Chapter 42: Chapter 42
Benno was appalled and looked at him as though seeing Gabriel in a new light.
"Bloody New Chums," he said. "Yer can't trust 'em. Gunna turn me inter the rozzers
are yer? ''Alright, have it your own way. Knock back our help and see how yer get
on. But don't come to me afterwards grizzling about all the pubs being closed down.
Gawd!" he said to Wocka, "after all I've done for him, too."
He was interrupted by Wocka nudging and indicating something with his chin. Benno
glanced in that direction and they slid off into the crowd leaving Gabriel standing and
clutching the two bags of fruit. Everyone was looking at him accusingly; at the wretch
who had thrown the tomatoes and disrupted the great Jobley parade.
He felt a hand placed on his shoulder and half turned; It was Jones the detective.
"Hello, Mr Fox," said the detective "Are you helping your mate, Pryor, get into
parliament? this is not the way to do it,you know. I thought an Englishman, just out to
the colonies would be able to set a better example than this."
"Disgusting!" said a woman wearing the blue and orange sash of the Jobleyites.
Others in the crowd looked on and nodded; several were also wearing the badge of
temperance. "I saw him do it," said the woman. "Obviously the man's a drunkard. He
was laughing and throwing those tomatos along with his friends. I'm going to call a
policeman; they should all be locked up, and I'll go to court and say it to the
magistrate. Though it's a great shame," She continued, addressing the folk looking on
"Such a well dressed young man, too. How could he have sunk so low as to become
intoxicated and assault our dear friend, Mr Jobley, a future Premier of Victoria.
Look round for a policeman," she urged the others. "He and his friends should be
taken to the watch house, and locked up." Everyone approved her remarks and were
hostile towards Gabriel.
"You're wrong!" said Gabriel angrily. "I didn't throw anything. I was just standing
there and someone else threw the tomatos and I took the bags away from them so
they wouldn't do it again. I'm sorry it happened, but it wasn't my fault and I didn't do
it; how can you say such a thing?"
His words had litte effect because clearly everyone disbelieved him. They looked at
the bags of fruit in his arms, shook their heads and murmured to each other while
gazing at him.
"I know what I saw!" retorted the woman. "It was the most shameful thing that ever
happened in Melbourne. We should get an officer to take him into custody."
Someone bustled away to find a policeman while Jones looked into Gabriel's appalled
countenance and shook his head. "You see what comes of associating with bad
company. I knew you would get into trouble if you kept on hanging around with
Murphy and his mates; but I always say, 'if they won't listen, they won't learn'. You'll
have to explain all this to the magistrate."
He nodded at the bags of fruit still being clutched by the speechless and miserable
Gabriel. "Hang on to those, they're evidence, we'll need them during the hearing."
The shiny black helmet of a policeman could be seen above the heads of the crowd. It
came closer as the constable was led towards the scene of the crime. The woman
waved at him as he approached and pointed at Gabriel. "That's him," she cried out,
"Take care, he's drunk and dangerous."
Mr Jobley had observed this and came across, using crutches to spare what appeared
to be an extremely sore foot. He was vainly using his handkerchief to wipe some of
the mess off his waistcoat and trousers.
"Is this the young man?" He showed some surprise to think that a person dressed so
conservatively and of good appearance should be responsible for attacking him. He
shook his head too. "The habit of drinking alcohol can overcome anyone, high or low;
even the most seemingly respectable people fall victim to the demon rum. We hear so
many sad stories of blighted lives at our meetings and we try and save poor miserable
victims of drink where we can, but often are not successful. The only answer is for me
to enter parliament and work to throttle the whole vile trade that battens on the
weakness of poor, sinful people."
The woman had been looking keenly at Gabriel and suddenly she clapped her hands
together and drew in a breath. "I knew I'd seen him somewhere! He was arrested just
before Christmas for breaking the windows of a shop in Bourke Street. He and a
dreadful labouring man were in it together and they were taken off to the police
station. What is Melbourne coming to when people like this are allowed to roam the
streets?"
The constable looked at Detective Jones who still had his hand in a proprietorial
manner on Gabriel's shoulder. "Good day Mr Jones, do you want me to take him in?"
The detective raised his other hand. "No, no. Leave it to me. This gentleman and I are
well acquainted and I won't need any assistance. You can get back to helping sort out
the traffic." The constable raised a finger to the brim of his helmet and turned away.
"If you're a detective why don't you put him in handcuffs?" demanded the woman.
"We're lucky he didn't have any bricks to throw; he might have done someone a
serious injury."Take this, you can read it in your cell," said Mr Jobley, handing Gabriel
a temperance tract. It was headed - 'The Drunkard's Nightmare'. On the front was a
picture of a haggard man in the throes of delerium, cowering away from horrid,
imaginary monsters which the artist had drawn and coloured in vivid detail.
"Come and see me when you are released," he continued. "You will find me at Jobley
& Coy., wholesale warehouse in King Street. Anyone will direct you to it. I will be
happy to talk to you and you can attend our meetings to discover the end result of
intemperance."
"Thank you Mr Jobley, that's noble of you," said Detective Jones with a grin. He
seemed to be enjoying the situation. "He's a hardened young man but I might be able
to persuade him to come and see you when he's free again. ''
The woman accusing Gabriel was eager to be a witness and he wrote her name and
address in his notebook.
Mr Jobley had decided to continue with his procession dressed as he was and use his
clothes as silent witnesses to the horrors of drunken behaviour. The police ordered
both processions away and had made the arbitrary decision that Mr Pryor's should go
first. When it reached Steven Street his parade was to turn right, while Jobley's was to
turn left.
Mr Pryor's parade moved off. Obviously its leader did not know his partner was in the
hands of the police under suspicion of behaving riotously in Bourke Street for he
moved off in the company of the Sergeant Major, followed by his procession. His
bandsmen blew vigorously into their instruments while the drummers tried to outdo
their rivals with the volume of noise produced. Mr Pryor waved at the crowd and the
Sergeant Major, who was no more than an actor engaged and accoutred by the agent,
strutted ahead signalling grandly to the band with his staff.
Mr Jobley let them get a good way ahead, then his band struck up in competition and
the two processions proceeded noisily up Bourke Street.
Soon the crowd thinned a little and the throngs hurrying by were no longer
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concerned with politics or temperance but only shopping or the theatres. Mr Jones
took his hand off Gabriel's shoulder and guided him round the corner into Elizabeth
Street by the post office steps where the crowds were less. They faced each other.
"Get rid of the fruit," said Jones, indicating a nearby bin. "You don't want to be
carrying that sort of stuff round the city."
"Won't you need it for evidence?"
"No, who would want rotten old fruit brought into the court. We don't need it." He
gestured towards the bin and Gabriel gratefully got rid of the tomatos. He hesitated
for a moment and was about to drop the the temperance tract in too.
"Keep it for your future brother in law. If the medicine doesn't work Jobley might be
able to fix him up."
Gabriel was astonished once again at the knowledge people had of each other. In spite
of its growth Melbourne was a small community far away from any other town of the
same size. Still, he had other things to think of as he returned the tract to his pocket.
"Am I under arrest?"
"No, not if you tell me who threw the tomatoes." He looked at Gabriel's face. "I'm not
a fool, Mr Fox. It's not in your nature to do anything as stupid as that. Besides, I saw
you in the crowd; you didn't have anything in your hands then but a few seconds later
you were talking to Murphy and his mate. I reckon you took the tomatoe away before
they could do any more damage. It was them, wasn't it?"
Gabriel looked at him.
"That's alright, if you won't tell me I still have a witness who will get up in court and
say you're a drunken sot who should be locked up for attacking her dear Mr Jobley.
That's a problem in dealing with eyewitnesses. They're very handy in my line of
work, but sometimes they believe they saw things that just didn't happen. Of course
that would not be much help to you in court. She was very definite, wasn't she? She
has a real mental picture of you throwing the tomatos, and that's what she believes
and so will the court. She would be a very effective witness and only you and I would
know she was wrong, and they may not question me on that point and if they do I
might have trouble with my memory, just like Gladman." He mused for a minute while
Gabriel thought over the implications of what he was saying.
"You have your estate agent's licence now, I believe. If you are convicted on this
charge you'll lose it for sure, and then, of course, because you are such a bad
character, there may be an order to inspect the books of the building society. I
wonder where that would lead?" He paused. "Can you remember now who threw the
tomatos?"
"Would I go to jail?"
"Don't think so. It was only a first offence and Pryor would give you a rattling good
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character reference. Probably you'd get off with a fine and a caution from the beak. It
would be a hell of a job trying to get your licence back though, It could take years and
you wouldn't be much use in the business without it. Besides, Pryor would lose the
election and you would all be unhappy -- except Jobley."
Gabriel knew when he was beaten. He could not possibly take the risks that Jones was
outlining; apart from anything else he had to think of Amy, and their marriage. He
capitulated. "It was Benno and his mate, Wocka. I saw them throw the tomatoes."
Gabriel was only English after all; he did not realize the enormity of of dobbing in a
mate to the police.
The detective nodded. "Were any more of Benno's mates there? Ah well, if you say
there weren't, I believe you. Murphy and his offsider will do for the time being; I will
get the others later, when I'm ready." He winked at Gabriel and was about to turn
away when he had a second thought. "You remember that story you told me about
winning money at the races. It sounded pretty fishy, but do you know, it was all true.
I was talking to a bookie who really wants to meet Billy Summers and I thought I
would try your story out on him. You could have knocked me down with a feather
when he said he was the bookie and picked you straight away for a mug punter. You
were one of the few that put money on Darriwell, and you paid him in gold
sovereigns; how's that for a coincidence? Now, if you take my advice you'll never go
back to the course again because luck like that doesn't happen to the same person
twice. And another thing, keep away from politics; you're not cut out for that sort of
caper. Leave it to Pryor; one politician in the firm is enough." He nodded politely to
Gabriel and walked away.
Gabriel looked at the retreating detective while he was in sight and then, having been
humiliated in public for a second time by the irresponsible Benno, he unpinned the
cockade from his hat and dropped it in with the fruit.
e would never, ever attend another political parade, temperance meeting or prayer
meeting, particularly if it involved the Faithful Brethren. He would never attempt to
alter the beliefs of the Hindoos, and the Irish could pour into the colony in vast
numbers as far as he was concerned. All he asked was that they should buy
workmen's cottages and not try and stop others of different faiths from coming also.
His concern from now on would be to look after his wife to be and his business.
He walked back to Mrs Byer's boarding house. He would tell them everything and
Amy would be annoyed at missing some more excitement, and angry that she was not
there to argue with the woman eyewitness.
When he arrived at the boarding house was not able to tell his story for a while
because the Taylors had interesting news of their own. Mr Taylor had received a
letter from the Bishop. It was friendly in tone and said he was well aware of the great
work the Reverend gentleman was doing in battling the false doctrine peddled by
followers of Charles Darwin. He said the church needed strong and persuasive
peakers and he would be pleased to see Mr Taylor next Tuesday at Bishopscourt, at
10am, to discuss this and other matters Gabriel was first at the office on Saturday morning. It was his duty to open up.
Pringle did not have a key, though he was to be given one quite soon. He was a quiet,
steady man, always punctual in discharge of his duties. While walking to the office
Gabriel thought he would send the clerk out that very day to have a new key cut for
himself. Pringle could open the office without the partners having to be there and
Gabriel would be free to go out early selling their rapidly increasing stock of partly
built dwellings.
When they arrived at the office door together he noted that Pringle's blue cockade
had disappeared from his hat, but said nothing; his own was gone too. They greeted
one another gravely. Pringle was in the same thoughtful mood as on Friday and
Gabriel was still shaken from his fright of the previous evening.
Pringle carefully hung his second best coat on the hook assigned to him and put on
the wrist protectors made by Mrs Pringle. He and the others were allowed to take off
their coats while working at the books but had to retain their waist-coats, with the
addition of a cardigan during cold weather.
While the other two clerks were settling down to their work he came quietly into the
tiny inner office which Gabriel had to use while Pryor was absent, there was scarcely
room for him outside. "Mr Fox, do you want us to start making out those cheques
today?"
"Of course! I thought we had discussed this last night."
Pringle rubbed his chin while gazing intently at Gabriel. "Have you had time to look at
the bank balances lately? I think you should." He turned and went to a large safe
recently installed that made the place even more cluttered than before. Gabriel had
unlocked it as part of his morning routine so Pringle could distribute the books as
required. He bent down and took out a heavy, calf-bound ledger with water marked
end leaves. This he brought to Gabriel and put down on the desk. The book was
opened at the most recent entries and Pringle pointed out some of the items that
troubled him.
"Look at that, and that, and this figure here." He ran his finger along the appropriate
lines so Gabriel could understand more clearly. Gabriel frowned; he had some
knowledge of book-keeping but was not able to follow Pringle quickly enough
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through the maze of copperplate writing. "What are you saying?"
Pringle stopped with his finger on the book and looked up. He spoke softly so the
clerks beyond the partition would not hear. "I'm telling you that our cheques are
going to be dishonoured; there's not enough money in the bank to cover the quarterly
payments."
Gabriel went white; he understood instantly the implications of the statement.
Dishonoured cheques would mean a scandal, an enquiry into the society and an
examination of its books. It would probably lead to bankruptcy. Most of the money
that had come into the office recently was beyond recall, at least for the time being.
Mr Pryor had insisted on investing every penny and neither had given much thought
to the rapidly approaching time when they would have to find cash for dividends and
interest.
"How much are we short?"
"Over £370. It could vary; it depends on what the movement of money is in and out of
the office between now and when the cheques are presented for payment."
They stared at one another while Gabriel's thoughts raced to find a way of dealing
with the situation; he could think of nothing but possible criminal charges while
Pringle worried over the prospect of trying to find another situation with the stigma
on him of being chief clerk of a ruined firm. Everyone would know!
It was a relief to hear the front door swing open and Pryor's familiar step and
greetings to the staff as he came to the glass cubicle where his desk was. He came in
and sat on the edge of the desk. "I missed you last night," he said. Jobley copped some
tomatos from the crowd; you should have seen him; what a mess. I hope those mates
of yours weren't mixed up in it. But I'm sorry you didn't hear my speech; it was the
best I've ever made, and I got in some good ones about Jobley. He'll squirm when he
reads what I said about him; it's all in the papers, and I've brought them in to show
you. Have a look at this." He was flattening the newspapers out on the desk when he
noticed their faces. "What's up? You both look as if you'd lost a guinea and found a
zac."
"It's worse. We're in real trouble."
Mr Pryor took off his top hat and hung it on a peg. He was rarely without it and the
way he wore his hat generally indicated his mood. In moments of stress he would
take it off and smooth his fair hair. "What's the problem?"
Gabriel touched a finger to his lips to remind Pryor to keep his voice down and
indicated Pringle who again demonstrated the lines of figures showing serious
difficulties for the infant firms they controlled.
James Pryor shook his head while looking at the figures. "I'm not a book-keeper. Just
tell me about the bottom line. I suppose there's no chance of a mistake."
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"No, Sir, there it is. There are the figures," said Pringle pointing. "We have so much to
draw on and so much to pay, and the figures don't match, not unless you can find near
enough to £400 somewhere. We would need the extra for wages and so on, until more
money started coming into the office."
"We'll be bankrupt, they'll sell everything," said Gabriel, in a near panic. He was
wondering how he would tell Amy and then look after them both with no job. All his
money had been sunk into the business. The block of land for their house would be
taken away from them.
"Don't be wet!" said Mr Pryor scornfully. We're not done for, not by a long chalk.
You're only bankrupt when you admit it." He looked at Pringle. "Thanks for telling us,
but I wish we had known earlier. Never mind, it's our problem now. You go out and
set the men to working on the cheques while Mr Fox and I sort this out between us.
Do the others know about this?"
Pringle shook his head. "I do these books myself; the other two haven't any idea that
there's a problem."
"Good! Well, don't forget, mum's the word. We have to keep this 'in house'; if any
stories about bankruptcies get out we'll have a screaming mob down on us wanting
their money back. We'll be done for and so will you; you'll find it hard to get another
job. Anyway," he added, "if I'm going to go broke it won't be for a measly four
hundred quid. I reckon it would be a blot on the Pryor name if I went through for
anything under half a million at the very least."
Pringle went back to his desk while the partners sat in the little office knee to knee
and tried to sort out their predicament. "Who's the richest cove in Melbourne?"
mused James Pryor, tilting his chair back on its rear legs.
"I don't know. It wouldn't be Briggs, would it? He's the only one I can think of." The
front legs of Pryor's chair thumped on the floor. "You're a genius, Gabby. He's the very
one; we've got a hold on him, too. Beauty, mate! Tell Pringle to send one of the clerks
round to his office with a note from me. I'll say it's urgent and he's to meet us in the
saloon bar of the Royal Mail within half an hour."
"Shouldn't we go to his office?"
"No! All we want is four hundred quid, let him come to us. If you're going to get into
debt in a constructive way it has to be done properly. In the end we will be doing him
a favour by taking his money. If we had more room and some privacy we could tell
him to come here but the pub will have to do until we get a decent office."
"What's the hold you have on him?"
"It's fear, me boy. Fear of losing everything and ending up a snivelling old pauper,
ruined and spending his nights in the sixpenny boarding house. He is terrified of
Berry winning the election and bringing civilization down in ruins; that's what I have
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to work on. We'll get the money alright. You watch how I do it and you'll see the
master weaving his spell. Four hundred bloody quid! I'm not going under for four
hundred quid. Come on, we'll go to the pub and have a few, I'll need to be in good
voice for when he comes."
James Pryor was having a confidential chat with the barmaid when Mr Briggs arrived.
The man was put out at being summoned suddenly from his office in this peremptory
manner and was very short with them. He made it clear that only a matter of the
greatest importance would justify such an inconvenient interruption in his busy day.
Pryor had ordered a glass of claret and the barmaid passed it over with her most
practised smile as soon as Mr Briggs appeared in the bar. He was slightly calmer with
the drink in his hand, but not much. "Now, what's all this about?" he demanded. "I
have had to put aside a number of urgent matters to come and talk to you two; what
you have to say had better be important."
"It's about the election," said Mr Pryor, shaking his head. "Things aren't looking too
bright."
Mr Briggs's mottled face become even redder on hearing this ominous
announcement. In his agitation he slopped some claret on the bar. "What do you
mean? What are you talking about?"
"It looks as though I might have to withdraw and give Jobley a free run into
Parliament. I'm sorry about this, and with the election so close I suppose you won't
be able to get another candidate."
"It would be impossible to get another candidate," cried Mr Briggs shrilly. "What are
you talking about? We have invested a lot of money in you as a Member of Parliament
and now you say it is going to be wasted. Why have you changed your mind?"
"I haven't changed my mind. I believe I would have a valuable role to play as a
Member of Parliament but things are just not falling out the right way. It's a pity, and
in such a hard fought campaign like this, apart from Jobley getting a free ride, it could
affect the whole election so that Berry could get up and win."
"You can't! you can't!" cried Mr Briggs agitatedly. "Society cannot afford to let Berry
have another term. We would be totally ruined. Don't you understand the fellow's
hatred of the commercial world and of businessmen who are the spring and backbone
of our prosperity. If he had another term he could satisfy his spleen against us, and
me in particular because he knows I am an enemy of his levelling, socialistic
government. He won't be satisfied until we are all brought down to the same level.
Why are you saying this? You must not do anything rash until we have discussed the
matter with your support group."
"It's not easy to have to tell you," responded Mr Pryor. "I would never forgive myself
if I was forced out of the election and Jobley won by default. As you say the colony
may never recover from the damage that Berry would inflict if he had a second term,
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but if I have no choice -- "
The thought of being at the mercy of his political enemy agitated Mr Briggs so much
Gabriel feared he would suffer a heart attack. "Tell me," he said pitifully. "I don't
understand. You say you want to be a Member of Parliament yet you are going to
withdraw, You, the most prominent of the younger candidates. What can we say to
make you change your mind?"
"It's a question of honor. My only honorable course at the moment is to inform you as
my principal backer that my circumstances have changed so radically I may have to
withdraw from the contest."
"May! What do you mean, may? have you not made up your mind yet? For heavens
sake don't make any foolish decisions until I have had a chance to consult my
colleagues." He took out a large handkerchief and wiped his brow with a shaking
hand. "You don't know how spiteful Berry can be, especially since we influenced the
Imperial Government to reject his attempts to destroy the powers of the Legislative
Council. If he wins the election he may try again, and who knows what the outcome
would be."
Mr Pryor looked at him sorrowfully and shook his head. "You don't know how this
tears at me. The last thing I want in the whole world is for Victoria and its community
to be at the mercy of such a man as Berry yet my partner, Mr Fox, and I have
discussed the matter fully and we have come to the one conclusion. I simply cannot
afford to go into the Victorian Parliament. The fact is that if I withdraw from the
business to perform my parliamentary duties then our financial future is in doubt."
Mr Briggs frowned. "How can this be? Your firm is soundly based, is it not? Surely
there is no danger of bankruptcy?"