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CHAPTER XXX
JIM PODMORE HAS A "DAZE."

In the mean time, some of the humble personages in our drama, being fixed in certain grooves, remain there uneventfully, the only changes that occur to them being marked by the hand of time. Mr. Podmore continues in his situation on the railway, works as hard and as long hours as ever, comes home as tired as ever, but more often now with a "daze" upon him, as he expresses it. This "daze" – he has no idea how he got hold of the word-gives him terrible frights at times, and causes him to be oblivious of what passes around him. It never comes upon him but when he is dead-beat, when what is known as a fair day's work is turned into a foul day's work by the abominable system which coins large dividends out of its servants' health, and which taxes their strength so unfairly as to bring old age upon men long before it is naturally due. Jim Podmore is fearful to speak of this "daze" to any one, for if it were known to the officers of the company, short shrift would be his portion. Such a sympathetic affection as humanity holds no place in the schemes and calculations of railway directors. Given so much bone and blood and muscle: how much strain can they bear? This ascertained, apply the strain to its utmost, until blood, bone, and muscle can no longer bear it, and fail, naturally, to perform their task. Then throw aside, and obtain fresh. Jim Podmore would not thus have expressed it, but the conclusion at which he had arrived is the same as the conclusion here set down. The only person who knows of his fast-growing infirmity is his wife. He confides to her the various stages of this "daze;" how he goes to work of a morning pretty fresh, and how, when his fair day's work is being turned into a foul day's work by the directors' strain, he begins to tire. "I seem to-fall asleep-gradually," he says, "although I hear-everything about me. All the wear and tear-of the day-all the noise-all the slamming and shouting-all the whistling and puffing-seem to get into the middle-of my head-and buzz there-as if they were bees. And so I go off-with this buzzing. Then I jump up-in a fright-just in time, old woman! – to shift the points-but I'm all of a tremble-and feel fit to die. Then I fall off-into a daze again-and the buzzing goes on-in my head. Then Snap-good old dog!" – (Snap licks the hand that pats its head) "pulls at my trousers-sometimes-and wakes me. Suppose I shouldn't-rouse myself in time-some time or other-and something was to occur! What then, old woman? I wake up-in the middle of a night-often-thinking of it-with the perspiration-a-running down me." Mrs. Podmore does her best to comfort him, but she cannot suggest a cure for Jim's "daze." "You see, old woman," he says, "it wouldn't do-for me-to fall ill even-and be laid up-for a week or two. That might do me good-but it wouldn't do. Where's the money-to come from? We couldn't lay our hands-on a spare half a crown-to save our lives." Which was a fact. Capital, in the majority of instances, pays labour just such a sum for its blood, bone, and muscle as is barely sufficient to live upon; every farthing flies away for urgent necessities, without which labour would starve, with which it barely manages to preserve its health. The result is that labour grows inevitably into a state of pauperism; hence workhouses-which are not known in the world's new lands. May they never be known! They are plague-spots, poisonous to the healthful blood of cities.

However, until a change for the worse comes, this small family of three, Mr. and Mrs. Podmore and their little Pollypod, live in their one room, and are more often happy there than otherwise. Felix frequently pays them visits, and learns from Jim and Mrs. Podmore many particulars concerning the railway system of overworking its servants, which he works up with good effect in his newspaper letters and other ways. Felix likes to get hold of a good public grievance, and has already learnt how to make capital of it. But, indeed, he could not write earnestly on any matter in which his sympathies were not in some way engaged. Pollypod enjoys herself greatly; she and Lizzie are firm friends, and the consequence is that she often accompanies Lily to Lizzie's house in the "country," and spends the day there. Old Wheels likes Lily to take the child with her; and, apart from her fondness for Pollypod, Lily is glad to please her grandfather in this way.

The Gribbles, senior and junior, go on as usual. Gribble junior maintains his ground, and is even prospering a little in his umbrella hospital, which is generally pretty full of patients. He "keeps moving" with his tongue, and is continually rattling away complacently on this subject and that. He likes Felix, who indeed is a favourite with them all, but he has contracted an inveterate dislike to Mr. Sheldrake, and never loses an opportunity of saying an ill word concerning that gentleman. Gribble senior keeps his chandler's shop open, but the trade continues to fall off woefully, and the old shopkeeper is more rampant than ever on the subject of co-operative stores, which he declares will be the ruin of the country.

Alfred grows more and more infatuated with racing; he meets with reverse after reverse, adopts system after system, discovers continually new methods of winning infallibly, is buoyed up and elated one day with the prospect of winning a great sum, and groans with despair the next day when the result is made known. Of course he does not always lose; he wins small sums occasionally, but they are like raindrops in the sea. Week after week passes, month after month flies by, and he is sinking lower and lower. David Sheldrake stands his friend still; still supplies him with money, and takes his signature for the amount, and what with letters and documents and information of how matters stand with Alfred at the office of his employers, Messrs. Tickle and Flint, holds such a dangerous power over the infatuated young man as can crush him at any moment. Here a defence must be set up for David Sheldrake, otherwise he might be taken for a fool for parting with his money so freely to a young fellow for whom he cared no more than for the snuff of a candle. David Sheldrake knew every trick of the game he was playing. Madly infatuated as he was with Lily, he was too completely a man of the world to throw away the sums of money he advanced to Alfred from time to time. But the fact of it was, he got it all back; what he gave with one hand he received with the other. He made an express stipulation with Alfred that Con Staveley should be the medium of all the young fellow's racing speculations; so that no sooner did David Sheldrake lend, than Con Staveley swallowed. Therefore, although in the aggregate, Alfred owed David Sheldrake a large sum of money, the astute David was really very little out of pocket. He was aware that, in other ways, Alfred was more extravagant than his earnings at Messrs. Tickle and Flint's warranted; but where he got the money from to supply these extravagances was no business of David Sheldrake's. Alfred did not get it from him. But in Alfred's moments of remorse, when he was pouring into David Sheldrake's ears accounts of his misfortunes, of how he was trapped by this tipster or deceived by that prophet, or swindled in some other way, many a chance expression of terror escaped from him, of which David Sheldrake made good use in his reflections-putting this and that together until he had arrived at the truth, and knew for a certainty that Alfred was robbing his employers. The power which this knowledge gave him over Lily was so complete that he would not have parted with it upon easy terms. He never failed of impressing upon Alfred that what he did for him he did for Lily's sake, and for Lily's sake only.

"If it were not for her, my boy," he said, "I think I should close on you; for after all, business is business."

Alfred listened, white and trembling.

"For God's sake," he said to Lily one day, when David Sheldrake had retired offended at her coldness; the man of the world had been more than usually pressing in his attentions, and Lily had shrunk from them-"for God's sake, Lily, don't offend him! You don't know how good he is; you don't know what a friend he is to me. If it was not for him, I should – "

Lily's eyes, fixed in alarm upon his face, stopped him, and he broke off with,

"I am the most miserable wretch in the world! There never was anybody half so miserable or half so unfortunate as I am! There's only one girl in the world who loves me-and that's Lizzie. My own sister, that I would lay down my life for, turns against me."

Lily's grief may be imagined. Turn against him! Against the dearest brother that sister ever had! How could she prove the sincerity of her love for him, she asked.

"By being kind to Mr. Sheldrake," Alfred answered sullenly; his fears blinded him to the unselfishness of her affection, blinded him to results.

Thus it came about that, on the next occasion Lily and Mr. Sheldrake met, Lily acted a part, and Mr. Sheldrake's wound was healed. Lily received her reward; Alfred kissed her and embraced her, and called her the dearest sister! She found consolation in his brighter manner; and although she shed many tears she was careful that Alfred should not witness her pain.

CHAPTER XXXI
THE SWINDLE WHICH THE LAW PROTECTS KNOWN BY THE TITLE OF DISCRETIONARY INVESTMENTS

All Mr. David Sheldrake's calculations were conducted in such a manner as to cause Number One to eclipse all other figures, single or in combination. Number One was the only figure in which he took a real interest; the other figures could take care of themselves. He made it his special business to look after the humblest of them all, and it is but a fair tribute to his genius to state that he made Number One a brilliant success. It has been shown how cheaply he bought the reputation of being Alfred's sincerest and most generous friend, and how he received back through his agent Con Staveley all the money he lent to Alfred; and in common justice it must be shown how he made Ivy Cottage-the cottage which, out of ostensibly benevolent motives, he had taken for Mr. Musgrave and Lizzie-one of the most profitable speculations in which he had ever invested.

With his eye ever on the main chance (which may be pithily described as Number One, surrounded by a glory), Ivy Cottage became, under his instructions, the secret centre of a system known among sporting men as Discretionary Investments, one of the shallowest swindles of the day, and yet one which has been successful in emptying the purses of greedy gulls and filling the purses of needy sharks. No money was received at Ivy Cottage, as in the event of discovery the law could punish the receivers. But it being a peculiarity of the British law that, in so far as it affects racing matters, a man may pick his neighbour's pocket in Scotland, but must not do so in England, a garret was taken in Glasgow, and thither Con Staveley bent his steps to perform his part in the Discretionary Investment scheme-which consisted in receiving and pocketing the money of the gulls. Innocent readers who are not acquainted with these matters may doubt the statement that a man may rob in Scotland with impunity; but it really is the plain sober truth, and it is a proof that what is known as the British Constitution is after all but a patched and ragged garment, and that, notwithstanding its patches, it has many a rent in it which the law (having, as I have said before, a squint in its eye) cannot or will not see. A day before the Millennium it may make up its mind to catch a glimpse of these rents, through which rogues laugh and snap their fingers in the faces of their dupes.

As it was necessary that the operations should be conducted in secrecy, Ivy Cottage, very soon after its new tenancy, had in it a Blue Beard's room, to which neither Lizzie nor any of her friends had the right of entry. The only persons who ever entered it were Mr. Musgrave and Mr. Sheldrake. There the announcements of the new scheme of Discretionary Investments were prepared and launched upon the world in the names of Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy, Mr. Sheldrake knowing, from profitable experience, that high-sounding names were the best bait for gudgeons. Their first public announcement led the uninitiated to believe that the firm was an old one, and that it had been established for many years; but we know differently. However, as there is absolutely no such thing as fair dealing among betting men, this was but of a piece with the rest of the machinery. The circular (of which a copy lies before the present writer) issued and advertised by the myths, Montague and D'Arcy, commenced by declaring in large letters that a certain fortune without the slightest risk was within the reach of the humblest, and that Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy had conferred an incalculable boon upon the public at large by reducing speculation on horse-racing to a means by which immense sums of money might be realized weekly by a small stake. Fortunes, said these public benefactors, were being daily realized by investing in accordance with their Marvellously Lucrative and Ever Triumphantly Successful Method of Turf Speculation. Many gentlemen who never backed a horse for a shilling held large stakes in the system, as the safety of capital, and the immense profits that were weekly realized, and promptly paid, rendered it a perfect El Dorado to the fortunate investors. Many of the largest speculators now entirely confined their operations to Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy's Systematic Investments, and this fact alone should prove a sufficient inducement to those who hitherto have not speculated to join in realizing the golden harvest. As, however, sceptics would always be found, these public benefactors offered to forward to those who doubted the most unexceptionable references-to noblemen, officers, gentlemen, and tradesmen-as to the marvellously successful nature of their system, which by its heavy and never-failing success had fairly eclipsed and distanced all other modes of speculation. It had the advantage of combining the two great desiderata of immense and ever-increasing profits, combined with absolute and perfect security of capital.

Facts, however, spoke stronger than words; hence, in appending the following list of amounts won last season at a few of the principal meetings, the projectors were well satisfied to leave gentlemen to judge for themselves as to the correctness of the assertion, that the winnings realized week by week by the investor, in accordance with this method, were far in excess of the amounts that could by any possibility be realized by any other mode of investment:

LAST SEASON'S OPERATIONS. At

Lincoln..

£100 stake won £4840

Liverpool..

25 " " 1230

Chester..

10 " " 240

Newmarket..

50 " " 1004

Bath..

5 " " 134

Epsom..

50 " " 1450

Ascot..

25 " " 740

Windsor…

25 " " 1020

Goodwood..

20 " " 648

Doncaster..

50 " " 2104

Newmarket..

5 " " 325

Liverpool..

10 " " 521

Shrewsbury..

25 " " 1203

During the whole of the season a loss never occurred. In indubitable proof of which Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy publicly expressed their willingness to forfeit the sum of £1000 to any investing client at the above-named meetings who did not receive the amounts in full, as stated above, or in due proportion to the amount invested.

But, pleasant and profitable as were the results of last season's operations, by which men of the most moderate means had obtained affluence and wealth, the present campaign promised to throw those magnificent results in the shade. At Newmarket, for instance, the most extraordinary and almost marvellous success had attended their operations in the first three days, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. They had not had time to make out a careful statement, and could not do so till Saturday, as the meeting extended to Friday, but they roughly estimated that up to Thursday night, each investor of

£500

had realized £7850!

100 " 1300

50 " 650

25 " 325

10 " 127

5 " 63

To suit small speculators investments would be taken by Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy as low as five shillings, but the nobility could forward as high a stake as One Thousand pounds. At this point they stopped, for the line must be drawn somewhere. They would not take less than five shillings from each man of moderate means, nor more than One Thousand pounds from each nobleman.

In conclusion, Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy announced themselves as members of all the West-end clubs (without mentioning names), and gave as their bankers the Royal Bank of Scotland, and as their address, the garret in Glasgow rented by Con Staveley, where clients could send cheques, post-office orders, bank-notes, or postage stamps.

The advertisements and circulars contained a great deal more than is given above, and the most infamous artifices were used to fire the imagination of clerks and apprentices; for it was really from such unfortunates as these that Mr. Sheldrake and his confederate netted the greater portion of their large gains. They pointed out how those who desired to speculate might commence in a small way, and creep up gradually, until they became wealthy; and many weak men and boys studied the figures, and borrowed or stole to make the venture-which indeed was no venture, but a certainty; for it is needless to say that no penny of the money sent to the garret in Glasgow ever found its way back. To some extent, a semblance of fair dealing was kept up, and where Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy thought they saw a chance of the dupe being farther duped, they forwarded him a tabulated statement showing how his money had been invested upon the wrong horses, and how he was in their debt a trifling sum. This statement was accompanied by a lithographed letter, detailing how all the race-meetings upon which the speculator had not invested had turned out marvellously profitable, and how the particular race-meeting upon which he had desired his money to be invested had, "for the first time during the past five consecutive seasons, turned out a failure." However, they consoled their unfortunate client with the assurance that at the race-meeting which would take place next week "winning was reduced to an absolute certainty," and that, as there was not the slightest chance of losing, they trusted that their client "would take their advice, and invest £25, £50, or £100, and realize a few thousands forthwith." Remaining his faithfully, Montague and D'Arcy. Of course, if more money were sent, it shared the fate of the first; and notwithstanding the groans and curses of those who were thus robbed in open daylight, the ball rolled on right merrily. No one knew that Messrs. Montague and D'Arcy were identical with David Sheldrake and Con Staveley. Their faces were never seen in the transactions, everything being conducted under seal, and no personal interviews on any consideration ever being allowed. And in the event of some irate clients making the name of the firm and their address notorious, it was the easiest thing in the world to change their names and take another garret, perhaps in Edinburgh this time instead of Glasgow. It is but fair to some of the sporting papers in which these lying advertisements were inserted for the trapping of apprentices and others, to state that in their "Answer to Correspondents" such answers as these appeared week after week: "An Anxious Inquirer. They are swindlers." "A. Z. You should not have trusted your money to them." "R. H. C. We do not recommend Discretionary Investments." "Fair Play. You have been swindled." And many others to the same effect. But they continued to open their columns to the advertising knaves, who, without this means of publicity, would find their schemes fall comparatively fruitless to the ground.

Said Alfred to David Sheldrake, in the course of conversation, being artfully led to the subject:

"Those discretionary investments seem to be an easy way of making money. Did you see the advertisements of Montague and D'Arcy in the papers this morning?"

"No," replied Mr. Sheldrake. "Montague and D'Arcy! I fancy I have met a Mr. Montague at some of the meetings. If it is the same man, he bets and wins largely."

"It must be the same," cried Alfred. "Look here," pulling the paper out of his pocket, "a £100 stake realized £1800 at Newmarket last week in three days."

"That seems good enough, Alf," was Mr. Sheldrake's comment. "If I had £20 or £80," said Alfred, with an anxious look at Sheldrake —

"You'd try your luck with them? Well, I see what you're driving at, Alf. I'll give you a cheque for £20, made payable to them, and you can have a dive."

"Ah, you are a friend! If I win, I shall be able to give you a good sum off what I owe you."

"All right, my boy," said Mr. Sheldrake heartily, and then wrote the cheque and gave it to Alfred, and two days afterwards received it back from Con Staveley in Glasgow.

In this and other ways he drew the mesh round Lily's brother, until he had the infatuated gambler completely at his mercy.