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.