Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/111

104 Polynesian Islands by this time. He’s been gone a month.”

“You surprise me!” I cried; “Jollybold emigrated?”

“Yes, Mr. Flintgudgeon. Jollybold has emigrated to one of the Polynesian Islands, and I have no doubt, by his shrewdness and perseverance, he will open up the country, provided the natives don’t eat him first; but I don’t think they will do that, as he would be rather gross eating.”

“But I received a letter from him only last week.”

“From Gibraltar, or some other port?”

“No, from the post-office, round the corner.”

“Another proof of Jollybold’s shrewdness,” said Mr. Dunderly, “but carried a little too far. He needn’t have deceived you, Flintdudgeon, after he had pocketed your money. He might have told his amanuensis that you were an exception.”

“However,” I said, “that does not alter the matter. You are living in the house and must pay the rent; and if you don’t do so, I shall take legal proceedings.”

“A man occupying a house, undoubtedly implies an obligation to pay rent,” replied Mr. Dunderly; “but you must recollect I have not yet attorned to you as my landlord.”

“Attorned?” I said, “I don’t understand you.”

“Don’t you?” he returned; “then there’s a nut for you to crack. But whatever you do, Flintgibbon, don’t go to law!”

“Much as I detest law,” I exclaimed, “I don’t intend you shall get the better of me, and so you shall see, Mr. Dunderly;” and I left him in a worse pet than on the previous occasion.

On ringing at No. 4, I was greeted by a baker-boy in the following manner:

“No go, my man,” said the boy. “You needn’t lose your time chiming there. They’ve stepped it.”

“Stepped it!” I exclaimed, “do you mean to say that Mr. Kankerdale has left?”

“Rather!” replied the boy, “and you’re jolly lucky if they don’t owe you anything.”

I made inquiries at a neighbouring grocer’s shop, and was informed that Mr. Kankerdale had always been looked upon as doubtful pay; that he had run in debt right and left, until proceedings were taken against him. He had then disposed of his furniture under a bill of sale, and had finally decamped with the key. “And lucky it was for Jollybold,” said the grocer, “that he hooked the Turnwheel cheesemonger before he emigrated.”

I was ashamed to confess that I was the individual alluded to, and at once returned home without making further inquiries with a cheque for 8l. 15s. in my pocket instead of 65l. less property tax, as I had anticipated. On my entrance, I found a note awaiting me being an application for a quarter’s ground-rent.

“Well,” said my wife, “that’s only 10l. and not much to pay out of 65l.”

“I wish I had 65l. to pay it out of,” I said, “but unfortunately I have not taken enough to pay even this small demand.” I was some time before I could bring my wife to understand the precise state of affairsaffairs. [sic]

“I’d go and consult Driver at once,” she said. “I would not be dictated to by tenants. I’d show they had a landlord to bring them to book.”

I thought I had better call on Mr. Crantin, the tenant of No. 2, at his offices in Polyblank Court. After waiting for an hour and a half in a musty office, in the company of a small boy, perched on a high stool, Mr. Crantin came in. I asked him civilly for the rent, and he opened his cheque-book and commenced filling up a cheque.

“By-the-bye,” he said, “there’s a deduction this quarter of 5l. as per agreement.”

“What for?” I asked.

“Why, haven’t you your agreement? I’ll show you mine.”

He soon found it, and by it I saw Mr. Jollybold had agreed to return 5l. a year.

“It’s usual,” he said, “with these builders, to keep the rents up, and return you a portion afterwards. It makes the houses sell better.”

“Then,” I replied, “you only really pay 60l. a year?”

“Exactly. Then, I think there are a few deductions for rates and taxes. So you had better call again, as I haven’t got the papers with me; and when you do so, bring me a note from Jollybold, to say that he has transferred his interest to you, will you? Good morning.”

Feeling rather tender upon the point of 45l. for law expenses, I resolved to consult a neighbouring broker on the best way of proceeding against Mr. Dunderly and Mr. Kankerdale. I knew Grinder as a shrewd fellow who had had considerable experience in distraints, and he, at any rate, would not charge me six and eightpence every time I consulted him.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Grinder. “I know what I should do with Master Dunderly. I’d put a man in. That’ll bring him to his senses.”

“But he told me, Grinder, that he had not attorned to me as landlord. What does that mean?”

“It means that he has not paid you any rent, or in any other way acknowledged you as his landlord, that’s what the lawyers would tell you; but Lor’ bless you!” said Grinder, “when you once put a man in he’ll be sure to look about him. If he’s rusty at fust he’ll cool down before the five days is out, and stump up the ready.”

“And suppose he don’t pay in the five days?”

“Why then we condemns and sells his traps,” said Grinder.

“But suppose, Grinder,” I said, “he brings an action?”

“Let him,” said Grinder. “I’ll guarantee you against all law-suits.”

Inasmuch as Mr. Grinder was not worth ten pounds, his guarantee was not very valuable; but as he was an experienced man, I determined to sign a warrant to distrain on Mr. Dunderly’s goods, and leave Grinder to fight it out.

“And now, as to Kankerdale’s house?” I inquired. “How can I get possession of that?”

“Leave that to me as well,” said Grinder. “I’m up to a move or two. I’ll get a man to slip in the back way. He will open the front door. I, as your agent, will (quite by accident) be passing