Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Mr Pryor, as usual, was late arriving at the office. The owner of a hotel had asked him

for a valuation of his property with a view to selling it, so Mr Pryor went to see him.

The place was not well managed and the bar trade poor. Only one customer was in

the bar when Mr Pryor went in. A bearded old man lurking on his stool, carefully

conserving a pot of beer and waiting to give his views on life, horse-racing, football,

cricket, marriage, and his experiences on the gold fields, to anyone incautious enough

to speak to him.

While waiting for a barman to appear the drinker observed Pryor closely over the top

of his pot. "Yer'll have to wait for service," he said, "Mrs. Fogarty ordered the barmaid

out, and she left. She's a terrible woman is Mrs. Fogarty. She gets rid of all the

barmaids and fights with all the barmen. I've seen dozens come and go while I been

drinkin' at this pub. She's always thinkin' Fogarty's gunna get his hand up the

barmaid's skirt, or he's done it already. Even my missus was easier to get on with

than her."

He drank the last of his beer, tipping the pot well back so the final rivulets of foam ran

down his throat. "Can't afford no more," he said, as with a sigh, he put the pot back on

the counter. "Things have been pretty tight since I had to knock off work, and I get a

terrible thirst on me sometimes, and you wouldn't want to drink the water; Gawd

knows what that'd give yer.''

''I know yer thirsty,'' said the old man, but yer'll have to wait. The landlord's missus

is always sacking the barmaids 'cos she thinks they're after him, and the men leave

'cos they can't put up with her any longer. They got no staff and Fogarty has to do

everything. He looked at Pryor and rattled the base of the pot on the bar. ''Are yer

there Fogarty,'' he shouted.

Laborious steps were heard as someone struggled up from the cellar and appeared

behind the bar.

It was the landlord, about forty, as near as anyone could guess, and as he came up he

ladder from the cellar he gaped like a fish and clutched at the bar.

''Yer've got a customer, Fogarty. He's a man with a thirst like me and can't wait much

longer, but he's a toff, and he can pay for a beer. Not like me,'' the ancient added

piteously.

''Them steps'll be the death of me," said the landlord mopping his forehead. "We're a

bit short-handed, sir, and I was down in the cellar tapping a few barrels when I heard

Cyril knocking on the bar. I'll put an ad in The Age tomorrow and see if we can get

some good, reliable staff. We're short of a barman and a yardman, and me health isn't

what it should be. I just can't do it all on me own."

Pryor was wondering how the landlord could arouse lust or jealousy in anyone when

he saw a face staring at them through a half glass door at the end of the room. It was a

sharp featured woman with her nose against the glass and hands up on either side to

block out the light. She was watching them intently.

Fogarty saw her too, picked up a cloth and started to wipe the bar. The face

disappeared and he dropped the cloth. "Name it, sir, name it," he said between gasps

for air. You're Mr Pryor aren't you? You've come to talk to me. Would you like a nice

drop of beer to wash the dust from your throat?" He was not going to discuss a

possible sale of the hotel in front of his customer, as well he kept glancing warily at

the glass door.

James Pryor ordered a drink for himself and a pot for the old customerwho seized his

prize and took an eager swig in case there had been some mistake, or a change of

mind.

Mr Pryor was about to bring up the subject of inspecting the pub when he noticed the

bar door slowly opening. The woman appeared again. She must have gone out the

other street door and run along to the bar entrance.

Mrs Fogarty wore thick lensed spectacles that greatly magnified her staring eyes. She

stalked in silently, but peered round with great attention at every detail of the bar

room including the landlord who shrank before her gaze and gasped even more. She

lifted the flap, examined carefully behind the bar, and then flung open the door into

the back room as though expecting to surprise someone in hiding. She went up the

stairs leading to the second storey, was heard walking back and forth on the front

balcony and then round to the side balcony. She must have peered through the

windows of every room. She came down again to where there were more rooms to

search. She went back behind the bar. They heard her throw back the trapdoor and go

down the steps into the cellar. A pause ensued, long enough for a search to take place,

then she reappeared and paced in ghostly fashion through the bar room, scarcely

taking her eyes off the unfortunate landlord. She shook her head at him in warning

and disappeared through the door.

"I'd give her something to go on with if she was my missus," muttered the old man.

"Allus hangin' round ter see if he's got any shielas hidden in the place. Why don't yer

belt her one?"

They left the talkative old man in the bar. Trade was so poor the landlord was able to

leave him with instructions to call if anyone entered. He took Mr Pryor upstairs first

to inspect the 'long room', the pride of the establishment. There he related stories

about the wild parties thrown by lucky prospectors thirty and more years ago when

gold could still be won by independent men who worked their own claims. The room

was shabby enough now and long deserted by partygoers.

"My father built this pub," wheezed Fogarty as he stood at the head of the stairs

recovering his breath after they had inspected the bedrooms upstairs and down, and

the kitchen, which was cold and deserted.

"That was always his ambition when he came out from the old country; to be a

publican in his own place, and a very good establishment it was in those days, too.

Course, I don't come up here much now -- crook ticker." He wheezed again and

thumped his chest which quivered with fat. He conducted Pryor into the 'long room'

just as Mrs. Fogarty flitted out through another door.

"That was the little woman," said the landlord. "She has trouble with her nerves.and

she doesn't like me having anything to do with the bar staff; they're common, and the

girls aren't to be trusted. She doesn't like the people that drink here and those we

have to associate with. She wants to sell everything so we can invest our money and

live on the dividends.''

Pryor heard a patter of feet along the passage and was aware of the lady lurking

outside where they had just entered. He could catch the flash of a spectacle lens

pressed to the door crack.

"Its a great pity," the publican whispered, "but Mrs. Fogarty's not really cut out for the

hotel trade. Her nerves are poor, you know. Her family was very high up socially and

in wholesale produce and they cast her off when she married into a pub. Her father

was an importer in a big way of business; but it's all gone now. Mrs. Fogarty thinks

the pub trade is beneath her and she doesn't care for the class of customers we have

here. She wants me to sell and invest the money.

She's a wise woman,'' said Mr Pryor, you should listen to her. I strongly recommend

that you invest your spare money into the Melbourne and London Amicable Building

Society. It's the safest building society in Australia.''

Mr Fogarty frowned as he tried to remember if he had ever heard the name before

but turned to the main question. "I can sell the licence, there's no problem there, but

all the publicans that have inspected the place wouldn't touch it. They said it was too

big and too old."

"Don't you worry about a thing." asserted Mr Pryor. "I can get you a price you

wouldn't believe. I have a client waiting for a place like this and she won't want the

license; you can do what you like with it. You get someone to clean up everything, get

rid of the spider webs and dirt. I'll take care of marketing the building and then we

can talk about the best possible investment for the profits. You put yourself in my

hands, Mr Fogarty. I'll sell the pub for you at top market price and I would earnestly

recommend you to invest the proceeds in the leading building society in Victoria --

The Melbourne and London Amicable Building Society.''