Mr. Prohack | Page 7

effusively.
"How d'ye do, Prohack?"
"Well, Bishop!" Mr. Prohack responded. "It's you!"
It was another Bishop, a Bishop whom he had forgotten, a Bishop who had resigned from the club earlier and disappeared. Mr. Prohack did not like him. Mr. Prohack said to himself: "This fellow is after something, and I always knew he was an adventurer."
"Funny feeling it gives you to be asked to wait in the hall of a club that you used to belong to!" said Bishop.
The apparently simple words, heavy with sinister significance, sank like a depth-charge into Mr. Prohack's consciousness.
"Among other things," said Mr. Prohack to himself, "this fellow is very obviously after a free lunch."
Now Mr. Prohack suffered from a strange form of insincerity, which he had often unsuccessfully tried to cure, partly because it advantaged unsympathetic acquaintances at his expense, and partly because his wife produced unanswerable arguments against it with mortal effect. Although an unconceited man (as men go), and a very honest man, he could not help pretending to like people whom he did not like. And he pretended with a histrionic skill that deceived everybody--sometimes even himself. There may have been some good-nature in this moral twist of his; but he well knew that it originated chiefly in three morbid desires,--the desire to please, the desire to do the easiest thing, and the desire to nourish his reputation for amiability.
So that when the unexpected Mr. Bishop (whose Christian name was Softly) said to him: "I won't keep you now. Only I was passing and I want you to be kind enough to make an early appointment with me at some time and place entirely convenient to yourself," Mr. Prohack proceeded to persuade Mr. Bishop to stay to lunch, there being no sort of reason in favour of such a course, and various sound reasons against it. Mr. Prohack deceived Mr. Softly Bishop as follows:
"No time and place like the present. You must stay to lunch. This is your old club and you must stay to lunch."
"But you've begun your lunch," Bishop protested.
"I've not. The fact is, I was half expecting you to look in again. The hall-porter told me...." And Mr. Prohack actually patted Mr. Bishop on the shoulder--a trick he had. "Come now, don't tell me you've got another lunch appointment. It's twenty-five to two." And to himself, leading Mr. Bishop to the strangers' dining-room, he said: "Why should I further my own execution in this way?"
He ordered a lunch as copious and as costly as he would have ordered for the other, the real Bishop. Powerful and vigorous in some directions, Mr. Prohack's mentality was deplorably weak in at least one other.
Mr. Softly Bishop was delighted with his reception, and Mr. Prohack began to admit that Mr. Bishop had some personal charm. Nevertheless when the partridge came, Mr. Prohack acidly reflected:
"I'm offering this fellow a portion of my daughter's new frock on a charger!"
They talked of the club, Mr. Bishop as a former member being surely entitled to learn all about it, and then they talked about clubs in the United States, where Mr. Bishop had spent recent years. But Mr. Bishop persisted in giving no hint of his business.
"It must be something rather big and annoying," thought Mr. Prohack, and ordered another portion of his daughter's new frock in the shape of excellent cigars.
"You don't mean to say we can smoke here," exclaimed Mr. Bishop.
"Yes," said Mr. Prohack. "Not in the members' coffee-room, but we can here. Stroke of genius on the part of the Committee! You see it tends to keep guests out of the smoking-room, which for a long time has been getting uncomfortably full after lunch."
"Good God!" murmured Mr. Bishop simply.

IV
And he added at once, as he lighted the Corona Corona: "Well, I'd better tell you what I've come to see you about. You remember that chap, Silas Angmering?"
"Silas Angmering? Of course I do. Used to belong here. He cleared off to America ages ago."
"He did. And you lent him a hundred pounds to help him to clear off to America."
"Who told you?"
"He did," said Mr. Bishop, with a faint, mysterious smile.
"What's happened to him?"
"Oh! All sorts of things. He made a lot of money out of the war. He established himself in Cincinnati. And there were opportunities...."
"How came he to tell you that I'd lent him anything?" Mr. Prohack interrupted sharply.
"I had business with him at one time--before the war and also just after the war began. Indeed I was in partnership with him." Mr. Bishop spoke with a measured soothing calmness.
"And you say he's made a lot of money out of the war. What do you mean--a lot?"
"Well," said Mr. Bishop, looking at the tablecloth through his glittering spectacles, "I mean a lot."
His tone was confidential; but then his tone was always confidential. He continued: