“That is quite fair. I have no objection to that.”
“There is a very clever doctor in the street here. Proudie is his name. John, go and fetch Doctor Proudie.” The youth was dispatched upon his errand, while Mr. Metaxa sat at his desk, trimming his nails, and shooting out little comments upon the weather. Presently feet were heard upon the stairs, the moneylender hurried out, there was a sound of whispering, and he returned with a large, fat, greasy-looking man, clad in a much worn frock-coat, and a very dilapidated top hat.
“Doctor Proudie, gentlemen,” said Mr. Metaxa.
The doctor bowed, smiled, whipped off his hat, and produced his stethoscope from its interior with the air of a conjurer upon the stage. “Which of these gentlemen am I to examine?” he asked, blinking from one to the other of them. “Ah, it is you! Only your waistcoat! You need not undo your collar. Thank you! A full breath! Thank you! Ninety-nine! Thank you! Now hold your breath for a moment. Oh, dear, dear, what is this I hear?”
“What is it then?” asked the Admiral coolly.
“Tut! tut! This is a great pity. Have you had rheumatic fever?”
“Never.”
“You have had some serious illness?”
“Never.”
“Ah, you are an admiral. You have been abroad, tropics, malaria, ague–I know.”
“I have never had a day’s illness.”
“Not to your knowledge; but you have inhaled unhealthy air, and it has left its effect. You have an organic murmur–slight but distinct.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“It might at anytime become so. You should not take violent exercise.”
“Oh, indeed. It would hurt me to run a half mile?”
“It would be very dangerous.”
“And a mile?”
“Would be almost certainly fatal.
“Then there is nothing else the matter?”
“No. But if the heart is weak, then everything is weak, and the life is not a sound one.”
“You see, Admiral,” remarked Mr. Metaxa, as the doctor secreted his stethoscope once more in his hat, “my remarks were not entirely uncalled for. I am sorry that the doctor’s opinion is not more favorable, but this is a matter of business, and certain obvious precautions must be taken.”
“Of course. Then the matter is at an end.”
“Well, we might even now do business. I am most anxious to be of use to you. How long do you think, doctor, that this gentleman will in all probability live?”
“Well, well, it’s rather a delicate question to answer,” said Mr. Proudie, with a show of embarrassment.
“Not a bit, sir. Out with it! I have faced death too often to flinch from it now, though I saw it as near me as you are.”
“Well, well, we must go by averages of course. Shall we say two years? I should think that you have a full two years before you.”
In two years your pension would bring you in £1,600. Now I will do my very best for you, Admiral! I will advance you £2,000, and you can make over to me your pension for your life. It is pure speculation on my part. If you die to-morrow I lose my money. If the doctor’s prophecy is correct I shall still be out of pocket. If you live a little longer, then I may see my money again. It is the very best I can do for you.”
“Then you wish to buy my pension?”
“Yes for two thousand down.”
“And if I live for twenty years?”
“Oh, in that case of course my speculation would be more successful. But you have heard the doctor’s opinion.”
“Would you advance the money instantly?”
“You should have a thousand at once. The other thousand I should expect you to take in furniture.”
“In furniture?”
“Yes, Admiral. We shall do you a beautiful houseful at that sum. It is the custom of my clients to take half in furniture.”
The Admiral sat in dire perplexity. He had come out to get money, and to go back without any, to be powerless to help when his boy needed every shilling to save him from disaster, that would be very bitter to him. On the other hand, it was so much that he surrendered, and so little that he received. Little, and yet something. Would it not be better than going back empty-handed? He saw the yellow backed cheque-book upon the table. The moneylender opened it and dipped his pen into the ink.