that way, and will go in and take possession. And there you are!”
“Capital thought, Grinder,” I replied; “I am glad I spoke to you.”
“Well, I haven’t been in the business five-and- thirty year,” said Grinder, “without knowing something of the dodges to be played.”
The next evening Grinder called. “How have you got on with Dunderly?” I said.
“In all right,” replied Grinder; “although I thought the old blade would be too chary for me. He kept me dodging about till late in the afternoon, but I managed it at last. Uncommon short of furniture though. The front parlour may fetch eight or ten pound, the rest aint worth above four or five more. I aint surprised a bit. People who come it tidy in the parlour is very often short otherways. I shall send the old man I put in a shake down, for there aint anything to sleep him at present.”
“And did he object to the proceedings?”
“He was tolerably cheeky,” said Grinder; “especially when I put his old bottles and jars down in the Inventory. He declared I was making an excessive levy,—that they was worth 40l. or 50l., and a good deal more rubbish of the same sort. But Lor! such coves always is fussy. ‘I’m an old blade,’ I says, ‘at this work, and you don’t frighten me.’”
“And what do you think he’ll do, Grinder?”
“Pay the rent and expenses,” said Grinder, “if he’s any respect for his old bottles and jars. That’s what he’ll do.”
“And how about No. 4?”
“Not quite so satisfactory. In course I took your word for it, that there was nobody in the house, so I gets a man to go round to the back, and as luck would have it, he finds a window-sash undone. He pops in, and was going up the stairs to open the front door, when he meets a one-eyed old customer lame with one leg, and deaf as a post. ‘What do you want here?’ says One Eye. ‘I’m come from the landlord,’ says Joe. ‘Can’t hear you,’ says One Eye—‘write it down on a bit of paper,’ which Joe did. ‘Now, put down the address,’ says One Eye, and Joe, thinking he might be took up for housebreaking, did that too. ‘Very well,’ says One Eye, ‘that will do, you can go out of the front door if you like,’ and so far the old man behaved very civil. “So I suppose,” said Grinder, “you’ll have to wait a little longer there. But it was an uncommon good job old One Eye was so civil.”
I thought I had better be prompt with my ground-rent, so I called upon Mr. Marker, my ground landlord, on the following day, to pay the quarter due. He was an octogenarian, with a black scull cap on. He was seated at a writing-table, apparently making up his accounts.
“And what do you want?” said Mr. Marker, as soon as I had been ushered into his presence by a slip-shod girl.
“I’ve called to pay some ground-rent for Arethusa Villas,” I replied.
“Oh! I beg your pardon. Sit down. Sit down, Mr. ”
“Fingudgeon,” I said.
“Sit down, Mr. Fingudgeon,” continued Mr. Marker; “I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you.”
This was not to be wondered at, as he had never to my knowledge seen me before.
“You have purchased Mr. Jollybold’s property, I think?” said Mr. Marker; “and very glad I am it has got into other hands. Jollybold was a bad fellow. I always had the greatest difficulty in getting my rent. Ten pound, I think, less property tax, Mr. Fingudgeon?”
I really felt it was fortunate that it was no more, and that Mr. Jollybold had not in this instance deceived me.
“And now, Mr. Fingudgeon,” said Mr. Marker, handing me the receipt, “as you are a fresh tenant, I may as well see your Insurance receipt.”
“I have unfortunately left it at home,” I replied.
“But you have paid your Insurance, of course?”
“Oh, yes! I paid it the day after it was due.”
“Very proper,” said Mr. Marker. “Nothing more necessary for a leaseholder to see to than the Insurance;—600l. a house in the Sun Office,” he suggested, referring to an account-book.
“No, sir,” I said; “in the Phœnix.”
“And do you know the consequence of that, sir?” said Mr. Marker, looking up from his book over his tortoiseshell spectacles.
“No, sir,” I replied; “I suppose one office is as safe as another. My wife’s brother being an agent to the Phœnix, I gave it to him.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Marker. “That is a breach of covenant, and do you know that the consequences of a breach of covenant are ejectment?”
“But won’t the Phœnix do, sir?” I said.
“No,” he replied, “the Phœnix won’t do. I suppose you have not had much experience in leases?”
I told him the present was the first house property I had been interested in.
“Well then,” said Mr. Marker, “I won’t be hard with you as you are inexperienced, but everybody must pay for experience, so I will compromise the matter for 50l.”
“Fifty pounds!” I exclaimed, “and what am I to pay you 50l. for?”
“For a waiver of the breach of covenant. But if you prefer it,” said Mr. Marker, “I’ll bring an action of ejectment. It’s fatal to your lease, sir, depend upon it, so you had better pay me 50l. than lose two or three thousand.”
“Fortunately,” I replied, “I am not so much interested in the property as that.”
“If you have mortgaged then,” said Mr. Marker, “you are open to an action from the mortgagee for the amount of his claim in case I oust you from the property; at least I imagine so. But if you don’t understand these matters you had better refer me to your solicitor.”
I gave him Messrs. Driver and Tartar’s address, and left Mr. Marker, somewhat dispirited.
I did not like to tell my wife of these repeated drawbacks to the property, and began to inwardly curse Mr. Jollybold and the newspaper that had so unluckily raised our expectations of 27¾ per cent., and I am sorry to say also inwardly blamed