Chapter 37: Chapter 37

The next day, Christmas day, Fox took the trouble to catch a morning train to Prahran

to break the news to Mr Gladman. He knew from perusing a postal directory that the

man lived a little way off Chapel Street.

The house was a double fronted villa relieved by patterns of coloured brick on the

facade and a veranda with a cast iron frieze. The narrow street was lined with similar

houses except for some factories or warehouses at the far end.

The area was lively with children playing in the middle of the road, many with new

toys, and most of the front doors and windows of the houses were open. Not many

women were to be seen. Fox guessed from the smoking chimneys they were inside

preparing Christmas dinner. However, some of the fathers and older people sat at

ease on their verandas to take the air and watch what was going on in the street.

Their tiny gardens and spiked iron fences right on the street line separated them from

the road. They surveyed Fox interestedly as he passed.

The Gladman house was the only one in the street with a shut front door and drawn

blinds. Fox wondered if they had gone out for the day or were attending chapel at

this hour. He had thought of this and had brought a pencil and notepaper. If there was

no one home Gladman could get in touch with him or the police later.

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He pulled the knob of the doorbell and was rewarded after half a minute by the sound

of footsteps in the passage and then someone fumbling with keys and locks. It seemed

the door was barred and whoever was inside had to exert great effort to get the bar

free. After all this the door was still restrained by a chain. It opened slightly and some

unseen person peered out from the dimness of the passage."

A woman's voice asked, "What do you want?"

He raised his hat. "Mrs. Gladman? My name is Fox. I have been helping Mr. Gladman

in the shop for the last few days, is he in? I would like to talk to him."

"I have heard him speak of you. He comes home greatly bruised in spirit because you

and Pryor, that other man of wrath, wrestle with him to accept the ways of the devil.

Poor weakling? How many times have I told him to cast the tormentors out of his

shop and reclaim it for the Lord."

Fox felt the conversation was not developing as he might have wished. "I would like to

speak to him, if I may. I have some important news that he must know about."

"My husband is repenting his sins and drawing strength from prayer. He must have

enough power in him after this pagan festival called Christmas is over to go to Pryor

and face him down. To recover the money that rightly belongs in the service of the

Lord. He has no time to talk with you of matters that have to do with this passing

world and we must go to Chapel soon so that he can confess his weakness and sin in

the face of the whole congregation. Elder Muirhead is to lead the prayer that will give

him the strength to face the sinner that has taken his money and sunk it into a vanity."

"Well sin is the very thing I want to talk to him about. Someone has committed a sin

against him and he should know about it. He has been the victim of a swindle."

The door had been gradually closing but now the woman paused and listened

intently.

"Has his foolishness brought him low? He is a worldly man and sometimes his faith

wavers, that is when Satan springs on him like a ravening lion. I know that he deals in

the vanities of this world and I pray for him constantly. Has the great tempter cast

snares around his feet and taken his money by evil means?"

Fox could understand Mr. Gladman a little better now. To be locked up every day,

even Christmas day, with this grim fanatic was more than anyone should be asked to

bear.

He heard some movement in the passage as though Mr. Gladman had bandoned his

prayers long enough to come and listen to the conversation. Mrs. Gladman turned.

"George Gladman, the devil pursues you even unto to the door of your abode. He

knocketh and ranteth but may not enter. This man with honey dripping from his lips

and gall and wormwood in his heart hath chosen the Lord's Day to bring a message of

desolation from the City of Destruction."

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Fox did not think this a fair assessment of his character but he controlled is irritation

for Mr. Gladman shuffled to the door and peered out past his wife's shoulder.

"Mr. Fox! What are you doing here? Has something happened to the shop?"

The man's appearance was terrible. His face was drawn and mottled with grey and

red blotches and there were dark marks under his eyes.

Fox looked at him in astonishment but explained the nature of the swindle.

His wife was contemptuous. "You're known to them all now, are you? The agents of

the great beast recogniseth a dupe who is easily deceived by lying tongues and they

gather round to feed on the substance that he should be laying up for the church. The

hand of Satan is here," she continued remorselessly. "He knew that the chapel needs

your money, sinful man though you are. It needs the sinews of money to fight the

good fight and Satan has struck. First through Pryor by taking from you a so called

deposit and now by stealing goods that should have been sold for the glory of the

Lord."

"It's not that serious," said Fox, trying to placate here. "We know where the goods

have been taken and Mr. Gladman can identify them straight after Christmas. I can't

see that there will be any trouble because the warehouse is safely locked."

"You fool, George Gladman," said his wife. "Must I watch and pray ceaselessly. You are

to go to Pryor straight after Christmas armed with the authority of the congregation

and force him to return the money and you will recover those sinful instruments so

they can be converted to good purposes."

Mr. Gladman could endure no more. He pushed past his wife and stood on the

veranda. "Pryor said buying that shop is a good investment." "I have thought it over

and I believe him. The master has given me a talent and I have invested it for His

greater glory. How much better than burying the talent in the earth? Why can the

congregation not wait for a while and the money will be returned twice or threefold?

Pryor said that property prices in Melbourne are about to increase very greatly."

Mrs. Gladman's glance, when she heard these words of defiance, should have frozen

him to silence, but he plunged on, the frustration of years suddenly breaking through.

"What about me? That flock of vultures have been taking my money since I married

you. You and the rest of them that despise me because I'm in trade and deal in music,

but they all want the money I earn to pay for missionaries to go out and make the

natives as miserable and frightened as they are. What about me? What about us? I

have savings, but not enough for our old age; it has all gone to the chapel and now you

want me to confess and ask forgiveness. Forgiveness for what?"

His wife threw up her arms and shrieked, causing great interest among the

neighbours who had been listening to the raised voices. They leaned over their fences

up and down the street to see what was happening. The children in the road stopped

playing and gathered around to listen.

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"Oh!" wailed Mrs. Gladman, "that I should hear the words of the beast proceeding

from the mouth of my husband. The congregation shall know of this. I shall speak up

in open chapel and tell them that the sinner, George Gladman, is more concerned with

worldly profit than with the work of the church; that Satan has entered into his head

and heart in spite of the tears and prayers of the godly."

At last a great well of emotion burst inside Mr Gladman. He had become more red

faced and agitated at every word of denunciation his wife had uttered. He clutched his

beard and stamped on the wooden floor of the veranda.

"Damn the congregation!" he shouted violently, "And damn you too!"

There was a ripple of applause from the neighbours and the children, taking their cue

from their parents, shrieked with pleasure and cheered.

His wife was astonished at this reversal of years of meek obedence. She staggered

back as though hit but quickly recovered. She went inside and slammed the door

leaving them standing.

It was only for a minute. They heard her return with Mr Gladman's coat and hat which

she handed to him. "I will see you at the chapel," she said with icy control. "There you

will apologise to me and the congregation from your bended knees and you will pray

to the Lord for mercy in the face of all the sins you have committed and hope that he

will find it in his heart to forgive you for what you have said this day."

She stood back inside the doorway and pointed to Fox. "Take care, George Gladman,

he is an agent of evil waiting to escort you to where the jaws of hell are quivering to

receive sinners. If you do not come to chapel I will know that you have chosen the

downward path."

The door slammed. They could hear keys being turned in the locks and the bar

jammed into place. Mr Gladman stood still holding his hat and coat and, like Adam

cast out of Paradise. He gazed blankly at the closed door.

Fox was awe struck too. His well meaning visit had caused an earthquake in the

Gladman household and now he did not know whether to commiserate with the

victim or bid him farewell and make a hasty departure.

"Are you alright?" He asked after a while, for the man stood quite still gazing in front

of him. "Do you want me to help you on with your coat?"

Mr Gladman made an effort to shake free of his shock. "You must tell me about the

devil," he said. "Is he as bad as they make him out to be?"

"Just sit on the step for a minute," said Fox, taking him by the arm. He did so while the

children crowded forward for a closer look. One of the neighbours came running up

with a glass of beer which he placed in Mr Gladman's hand.

"Well done, George!" he said, patting him on the back. "The mad bitch has had it

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coming and we didn't think you were the man to do it. Drink that," he said, indicating

the glass of beer. "There's nothing steadies a man like a glass of beer after he's had a

blue with his missus. Go on!" He gestured with his hand for Mr. Gladman to empty the

glass.

They were interrupted by a sharp tapping on the window behind them. It was Mrs.

Gladman, she had been watching from the shelter of the curtains to see what effect

her actions had had on her husband. The moment he took the glass in his hand she

pulled a drape aside and knocked to attract attention. She shook her finger at him

and scowled to indicate that he was not to touch one drop of the dreaded brew.

Some more neighbours had now arrived. They cheered and urged him to drink it

down.

The hapless man looked at his wife, at the grinning onlookers who all urged him on, at

the children who were jumping up and down and shrieking with excitement and

lastly at his wife, who had fixed him with a glare that should have turned him to stone.

Grandly he stood up, raised his glass to his wife in a toast, and held his beard firmly to

his chest with his left hand. He drank down the beer in one long gulp and held up the

empty glass for her to behold.

The window curtain fell back into place and Mrs. Gladman was seen no more.

Everyone cheered and crowded forward to pat Mr Gladman and wish him a merry

Christmas as other drinks appeared. Soon, most of the men had two glasses of beer,

one for themselves and one for Fox or Mr Gladman. Even the women had heard

something of what had happened and ran outside leaving their dinners untended in

the stove. For a short while George Gladman was the hero of his neighbourhood.

Neighbours to whom he had not spoken for years walked up and wrung his hand,

wished him a Merry Christmas and offered him a drink.

Fox allowed himself one glass and said to Mr Gladman who was standing exhilarated,

if confused, in the midst of a small crowd, "Well, I'd better shove off. If I wait around I

won't be back at the boarding house in time for Christmas dinner."

The man was in a daze, still scarcely aware of the enormity of what he had done but

Fox's words woke him. "I'll come with you." His hat and coat had been hung on a fence

spike and these were given to him by willing helpers. In a moment they were walking

towards the railway station accompanied by the cheers and congratulations of

everyone who could see them off.

Fox was not sure what was to be done with Mr Gladman when they reached the city.

He studied him furtively while they walked and saw that the man looked a lot better

than when first sighted, his face was no longer blotched and he had a good colour. The

excitement and sudden release had improved his appearance for he stood straight,

strode out to match Fox's steps and no longer shuffled while walking.

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"Are you going to the chapel today?" Fox enquired cautiously.

"Never," was the reply. "You have seen Mrs. Gladman and can understand that I have

had a very difficult married life. I believe it is now at an end and so is my association

with the chapel. I will find another church with less extreme views and attend that."

He was silent for a while as they walked, then said,"You know, Mr Fox, I never thought

I would feel the need to thank you, but I do. You and Mr Pryor, even that wretched

man that smashed my windows, you have all had a part in making me break loose

from a life that was becoming more than I could bear." He thought some more. "Do

you know that was the first glass of beer I have drunk for twenty years, it was

delicious."

While they were standing on the platform waiting for the train he said, "Now that I am

no longer with the chapel I will be able to afford the payments on the new shop," and

later, "Mrs. Gladman was not always like that, you know. When we married she was a

good woman with strong religious views, but over the past few years she has become

obsessed, like some of the others at the chapel. I suppose when people of that type get

together they influence one another, and some of their preachers have been quite

fanatical. I was always a disappointment to Mrs. Gladman because I was not able to

share her more extreme views."

When they arrived at the city Mr Gladman still had not indicated what he intended to

do. He looked round at the street, which was almost deserted. "I shall have to find

somewhere to live. Do you know, I don't even have the keys to the shop." He patted

his pockets, "and only a few shillings to my name, but I will not go back and ask for

anything. I would sooner starve in the streets, though the banks won't open until the

day after tomorrow." He looked at Fox blankly.

Fox thought of the sixpenny lodging house, but Mr Gladman would be out of place in

those surroundings. He suppressed a sigh and said, "Well, come with me. Mrs. Byers

may be able to take you in for Christmas dinner and after that we will have to see

about a room somewhere."