John Bulls Other Island | Page 4

of
an inner room between the fireplace and our observant sparrow.
Against the right hand wall is a filing cabinet, with a cupboard on it,
and, nearer, a tall office desk and stool for one person. In the middle of
the room a large double writing table is set across, with a chair at each
end for the two partners. It is a room which no woman would tolerate,
smelling of tobacco, and much in need of repapering, repainting, and
recarpeting; but this it the effect of bachelor untidiness and indifference,
not want of means; for nothing that Doyle and Broadbent themselves
have purchased is cheap; nor is anything they want lacking. On the
walls hang a large map of South America, a pictorial advertisement of a
steamship company, an impressive portrait of Gladstone, and several
caricatures of Mr Balfour as a rabbit and Mr Chamberlain as a fox by
Francis Carruthers Gould.
At twenty minutes to five o'clock on a summer afternoon in 1904, the
room is empty. Presently the outer door is opened, and a valet comes in
laden with a large Gladstone bag, and a strap of rugs. He carries them
into the inner room. He is a respectable valet, old enough to have lost
all alacrity, and acquired an air of putting up patiently with a great deal
of trouble and indifferent health. The luggage belongs to Broadbent,
who enters after the valet. He pulls off his overcoat and hangs it with
his hat on the stand. Then he comes to the writing table and looks
through the letters which are waiting for him. He is a robust,
full-blooded, energetic man in the prime of life, sometimes eager and
credulous, sometimes shrewd and roguish, sometimes portentously
solemn, sometimes jolly and impetuous, always buoyant and irresistible,
mostly likeable, and enormously absurd in his most earnest moments.
He bursts open his letters with his thumb, and glances through them,

flinging the envelopes about the floor with reckless untidiness whilst he
talks to the valet.
BROADBENT [calling] Hodson.
HODSON [in the bedroom] Yes sir.
BROADBENT. Don't unpack. Just take out the things I've worn; and
put in clean things.
HODSON [appearing at the bedroom door] Yes sir. [He turns to go
back into the bedroom.
BROADBENT. And look here! [Hodson turns again]. Do you
remember where I put my revolver?
HODSON. Revolver, sir? Yes sir. Mr Doyle uses it as a paper-weight,
sir, when he's drawing.
BROADBENT. Well, I want it packed. There's a packet of cartridges
somewhere, I think. Find it and pack it as well.
HODSON. Yes sir.
BROADBENT. By the way, pack your own traps too. I shall take you
with me this time.
HODSON [hesitant]. Is it a dangerous part you're going to, sir? Should
I be expected to carry a revolver, sir?
BROADBENT. Perhaps it might be as well. I'm going to Ireland.
HODSON [reassured]. Yes sir.
BROADBENT. You don't feel nervous about it, I suppose?
HODSON. Not at all, sir. I'll risk it, sir.
BROADBENT. Have you ever been in Ireland?
HODSON. No sir. I understand it's a very wet climate, sir. I'd better
pack your india-rubber overalls.
BROADBENT. Do. Where's Mr Doyle?
HODSON. I'm expecting him at five, sir. He went out after lunch.
BROADBENT. Anybody been looking for me?
HODSON. A person giving the name of Haffigan has called twice to-
day, sir.
BROADBENT. Oh, I'm sorry. Why didn't he wait? I told him to wait if
I wasn't in.
HODSON. Well Sir, I didn't know you expected him; so I thought it
best to--to--not to encourage him, sir.
BROADBENT. Oh, he's all right. He's an Irishman, and not very
particular about his appearance.

HODSON. Yes sir, I noticed that he was rather Irish....
BROADBENT. If he calls again let him come up.
HODSON. I think I saw him waiting about, sir, when you drove up.
Shall I fetch him, sir?
BROADBENT. Do, Hodson.
HODSON. Yes sir [He makes for the outer door].
BROADBENT. He'll want tea. Let us have some.
HODSON [stopping]. I shouldn't think he drank tea, sir.
BROADBENT. Well, bring whatever you think he'd like.
HODSON. Yes sir [An electric bell rings]. Here he is, sir. Saw you
arrive, sir.
BROADBENT. Right. Show him in. [Hodson goes out. Broadbent gets
through the rest of his letters before Hodson returns with the visitor].
HODSON. Mr Affigan.
Haffigan is a stunted, shortnecked, smallheaded, redhaired man of
about 30, with reddened nose and furtive eyes. He is dressed in seedy
black, almost clerically, and might be a tenth-rate schoolmaster ruined
by drink. He hastens to shake Broadbent's hand with a show of reckless
geniality and high spirits, helped out by a rollicking stage brogue. This
is perhaps a comfort to himself, as he is secretly pursued by the horrors
of incipient delirium tremens.