Mr. Dockwrath was immediately aware that a crisis had come upon him which demanded an instant decision. If he complied with the president’s invitation he would have to pay his proportion of all the wine bill that might be incurred that evening by the seven commercial gentlemen at the table, and he knew well that commercial gentlemen do sometimes call for bottle after bottle with a reckless disregard of expense. But to him, with his sixteen children, wine at an hotel was terrible. A pint of beer and a glass of brandy and water were the luxuries which he had promised himself, and with manly fortitude he resolved that he would not be coerced into extravagance by any president or any Moulder.
“Sir,” said he, “I’m obliged by the honour, but I don’t drink wine to my dinner.” Whereupon Mr. Moulder bowed his head very solemnly, winked at Snengkeld, and then drank wine with that gentleman.
“It’s the rule of the room,” whispered Mr. Kantwise into Mr. Dockwrath’s ear; but Mr. Dockwrath pretended not to hear him, and the matter was allowed to pass by for the time.
But Mr. Snengkeld asked him for the honour, as also did Mr. Gape, who sat at Moulder’s left hand; and then Mr. Dockwrath began to wax angry. “I think I remarked before that I don’t drink wine to my dinner,” he said; and then the three at the president’s end of the table all looked at each other very solemnly, and they all winked; and after that there was very little conversation during the remainder of the meal, for men knew that the goddess of discord was in the air.
The cheese came, and with that a bottle of port wine, which was handed round, Mr. Dockwrath of course refusing to join in the conviviality; and then the cloth was drawn, and the decanters were put before the president. “James, bring me a little brandy-and-water,” said the attorney, striving to put a bold face on the matter, but yet speaking with diminished voice.
“Half a moment, if you please, sir,” said Moulder; and then he exclaimed with stentorian voice, “James, the dinner bill.” “Yes, sir,” said the waiter, and disappeared without any thought towards the requisition for brandy-and-water from Mr. Dockwrath.
For the next five minutes they all remained silent, except that Mr. Moulder gave the Queen’s health as he filled his glass and pushed the bottles from him. “Gentlemen, the Queen,” and then he lifted his glass of port up to the light, shut one eye as he looked at it, and immediately swallowed the contents as though he were taking a dose of physic. “I’m afraid they’ll charge you for the wine,” said Mr. Kantwise, again whispering to his neighbour. But Mr. Dockwrath paid no apparent attention to what was said to him. He was concentrating his energies with a view to the battle.
James, the waiter, soon returned. He also knew well what was about to happen, and he trembled as he handed in the document to the president. “Let’s have it, James,” said Moulder, with much pleasantry, as he took the paper in his hand. “The old ticket I suppose; five bob a head.” And then he read out the bill, the total of which, wine and beer included, came to forty shillings. “Five shillings a head, gentlemen, as I said. You and I can make a pretty good guess as to the figure; eh, Snengkeld?” And then he put down his two half-crowns on the waiter, as also did Mr. Snengkeld, and then Mr. Gape, and so on till it came to Mr. Kantwise.
“I think you and I will leave it, and settle at the bar,” said Kantwise, appealing to Dockwrath, and intending peace if peace were still possible.
“No,” shouted Moulder, from the other end of the table; “let the man have his money now, and then his troubles will be over. If there’s to be any fuss about it, let’s have it out. I like to see the dinner bill settled as soon as the dinner is eaten. Then one gets an appetite for one’s supper.”
“I don’t think I have the change,” said Kantwise, still putting off the evil day.
“I’ll lend, it you,” said Moulder, putting his hand into his trousers-pockets. But the money was forthcoming out of Mr. Kantwise’s own proper repositories, and with slow motion he put down the five shillings one after the other.
And then the waiter came to Mr. Dockwrath. “What’s this?” said the attorney, taking up the bill and looking at it. The whole matter had been sufficiently explained to him, but nevertheless Mr. Moulder explained it again. “In commercial rooms, sir, as no doubt you must be well aware, seeing that you have done us the honour of joining us here, the dinner bill is divided equally among all the gentlemen as sit down. It’s the rule of the room, sir. You has what you like, and you calls for what you like, and conwiviality is thereby encouraged. The figure generally comes to five shillings, and you afterwards gives what you like to the waiter. That’s about it, ain’t it, James?”
“That’s the rule, sir, in all commercial rooms as I ever see,” said the waiter.
The matter had been so extremely well put by Mr. Moulder, and that gentleman’s words had carried with them so much conviction, that Dockwrath felt himself almost tempted to put down the money; as far as his sixteen children and general ideas of economy were concerned he would have done so; but his legal mind could not bear to be beaten. The spirit of litigation within him told him that the point was to be carried. Moulder, Gape, and Snengkeld together could not make him pay for wine he had neither ordered nor swallowed. His pocket was guarded by the law of the land, and not by the laws of any special room in which he might chance to find himself.
