Hatter's Castle by A. J. Cronin
His precipitate entry carried him past the small, sliding window marked ‘ Enquiries’ without his observing it, and immediately he became lost in a labyrinth of corridors. For some moments he moved about the corridors, blundering angrily like a trapped minotaur in a maze, until by chance he encountered a young man whom, from the short wooden pen that projected like a spit behind one ear, he correctly adjudged to be a clerk.
‘I want to see Sir John Latta,’ he announced fiercely. He felt a fool in these corridors. ‘ I want to see him at once.’
The youth blenched at the august name. For him an impassable regiment of chief clerks, managers, heads of departments, and superintendents intervened upon his road of access to that supreme head.
‘Have you an appointment?’ he asked, vaguely.
‘No!’ said Brodie, ‘I haven’t.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me of course,’ replied the youth, disclaiming immediately all responsibility, ‘but you would have more chance if you had an appointment.’ He spoke the last word as though it were an emblem of high solemnity, like a key that was necessary to open a sacred door.
‘Never mind your appointments. I must see him,’ cried Brodie, so fiercely that the young man felt compelled to offer another suggestion.
‘I could see Mr Sharp for you,’ he observed, mentioning his own particular demi-god.
‘Take me to him then,’ said Brodie impatiently, ‘and hurry up about it.’
With surprising ease the youth threaded the corridors and presenting him before Mr Sharp with a few explanatory words, fled spontaneously as though repudiating all consequences of his act.
Mr Sharp was not sure, was, in fact, extremely doubtful of Sir John’s ability to see anyone to-day. The head of the firm was deeply engaged, had asked not to be disturbed, was shortly going out, and, in fact, unless the business was of the most important nature, Mr Sharp was exceedingly distrustful of himself intruding upon Sir John with Mr Brodie’s name.
Brodie gazed at the other out of his small, angry eyes.
‘Tell Sir John that James Brodie asks to see him,’ he exclaimed hotly. ‘He knows me well. He’ll see me at once.’
Mr Sharp departed in a huff but came back, after some time, to ask Mr Brodie in a frigid tone to be seated, and to say that Sir John would see him presently.
With a triumphant look at the other which said: ‘I told ye so, ye fool,’ Brodie sat down and waited, watching idly, as the moments passed, the hive of busy clerks that hummed around him, their activities controlled, apparently, by the waspish eye of Sharp. As the minutes dragged slowly on, whilst he cooled his heels he reflected, in his suspense, that ‘ presently’ must mean a very considerable period, and the longer he waited the more his exultation faded, the more Mr Sharp’s obvious satisfaction increased; it was borne in on him that he could not enter Sir John’s office in the easy fashion that Sir John entered his, that it was appreciably more difficult to interview the other here than it had been to accost him casually at the Cattle Show. A heavy depression settled upon him which was scarcely dispelled by the sudden, eventual summons to the office of the head of the firm.
Sir John Latta looked up quickly from his desk as Brodie was shown into the room and, silently indicating a chair, resumed his intent consideration of a plan that lay before him. Brodie lowered his ponderous bulk into the chair and glanced round the sumptuous room, observing the rich, teak panelling and softly tinted colours, the flowing marine paintings on the walls, the exquisite models of ships upon their graceful pedestals; as his feet sank deeply into the many piles of the carpet and he viewed the buhl inlay of the desk and the gold cigar box upon it, his nostrils dilated slightly and his eye glistened with a deep sense of appreciation. ‘I like these things,’ his attitude seemed to say; ‘these are the manner of possessions that should be mine.’
‘Well, Brodie,’ said Sir John at last, but without looking up, ‘what is it?’
The other could scarcely have failed to observe the lack of warmth in the tone, but nevertheless he began, eagerly:
‘Sir John! I’ve come to ask ye for your advice. Ye’re the one man in Levenford that I would approach like this. Ye understand me, and all that’s to me, Sir John. I’ve felt that in the past over and over again, and now I’ve come to ask your help.’
Latta looked at him curiously.
‘You are talking in riddles, Brodie,’ he retorted coldly, ‘and it is a form of speech that does not suit you. You are more suited to direct action than indirect speech’; then he added slowly: ‘ and action does not apparently always become you.’
‘What do ye mean, Sir John?’ blurted out Brodie. ‘ Who has been speakin’ of me behind my back?’
The other picked up a fine ivory ruler and, as he lightly tapped his desk with it, answered slowly:
‘You are out of favour with me, Brodie. We cannot help but hear the news and bruit of the town at Levenford House – and you have been making a fool of yourself, or worse.’
‘Ye don’t mean that nonsense about – about skiting away the hats?’
Latta shook his head.
‘That certainly was folly, but in you a comprehensible folly. There are other things you must know of. You have lost your wife and I believe you have lost your business. You have had disappointments, so I shall not say too much. Yet I hear bad reports of you. You know I never hit a man when he’s down, but;’ he continued quietly, ‘I take interest in all our townspeople, and I am sorry to hear ill things spoken even of the meanest labourer in my shipyards.’
Brodie hung his head like a whipped schoolboy, wondering vaguely if it were Matthew’s failure or the Winton Arms that lay in the background of Sir John’s mind.
‘You may have observed,’ continued Latta quietly, ‘that I have not patronised your establishment since the beginning of last year. That is because I heard then of an action of yours which I consider was both unjust and unmerciful. You behaved like a blackguard and a bully to your unfortunate daughter, Brodie, and though some might condone your act on grounds of outraged propriety, we can have nothing to do with you whilst you are under a stigma of this sort.’
Brodie’s bauds clenched tightly and the frown deepened upon his pendent forehead. Latta, he thought bitterly, was the only person in Levenford who would have dared to address him like this, the only man, indeed, who could have uttered such words with impunity.
‘I can do nothing,’ he said sulkily, restrained in his action only through a glimmering sense of his dependence upon the other’s good will. ‘It’s all past and done with now.’
‘You can forgive her,’ replied Latta sternly. ‘You can promise me that she shall have refuge in your house if ever she might require it’
Brodie sat sullenly silent, his mind filled, not by Mary but, strangely, by the picture of Nessie. He must do something for her! It was, after ail, easy for him to make an acquiescence of some description, and with his head still lowered and his eyes upon the carpet he blurted out: ‘Very well, Sir John! It’ll be as ye say.’
Latta looked for a long time at the huge, lowering figure. He had at one time viewed Brodie, in the limited sphere of their mutual encounter, with the connoisseur’s eye for the unusual; regarded him with appreciation as a magnificent mountain of manhood; smiled at his obvious conceit and tolerated, with a puzzled curiosity, his strange, bombastic, and unfathomable allusions. He had observed him with the man of breeding’s appreciation of a unique and eccentric specimen, but now he felt the other’s presence strangely distasteful to him, thought him altered and debased, considered that some deeper explanation might exist of that bluff, yet pretentious assumption of dignity. Quickly he rejected the thought – after all, the man had conceded his point
‘How can I help you then, Brodie?’ he said seriously. ‘Tell me how you stand.’
Brodie at last raised his head, becoming aware that the interview had turned, though he knew not how, into the channel which he desired it to take.
‘I’ve closed my bus
As memory stirred under his own words, his eye filled with self-sympathy and his chest heaved; he stretched out his arm demonstratively.
But Latta was somehow not impressed and raising his hand, deprecatingly, to stop the other he remarked:
‘And what did you do, Brodie, to combat these tactics? Did you branch out into new directions or – or exert yourself more agreeably towards your customers?’
Brodie stared at him with a stupid, mulish obstinacy. ‘I went my own way,’ he exclaimed stubbornly, ‘the way I’ve always gone.’
‘I see,’ said Latta slowly.
‘I fought them!’ exclaimed Brodie. ‘I fought them like a gentleman and I fought fair. Ay, I would have riven them to bits with these two hands if they had shown the courage to meet me. But they skulked beneath me – and how could I lower myself down to their level, the dogs?’
‘And are you involved now, in your affairs?’ asked Sir John. ‘Are you in debt?’
‘No!’ replied Brodie proudly, ‘I’m not. I’m finished – but I owe no man a farthing. I’ve bonded my house but, if I have nothing, I owe nothing. I can start fair, Sir John, if you’ve a mind to help me. That wee Nessie of mine must have her chance. She’s the cleverest lass in Levenford. She’s cut out for the bursary your own father founded if she only gets the opportunity.’
‘Why don’t you sell that ridiculous house of yours?’ considered Latta, impressed more favourably by the other’s words. ‘It’s too large for you now, anyway. Then you can clear your bond, and start afresh in a smaller house with the balance.’
Brodie shook his head slowly.
‘It’s my house,’ he said heavily. ‘I built it, and in it I’ll bide. I would drag it down about my head sooner than give it up.’ Then after a pause he added, sombrely: ‘ If that’s all ye have to suggest I’ll not take any more o’ your time.’
‘Sit down, man,’ cried Latta. ‘You’re as touchy as tinder.’ He toyed absently with his ruler, deep in thought, whilst doubtfully, uncomprehendingly, Brodie watched the quick passage of emotions over the others face. At last Latta spoke. ‘You’re a strange man, Brodie!’ he said, ‘ and your mind puzzles me. I was of opinion, a minute ago, to let you whistle for assistance, but somehow I feel a drag upon me which I can’t resist. I will make you an offer. Business is not for you now, Brodie. You are too big, too slow, too cumbersome. You would never succeed by opening up again in your own line, even if this were possible for you. You ought to be working with these great muscles of yours, and yet I suppose you would consider that beneath you. But you can use a pen, keep books, reckon up figures. We might find a place for you here. As I say, I am making you an offer – it is the most I can do – you may refuse it if you choose.’
Brodie’s eyes gleamed. He had known all along that Sir John would help him, that the strong tie of friendship between them must draw the other to help him, and help him royally; he felt that something large and important was looming near for him.
‘Ay, Sir John,’ he said eagerly, ‘ what do ye suggest? I’m at your disposal if I can assist ye.’
‘I could offer you,’ Latta continued, evenly, ‘ a position in the office as a clerk. It so happens that there is a vacancy in the wood department at this moment. You would have something to learn, yet, out of consideration for you, I would increase the salary slightly. You would have two pounds ten shillings a week.’
Brodie’s jaw dropped, and his face crinkled into striped furrows of bewilderment. Hardly able to believe his ears, his eyes clouded with surprise and chagrin whilst the rosy visions which he had suddenly entertained of sitting in a luxurious room – one such as this perhaps – and of directing a bevy of rushing subordinates, faded slowly from his eyes.
‘Think it over a moment,’ said Latta quietly, as he got up and moved towards an inner room. ‘You must excuse me just now.’
Brodie strove to think. Whilst the other was out of the room he sat crushed, overcome by his humiliation. He – James Brodie – to be a clerk! And yet what other avenue than this could he possibly pursue. For Nessie’s sake he must accept; he would take the wretched post – but only – only for the meantime. Later, he would show them all – and this Latta more than any.
‘Well,’ said Latta, coming into the office again, ‘what is it to be?’
Brodie raised his head dully.
‘I accept,’ he said in a flat voice, and added, in a tone into which he strove to insert an inflection of satire, but which succeeded merely in becoming pathetic, ‘and thank ye.’
Dazedly, he saw Latta pull the bell beside his desk, heard him exclaim to the boy who instantly appeared:
‘Send Mr Blair to me.’
Blair came, apparently as quickly and mysteriously as the boy, though Brodie hardly looked at the small, precise figure, or gazed into the eye which outdid Sharp’s in formal coldness. He did not hear the conversation between the two others yet, after a period of time which he knew not to be long or short, he felt himself being dismissed by Latta.
He stood up, followed Blair slowly out of the rich room, along the passage, down flights of steps across a courtyard, and finally through the door of a small, detached office.
‘Though it is apart from the main department I trust you will take no advantage of this fact. This will be your desk,’ said Blair coldly. It was clear that he regarded Brodie as an interloper and, as he proceeded to explain the simple nature of the duties to him, he infused as much icy contempt into his tone as he might. The two other clerks in the room, both of them young men, peered curiously from over the edge of their ledgers at the strange sight before them, incredulous that this could be their new colleague.
‘You have followed me, I trust?’ exclaimed Blair finally. ‘ I’ve made it clear?’
‘When do I begin?’ asked Brodie dully, feeling that some acknowledgment was expected of him.
‘To-morrow, I suppose,’ answered the other. ‘Sir John did not exactly specify. If you wish to get a grasp of the books you can begin now if you choose’; and he added witheringly as he passed out of the room: ‘But it’s only half an hour till the horn goes. I should imagine it would take you longer than that to master the work.’
Mutely, as if he knew not what he did, Brodie sat down upon the high stool before the desk, the open ledger a white blur in front of him. He did not see the figures with which, in the future he must occupy himself, nor did he feel the staring eyes of the two silent youths bent upon him in a strange constraint. He was a clerk! a clerk working for fifty shillings a week. His mind writhed from the unalterable fact yet could not escape it. But no! he would never stand this – this degradation. The moment he was out of this place he would plunge away somewhere and drink, drink till he forgot his humiliation, steep himself in forgetfulness till the memory of it became a ridiculous nightmare. How long had that other said? Half an hour till the horn went! Yes, he would wait until then! He would remain for that short space of time in this ignoble bondage, then he would be free. A tremor seemed to run through him as, blindly, he reached out for a pen and dipped it into the inkwell.
Book Three
Chapter One
‘They couldna wear such a thing out there, even if they do have black skins,’ said Nancy, with a slight titter. ‘You’re just tryin’ to take a rise out of me.’ She cocked her head knowingly at Matt, as she surveyed him from her seat upon the kitchen table, and swung her well-exposed ankles towards him to point her remark more emphatically.
‘Sure as anything,’ he replied in an animated tone, whilst from his reclining position against the dresser he ogled her with his eye, his posture, his air
‘Get away, you,’ she cried roguishly, ‘you know too much. You’ll be tellin’ me the monkeys in India wear trousers next.’ They roared together at her joke, feeling that they were having a precious fine time, she, that it was good to break the monotony of her empty forenoon, to have a change from that dour black father of his, he, that the conversation was exhibiting his social graces to the best advantage – almost as if he dazzled her as she sat behind a glittering saloon bar.
‘You’re a great blether,’ she resumed, in an admonishing yet encouraging tone. ‘After tellin’ me that they niggers chew red nuts like blood and clean their teeth with a bit of stick you’ll be askin’ me to believe that they comb their hair wi’ the leg o’ a chair – like Dan, Dan the funny, wee man.’ Again they laughed in unison until, drawing herself up with mock modesty she resumed: ‘But I don’t mind these kinds of fairy tales. It’s when ye start a’ these sly jokes o’ yours that ye fair make me blush. You’ve got a regular advantage over a poor, innocent girl like me that’s never been abroad – you that’s visited such grand, interestin’ countries. Now tell me some more!’