Captains and the Kings by Taylor Caldwell
Chapter 11
It had not been impulse or the bravado of pride which had made Joseph force his hoarded twenty-dollar goldpiece on Mr. Healey. It had been the instinct of perceptive genius. Shrewdly, Joseph understood Mr. Healey; under all that jocular good-will and Irish sentimentality lay a cunning man who could be ruthless and probably frequently was, a man who could be a jaunty bully but a bully for all that, a man who respected no other man but one who stood toe to toe with him and would not give an inch, a man who would exchange something for something and honored only men who were similar. For a fool or a weakling, or a witless man who did not know his own worth or permitted himself to be cheated, or who stood solely on principle and even then not with strength, Mr. Healey had the most honest contempt. Mr. Healey might praise "gents with scruples" but Joseph suspected that Mr. Healey despised them openheartedly. In giving Mr. Healey that money Joseph had given him silent notice that not only was he prepared to pay his way but that he would not be another Bill, a sycophant or unreservedly devoted follower. He would serve Mr. Healey if it would also serve himself, equal for equal. His loyalty was not for sale, and could not be bought with fair words, promises, affectionate laughter, moneyless generosities and rich hints, and avowals of friendship and facile agreements, or any other lying beguilements of no value which men like Mr. Healey would use to exploit and deceive the unwary and trusting. Joseph's loyalty was for "cash on the counter," as Mr. Healey would say. Joseph also understood that it was not Joseph's angry and forced concern for Haroun that had touched Mr. Healey's sensibilities. Had Joseph been maudlin or entreating and had begged for help, Mr. Healey would not have concerned himself for a moment with him. He would have been only another ragged pauper, a sniveler, to be kicked aside. Yet Joseph also knew that Mr. Healey, when the spirit moved him, as he would call it himself, could be kind provided it did not inconvenience him for an instant, cost him anything of moment, or distract him. His own kindness flattered him, raised a self-esteem already high, and was a personal indulgence such as a stout woman feels in the presence of bon-bons, and then against all sense takes one. It sweetened Mr. Healey's nature for days, and he was pleased with himself. It was not a paradox, Joseph reflected, that he found himself respecting Mr. Healey also for what he was: A strong and exigent man, inexorable in the pursuit of his own interests. Mr. Healey, in behalf of his own affairs, might attempt to inspire trust, but he would never trust the man who took him simply at his word, for that man would be an idiot fit only for the plucking. "Always get it in black and white, with witnesses to the paper," Mr. Healey would say. "That's the only way to do business." On the other hand, if Joseph should tell him-Joseph suspected-that he, Joseph, had borrowed money from Mr. Squibbs and intended as soon as possible to return it, with scrupulous interest, Mr. Healey would approve immediately. One must not become indebted, through open theft or otherwise, to men such as Mr. Squibbs, who was only a small and unimportant scoundrel. He looked about him in the "blue room" to which he had been assigned. He had read about houses like this, and the Tom Hennesseys' houses, in the many books he had read, but he had never been in one before. Yet, from his reading and some stir of aristocratic blood, he recognized and accepted it at once, with one of the few grudging pleasures he had ever known. It was a tall square room, and had obviously not been furnished by Mr. Healey who liked only opulent and obvious luxury. Here was all muted color, restrained and haughty, from the pale blue silk walls to the same blue of the draperies at the window, and to the darker and softer blue of the antique rug. The furnishings were plain and spare and not crowded with expensive furniture as the hall below had been crowded, but the wood gleamed like dark honey and the brass trimmings were delicate but solid. The bed had a blue velvet coverlet, worn but still handsome, and the posts of it were uncarved. There was a rosewood desk here, the desk of a lady, and some fine steel etchings on the walls, and a fireplace of black marble adorned only by two brass candelabra and a black marble clock ticking defiantly against the profanation of usurpers. Joseph drew a deep breath then let it out slowly. The room seemed to know him, as he knew it. Then he saw that there was a bookcase in the far corner and he went to it at once. A lady may once have occupied this room, a banished or dead lady, but her taste in literature had been sophisticated, and all the books in the case were classics bound in blue and gold leather. For a moment, Joseph, handling them, even forgot the room and even where he was. Among many others he saw Goethe, Burke, Adam Smith, and the Aeneid, various Greek dramas, the earlier Emerson, Manzoni, Aristotle's Ethics, Washington Irving, Two Years Before the Mast, the Odyssey, and Spinoza. He hungered for them with a deeper hunger than the voracity of the body. He touched them as a lover touches a woman. There was a timid knock on the door and he answered it and saw the little maid there, Liza, with a copper can steaming with hot water, and fresh towels. He had forgotten her existence, and the existence of everyone else in the house, and so stared blankly at her for a few moments. "Hot water, sir, and towels," she whispered. "The gong will sound in a few minutes." He had not eaten since early last evening, and suddenly he was conscious of hunger. He stood aside and the girl came in and poured hot water into the china bowl on the commode and put the towels neatly beside it. She pointed to the commode, and blushed. Then she ran from the room. He wondered why she had blushed, and so opened the bottom compartment of the commode and saw the chamber pot there. He laughed aloud, for there had been no chamber pots in his room at the house of Mrs. Marhall, such luxuries being reserved for more affluent boarders than himself. He took off his grimy shirt and bathed, and used the highly scented soap and the soft warm towels. He had but one clean shirt in reserve so he opened his cardboard box and put the shirt on and fastened it with a button. He had no cravat. He brushed down his worn coat and wrinkled pantaloons, then took out his steel comb and ran it briskly through his thick russet hair. He was still shaving but twice a week, and as he had shaved last Friday and this was Monday there was a soft faint stubble of reddish hair on his pale young cheeks and chin. Though he had scrubbed his long slender hands with their finely shaped fingers there was still grime under his nails which could not be removed. A brass gong hit vigorously below startled him. But he had read of such in novels and was not confused. He went downstairs. Mr. Healey, jauntier and more pleased with himself than ever-due to the occasions Joseph had given him to be kind-was waiting in the long hall dressed in fresh pantaloons of a Tartan any Scotsman might have admired, a deep red silk waistcoat and a long pale-gray coat. His white cravat was pinned with a diamond horseshoe. Beside him stood the demure Miss Emmy with her mischief-brimming eyes and her sparkling smile. He said, "Though you've not asked nor seemingly cared, boyo, I've had the doctor for your Harry Zeff. The lad's in a bad way, that he is. Blood poisoning and such. But, he'll live, with good care. Miss Emmy will see to that, and Miz Murray and the maids, and my Bill, when I can spare him." He chuckled. "I paid the doctor out of that money piece you gave me. That's what you wanted, didn't you?" "Yes. Thank you," said Joseph, without much interest. Haroun was out of his hands. He hoped the matter would remain that way. "You like your room, eh?" ' "Very much." Joseph looked at him blandly. "The other people furnished it, didn't they?" "Well, yes," said Mr. Healey, with superiority. "Not so fine as the rooms I done over, myself, but adequate, boyo, adequate, for a lad your age. Comfortable. Now we'll go into the dining room." Mr. Healey had furnished the dining room with stupendously large pieces of furniture of ornate and expensive taste. The mahogany sideboard covered one wall almost entirely, and was loaded with glistening silver of an elaborate pattern. The china closet was filled with gilt cups and saucers and other objects not so easily identified, and the round and pedestaled table was enormous and wore a stiffly ironed white linen cloth with napkins folded in a lily design. There were crystal goblets and gold- bordered plates and heavy silverware and an epergne and a bowl of roses also, and the chairs were of black leather with studs of bright brass. The old rug was scarlet, overlaid with a pattern of flowe