There never was, there never had
been, there never again should be, such a man as Mr. Merdle. According to his
physician, he had the constitution of a rhinoceros, the digestion of an
ostrich, and the concentration of an oyster. According to the City, he was
possessed of the riches of Croesus and in his financial dealings he was guided
by the wisdom of Solomon. Small wonder then that Mr. Headstone should feel the honour
of being invited by the great man into an adjoining library for a private
conversation. The room was a large one, and smelt of mahogany and leather,
which - to noses unaccustomed to them - are the olfactory emblems of tradition
and security.
Mr. Merdle had heard of Mr. Headstone’s recent good fortune and was desirous
of doing the gentleman a service by assisting him in the laying out of his
money. There would, of course, be the strictest integrity and uprightness in
these transactions, and between the parties concerned there must be the purest
faith and unimpeachable confidence, or the business could not be carried
forward. Mr. Headstone was greatly affected by this statement of integrity, and
wishing to prove himself equal to the contract at once made Mr. Merdle the sole
executor of his financial affairs.
The business being concluded with a handshake and a glass of brandy, Mr.
Headstone was about to rejoin the party in the other room when his host asked if
he was in the habit of carrying a penknife about his person. This instrument
being one of necessity to a schoolmaster, Mr. Headstone produced a knife with a
tortoise-shell handle, and opened the blade to demonstrate that it had but
recently been sharpened. Mr. Merdle asked if he might borrow it for a while as
he had a need of a knife, and had misplaced his own. He promised that it would
be returned in a day or two, and that he would undertake not to ink it.
