post in a big house in London nothin’ more nor less than a servant she would be puir thing. The Foyles didna do a thing for her afore they went back to Ireland.'
'That's right' said the second draughts player; 'old Foyle was fair broken up by the loss o' that boy o' his. 'Twas an awfu' thing, and no mistake, that Tay Bridge disaster. I'll never forget that night. I had been out at the guid sister's and had to get back hame in the teeth o' the wind, when a flyin' slate skiffed my ear by an inch. It nearly took ma heid off.'
'That wad have been a worse calamity to the town than the loss o' the bridge, John,' sniggered Grierson from his corner. 'We would need to ha' put ye up a braw monument at the Cross, like the braw new Livingstone statue in George Square up in the city. Think what ye've missed. If it had struck ye, man, ye would have been another o' Scotland's heroes.'
'Weel, the new bridge maun be a bit stronger before they get me to gang across it. 'Twas a perfect scandal that a' they good lives were flung awa'. I contend there should have been a punishment for them that was to blame,' said the first draughts player, covering the discomfiture of his companion.
'Man! Ye canna punish the Almighty,' drawled Grierson: ' 'twas an act of God, and ye canna claim damages off Him at least not successfully.'
'Wheesht, man, Grierson,' admonished the Provost by virtue of his position. 'Watch that tongue o' yours; that's downright blasphemy ye're talkin'.'
'Na! Na! Provost,' soothed Grierson. 'It's juist the law a wee bit o' the law, ye ken. No offence to the company, or the Almighty, or yourself,' he added, with a leer.
There was an uncomfortable pause, when it looked as if the harmony of the discussion might be destroyed, but eventually the Provost continued:
'Brodie maun be losing trade hand over fist these days. I never see a soul in his shop.'
'The prices the Mungo Company's sellin' at wad empty anybody's shop that tried to compete wi' them,' said Paxton, with some show of sympathy. 'They've made up their minds to feenish him first and make their profits after. He's got on the wrang side o' the fence a' thegether. It looks to me gey like ruin.'
'Ruin is the richt word,' drawled Grierson, who from his corner looked knowingly as if he could, if he chose, disclose a large, ripe plum of information on the subject.
'But he maun be a warm man though, Brodie. He's aye free o' his money splashin' it about like water, spendin' it on onything that might take his fancy. He has the best o' everything, and then ye wad think that wasna good enough for him. Look at his dress, look at his braw new tie-pin and signet ring, and besides,' the speaker looked around cautiously before he uttered the next words, 'look at his graund country castle.' A slight smirk seemed to traverse the entire party and covert glances of well-subdued amusement were exchanged.
'Look at his auld wife's boots, her elegant clothes and braw appearance,' replied Grierson. 'Look at his bank balance his wee Nessie was a fortnight late wi' her fees at the Academy this quarter. Look at the flicker in his proud eye when he thinks ye Ye not watchin' him. I tell you that the big, big man that he thinks he is is beginnin' to feel a wee bittie vexed about things.' An intense undercurrent of innuendo lay behind the words as he continued, 'I may be wrong but, in my humble opinion, I consider that James Brodie is goin' through the worst time o' his life. And if he's not careful, he'll be down where he's flung many another man right down in the gutter!'
'Ay, he's an awfu' man to make enemies. Speakin' o' the gutter, though, I maun tell you this one.' Paxton took a few reflective draws at his pipe. 'I was passin' Brodie's shop the other Saturday night when a kind o' commotion stopped me.' He puffed again twice. 'There was a big, drunken street worker in the shop, fu' as a whelk, and fu' o' his week's wages - in the mood to fling out the pound notes like a harrier's trail I saw the roll o' notes in his hand and he stood there swayin' afore Brodie, ordering a couple o' hats and a couple o' bonnets, and this and that and goodness knows a' what. He was in the mood to buy up the whole shop, ay and pay for 't too. Brodie, and God knows he must have needed the money sorely, stood glarin' at him out o' his starin' red eye.' Reaching the climax of his story he sucked interminably at his pipe, before removing it, pointing it emphatically, and proceeding. ' 'If ye can't say 'please’ when ye address me,' Brodie was snarlin', 'then ye'll get nothing here. Other places,' he sneered, 'might stand that style o' thing. Go there if ye choose, but if ye come to me ye'll behave yourself or get out.' I didna hear what the other said in reply, but it must have outraged Brodie frightful, for he louped the counter and gripped the other's neck, and before ye could say knife had flung him out o' the shop right into the dirty gutter, where he lay, knocked stupid, at my feet.'
A pregnant pause succeeded the anecdote.
'Ay,' sighed the first draughts player at last, 'he has an uncommon temper. His pride is fair terrifyin’ now. It's his worst enemy. He used no' to be so conspicuous in that respect, but of late years it's fair run awa' wi' him. He's as proud as Lucifer.'
'And 'tis my belief he'll have the same fall,' inserted Grierson. 'He's bloated with his own vanity ! It's worked on him till it's like a very mania.'
'And the rideeclous cause o't too!' said Paxton, in a low cautious tone; 'that claimin' kinship wi' the Wintons! I'll swear he thinks he should be the Earl himself. 'Tis strange too, the way he hides it, yet feasts on it.'
'They wouldna own him. Brodie may have the name. He may look like the Wintons. But what's in a name and what's in a likeness?' said the first draughts player. 'He hasna a shadow o' proof.'
'I'm afeared what proof there was had a big, black bar through it,' remarked Grierson judicially; 'for I'm gey and certain that onything that might have happened lang back took place the wrang side o' the blanket. That's why our friend willna blatter it out. That's maybe the bonnie kinship.'
''Tis not only kinship that he claims,' said Provost Gordon slowly. 'Na! Na! The disease has swelled beyond that. I hardly like to come over it to ye and 'deed I'm hardly sure myself, but I’ll mention no names and ye mustna repeat it. I had it from a man who saw James Brodie when he was the worse o' liquor, mad ravin’
drunk. There's no' many has seen that,' he continued, 'for he's a close man in they things. But this night his dour tongue was loosed and he talked and '
'Another time, Provost,' cried Paxton suddenly. 'Wheesht, man, wheesht.'
'Talk o' the deevil.'
'About that new trap o' yours now, Provost, will ye '
Brodie had entered the room. He came in heavily, blinking at the sudden transition from the darkness to the lighted room and frowning from the bitter suspicion that he had been at the moment of his entry the object of their backbiting tongues. His dour, hard face had to-night a pale grimness, as he looked around the company, nodding his head silently several times in salutation, more in the manner of a challenge than a greeting.
'Come away in, come away in,' remarked Grierson smoothly; 'we were just wonderin' if the rain that was threatenin' had come on yet.'
'It's still dry,' said Brodie gruffly. His voice was flat, had lost its old resonant timbre, was, like the brooding mask of his face, inexpressive of anything but stoic endurance. He took out his pipe and began to fill it. An old man, the messenger and factotum of the club, dignified as such by a green baize apron, put his head around the door in speechless enquiry, and to him Brodie shortly remarked,
'The usual.'
A momentary silence descended upon the group whilst the old man retreated, was absent, returned shamblingly with a large whisky for Brodie, then finally departed. The Provost felt it his duty to break the awkward stillness which had descended upon the group and, looking at Brodie, he said, in a kindly tone, moved in spite of himself by the other's ghastly look:
'Well, Brodie man, how are things with ye? How's the world waggin' now?'
'Oh! Fair, Provost! very fair,' replied Brodie slowly, 'Nothing to complain about.' The grim assumption of indifference in his tone was almost tragic and deceived none of the assembly, but Gordon, with an assumption of heartiness, retorted:
'That's fine! That's the ticket! We're expectin' every day to see the Mungo Company wi' the shutters up.”
Brodie accepted this polite fiction and the spurious murmur of assent from the group which followed it, not with the blatant satisfaction which it would have provoked six months ago but, in the face of his present position, with a blank indifference which the others did not fail to observe. They might discuss him freely in his absence, criticise, condemn, or even vilify him, but when he was in their midst their strongly expressed feelings weakened sensibly under the shadow of his actual presence and they were impelled, often against their wish, to make some flattering remark which they did not mean and which they had not intended to utter.
He was a man whom they thought wiser to humour; better to keep on the right side of, safer to propitiate than
