Part 18 (1/2)

About the expiration of that time, Mr. Jesse Andrews unexpectedly revisited the office, and as soon as I was disengaged, was ushered into my private room. He was habited in the deepest mourning, and it naturally struck me that either his wife or son was dead--an impression, however, which a closer examination of his countenance did not confirm, knowing as I did, how affectionate a husband and father he was, with all his faults and follies, reputed to be. He looked flurried, nervous, certainly; but there was no grief, no sorrow in the restless, disturbed glances which he directed to the floor, the ceiling, the window, the fire-place, the chairs, the table--everywhere, in fact, except towards my face.

”What is the matter, Mr. Andrews?” I gravely inquired, seeing that he did not appear disposed to open the conversation.

”A great calamity, sir--a great calamity,” he hurriedly and confusedly answered, his face still persistently averted from me--”has happened!

Archy is dead!”

”Dead!” I exclaimed, considerably shocked. ”G.o.d bless me! when did this happen?”

”Three weeks ago,” was the reply. ”He died of cholera.”

”Of cholera!” This occurred, I should state, in 1830.

”Yes: he was very a.s.siduously attended throughout his sufferings, which were protracted and severe, by the eminent Dr. Parkinson, a highly-respectable and skilled pract.i.tioner, as you doubtless, sir, are aware.”

I could not comprehend the man. This dry, unconcerned, business-sort of gabble was not the language of a suddenly-bereaved parent, and one, too, who had lost a considerable annuity by his son's death. What could it mean? I was in truth fairly puzzled.

After a considerable interval of silence, which Mr. Andrews, whose eyes continued to wander in every direction except that of mine, showed no inclination to break, I said--”It will be necessary for me to write immediately to your cousin, Mr. Archibald Andrews. I trust, for your sake, the annuity will be continued; but of course, till I hear from him, the half-yearly payments must be suspended.”

”Certainly, certainly: I naturally expected that would be the case,” said Andrews, still in the same quick, hurried tone. ”Quite so.”

”You have nothing further to say, I suppose?” I remarked, after another dead pause, during which it was very apparent that he was laboring with something to which he nervously hesitated to give utterance.

”No--yes--that is, I wished to consult you upon a matter of business--connected with--with a life-a.s.surance office.”

”A life-a.s.surance office?”

”Yes.” The man's pale face flushed crimson, and his speech became more and more hurried as he went on. ”Yes; fearing, Mr. Sharp, that should Archy die, we might be left without resource, I resolved, after mature deliberation, to effect an insurance on his life for four thousand pounds.”

”Four thousand pounds!”

”Yes. All necessary preliminaries were gone through. The medical gentleman--since dead of the cholera, by the way--examined the boy of course, and the insurance was legally effected for four thousand pounds, payable at his death.”

I did not speak; a suspicion too horrible to be hinted at held me dumb.

”Unfortunately,” Andrews continued, ”this insurance was only effected about a fortnight before poor Archy's death, and the office refuses payment, although, as I have told you, the lad was attended to the very hour of his death by Dr. Parkinson, a highly-respectable, most unexceptionable gentleman. Very much so indeed.”

”I quite agree in that,” I answered after a while. ”Dr. Parkinson is a highly-respectable and eminent man. What reason,” I added, ”do the company a.s.sign for non-payment?”

”The very recent completion of the policy.”

”Nonsense! How can that fact, standing alone, affect your claim?”

”I do not know,” Andrews replied; and all this time I had not been able to look fairly in his face; ”but they do refuse; and I am anxious that your firm should take the matter in hand, and sue them for the amount.”

”I must first see Dr. Parkinson,” I answered, ”and convince myself that there is no legitimate reason for repudiating the policy.”

”Certainly, certainly,” he replied.

”I will write to you to-morrow,” I said, rising to terminate the conference, ”after I have seen Dr. Parkinson, and state whether we will or not take proceedings against the insurance company on your behalf.”

He thanked me, and hurried off.