Chapter 44: Chapter 44
A clerk sent by Mr Briggs arrived soon after the start of business on Monday morning.
He carried a note which summoned Mr Pryor to an immediate meeting at Mr Briggs's
counting house. That gentleman had never yielded to modern usage and always
referred to his office as a counting house.
Mr Pryor read the note, which was peremptory in tone, and showed it to Gabriel; then
he whistled a little and sat down at his desk to look over the morning papers. He
became excited when reading one article and insisted on reading it aloud to the staff.
It was a story about the introduction of telephones into Melbourne. This was a recent
invention, now all the rage overseas, and some enterprising merchants were having
lines installed between warehouse and office for instant communication between the
two. There was even talk of exchanges being installed so one subscriber could ring
another, even though the other was on a different line. Mr Pryor's imagination
immediately took over. None of those present had ever seen a telephone and were not
sure how they worked except that confidential conversations could be carried out
instantaneously over long distances; perhaps even as far as Sydney or Adelaide. He
enlarged on the subject for some time and stated they would have one installed in the
office as soon as possible, besides there was the interesting possibility of buying into
a telephone company, or dealing in its shares.
Mr Briggs' clerk was sent back with the information that Mr Pryor would be along
directly, as soon as he had dealt with some business. That rising young entrepreneur
sat and read the papers and chatted some more then, about half an hour or forty
minutes later, he sauntered out of the office into busy Swanston Street. Immaculate as
usual and the very picture of jaunty self confidence he raised his umbrella, instantly
halting a cab which he entered while directing the driver to Mr Briggs' counting house
and warehouse, situated in one of the lanes.
While he was away Mr Kimpton, the draper, no longer of Bendigo but now resident
over his new shop in Elizabeth Street called. The man spent a few moments looking at
the posters stuck to the windows of the office and entered. Gabriel was better pleased
to see him than when first they met. He was looking for another shop to set up one of
his sons in business and had been in several times enquiring if suitable premises had
come on the market. One of the suburbs would be a good location; Chapel Street
would do, or Smith Street. These and others were starting to develop as excellent
shopping streets and every shop his family controlled would increase their
bargaining power with the British exporters of bed linen and napery. He was thinking
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of branching out into men's clothing; the sale of shirts and collars, cuff links and studs
too, represented the possibility of excellent business.
He still had some doubts about the methods of Pryor and Fox but could not deny that
through their office he had obtained a well positioned and eligible shop at a
reasonable price. Gabriel had looked in once or twice and Amy had patronised this
thriving business to be served by its attentive staff with Mr Kimpton in the
background supervising in a firm but benevolent manner. He employed his large
family, and some of their cousins, in the Melbourne branch of the business but the
sales staff did not resent this. Custom was growing and other shops would open to
make fresh opportunities for employment.
Gabriel was now confident in his knowledge of the city and wrote down the addresses
of two shops soon to be vacant. They chatted for a while. Mr Kimpton was proud of
his business acumen and the prosperity of his shops and they laughed a little over the
recollection of their first meeting.
Mrs Chittering, the boarding house keeper, who had purchased the delicensed hotel
was doing well, he said, and they had come to a sort of wary neutrality after she had
visited his shop to bargain for cheap bed linen.
Her boarding house, rescued from the breweries, had been completely repapered
throughout, and a fanatical regime of scrubbing, numerous times, every fixture and
every surface had been imposed on her harried maids to rid the place of the least
taint of alcohol. The bar and bar room fittings had been removed and, by her
particular direction, had been burned rather than sold. The former bar room was
unrecognizeable in its present purpose as a dull sitting room for quiet and temperate
lodgers. The boarders in this stronghold of rectitude were comfortable enough but
complained about the constant smell of phenyle and strong soap; some would have
preferred the aroma of beer, but were careful not to say such things where Mrs
Chittering could hear them.
Mr Pryor returned after an hour or so. They knew he had been to a hotel because he
was in a happy mood and stood with his back to the front door smiling cheerfully at
everyone. His step was quite steady and he produced a cheque and laid it on his desk
to show Gabriel who had eagerly followed when he came in. It was for £600 and
made out to Pryor and Fox. Gabriel sighed, he had not realized how the tension had
been building in his mind but that was over for a time. All he had to worry about now
was the eventual repayment of the £600.
"It's no problem ," said Mr Pryor airily. "Briggs and the others are the first investors to
buy shares in the new bank." He took a piece of paper with some notes on it from his
pocket. "We'll have to get another set of books if we're going to start a bank. This is
the list of subscribers so far and the amounts they're putting in; I said they would be
buying their shares at a discount if they got in early."
Gabriel looked at the scrawled piece of paper. The writing was hard to read but it
would be an historic document if a successful bank was to come out of all this.
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However, the precariously indebted firm Pryor and Fox seemed an unlikely base from
which to launch a bank with, as yet, only £600 of borrowed capital, most of which was
to be spent paying off existing debts. He felt apprehensive at the thought of this new
venture now being germinated in the fertile mind of his partner. Still, neither he nor
anyone else knew how to instil some caution into the mind of this ebullient young
man and prevent the creation of a rickety financial structure masquerading under the
respectable title of bank; one could only hope for the best.
"We just have to get offices in Collins Street," said Mr Pryor. "I'll scout around a bit
and see what's available. What would you say to 'The Mercantile Bank of Melbourne.'
How does that sound?"
Gabriel walked out of the office and left him to sort out the names.