Mr. Brisher's Treasure
"You can't be too careful who you marry," said Mr. Brisher, andpulled thoughtfully with a fat-wristed hand at the lank moustachethat hides his want of chin."That's why--" I ventured."Yes," said Mr. Brisher, with a solemn light in his bleary, blue-greyeyes, moving his head expressively and breathing alcohol intimatelyat me. "There's lots as 'ave 'ad a try at me--many as I could namein this town--but none 'ave done it--none."I surveyed the flushed countenance, the equatorial expansion,the masterly carelessness of his attire, and heaved a sigh to thinkthat by reason of the unworthiness of women he must needs be the lastof his race."I was a smart young chap when I was younger," said Mr. Brisher."I 'ad my work cut out. But I was very careful--very. And I gotthrough . . ."He leant over the taproom table and thought visibly on the subjectof my trustworthiness. I was relieved at last by his confidence."I was engaged once," he said at last, with a reminiscent eye onthe shuv-a'penny board."So near as that?"He looked at me. "So near as that. Fact is--" He looked about him,brought his face close to mine, lowered his voice, and fenced off anunsympathetic world with a grimy hand. "If she ain't dead or marriedto some one else or anything--I'm engaged still. Now." He confirmedthis statement with nods and facial contortions. "Still," he said,ending the pantomime, and broke into a reckless smile at my surprise."Me!""Run away," he explained further, with coruscating eyebrows."Come 'ome."That ain't all."You'd 'ardly believe it," he said, "but I found a treasure. Founda regular treasure."I fancied this was irony, and did not, perhaps, greet it with propersurprise. "Yes," he said, "I found a treasure. And come 'ome. I tellyou I could surprise you with things that has happened to me."And for some time he was content to repeat that he had founda treasure--and left it.I made no vulgar clamour for a story, but I became attentive to Mr.Brisher's bodily needs, and presently I led him back to the desertedlady."She was a nice girl," he said--a little sadly, I thought. "Andrespectable."He raised his eyebrows and tightened his mouth to express extremerespectability--beyond the likes of us elderly men."It was a long way from 'ere. Essex, in fact. Near Colchester.It was when I was up in London--in the buildin' trade. I was a smartyoung chap then, I can tell you. Slim. 'Ad best clo'es 's goodas anybody. 'At--silk 'at, mind you." Mr. Brisher's hand shot abovehis head towards the infinite to indicate it silk hat of the highest."Umbrella--nice umbrella with a 'orn 'andle. Savin's. Very carefulI was. . . ."He was pensive for a little while, thinking, as we must all cometo think sooner or later, of the vanished brightness of youth.But he refrained, as one may do in taprooms, from the obvious moral."I got to know 'er through a chap what was engaged to 'er sister.She was stopping in London for a bit with an aunt that 'ad a 'aman' beef shop. This aunt was very particular--they was all veryparticular people, all 'er people was--and wouldn't let 'er sistergo out with this feller except 'er other sister, my girl that is,went with them. So 'e brought me into it, sort of to ease the crowding.We used to go walks in Battersea Park of a Sunday afternoon. Me inmy topper, and 'im in 'is; and the girl's--well--stylish. There wasn'tmany in Battersea Park 'ad the larf of us. She wasn't what you'dcall pretty, but a nicer girl I never met. _I _ liked 'er fromthe start, and, well--though I say it who shouldn't--she liked me.You know 'ow it is, I dessay?"I pretended I did."And when this chap married 'er sister--'im and me was greatfriends--what must 'e do but arst me down to Colchester, close bywhere She lived. Naturally I was introjuced to 'er people, and well,very soon, her and me was engaged."He repeated "engaged.""She lived at 'ome with 'er father and mother, quite the lady, in avery nice little 'ouse with a garden--and remarkable respectablepeople they was. Rich you might call 'em a'most. They owned theirown 'ouse--got it out of the Building Society, and cheap becausethe chap who had it before was a burglar and in prison--and they 'ada bit of free'old land, and some cottages and money 'nvested--allnice and tight: they was what you'd call snug and warm. I tell you,I was On. Furniture too. Why! They 'ad a pianner. Jane--'er namewas Jane--used to play it Sundays, and very nice she played too.There wasn't 'ardly a 'im toon in the book she couldn't play . . ."Many's the evenin' we've met and sung 'ims there, me and 'erand the family."'Er father was quite a leadin' man in chapel. You should ha' seenhim Sundays, interruptin' the minister and givin' out 'ims. He hadgold spectacles, I remember, and used to look over 'em at you whilehe sang hearty--he was always great on singing 'earty to the Lord--and when he got out o' toon 'arf the people went after 'im--always.'E was that sort of man. And to walk be'ind 'im in 'is nice blackclo'es--'is 'at was a brimmer--made one regular proud to be engagedto such a father-in-law. And when the summer came I went down thereand stopped a fortnight."Now, you know there was a sort of Itch," said Mr. Brisher. "We wantedto marry, me and Jane did, and get things settled. But 'E said I 'adto get a proper position first. Consequently there was a Itch.Consequently, when I went down there, I was anxious to show thatI was a good useful sort of chap like. Show I could do pretty nearlyeverything like. See?"I made a sympathetic noise."And down at the bottom of their garden was a bit of wild part like.So I says to 'im, 'Why don't you 'ave a rockery 'ere?' I says.'It 'ud look nice.'"'Too much expense,' he says."'Not a penny,' says I. 'I'm a dab at rockeries. Lemme make you one.'You see, I'd 'elped my brother make a rockery in the beer gardenbe'ind 'is tap, so I knew 'ow to do it to rights. 'Lemme make youone,' I says. 'It's 'olidays, but I'm that sort of chap, I 'ate doingnothing,' I says. 'I'll make you one to rights.' And the long andthe short of it was, he said I might."And that's 'ow I come on the treasure.""What treasure?" I asked."Why!" said Mr. Brisher, "the treasure I'm telling you about, what'sthe reason why I never married.""Whatdug up?""Yes--buried wealth--treasure trove. Come out of the ground. WhatI kept on saying--regular treasure. . . ." He looked at me withunusual disrespect."It wasn't more than a foot deep, not the top of it," he said."I'd 'ardly got thirsty like, before I come on the corner.""Go on," I said. "I didn't understand.""Why! Directly I 'it the box I knew it was treasure. A sort of instincttold me. Something seemed to shout inside of me--'Now's your chance--lie low.' It's lucky I knew the laws of treasure trove or I'd 'ave beenshoutin' there and then. I daresay you know--""Crown bags it," I said, "all but one per cent. Go on. It's a shame.What did you do?""Uncovered the top of the box. There wasn't anybody in the gardenor about like. Jane was 'elping 'er mother do the 'ouse. I wasexcited--I tell you. I tried the lock and then gave a whack atthe hinges. Open it came. Silver coins--full! Shining. It made metremble to see 'em. And jest then--I'm blessed if the dustman didn'tcome round the back of the 'ouse. It pretty nearly gave me 'eartdisease to think what a fool I was to 'ave that money showing. Anddirectly after I 'eard the chap next door--'e was 'olidaying, too--I 'eard him watering 'is beans. If only 'e'd looked over the fence!""What did you do?""Kicked the lid on again and covered it up like a shot, and wenton digging about a yard away from it--like mad. And my face, soto speak, was laughing on its own account till I had it hid. I tellyou I was regular scared like at my luck. I jest thought that it'ad to be kep' close and that was all. 'Treasure,' I kep' whisperin'to myself, 'Treasure' and ''undreds of pounds, 'undreds, 'undredsof pounds.' Whispering to myself like, and digging like blazes. Itseemed to me the box was regular sticking out and showing, like yourlegs do under the sheets in bed, and I went and put all the earthI'd got out of my 'ole for the rockery slap on top of it. I wasin a sweat. And in the midst of it all out toddles 'er father.He didn't say anything to me, jest stood behind me and stared,but Jane tole me afterwards when he went indoors, 'e says, 'Thatthere jackanapes of yours, Jane'--he always called me a jackanapessome'ow--'knows 'ow to put 'is back into it after all.' Seemed quiteimpressed by it, 'e did.""How long was the box?" I asked, suddenly."'Ow long?" said Mr. Brisher."Yes--in length?""Oh! 'bout so-by-so." Mr. Brisher indicated a moderate-sized trunk."Full?" said I."Full up of silver coins--'arf-crowns, I believe.""Why!" I cried, "that would mean--hundreds of pounds.""Thousands," said Mr. Brisher, in a sort of sad calm. "I calc'lated itout.""But how did they get there?""All I know is what I found. What I thought at the time was this.The chap who'd owned the 'ouse before 'er father 'd been a regularslap-up burglar. What you'd call a 'igh-class criminal. Used to drive'is trap--like Peace did." Mr. Brisher meditated on the difficultiesof narration and embarked on a complicated parenthesis. "I don'tknow if I told you it'd been a burglar's 'ouse before it was my girl'sfather's, and I knew 'e'd robbed a mail train once, I did know that.It seemed to me--""That's very likely," I said. "But what did you do?""Sweated," said Mr. Brisher. "Regular run orf me. All that morning,"said Mr. Brisher, "I was at it, pretending to make that rockeryand wondering what I should do. I'd 'ave told 'er father p'r'aps,only I was doubtful of 'is honesty--I was afraid he might rob me ofit like, and give it up to the authorities--and besides, consideringI was marrying into the family, I thought it would be nicer likeif it came through me. Put me on a better footing, so to speak.Well, I 'ad three days before me left of my 'olidays, so therewasn't no hurry, so I covered it up and went on digging, and triedto puzzle out 'ow I was to make sure of it. Only I couldn't."I thought," said Mr. Brisher, "and I thought. Once I got regulardoubtful whether I'd seen it or not, and went down to it and 'ad ituncovered again, just as her ma came out to 'ang up a bit of washin'she'd done. Jumps again! Afterwards I was just thinking I'd 'aveanother go at it, when Jane comes to tell me dinner was ready.'You'll want it,' she said, 'seeing all the 'ole you've dug.'"I was in a regular daze all dinner, wondering whether that chapnext door wasn't over the fence and filling 'is pockets. But inthe afternoon I got easier in my mind--it seemed to me it must 'avebeen there so long it was pretty sure to stop a bit longer--andI tried to get up a bit of a discussion to dror out the old manand see what 'E thought of treasure trove."Mr. Brisher paused, and affected amusement at the memory."The old man was a scorcher," he said; "a regular scorcher.""What!" said I; "did he--?""It was like this," explained Mr. Brisher, laying a friendly handon my arm and breathing into my face to calm me. "Just to dror'im out, I told a story of a chap I said I knew--pretendin', youknow--who'd found a sovring in a novercoat 'e'd borrowed. I said'e stuck to it, but I said I wasn't sure whether that was rightor not. And then the old man began. Lor'! 'e did let me 'ave it!"Mr. Brisher affected an insincere amusement. "'E was, well--what youmight call a rare 'and at Snacks. Said that was the sort of friend'e'd naturally expect me to 'ave. Said 'e'd naturally expect thatfrom the friend of a out-of-work loafer who took up with daughterswho didn't belong to 'im. There! I couldn't tell you 'arf 'e said.'E went on most outrageous. I stood up to 'im about it, just to dror'im out. 'Wouldn't you stick to a 'arf-sov', not if you found it inthe street?' I says. 'Certainly not,' 'e says; 'certainly I wouldn't.''What! not if you found it as a sort of treasure?' 'Young man,''e says, 'there's 'i'er 'thority than mine--Render unto Caesar'--what is it? Yes. Well, he fetched up that. A rare 'and at 'ittingyou over the 'ed with the Bible, was the old man. And so he went on.'E got to such Snacks about me at last I couldn't stand it. I'dpromised Jane not to answer 'im back, but it got a bit too thick.I--I give it 'im . . ."Mr. Brisher, by means of enigmatical facework, tried to make methink he had had the best of that argument, but I knew better."I went out in a 'uff at last. But not before I was pretty sure I'ad to lift that treasure by myself. The only thing that kep' me upwas thinking 'ow I'd take it out of 'im when I 'ad the cash."There was a lengthy pause."Now, you'd 'ardly believe it, but all them three days I never'ad a chance at the blessed treasure, never got out not evena 'arf-crown. There was always a Somethink--always."'Stonishing thing it isn't thought of more," said Mr. Brisher."Finding treasure's no great shakes. It's gettin' it. I don'tsuppose I slep' a wink any of those nights, thinking where I wasto take it, what I was to do with it, 'ow I was to explain it.It made me regular ill. And days I was that dull, it made Janeregular 'uffy. 'You ain't the same chap you was in London,' shesays, several times. I tried to lay it on 'er father and 'is Snacks,but bless you, she knew better. What must she 'ave but that I'dgot another girl on my mind! Said I wasn't True. Well, we hada bit of a row. But I was that set on the Treasure, I didn't seemto mind a bit Anything she said."Well, at last I got a sort of plan. I was always a bit good atplanning, though carrying out isn't so much in my line. I thought itall out and settled on a plan. First, I was going to take all mypockets full of these 'ere 'arf-crowns--see?--and afterwards as Ishall tell."Well, I got to that state I couldn't think of getting at the Treasureagain in the daytime, so I waited until the night before I had to go,and then, when everything was still, up I gets and slips downto the back door, meaning to get my pockets full. What must I doin the scullery but fall over a pail! Up gets 'er father with a gun--'ewas a light sleeper was 'er father, and very suspicious and therewas me: 'ad to explain I'd come down to the pump for a drink becausemy water-bottle was bad. 'E didn't let me off a Snack or two overthat bit, you lay a bob.""And you mean to say--" I began."Wait a bit," said Mr. Brisher. "I say, I'd made my plan. That putthe kybosh on one bit, but it didn't 'urt the general scheme not a bit.I went and I finished that rockery next day, as though there wasn'ta Snack in the world; cemented over the stones, I did, dabbedit green and everythink. I put a dab of green just to show wherethe box was. They all came and looked at it, and sai 'ow niceit was--even 'e was a bit softer like to see it, and all he said was,"It's a pity you can't always work like that, then you might getsomething definite to do," he says."'Yes,' I says--I couldn't 'elp it--'I put a lot in that rockery,'I says, like that. See? 'I put a lot in that rockery'--meaning--""I see," said I--for Mr. Brisher is apt to overelaborate his jokes."'E didn't," said Mr. Brisher. "Not then, anyhow."Ar'ever--after all that was over, off I set for London. . . .Orf I set for London."Pause."On'y I wasn't going to no London," said Mr. Brisher, with suddenanimation, and thrusting his face into mine. "No fear! What do youthink?"I didn't go no further than Colchester--not a yard."I'd left the spade just where I could find it. I'd got everythingplanned and right. I 'ired a little trap in Colchester, and pretendedI wanted to go to Ipswich and stop the night, and come back nextday, and the chap I 'ired it from made me leave two sovrings on itright away, and off I set."I didn't go to no Ipswich neither."Midnight the 'orse and trap was 'itched by the little road that ranby the cottage where 'e lived--not sixty yards off, it wasn't--andI was at it like a good 'un. It was jest the night for suchgames--overcast--but a trifle too 'ot, and all round the sky therewas summer lightning and presently a thunderstorm. Down it came.First big drops in a sort of fizzle, then 'ail. I kep'on. I whackedat it--I didn't dream the old man would 'ear. I didn't even troubleto go quiet with the spade, and the thunder and lightning and 'ailseemed to excite me like. I shouldn't wonder if I was singing. I gotso 'ard at it I clean forgot the thunder and the 'orse and trap. Iprecious soon got the box showing, and started to lift it . . . .""Heavy?" I said."I couldn't no more lift it than fly. I was sick. I'd never thoughtof that I got regular wild--I tell you, I cursed. I got sort ofoutrageous. I didn't think of dividing it like for the minute,and even then I couldn't 'ave took money about loose in a trap.I hoisted one end sort of wild like, and over the whole show wentwith a tremenjous noise. Perfeck smash of silver. And then righton the heels of that, Flash! Lightning like the day! and there wasthe back door open and the old man coming down the garden with'is blooming old gun. He wasn't not a 'undred yards away!"I tell you I was that upset--I didn't think what I was doing.I never stopped-not even to fill my pockets. I went over the fencelike a shot, and ran like one o'clock for the trap, cussing andswearing as I went. I was in a state. . . ."And will you believe me, when I got to the place where I'd leftthe 'orse and trap, they'd gone. Orf! When I saw that I 'adn'ta cuss left for it. I jest danced on the grass, and when I'd dancedenough I started off to London. . . . I was done."Mr. Brisher was pensive for an interval. "I was done," he repeated,very bitterly."Well?" I said."That's all," said Mr. Brisher."You didn't go back?""No fear. I'd 'ad enough of that blooming treasure, any'ow for a bit.Besides, I didn't know what was done to chaps who tried to collara treasure trove. I started off for London there and then. . . .""And you never went back?""Never.""But about Jane? Did you write?""Three times, fishing like. And no answer. We'd parted in a bitof a 'uff on account of 'er being jealous. So that I couldn't makeout for certain what it meant."I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know whether the old manknew it was me. I sort of kep' an eye open on papers to see when he'dgive up that treasure to the Crown, as I hadn't a doubt 'e would,considering 'ow respectable he'd always been.""And did he?"Mr. Brisher pursed his mouth and moved his head slowly from sideto side. "Not 'IM," he said."Jane was a nice girl," he said, "a thorough nice girl mind you,if jealous, and there's no knowing I mightn't 'ave gone back to 'erafter a bit. I thought if he didn't give up the treasure I might 'avea sort of 'old on 'im. . . . Well, one day I looks as usual underColchester--and there I saw 'is name. What for, d'yer think?"I could not guess.Mr. Brisher's voice sank to a whisper, and once more he spoke behindhis hand. His manner was suddenly suffused with a positive joy."Issuing counterfeit coins," he said. "Counterfeit coins!""You don't mean to say--?""Yes-It. Bad. Quite a long case they made of it. But they got 'im,though he dodged tremenjous. Traced 'is 'aving passed, oh!--nearlya dozen bad 'arf-crowns.""And you didn't--?""No fear. And it didn't do 'im much good to say it was treasure trove."
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