sir, next week and the week after? What about this world here? On Wednesday they will be coming for the rent and it'll be 'out you go' if I've not got the needful ready. Understand?"

The stranger regarded him searchingly. "Then you have troubles," he said very gravely, "and the yoke of this world galls upon your neck?"

"Too right it does," replied Mr. Twiggs feelingly, "and it's a precious tight fit sometimes, too."

The stranger rose up from the chair. "Then I must remedy it," he said very gently. "I must give you ease," and he put his hand into his pocket.

"Half a guinea, please," said Mr. Twiggs promptly.

But the man was standing in a sort of daze, and he ignored, if indeed he heard, the dentist's request. "Hush!" he said softly. "Make no sound, for I would commune with those who light the stars," and he closed his eyes, with his hand, however, still in his pocket.

Mr. Twiggs looked furtively in the direction of the door, and then he smiled when he remembered how slight and frail the stranger was.

"Quite dotty," he murmured, "but still I do hope he'll cash up. It'll be useful, for I've got no small change."

The stranger opened his eyes. "It is well," he said solemnly, "for word has been given me that you are to have peace and rest."

"Oh!" said Mr. Twiggs rather uneasily, "and what's the ticket now?"

"Hearken, O Dentist," said the stranger impressively. "Hearken, O Montague Mackerel Twiggs!"

Mr. Twiggs started. How on earth did the fellow know one of his names was Mackerel? He had never used the name, and it was not on his professional plate. It had certainly, however, been given him in baptism, after a long defunct brother of his mother, but he had dropped it years and years ago and his most intimate friends, even, had no knowledge that it was his.

"Montague Mackerel Twiggs," went on the stranger in grave and solemn tones, "you are wearied on the road of life. Your feet chafe and bleed and thorns pierce to your flesh. The burden you bear is heavy, and it is meet therefore that for a time you should have rest. Behold! I give you this."

At last the hand came out of the pocket, but instead of the crisp note and shining sixpence that Mr. Twiggs had hoped for, it produced only a small glass phial.

"Here, take this and break it when you are alone. No, be not afraid," for the dentist had suddenly stepped back. "It contains only three drops of a most beautiful perfume, distilled from the flowers in the garden of Nirvana, and its wonder is—that for a time it will set free your spirit from your body. It will give you change and rest." The stranger drew himself up with dignity. "It is a gift to you because of the unrequited work that you have done for human kind." His voice became very slow and stern. "Montague Mackerel Twiggs, when you have broken this phial and inhaled its vapour, the spirit of you will be loosened from the body and for forty days and two it will be freed to wander and to find a home in the bodies of some other human beings."

Mr. Twiggs edged himself stealthily round to the other side of the chair and glanced once again towards the door.

"Yes, quite dotty," was his muttered remark, "but if I humour him, perhaps he'll pay up now and go."

"Very much obliged, sir," he exclaimed heartily, "then I shan't be a dentist any more?" He pretended to appear anxious. "If so, who'll look after the practice, pray? Remember, I've got a wife and three children to support and there are always little bills to pay."

"The same powers," replied the stranger softly, "that liberate you from the daily toil will see to it that those dear to you suffer no harm." His face lit up admiringly. "But it grieves you that you leave, even for a short time, your work of service to mankind?" he asked.

"It will be a bit awkward, certainly," remarked Mr. Twiggs hesitatingly. "There's no knowing, for instance, what my assistant will do, if I go away."

"Fear not," said the stranger confidently, "all will be well, and even in your wanderings the good work will be going on. The whole time you will be purifying the minds of those into whose bodies you will choose to enter."

"Goodness gracious!" ejaculated Mr. Twiggs, not knowing exactly what to say, "will that really be so?"

"Yea, and for such time as your spirit is inhabiting their bodies, you will each hour hold their minds in sway. You will guide them; their thoughts will be your thoughts when you so desire it, and then their very speech and actions will be yours. You will teach them the glory of sacrifice and the sweetness of working for others without reward."

"Great Jupiter!" groaned Mr. Twiggs in real earnest this time. "I've certainly had enough experience in that department and no one should be a better teacher there."

The stranger reverently placed the little phial upon the table and then picked up his hat. "But remember," he added solemnly, as if in afterthought, "the boon that has been granted to you will last only forty days and two. During that period your spirit shall wander where you will, but, once you have chosen its habitation, it shall pass only from that being to some other—by the touching of your hand."

He walked slowly in the direction of the door.

"Gosh!" muttered the dentist, "he's not going to pay after all!"

But Mr. Twiggs was mistaken there, for as the stranger was passing the fire-place he put his hand in his pocket—the trouser pocket this time—and then came the unmistakable clink of a coin upon the mantel-shelf.

"A small tribute, sir," he said politely, "to your courtesy and skill," and with a low bow he opened the door and was gone.

Mr. Twiggs tip-toed stealthily across to the mantel-shelf and then exclaimed delightedly:

"A yellow-boy! A real sovereign of gold! Now who would have thought it?"

The nurse came in to clear up.

"Hypatia," cried the dentist excitedly, "my luck's going to turn, for a cash transaction has eventuated at last!" He picked up the sovereign and weighed it in his hand. "The very least I can do now is to take a ticket in Tatt's for the sweep on the Melbourne Cup." He hesitated, but only for a moment. "Put on your hat now and go straight round to Flack's, the tobacconist—you know where his shop is—and order me a ticket at once. He's not supposed to deal in them, but mention my name and it'll be quite all right."

"What is this ticket you want me to get, sir?" asked the nurse, looking very puzzled.

Mr. Twiggs raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh! innocence!" he exclaimed incredulously. "I had no idea that such could exist in this guilty world." He beamed upon her. "Tatt's, Hypatia, is a lottery conducted in the little adjoining island of Tasmania. The prizes run from five pounds to twenty thousand and the cost of this particular ticket for the Melbourne Cup will be exactly one pound. You understand now?"

"Yes, sir," smiled the nurse, "and I'll go at once."

The door closed behind her. Mr. Twiggs thought with amusement of the little phial, and taking it up gingerly he carried it over to the light. It was smaller than his little finger and the glass was of a dark amber colour. He smiled as he regarded it, and his thoughts harked back to its donor.

"Rum old cove!" he remarked. "I wonder from what part of the world he comes. I ought certainly to have asked. Not much to look at, but some authority with him and a decided splash of the sacerdotal in his tones. Now what's in this phial? Just some ordinary kind of scent, I suppose! I'll take it home to the wife, anyhow." He grinned. "I'll be generous and she shall have the sniff."

It was not destined, however, that the absent Mrs. Twiggs should ever even see the phial, let alone have what her scoffing husband called 'the sniff,' for when the latter was in the act of replacing the fragile tube upon the table, he slipped suddenly upon the linoleum and—hey presto!—it fell on to the floor, and lay broken by the side of the dental chair.

"Oh! confound it!" ejaculated Mr. Twiggs in great annoyance. "Now I've broken the beastly thing, and it'll stain the carpet, too."

He snatched a napkin from a cupboard, and bending down began to rub vigorously at the small offending stain.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed suddenly, and he remembered afterwards that he had stopped almost at the very first rub. "What a funny smell! But it's not at all bad, though!"

He bent his face quite low down until his nose was almost touching the floor. He sniffed hard several times and then—he drew in a long breath.

"My word!" he ejaculated faintly, "but how giddy I feel! I must lie down."

He tottered across the room and threw himself down at full length upon the sofa. A fearful drumming noise came into his ears, and a spark of dreadful brightness flashed before his eyes. Something seemed to tear horribly inside him and then came a sound as of a rusty sword being drawn forcibly from its scabbard. He felt he was being stifled and he wanted to shriek out.

Suddenly, however, all discomfort left him, and a beautiful feeling of ease began to prevail through all his limbs. He felt light and buoyant, and there was a strange abandon in his smallest movement. He rubbed his eyes and drew in deep draughts of air. He stood up and then turning round—found that he was looking down upon himself recumbent upon the sofa!

IT was several minutes before Mr. Twiggs regained his composure, but then somehow he did not feel very extraordinarily surprised.

"Gosh!" was his first remark, "so the foreign Johnny was right after all, and there's to be six weeks' holiday now for M. M. Twiggs, Esq., from his body and his clothes."

He strolled across the room and looked into the glass; or, rather, he thought he looked into the glass, for he could see nothing there.

"But, of course, I am invisible now," he said proudly. "My blooming spirit's not on show." He looked back to his body on the sofa. "So that's me, is it?" he remarked thoughtfully. "Well, I had no idea I was getting so bald, but the wife has certainly put a good crease in those old trousers of mine."

Then somewhere in the building he heard the sound of people talking.

"Ah, but I must hurry," he ejaculated fearfully. "The two of us must not be found here at once. Hypatia may be back any moment now, and then, of course, there'll be no end of a how-do-you-do."

He darted quickly into the hall and then for a moment stood hesitatingly wondering if in his spirit condition, it would be possible for him to open the hall-door.

The matter was, however, solved suddenly of its own accord, for the door clicked open and a man in over-alls entered clumsily. He was carrying a ladder and a pail. Obviously in a great hurry, he bustled boisterously forward before Mr. Twiggs had time to step aside, and the protruding end of the ladder struck the dentist squarely in the chest.

Or rather—it did not strike him, for it passed right through him, likewise the man himself and likewise half the pail.

"Gee-whiz!" remarked Mr. Twiggs airily, "that's one advantage of being a spirit anyhow," and with no more ado he hopped down the steps and was out on to the terrace.

"Now wait a moment," he said, "and let me think. Now why," he asked frowningly, "didn't I get straight away taken into the body of that workman chap? Goodness knows, we were close enough, for the beggar actually passed right through me!"

He thought for a moment. "Ah! I have it!" he exclaimed. "I didn't will it; it was not my wish." He scoffed contemptuously. "Exactly—and quite right too. No workmen-fellows for me to spend a holiday in. I'm out for something better. I can choose where I will, and I want a bit more life."

He glided invisibly along the terrace and took up a position by one of the public seats.

"Oh! what a glorious day!" he exclaimed with delight, "and I am free to go anywhere—free as air. So, I'll be off to the races now for sure, directly, of course, I've found someone appropriate to take me there." He frowned. "Ah! someone appropriate, that's the thing. I must have somebody respectable and nice. Now let me see," he went on, "what did that fellow say? 'When you so desire it, their thoughts shall be your thoughts, and their very speech and actions shall be yours.'" He nodded. "Yes, when I so desire it! That's it. Then I can sail in and do nothing if I wish, or I can take command at once and boss the whole show. Just as little or as much interference as I please. Well, I'll probably go easy at first anyhow, until I begin to feel my way a bit."

He believed that he shook his head. "But I must do nothing rash and must be very careful whom I choose. Somebody important, of course, and someone, too, who lives well." He threw out an imaginary chest. "Dominion and power will be mine, but still—still there is no reason for the creature comforts of life to be neglected." He affectionately patted an imaginary stomach. "Why, I could do with a good lunch straightaway, I believe. Ah! here's Sir Marcus. Now what of him? '"

A short fat man came waddling by. He was red in the face and breathing heavily. Two men respectfully passed the time of day to him, and a pretty woman bowed and gave him a sweet smile. To the two men the fat man returned a curt nod, but to the pretty woman he lifted his hat with a grand flourish, and was obviously inclined to stop, had she not seemingly been in a great hurry and passed on.

"Oh, you wicked old sinner, Sir Marcus," commented Mr. Twiggs. "I don't wonder the pretty one gave you the quick go-by. In your public achievements you may be an excellent advertisement for the city, but, in private life your reputation's not too good. Now is it, old boy?"

He looked thoughtfully after the retreating figure. "I'm half—I'm half inclined, though, to give you a trial. No, no, I won't. You're a bit too cardiac for my liking, and besides, I really ought to have someone more delectable, at any rate for a start. But there's Bunions, there; now what about him? Bunions, one of the crack doctors of South Australia! No, no, he's too old for me and, again, I feel my nerves want a complete rest from the worries of a practice, and all the relief-of-pain stunt. I want something restful, at any rate to begin with. Hullo! hullo! here's Poodlum, the banker. Now, he's much more my mark. He's respectable and rich and I'll bet anything he keeps a good table. I've often wanted, too, to know how they run things in that rotten old bank of his. Yes, Poodlum shall be my first home and then I'll go round at once and put myself down for a jolly good overdraft. So here goes for the quick creep-in."

Mr. Twiggs glided stealthily forward to intercept the unsuspicious individual whom he had designated as Poodlum, but when close near him a pedestrian farther away suddenly caught his eye.

"Ye gods!" he exclaimed excitedly, "but here's someone better still! The archdeacon! the great Bottleworthy himself! Oh! what a chance."

A most important-looking person was approaching, a man dressed in severe and immaculate clerical attire. He had a proud, handsome face and a commanding eye, and tall and of a good figure, he carried himself erectly, taking each step forward exactly as if he were marching at the head of some very important procession.

"Oh! Bottleworthy, Bottleworthy," went on Mr. Twiggs reproachfully, "what a lot you think of yourself and the whackings you've given me at St. Benger's!" His eyes gleamed. "But now to get back a bit of my own." He thought quickly. "Again, what did that foreign chap say? Ah! I have it. Their thoughts shall be your thoughts and when you so desire it their very speech and actions shall be yours! Oh! great Jehoshaphat!"

He glided forward to meet the new-comer; there was a rustle in the air, a sharp click somewhere, and then for the nonce the spirit of Montague Mackerel Twiggs was housed in the ample and prepossessing body of Augustine Bottleworthy, Archdeacon of St. Jehu's Cathedral and Head Master of the great St. Benger's College.