Tales and Novels, vol 6 | Page 4

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 the perch--Let us see--Mr. Mordicai, ask him, ask Paddy, about Sir Terence," said the foreman, pointing back over his shoulder to the Irish workman, who was at this moment pretending to be wondrous hard at work. However, when Mr. Mordicai defied him to tell him any thing he did not know, Paddy, parting with an untasted bit of tobacco, began and recounted some of Sir Terence O'Fay's exploits in evading duns, replevying cattle,