The American Boy by Andrew Taylor Read Free Book Online

to discuss with Mr Dansey how he should best discharge your evening duties as well as his own.”
    â€œWhen will it be convenient for me to wait upon Mr Frant?”
    â€œAs soon as possible. You will find him now at Russell-square.”
    A moment later, Dansey and I went through the door from the private part of the house to the school. A crowd of inky boys scattered as though we had the plague.
    â€œDid you ever hear of anything so unfeeling?” I burst out, keeping my voice low for fear of eavesdroppers. “It is barbaric.”
    â€œAre you alluding to the behaviour of Mr Frant or the behaviour of Mr Bransby?”
    â€œI – I meant Mr Frant. He wishes to make a spectacle of his own son.”
    â€œHe is entirely within his rights to do so, is he not? You would not dispute a father’s right to exercise authority over his child, I take it? Whether directly or in a delegated form is surely immaterial.”
    â€œOf course not. By the by, I must thank you for your timely interruption. I own I was becoming a little heated.”
    â€œMr Frant and his bank could purchase this entire establishment many times over,” Dansey observed. “And purchase Mr Quird and Mr Morley as well, for that matter. Mr Frant is a fashionable man, too, who moves in the best circles. If it is at all possible, Mr Bransby will do all in his power to indulge him. It is not to be wondered at.”
    â€œBut it is hardly just. It is the boy’s tormentors who deserve chastisement.”
    â€œThere is little point in railing against circumstances one cannot change. And remember that, by acting as Mr Bransby’s agent in this, you may to some degree be able to palliate the severity of the punishment.”
    We stopped at the foot of the stairs, Dansey about to go about his duties, I to fetch my hat, gloves and stick from my room. For a moment we looked at each other. Men are strange animals, myself included, riddled with inconsistencies. Now, in that moment at the foot of the stairs, the silence became almost oppressive with the weight of things unsaid. Then Dansey nodded, I bowed, and we went our separate ways.

10
    I come now to an episode of great significance for this history, to the introduction of the Americans.
    Providence in the form of Mr Bransby decreed I should witness a scene of comings and goings in Russell-square. A man believes in Providence because to do otherwise would force him to see his life as an arbitrary affair, conducted by the freakish rules of chance, no more under his control than a roll of the dice or the composition of a hand of cards. So let us by all means believe in Providence. Providence arranged matters so that I should call at Mr Frant’s on the same afternoon as the Americans arrived.
    The shabby little chaise from the inn brought me to London. The vehicle creaked and groaned as though afflicted with arthritis. The seat was lumpy, the leather torn and stained. The interior smelt of old tobacco and unwashed bodies and vinegar. The ostler who was driving me swore at the horse, a steady stream of obscenity punctuated by the snapping of the whip. As we drove, the daylight drained away from the afternoon. By the time we reached Russell-square, the sky was heavy with dark, swirling clouds the colour of smudged ink.
    My knock was answered by a footman, who showed me into the dining room to wait. Because of the weather and the lateness of the afternoon, the room was in near darkness. I turned my back on the portrait. Rain was now falling on the square, fat drops of water that smacked on to the roadway and tapped like drumbeats on the roof of the carriages. I heard voices in the hall, and the slam of a door.
    A moment later the footman returned. “Mr Frant will see you now,” he said, and jerked his head for me to follow him.
    He led me across the marble chequerboard of the hall to a door which opened as we approached. The butler emerged.
    â€œYou are to desire