Читать книгу Mr. Oseba's Last Discovery - George W. Bell - Страница 9

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Well, my reader, while Leo Bergin is below, striving to compromise with his digestion, I will relate to you some of his peculiarities, that you may be prepared for his wonderful recital.

It was January 10th, 1898, as he entered my room on Great Russell Street, just opposite the British Museum, London, that I first saw him. He knocked at my door, gently; he entered my room, quietly; he sat down familiarly, and he opened the interview, promptly. I will not say Leo Bergin, on this occasion, was not modest; I will say he did not hesitate.

Had Leo Bergin remained silent I would have known that he was out of money, out of luck, out of friends, and almost out at the knees and elbows. But he evidently doubted my powers of perception, for, with superfluous frankness and eloquent volubility, he informed me that he only wanted a “loan” for a short time until he could “get on his feet.”

These stories were very common. They had been very “taking” with me, but desiring to avoid occupying a like position I had grown impatient and crusty, possibly a little hard-hearted, so I looked squarely into his fine eyes, and asked him “to get on his feet” at once.

He arose, looked me in the face, not with defiance or humiliation, not with shame or impudence, but like a man. He said, “I am down.” That was evident, but the soft saying of this had always cost me heavily, and, softening again, I asked who he was and what he could do.

He said, “I am an American; I was born in Virginia, lived in California, have done newspaper work in New Zealand, and as a journalist I am in London—and down.”

I weakened. The man who had been born in Virginia, lived in California, and done newspaper work in New Zealand, could not be wholly depraved, for the very air of these three favored spots would preserve some semblance of virtue.

“I surrender,” said I; “express your most fervent wish and it shall be granted.”

He betrayed little emotion. His countenance remained placid, but he said, “I have talent, good looks, and industry, and I want employment,—I desire to earn my living. I asked for a loan, but it was in despair, and I desired to replace my lost revolver that I might ‘quit this ghastly dream called life’ before another week’s board was due. But under the spell of your words, ‘a change came o’er the spirit of my dream,’ and now I must live.”

“Must!” said I, “you assert this ‘must’ with such emphasis, perhaps you would tell me why you must live? For my part I see no actual necessity for it—not the least.”

A cloud was on his brow. He remained silent and immovable as a statue.

“Cheer up, old fellow,” said I, “for if you desire to earn your living, I will secure a position for you.”

I knew who wanted a man, “talented, good-looking and industrious.” I gave Leo Bergin a suit of my clothes—just a little soiled, I confess, for, as a fact, I never could obey that divine injunction regarding the giving my brother a coat, until it was a little soiled. I gave him a strong letter to a friend on Trafalgar Square, and Leo Bergin stepped into a good position.

I was called to the Continent for a few months on important duty. Time went on and within a few weeks I received a brief note.

“Trafalgar Square,

“London.

“To my Benefactor,

“Yours of —— received. Glad,—you deserve it. I am well. I think my employer is satisfied, but I am a little restless.

“Leo.“

“Talent, good looks, and ambition, but a fool,” said I, “and he will never get on.”

A few more weeks passed, and another note came from “Trafalgar Square, London.” This was less brief than the other. It read:—

“Trafalgar Square,

“London.

“Dear Sir,

“Leo Bergin is not at his desk. He has appropriated enough of my money to enable him to take a vacation, and—he left no address. Talent, good looks, and ambition Leo Bergin has, to some degree, but he is evidently a d—— villain. What did you know about this fellow, anyway?

“D. J. Folder.“

There seemed no vagueness in this note, but I pondered. What did I know about him? Only that he was once born in Virginia, had lived in California, and had done newspaper work in New Zealand. Musingly, I said, “Perchance the villain lied.” This solved the problem for the time, for it seemed more likely that a man should even lie, than go wrong with such a record.

For the time I lost all respect for Leo Bergin. To deliberately rob a confiding employer is reprehensible, and if Leo Bergin in this had not shown himself a thief, he had betrayed an entire lack of a sense of proportion. This was one side of Leo Bergin’s character.

But lapses, my brothers, do not establish total depravity, for it is reported “of old” that a gentleman, on a very serious occasion, prevaricated on a very potent fact, and when confronted, “he denied.” When pressed, “he denied with an oath,” and yet this gentleman has been kindly remembered and well spoken of.