never forget this.'
'Don't raise your hopes too high--'
'I can't help it. I've been in despair, and you've given me a reason to go on.' Tonio looked shamefaced and added: 'I thought of killing myself this morning. I walked across London Bridge and I was going to throw myself into the river.'
There was a soft grunt from Papa, who clearly thought that would have been the best thing all round.
Micky said hastily: 'Thank God you changed your mind. Now, I'd better go along to Pilasters Bank and talk to Edward.'
'When will I see you?'
'Will you be at the club at lunchtime?'
'Of course, if you want me to.'
'Meet me there, then.'
'Right.' Tonio stood up. 'I'll leave you to finish your breakfast. And--'
'Don't thank me,' Micky said, holding up his hand in a silencing gesture. 'It's unlucky. Wait and hope.'
'Yes. All right.' Tonio bowed again to Papa. 'Goodbye, Senor Miranda.' He went out.
'Stupid boy,' Papa muttered.
'A complete fool,' Micky agreed.
Micky went into the next room and dressed in his morning clothes: a white shirt with a stiff upright collar and starched cuffs, buff-colored trousers, a black satin stock which he took the trouble to tie perfectly, and a black double-breasted frock coat. His shoes gleamed with wax and his hair shone with macassar oil. He always dressed elegantly but conservatively: he would never wear one of the fashionable new turndown collars, or carry a monocle like a dandy. The English were ever ready to believe that a foreigner was a cad, and he took care to give them no excuse.
Leaving Papa to his own devices for the day, he went out and walked across the bridge into the financial district, which was called the City because it covered the square mile of the original Roman city of London. Traffic was at a complete standstill around St. Paul's Cathedral as carriages, horse buses, brewers' drays, hansom cabs and costermongers' barrows competed for space with a huge flock of sheep being driven to Smithfield meat market.
Pilasters Bank was a big new building with a long classical frontage and an imposing entrance flanked by massive fluted pillars. It was a few minutes past noon when Micky went through the double doors into the banking hall. Although Edward rarely got to work before ten, he could generally be persuaded to leave for lunch any time after twelve.
Micky approached one of the 'walkers' and said: 'Be good enough to tell Mr. Edward Pilaster that Mr. Miranda has called.'
'Very good, sir.'
Here more than anywhere Micky envied the Pilasters. Their wealth and power was proclaimed by every detail: the polished marble floor, the rich paneling, the hushed voices, the scratch of pens in ledgers, and perhaps most of all by the overfed, overdressed messengers. All this space and all these people were basically employed in counting the Pilaster family's money. No one here raised cattle, mined nitrate or built railroads: the work was done by others far away. The Pilasters just watched the money multiply. To Micky it seemed the best possible way to live now that slavery had been abolished.
There was also something false about the atmosphere here. It was solemn and dignified, like a church, or the court of a president, or a museum. They were moneylenders, but they acted as if charging interest were a noble calling, like the priesthood.
After a few minutes Edward appeared--with a bruised nose and a black eye. Micky raised his eyebrows. 'My dear fellow, what happened to you?'
'I had a fight with Hugh.'
'What about?'
'I told him off for bringing a whore into the house and he lost his temper.'
It occurred to Micky that this might have given Augusta the opportunity she had been seeking to get rid of Hugh. 'What happened to Hugh?'
'You won't see him again for a long time. He's been sent to Boston.'
Well done, Augusta, thought Micky. It would be neat if both Hugh and Tonio could be dealt with on the same day. He said: 'You look as if you might benefit from a bottle of champagne and some lunch.'
'Splendid idea.'
They left the bank and headed west. There was no point in getting into a hansom here because the streets were blocked by the sheep and the cabs were all held up in the traffic. They passed the meat market which was the destination of the sheep. The stench from the slaughterhouses was unbearably disgusting. The sheep were thrown from the street through a trapdoor down into the underground abattoir. The fall was sufficient to break their legs, which rendered them motionless until the slaughterer was ready to cut their throats. 'It's enough to put you off mutton for life,' Edward said as they covered their faces with handkerchiefs. Micky thought it would take a lot more than that to put Edward off his lunch.
Once out of the City they hailed a hansom and directed it to Pall Mall. As soon as they were on their way, Micky began his prepared speech. He started by saying: 'I hate a chap who spreads reports about another chap's bad behavior.'
'Yes,' Edward said vaguely.
'But when it affects a chap's friends, a chap is more or less obliged to say something.'
'Mmm.' Edward clearly had no idea what Micky was talking about.
'And I'd hate you to think I kept quiet about it just because he was a countryman of mine.'
There was a moment's silence, then Edward said: 'I'm not quite sure I follow you.'
'I'm talking about Tonio Silva.'
'Ah, yes. I suppose he can't afford to pay what he owes me.'
'Utter nonsense. I know his family. They're almost as rich as yours.' Micky was not afraid to tell this outrageous lie: people in London had no idea how wealthy South American families might be.
Edward was surprised. 'Good Lord. I thought the opposite.'
'Not at all. He can afford it easily. That makes it worse.'
'What? Makes what worse?'
Micky gave a heavy sigh. 'I'm afraid he has no intention of paying you. And he's been going around boasting about it, saying you aren't man enough to make him pay.'
Edward reddened. 'Has he, by the devil! Not man enough! We'll see about that.'
'I warned him not to underestimate you. I told him I was afraid you might not stand to be made a fool of. But he chose to ignore my advice.'
'The scoundrel. Well, if he won't listen to wise counsel he may have to find out the truth the hard way.'
