Tales and Novels, vol 6 | Page 4

make all proper inquiries. Accordingly, he
went to the coachmaker's; and, obtaining no satisfaction from the
underlings, desired to see the head of the house. He was answered that
Mr. Mordicai was not at home. His lordship had never seen Mr.
Mordicai; but just then he saw, walking across the yard, a man who
looked something like a Bond-street coxcomb, but not the least like a
gentleman, who called, in the tone of a master, for "Mr. Mordicai's
barouche!"--It appeared; and he was stepping into it, when Lord
Colambre took the liberty of stopping him; and, pointing to the wreck
of Mr. Berryl's curricle, now standing in the yard, began a statement of
his friend's grievances, and an appeal to common justice and
conscience, which he, unknowing the nature of the man with whom he
had to deal, imagined must be irresistible. Mr. Mordicai stood without
moving a muscle of his dark wooden face--indeed, in his face there
appeared to be no muscles, or none which could move; so that, though
he had what are generally called handsome features, there was,
altogether, something unnatural and shocking in his countenance.
When, at last, his eyes turned and his lips opened, this seemed to be
done by machinery, and not by the will of a living creature, or from the
impulse of a rational soul. Lord Colambre was so much struck with this
strange physiognomy, that he actually forgot much he had to say of
springs and wheels--But it was no matter--Whatever he had said, it
would have come to the same thing; and Mordicai would have
answered as he now did; "Sir, it was my partner made that bargain, not
myself; and I don't hold myself bound by it, for he is the sleeping
partner only, and not empowered to act in the way of business. Had Mr.
Berryl bargained with me, I should have told him that he should have
looked to these things before his carriage went out of our yard."
The indignation of Lord Colambre kindled at these words--but in vain:
to all that indignation could by word or look urge against Mordicai, he

replied, "May be so, sir: the law is open to your friend--the law is open
to all men, who can pay for it."
Lord Colambre turned in despair from the callous coachmaker, and
listened to one of his more compassionate-looking workmen, who was
reviewing the disabled curricle; and, whilst he was waiting to know the
sum of his friend's misfortune, a fat, jolly, Falstaff-looking personage
came into the yard, and accosted Mordicai with a degree of familiarity
which, from a gentleman, appeared to Lord Colambre to be almost
impossible.
"How are you, Mordicai, my good fellow?" cried he, speaking with a
strong Irish accent.
"Who is this?" whispered Lord Colambre to the foreman, who was
examining the curricle.
"Sir Terence O'Fay, sir--There must be entire new wheels."
"Now tell me, my tight fellow," continued Sir Terence, holding
Mordicai fast, "when, in the name of all the saints, good or bad, in the
calendar, do you reckon to let us sport the _suicide_?"
"Will you be so good, sir, to finish making out this estimate for me?"
interrupted Lord Colambre.
Mordicai forcibly drew his mouth into what he meant for a smile, and
answered, "As soon as possible, Sir Terence." Sir Terence, in a tone of
jocose, wheedling expostulation, entreated him to have the carriage
finished _out of hand_: "Ah, now! Mordy, my precious! let us have it
by the birthday, and come and dine with us o' Monday at the Hibernian
Hotel--there's a rare one--will you?"
Mordicai accepted the invitation, and promised faithfully that the
suicide should be finished by the birthday. Sir Terence shook hands
upon this promise, and, after telling a good story, which made one of
the workmen in the yard--an Irishman--grin with delight, walked off.
Mordicai, first waiting till the knight was out of hearing, called aloud,

"You grinning rascal! mind, at your peril, and don't let that there
carriage be touched, d'ye see, till farther orders."
One of Mr. Mordicai's clerks, with a huge long feathered pen behind
his ear, observed that Mr. Mordicai was right in that caution, for that, to
the best of his comprehension, Sir Terence O'Fay, and his principal too,
were over head and ears in debt.
Mordicai coolly answered, that he was well aware of that, but that the
estate could afford to dip farther; that, for his part, he was under no
apprehension; he knew how to look sharp, and to bite before he was bit:
that he knew Sir Terence and his principal were leagued together to
give the creditors _the go by_; but that, clever as they were both at that
work, he trusted he was their match.
"Immediately, sir--Sixty-nine pound four, and