# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 5/How I invested my legacy in the purchase of leasehold property, and what came of it

HOW I INVESTED MY LEGACY IN THE PURCHASE OF LEASEHOLD PROPERTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
“Look here, John!” cried my wife one evening, as we were reading the “Times”​—​I absorbed in the debates, and she conning the supplement. “Here’s a chance of investing our money,” and she read as follows.
£500. Any person possessing this capital can obtain 27¾ per cent. by the purchase of first-class long Leasehold Property, at low ground-rents, let to tenants of the highest respectability. Apply to Mr. Jollybold, on the premises, Arethusa ​Villas, Arethusa Park. Omnibuses to the Bank, 4d. No Agents need apply.
“Why, John,” added she, “that makes nearly 140l. a year. Only think of that!”
“Nonsense, my dear,” I returned. “You must have made a mistake. The advertisement means 27l. odd as the income, and that is rather more than five per cent.”
“It does not say 27l. annual income, I tell you,” she returned; “but 27¾ per cent.”
I read the advertisement myself. There it was clear enough. Twenty-seven and three-quarters per cent. on an investment of 500l.
“Ah!” I replied, “some tumble-down cottages, I dare say.”
“But it says let to tenants of the highest respectability.”
“Well,” I rejoined, “I should consider those who paid their rent, tenants of the very highest respectability, to whatever station of life they may belong.”
“Nonsense, John,” said my wife. “Artisans don’t want omnibuses to the Bank at fourpence.”
Upon second consideration I acknowledged she was right. Artisans do not usually take fourpenny rides every morning.
“There seems a genuineness about it, too,” she added. “No agents need apply. At any rate, it is worth looking after. It’s time we did something with the money.”
The money here alluded to was 500l., which I had received under the will of a deceased aunt, and of course it was necessary that we should invest it in the most advantageous manner. I was doing tolerably well in the cheesemongery line, and was paying my way, which is something in these hard times. I did not want the capital in my business, and we were consequently upon the look out how to make the most of it. My wife had examined the “Times” supplement every evening for a couple of months, and we had answered several advertisements, but nothing seemed likely to suit.
“What do you say, John?” continued she. “Shall we go and look at the property?”
I agreed to this proposition, and on the morrow we visited Arethusa Park. We had some little difficulty in finding Mr. Jollybold, described in the advertisement as “on the premises.” As Arethusa Park contained some fifty or sixty houses, we didn’t know which house to apply to, and after making various inquiries without effect, I looked in at the Freeholders’ Arms, a large flaring public house in the vicinity, and by a curious coincidence Mr. Jollybold was there in the parlour. He was a huge fellow with a very red face, and husky voice.
“I have called, Mr. Jollybold,” I said, “in answer to your advertisement.”
“Just so,” replied Mr. Jollybold.
“Would you be kind enough to show me and my wife the property?” I said. “She is waiting outside.”
“With pleasure,” returned Mr. Jollybold, tossing off the remains of a glass of brandy and water.
“Would you be kind enough,” I began, as we walked down the park towards Arethusa Villas, “to explain to us how so large a per-centage as 27¾ per cent. is to be made? Is it quite genuine, or is it a trick in the advertisement? We know that people advertise all sorts of things now-a-days, so that we hardly know how to give credit to honest representations.”
“Perhaps you don’t know much about house property?” said Mr. Jollybold.
“No,” I said. “The fact is, I have never yet dabbled in bricks and mortar, but having had a legacy left me of about the sum you mention, I thought I might possibly—if all things suited—try the nature of the investment.”
“Just so!” replied Mr. Jollybold. “And you’ll find it a speculation unequalled at the present day. I only wish I had more money to put in it, and I’d very soon make my fortune.”
“I should think you would,” said my wife, “if near 30 per cent. is made of money.”
“Thirty per cent!” cried Mr. Jollybold, “not 30 but 300! Why, look here,” he said, pointing to some houses on an adjoining estate. “The man who took that land had the whole five acres for 100l. a-year, and relet it at 600l. a-year. He sold his improved rents for near upon 12,000l. Can California or Australia beat that?”
“Well, no,” I said, “I should think not. But is there anything, Mr. Jollybold, to be done in a similar way with the property we are come to look at?”
“To be open and candid,” replied Mr. Jollybold, “I don’t think there is. You might, perhaps, put a couple or three pound on the ground-rent of each house if you wanted to sell, but as you’ll do pretty well as it is, I should advise you to keep ’em. This is the property,” said he, stopping before four large semi-detached houses, with long flights of steps, porticoes, and fine cornices and balustrades at the top.
“Why, you don’t mean to say these four houses are to be sold for 500l.!” I exclaimed with astonishment.
“I do,” returned Mr. Jollybold, “and no nonsense about it either.”
“But I certainly cannot understand you. Why these houses let, I should think, for 50l. or 60l. a-year!”
“65l. a piece—260l. a year for the lot,” said Mr. Jollybold.
“Then there’s ground-rent,” I said, “to be deducted.”
“That’s 10l. a house,” he replied, “and a very low rent too for such houses.”
“But I don’t yet quite understand, Mr. Jollybold, how you make out with an outlay of 500l. I am to get 27¾ per cent.?”
“Perhaps not. Not being acquainted with the ins and outs of house property, you don’t very likely understand what the ‘equity of redemption’ means?”
“Equity of redemption,” I said, “no, I don’t.”
“Well that’s what I’ve got to sell,” returned Mr. Jollybold. “You don’t expect to buy the land when you get a lease, do you? but you have the use of the land all the time you pay the ground-rent, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, “until the lease is out.”
“Just so,” returned Mr. Jollybold; “and when ​you mortgage a house you have the use of it just the same all the time you pay the interest, don’t you?”
“Of course. But are these houses mortgaged, Mr. Jollybold?”
He seemed to consider this a good joke, and he could not help indulging in a gruff laugh. “Is anybody stupid enough,” he rejoined, “to build houses without hiring money? and how do you think I could sell you these to pay 27¾ per cent. if they wasn’t mortgaged? And—”
I stopped him here, and said, “As that is the case, Mr. Jollybold, I would rather have nothing to do with the property, and so I wish you good afternoon.”
“You must excuse me,” he said, “for laughing at your observation, but as you are not up to the nature of building transactions, you of course require an answer to your question, how I can sell you these houses to pay 27¾ per cent.? Well, it is just here. They are let at 65l. a piece; this makes 260l. a-year for the whole. Now, deduct 40l. for ground rent, and 7l. for insurance, and that leaves 213l. Then they are mortgaged for 1500l. at 5 per cent., and this gives another deduction of 75l., and leaves a yearly gain of 138l., and this I am willing to sell for 500l.”
I made the calculation on a piece of paper. There was no mistake about it; 138l. per annum for 500l. gives 27¾ per cent.
“And your interest in these houses, over and above the mortgage, is your equity of redemption, Mr. Jollybold?”
“Just so!” said he; “and now, having made these calculations, I should think you could see the advantage of using other people’s money as well as your own.”
“But in case the money is called in?” I suggested.
“There’s always plenty of people to let you have money on mortgage,” he said; “and there’s only the expense of shifting from one to the other, which is very trifling.”
“Then there’s repairs,” I said.
“Repairs to these houses!” he replied. “Why they haven’t been built twelve months yet, and are let to first-class people. Bless you! them houses will be better when the tenants leave ’em than when they went in. Repairs! Why tenants of this sort don’t send to you when a nail wants driving, or a window clatters. They’re above it. Now there’s Mr. Coffers, head clerk at a Lombard Street bank, lives in No. 1, and I should say if he’s laid out a penny on that house since he’s been in it he has spent 50l. in fittings. And this tenant at No. 2 is a merchant in a large way of business in the city, and he aint likely to be bothering you every day. I have had tenants in 20l. a-year houses as did dip into your pockets, but when you have property like this there’s no mistake about it. Just look in and see one of them. They’re all alike. Let’s go into Mr. Coffers’.”
Mr. Jollybold, having received permission of the servant, ushered us into the double drawing-room of Mr. C., elegantly furnished, and abounding in mirrors and nick-nacks. My wife and I looked more at these than at the rooms, but Mr. Jollybold requested us to notice the splendid marble mantelpieces, the enriched cornices, the china finger plates, and the plate-glass windows. I confess I had an itching to become possessed of such desirable property, on such apparently easy terms: and my wife, I am sure, had similar feelings. How it would magnify the legacy in the estimation of our neighbours! As Mrs. Coffers was upstairs, we did not see the upper floors, but contented ourselves with looking into the back garden, through the drawing-room window. It was tastefully arranged, and sparkled with geraniums, calceolarias, and various other flowers.
“Well, now, what do you think of it?” said Mr. Jollybold, as we came down the steps. “Did you ever see better finished houses? Don’t they do credit to a man’s taste? And if you had seen the kitchen floor you would have said, ‘Jollybold does know how to arrange houses.’ Talk about convenience!—there,” said he, “I’ll defy any man to plan more convenient houses than them.”
“And are they well built, Mr. Jollybold?”
“They’re built too well, sir. Leasehold houses ought to be built to last only one day longer than the lease, and then they ought to tumble about the freeholder’s ears. But as for these houses, they’ll last three times 99 years, and when the leases are out, they’ll be rather better than they are now, for then they will be thoroughly seasoned.”
“What do you say, my dear?” I said to my wife; “shall we entertain the offer?”
“I think, if Mr. Jollybold would say 450l.,” she replied (she has a shrewd way of business, has my wife) “we might do so.”
“Now, that is tolerably good, ma’am,” said Mr. Jollybold; “you must excuse me for saying so, but you came here doubting if my representations were correct, and now you find everything honest and straightforward, you want to beat me down in price. I mean business, sir,” he said to me, “and I don’t abate one penny—and if you don’t take the houses, I have a customer who will; indeed, he had only left the Freeholders’ Arms five minutes before you came in.”
“And you didn’t close the bargain?” I said.
“No, sir. He wanted the purchase to stand over for a couple of months, and offered an extra 50l. if I would agree to it, but I said ‘No, if I have a customer he must be a ready-money man.’ So, sir, if you are prepared with the money, there’s the houses.”
“I have the money,” I replied, “and could pay for them to-morrow.”
“Oh, yes!” continued my wife. “Our stockbroker could sell out at an hour’s notice.”
“Just so!” said Mr. Jollybold; “and the sooner you have the property, the sooner you will get 30 per cent, instead of 3 for your money.”
The thought struck me if Mr. Jollybold was making 30 per cent., why did he want to sell such desirable property, and I asked him what had induced him to put the houses in the market.
“It is just this,” he said. “I’m building at other places, and I must cover some of the land by a certain time, or forfeit my agreement; I therefore want the money at once—not from poverty, but for keeping the ball moving.”
​Although I did not understand much about building matters, I knew that builders were speculating men, and speculating men of necessity require money. I consequently accepted Mr. Jollybold’s explanation; but in order to be cautious, I said “I don’t doubt your veracity, Mr. Jollybold, but as we are strangers, I should like to have some corroboration of the particulars as to lease, term, and so on.”
“Do you know Driver and Tartar of Boswell Court?”
“How strange!” I exclaimed. “My aunt’s solicitors!”
“Then you are prepared to credit them?” said Mr. Jollybold. “They are the identical men that prepared these conditions.”
And he took from his pocket the particulars and conditions of sale of Arethusa Villas.
“Oh! then,” I said, “you have offered the property by auction? How was it it did not sell? Your auctioneers are men of celebrity.”
“They have too much business,” said Mr. Jollybold. “They sent a clerk down to look at the property. He made himself jolly at my expense at the Freeholders’ Arms, and at the time of sale the auctioneer himself didn’t know if Arethusa Park was at Highgate or Brixton, and so I lost the sale.”
“Might that be the reason why you put ‘No agent need apply’ in your advertisement?”
“One reason. But I like old Ben Franklin’s maxim—‘If you want a thing done, do it yourself,’—and I know you quite agree with me in this, or you would have sent an agent to negociate for you; instead of which, like a wise man, you make every inquiry yourself and sift things to the bottom, and then have the satisfaction of knowing that you are dealing with an honest man who has nothing to conceal.”
“I confess candidly,” I said, “I am quite a novice in these matters; but every man can make common-sense inquiries and judge for himself.”
“Just so!” replied Mr. Jollybold, “and any man of common sense can understand what is meant by this rigmarole of conditions of sale, although filled with lawyer’s lingo. Here’s the condition for limiting title” (pointing out the clauses to me), “and here’s the clause that the property is sold subject to the mortgage, as I told you. You also notice that what I said of the ground-rent and so on is correct. And so we may as well adjourn to the Freeholders’ Arms and sign the contract.”
“I should like some consideration before doing so,” I said. “I feel disposed to purchase the houses, but if you will allow me, I will take these conditions home with me to look over, and if I think there is nothing objectionable, I doubt not we shall come to terms.”
“Appoint your own time,” said Mr. Jollybold, “but let it be early, as I have a good deal of business to transact.”
“The day after to-morrow?”
“I am afraid,” said Mr. Jollybold, “I couldn’t say that day. Say to-morrow, at your own house. Perhaps you’d give me your address?”
“John Fingudgeon, Cheesemonger, Little Turnwheel Street.”
“To-morrow, ten o’clock,” said Mr. Jollybold, “and I’ll call upon you.”
We shook hands and parted.
“Don’t you think it will be a capital speculation?” said my wife. “And only think how we shall rise in the estimation of our neighbours. I have heard from two or three quarters that people fancy that the legacy was 2000l. at least, and won’t they believe it when they hear we have bought four such large houses? How uncommonly fortunate I noticed the advertisement!”
“I hope it will be all right,” I said; “but I should like somebody’s opinion about this rigmarole of conditions, which I don’t understand.”
“Oh, nonsense, John!” returned my wife. “Why you know that hundreds of houses are sold by auction to people who have never even seen them before, and they are all sold under conditions; besides, Driver and Tartar, your aunt’s solicitors, wouldn’t put in anything but what was quite right and proper, so you needn’t fear anything.”
I saw plainly enough she was looking forward to the important addition to our income of 138l. per annum.
We had scarcely discussed matters thus far when Mr. Jollybold presented himself.
“I quite forgot,” said he, “when you left me, that I had business to transact to-morrow that would prevent my calling upon you, and as a few hours can make no difference, you may as well pay me a deposit of 50l., and settle the matter at once.”
“I would much rather put it off till to-morrow,” I said; “and, in fact, I have not 50l. in the house.”
“It don’t matter, 25l. will do,” said Mr. Jollybold; “just to bind the bargain.”
I hesitated, and advanced various objections, which Mr. Jollybold very readily answered, and in half-an-hour I had signed the conditions to purchase the equity of redemption of Nos. 1 to 4, Arethusa Villas, for 500l. My wife and I retired to rest perfectly satisfied with our day’s work.
The next morning I called on Messrs. Driver and Tartar, in Boswell Court, informed them of my purchase, and asked their opinion of the speculation.
“We don’t know anything except from representation,” said Mr. Driver; “but, as the percentage is large, we should say decidedly it is a good speculation.”
“But is there anything you know of likely to detract from it?” I asked.
“No. For leasehold property, I should say it was good, and you need not trouble yourself about the money being called in. The mortgagee is a wealthy man, and don’t trouble himself all the time the interest is punctually paid.”
I left Mr. Driver doubly satisfied with my speculation. In due time the necessary assignment was prepared, and I entered upon the property. Having to pay 45l. for legal expenses I confess rather astonished me, and, to tell the truth, rather inconvenienced me in my business. I thought the amount large, and told Driver so. (We had agreed that he should act for both parties to save the expense, and he had estimated the ​cost to me at first at 15l. to 20l.) He assured me “that various unexpected matters had turned up, which had taken a good deal of trouble to arrange,” but that now I was perfectly safe, and had nothing to do but to receive the proceeds of the property. I consoled myself with the thought that 45l. would soon be met by the rents coming in, and in another three months I should more than make it up.
Legal matters having been settled, I went to introduce myself to the tenants. Mr. Coffers, No. 1, was not at home. Mrs. C. received me somewhat distantly, but congratulated herself on having a fresh landlord, “for Mr. Jollybold,” she said, “was a low, ignorant fellow, and any change would doubtless be a change for the better.” No. 2 was also not at home, but Mrs. Crantin no sooner became acquainted with the purport of my visit than she requested me to look down into the kitchen and see if I could apply some remedy to prevent the chimney from smoking, which was at present intolerable. Cook would also show me where the pipe was stopped that had caused the back area to become flooded, which was in such a state that Mr. Crantin had threatened to call in the inspector of nuisances and compel Mr. Jollybold to remedy it; but I as the new landlord would do it as a matter of course for the sake of the property. I promised to get it done.
No. 3 was at home. His name was Dunderly. He was an elderly gentleman attached to scientific pursuits, and appeared in a dressing-gown and slippers, although it was five o’clock in the afternoon. The other portions of his attire were decidedly seedy, his hair was unkempt, and his beard of a fortnight’s growth.
“And so you have bought the property, Mr. Fingudgeon, eh?” said Mr. Dunderly: “and I hope, as you are no doubt a capitalist, you will do what I have been asking that lubber, Jollybold, to do ever since I took the place—to build me a laboratory at the back of the house. The fact is, I am damaging the property against my will, in carrying out my scientific experiments. Just look here,” and he opened the folding-doors between the front and back drawing-rooms. “Notice the ceiling.”
I looked up and saw a part of the plastering had fallen, showing the bare laths, and the whole ceiling was quite black.
“I can’t help such accidents occasionally,” he said, “when trying experiments with new gases. One of my retorts burst by the explosion of a new gas I was experimenting upon, and you see the effect. Now, if you were to build me a laboratory which would stand these effects, I should not be necessitated to conduct my experiments in this room.”
I thought I would be candid with him at once, so I told him I could not allow my house to be used in such a manner, and should expect him to put it into repair, and desist from carrying out his experiments there in future.
“My dear Flintgibbon—”
“Fingudgeon,” I suggested.
“Fingudgeon, I stand corrected. My dear Fingudgeon, don’t you know I have a clause in the agreement with Jollybold that I may use this room until the laboratory is erected—you don’t know it?”
“No,” I said.
“Just like Jollybold. I thought he would take somebody in with these houses. But he’s a shrewd fellow after all. I tell you what it is, Findragon, I was kicked about from pillar to post for half a dozen years until I met with this house. There wasn’t a landlord who would let me one, as my propensities are so well known, until Jollybold let me this. ‘I don’t care,’ said he, ‘how you use the house, only do me the kindness to keep the laboratory door shut, in case any one comes to look at the house, and I’ll give you a compliment when I catch a flat to buy ’em.’ And so he has caught you, Pinbutton, has he?” said Mr. Dunderly.
I felt irritated at his calling me so constantly out of my name, and with his impudent manner. I told him I would see my solicitor as to the way in which he was using the house, and he might very soon find himself troubled with law proceedings. His conduct I considered disgraceful.
“My dear Grimgibbon, don’t be so foolish,” he said. “Out of nothing, nothing can come. It’s no use going to law with a penniless fellow, and I shall always be penniless while I carry on these experiments, and I shall carry them on until I die. Probably blow myself to atoms, and some day, not unlikely, you will find the greater portion of my remains sticking to the laboratory rafters. But whatever you do, my dear Primbudgeon, don’t go to law.”
I left Tenant No. 3 in a pet, and was really glad that when I knocked at No. 4 the door was not answered.
When I got home my wife thus accosted me:
“John, I have been making a calculation of the profits we shall get out of our new houses, and I am going to keep an account of what they cost, and how much they bring in. See! I have put down on one side—
and we shall soon have the quarter’s rent come in, which I shall put down on the other side. But how do you like the tenants?”
“No. 1, as you know,” I said, “is highly respectable. No. 2 seems pretty good, but wants some repairs.”
“Not so soon, surely? Why Mr. Jollybold said there would be nothing wanted for a long time to come.”
“It seems the kitchen chimney smokes, and I suppose the landlord has to attend to that.”
“And No. 3 tenant?” asked my wife.
“He’s a curious fellow, very fond of experimenting on gases, and so on.” I was ashamed to tell her of the reception I had met with.
“And No. 4?”
“The tenant was not at home.”
I sent a jobbing bricklayer to No. 2, who ran me up a long bill. He was a great chimney doctor, and he declared the lady was delighted, as he had made it draw ‘first-rate, like a furnace.’ I could not help thinking I was being drawn myself as I told my wife to put down 6l. 13s. 2d. on the same side of the account.
​The purchase was settled about a month before the quarter, and I was rather glad that the quarter came round so early, as I began to be in want of money. I waited for a fortnight, and then wrote a polite note to each of the tenants that I would call on a certain day for the rent. I did so, with the following result:
No. 1 was prepared with the money minus a deduction of 1l. 8s. 6d., nine months’ sewers rate; 2l. 4s. 3d., nine months’ property tax; and 18s. 6d. land tax. “And then there’s this little bill of 2l. 18s. 9d. for repairing the cistern, whitewashing the ceiling, and part papering the staircase, where the wall was damaged by the water,” said Mrs. Coffers, “making a total deduction, according to Mr. Coffers’ account, of just 7l. 10s.; and here is Mr. Coffers’ cheque for the remainder.”
“You must excuse me, madam,” I said; “but I have only had the houses a month, and you have brought me in bills of nine months’ taxes, and the repair of cistern.”
“Oh!” she said, “that is a matter that required immediate attention, and you could not expect us to send all the way to Little Turnwheel Street for a plumber.” The allusion to my address she accompanied with an evident sneer.
“I should like to consult Mr. Coffers,” I replied, “before I give you a receipt.”
“It’s no use your calling at the Bank,” she said. “He cannot attend to you there, and he does not like to be disturbed when he comes home to dinner. The taxes you are charged with have to be allowed to the tenant in the rent, and you must apply to Mr. Jollybold if he did not allow you the deduction when you purchased the houses. Mr. Coffers, thinking probably you might be ignorant of these matters (another sneer at Little Turnwheel Street), requested me to give you this information; and he has left a receipt, drawn in a proper manner, which you will be kind enough to sign.”
After a little demur I did so, and left with a cheque for 8l. 15s. instead of 16l. 5s.
Mr. Crantin, No. 2, was not at home, and Mrs. Crantin knew nothing about business matters. I must call at Mr. Crantin’s offices in Polyblank Court.
I had not much hope of Mr. Dunderly.
“Ah! Flintbudden,” he said, “how are you? Brought a builder to set out my laboratory? Upon my word you are a genuine fellow. I am glad to have such a man for a landlord. I don’t regret that Jollybold met with such a customer for his houses.”
“I don’t congratulate myself on having such a tenant as you are, Mr. Dunderly—so I tell you plainly. You know very well I don’t intend to build your laboratory, and it is only press of business that has prevented me from troubling you with law proceedings for wilful damage to my house.”
“Well, I can assure you, Pindudgeon—”
“I must beg of you to call me by my proper name,” I said, snappishly. “My name is Fingudgeon, and you have called me a dozen other names at least.”
“I beg your pardon, Fingudgeon, but that is such an outrageous combination that our chemical couplings are as nothing to it. Let me see, what were we talking about?”
“The object of my visit,” I said, “you know from my letter.”
“What letter? I have been so much engaged lately in carrying out a series of valuable experiments which are destined to confer such immense benefits to mankind at large, that I have overlooked matters relating to one’s self. And so you wrote to me, did you? And as you are here, perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what was the purport of the letter, to save me the trouble of looking for it.”
“Plainly, then, Mr. Dunderly, I have called for the quarter’s rent, which I apprised you, by letter, was due a fortnight ago.”
“No wonder then,” he replied, as coolly as possible—“no wonder I didn’t pay any attention to it. Do you know I never pay any attention to mere applications for money by a private individual. In fact to me they are a matter of rejoicing, and I pass them over to my wife with the remark, ‘Luck again, my dear. Jones, or Brown, or Smith, or Green—as the case may be—will wait another month before they take proceedings;’ and, I assure you, I let ’em wait,” said Mr. Dunderly, with a chuckle.
“But rent is an obligation that cannot be passed over so lightly,” I said.
“Quite right, Pillgudgeon,” he replied; “and the more cautious a man ought to be, when he pays his rent, to know that he is paying it to the right party.”
“You don’t doubt my authority to collect my own rents, do you, Mr. Dunderly?”
“I have no doubt,” he said, “that you are an honourable man, Mr. Flintgudgeon—there, I am right in your name for once—and that your address is Little Turnwheel Street, but in what direction that locality may be I know no more than Jupiter; but as for any legal proof that you have purchased this house of Mr. Jollybold, you have given me none. I have no doubt that Jollybold has sold his interest in it, but it does not of necessity follow that you are the purchaser, or that you have any more right to demand the rent than any lawyer’s clerk out of luck who might call in on speculation. I should not pay him of course, but as you are in reality as much a stranger to me as any lawyer’s clerk (and I assure you a much greater stranger than some), I must request you to give me some more definite evidence of being Mr. Jollybold’s successor than you have yet done, Mr. Filgudgeon.”
“I’ll go and fetch Mr. Jollybold, who will at once convince you. We will settle that in ten minutes, Mr. Dunderly.”
“Will you?” he returned. “Then I expect you’ll take an aerial flight, and a pretty quick one, Mr. Findudgeon.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Mr. Jollybold wrote to me, only a week back, that he would call on me in a few days in answer to a letter I had written him.”
“You don’t know Jollybold has emigrated then?” he replied; “why he’s halfway to the ​Polynesian Islands by this time. He’s been gone a month.”
“You surprise me!” I cried; “Jollybold emigrated?”
“Yes, Mr. Flintgudgeon. Jollybold has emigrated to one of the Polynesian Islands, and I have no doubt, by his shrewdness and perseverance, he will open up the country, provided the natives don’t eat him first; but I don’t think they will do that, as he would be rather gross eating.”
“But I received a letter from him only last week.”
“From Gibraltar, or some other port?”
“No, from the post-office, round the corner.”
“Another proof of Jollybold’s shrewdness,” said Mr. Dunderly, “but carried a little too far. He needn’t have deceived you, Flintdudgeon, after he had pocketed your money. He might have told his amanuensis that you were an exception.”
“However,” I said, “that does not alter the matter. You are living in the house and must pay the rent; and if you don’t do so, I shall take legal proceedings.”
“A man occupying a house, undoubtedly implies an obligation to pay rent,” replied Mr. Dunderly; “but you must recollect I have not yet attorned to you as my landlord.”
“Attorned?” I said, “I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t you?” he returned; “then there’s a nut for you to crack. But whatever you do, Flintgibbon, don’t go to law!”
“Much as I detest law,” I exclaimed, “I don’t intend you shall get the better of me, and so you shall see, Mr. Dunderly;” and I left him in a worse pet than on the previous occasion.
On ringing at No. 4, I was greeted by a baker-boy in the following manner:
“No go, my man,” said the boy. “You needn’t lose your time chiming there. They’ve stepped it.”
“Stepped it!” I exclaimed, “do you mean to say that Mr. Kankerdale has left?”
“Rather!” replied the boy, “and you’re jolly lucky if they don’t owe you anything.”
I made inquiries at a neighbouring grocer’s shop, and was informed that Mr. Kankerdale had always been looked upon as doubtful pay; that he had run in debt right and left, until proceedings were taken against him. He had then disposed of his furniture under a bill of sale, and had finally decamped with the key. “And lucky it was for Jollybold,” said the grocer, “that he hooked the Turnwheel cheesemonger before he emigrated.”
I was ashamed to confess that I was the individual alluded to, and at once returned home without making further inquiries with a cheque for 8l. 15s. in my pocket instead of 65l. less property tax, as I had anticipated. On my entrance, I found a note awaiting me being an application for a quarter’s ground-rent.
“Well,” said my wife, “that’s only 10l. and not much to pay out of 65l.”
“I wish I had 65l. to pay it out of,” I said, “but unfortunately I have not taken enough to pay even this small demand.” I was some time before I could bring my wife to understand the precise state of affairs
“I’d go and consult Driver at once,” she said. “I would not be dictated to by tenants. I’d show they had a landlord to bring them to book.”
I thought I had better call on Mr. Crantin, the tenant of No. 2, at his offices in Polyblank Court. After waiting for an hour and a half in a musty office, in the company of a small boy, perched on a high stool, Mr. Crantin came in. I asked him civilly for the rent, and he opened his cheque-book and commenced filling up a cheque.
“By-the-bye,” he said, “there’s a deduction this quarter of 5l. as per agreement.”
“What for?” I asked.
“Why, haven’t you your agreement? I’ll show you mine.”
He soon found it, and by it I saw Mr. Jollybold had agreed to return 5l. a year.
“It’s usual,” he said, “with these builders, to keep the rents up, and return you a portion afterwards. It makes the houses sell better.”
“Then,” I replied, “you only really pay 60l. a year?”
“Exactly. Then, I think there are a few deductions for rates and taxes. So you had better call again, as I haven’t got the papers with me; and when you do so, bring me a note from Jollybold, to say that he has transferred his interest to you, will you? Good morning.”
Feeling rather tender upon the point of 45l. for law expenses, I resolved to consult a neighbouring broker on the best way of proceeding against Mr. Dunderly and Mr. Kankerdale. I knew Grinder as a shrewd fellow who had had considerable experience in distraints, and he, at any rate, would not charge me six and eightpence every time I consulted him.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Grinder. “I know what I should do with Master Dunderly. I’d put a man in. That’ll bring him to his senses.”
“But he told me, Grinder, that he had not attorned to me as landlord. What does that mean?”
“It means that he has not paid you any rent, or in any other way acknowledged you as his landlord, that’s what the lawyers would tell you; but Lor’ bless you!” said Grinder, “when you once put a man in he’ll be sure to look about him. If he’s rusty at fust he’ll cool down before the five days is out, and stump up the ready.”
“And suppose he don’t pay in the five days?”
“Why then we condemns and sells his traps,” said Grinder.
“But suppose, Grinder,” I said, “he brings an action?”
“Let him,” said Grinder. “I’ll guarantee you against all law-suits.”
Inasmuch as Mr. Grinder was not worth ten pounds, his guarantee was not very valuable; but as he was an experienced man, I determined to sign a warrant to distrain on Mr. Dunderly’s goods, and leave Grinder to fight it out.
“And now, as to Kankerdale’s house?” I inquired. “How can I get possession of that?”
“Leave that to me as well,” said Grinder. “I’m up to a move or two. I’ll get a man to slip in the back way. He will open the front door. I, as your agent, will (quite by accident) be passing ​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 ​my wife for drawing my attention to the advertisement, although it was equally my fault in purchasing Arethusa Villas. I had one satisfaction, it was my own and not my wife’s legacy, and she could not therefore blame me for spending her money.
I was serving in the shop the next day, when a shabby-genteel fellow, with a greasy hat, inquired if my name was John Fingudgeon.
I replied in the affirmative.
“I have to serve you with a writ of action for trespass in the matter of No. 4, Arethusa Villas,” said the shabby man. Almost immediately afterwards I received a letter from Mr. Dunderly to the following effect:
My dear Fingudgeon,—I advised you not to go to law. To take the law into your own hands or to trust a bungler is even worse folly.
A man, calling himself Grinder, made a distraint on my goods and chattels on the 16th inst.
Please to look to your almanac, and you will see that the sun retired behind the horizon at 6.17 on that day. He made his levy at 6.22, which was, consequently, according to distinguished authority, an illegal act, and you thereby render yourself liable to an action, with which I shall proceed, unless you compromise the matter to my satisfaction.
I need not further allude to the attornment, as your lawyer will advise you on that subject.
I suppose everybody must buy their experience. You have doubtless bought it long since in the matter of cheese; you are now doing so in the matter of bricks and mortar.
Yours very truly, Diogenes Dunderly.
As it was now necessary that I should apply for legal assistance, I at once started off to Boswell Court to see Driver.
“I am glad you have called, Fingudgeon,” he began, “I was just going to write to you. How on earth came you to alter your insurance? I have received notice of action for ejectment from Old Marker, and, depend upon it, if we don’t make a compromise you will lose the property. The expenses are not much at present, but we had better come to terms with him at once.”
“He asked 50l.,” I said, “but I would not consent to that.”
“Leave it to me,” said Driver, “and I will make the best terms I can. He is a crotchety old gentleman.”
I was obliged to consent, for I knew nothing how to proceed to conciliate Mr. Marker. I then introduced the matters of Tenants 3 and 4.
“Here’s a nice kettle of fish, Fingudgeon,” said Driver. “You have no answer to Mr. Kankerdale, and the result is doubtful with Dunderly.”
“But is not Grinder responsible for the distraint?” I said.
“You will, of course, be made a party to the action, and Grinder is not worth a shot. His making the levy five minutes after sun-down is clearly illegal, and it is a question of some importance whether a landlord has a right to distrain upon a tenant who has not attorned to him. It will be better to compromise both cases.”
I need not trouble the reader with minute particulars of these transactions. Messrs. Driver and Tartar managed to conciliate all parties at a very considerable expense to me, so considerable indeed that I was compelled to borrow upon my stock and furniture, which had the effect of weakening my credit with the commercial world. I did fortunately get my rent of tenants Nos. 1 and 2, and after six months’ trouble, and a cost of 50l. for repairs, I got possession of Nos. 3 and 4, but without receiving any rent. They stood empty for six months, and just when I had let them at 50l. per annum, I received intimation from the executors of my mortgagee—who had died suddenly—to pay in the 1500l. Driver tried his best to get the mortgage transferred, but no one would let me have the money. I tried sale by auction, which cost me another thirty pounds, and, like Mr. Jollybold’s trial-sale on a former occasion, there were no bidders, and at last the houses fell into the mortgagee’s hands, and I lost my 500l.
The result of my speculation was as follows, for the twelve months I possessed the equity of redemption of that desirable property—Nos. 1 to 4, Arethusa Villas. My wife gave up keeping the accounts in disgust, but I have taken the amounts out of my cash-book; and, as I look over the items, I feel myself a sadder, although a wiser man.
* £95211101
From this experience I would advise ignorant persons to pause before they invest their savings in the purchase of “desirable household property to pay 27¾ per cent.”
Venditus.