# The Four Philanthropists/Chapter 12
### CHAPTER XII WE GET ON THE TRACK OF MRS. JUBB

I drank up my sherry and bitters and went back to the Temple. My mind was full of the plight of poor Jubb, or rather of the plight of his wife and child, and I told Angel about him. When I had done, I saw that there were tears in her eyes, and she said: "What a horrible woman his stepmother must be! A hateful creature!"
"Well, I've been thinking that we ought to try to help these wretched poor people somehow. Between the four of us we ought to be able to do something."
"Help them! Of course we must! If we don't remove that horrible woman, I don't see the use of our being the General Philanthropic Removal Company. This is the best chance the Company has had."
"Of course it is," I said. "And it had never struck me. We must see Chelubai and Bottiger about this at once."
We went out and dined simply at the Cheshire Cheese. After dinner Chelubai and Bottiger ​came round to play bridge, and we told them of the plight of the unfortunate Jnbb. They were a little disappointing; they did not rise to that height of passionate indignation we expected.
Bottiger said: "Of course we must make up a purse for them, and see if we can't find the husband a job."
"Yes, I should think we can work it," said Chelubai. "Of course every kind action in this life helps to give you a better physique and better health in your next incarnation."
"We must do more than that," said Angel, with decision. "We must remove his horrible stepmother. That's what the G. P. R. C. is for."
Chelubai's face fell, and he said doubtfully: "I've never given my mind to the matter of removing a woman. I've never sized it up as coming within the sphere of the Company's operations. It goes rather against the grain."
"Now, in the name of Fortune, why?" I said. "Surely women can be just as objectionable as men, as potent for harm, as hampering to the progress of the human race!"
"Women are the elevating force in society," said Chelubai, with simple, manly faith.
"Oh, get out!" I cried in disgust. "Do not be such a blind sentimentalist!"
"They uplift us," said Chelubai, with an air inconceivably rapt and foolish.
​"Now, how has this horrible Jubb woman uplifted any one?" I said, with some irritation.
Chelubai was checked. He hesitated and said: "Well, perhaps she hasn't. But still the notion of removing her is repugnant to me. To remove a woman is not a chivalrous act."
"The lesser virtues must give place to the greater—chivalry to philanthropy," I said firmly.
"That's what I think," Bottiger broke in. "And I suppose Jubb would subscribe handsomely to the hospital."
This touch of practical philanthropy cleared the air, and in a breath Chelubai's face changed from that of a transcendentalist to that of a brainy American.
"I should think that adversity has cured Jubb of that false sentimentality which has in so many cases proved a stumbling-block in our path," said I.
"But couldn't we just for once remove this horrible woman without any subscription?" said Angel. "I'm sure we oughtn't to waste time bothering about that."
"Yes," said Chelubai, with a fine earnestness. "This is our chance for a removal on pure romantic lines."
"You are extraordinary people," I said, with some impatience. "Why on earth should we lose ​the chance of conferring a double benefit on Humanity? This is shocking sentimentality."
"I was thinking of the time it would take to make the arrangement. We ought to remove her at once," said Angel.
"Any haste would be very injudicious," I said. "We shall have plenty of time to arrange about the contribution to the hospital while we are arranging the method of removal."
"There's another aspect to the matter," said Chelubai thoughtfully. "Philanthropy's a splendid thing. Theosophy teaches it, because it gives you a better physique in your next incarnation. But indiscriminate charity has its dangers all the same; it weakens the recipient. We ought to allow Mr. Jubb to subscribe; he will be a stronger man for it."
"After all, if he's going to get seven thousand a year out of it, he can well afford to subscribe, and he ought to," said Bottiger, with practical, English good sense.
"Yes, and we must remember that he has proved himself rather a weakling," I said slowly. "It will be strengthening to his character to let him have a share in our philanthropic enterprise, to have a little of his stepmother's blood on his hands."
"I suppose it would," said Angel.
"But, all the same, I should have liked to do ​it on pure romantic lines," said Chelubai sadly.
"I shouldn't," said Bottiger.
"That's settled then," I said "I'm nearly sure to see him in the course of the next few days. He will come round to thank me. I'll sound him; and, as I say, I really think I shan't find in him that gross sentimentality which has so hampered our human efforts to benefit Humanity in the case of other heirs."
"It's not very likely. There's no gross sentimentality in a man who has gone under," said Chelubai grimly.
Marmaduke Jubb came sooner than I expected, for about eleven next morning there came a knock at the door. Angel made her usual bolt for her room, and our housekeeper ushered him in.
We shook hands, and I saw that his face, though still pinched, lacked something of the gauntness of yesterday.
"You must forgive my rushing away without thanking you last night," he began. "But I didn't know what I was doing. The money seemed too good to be true, and it took me by surprise."
"I understood, my good chap," I said. "And I don't want any thanks. I was only too glad to be of use."
"But I must thank you!" he cried. "You don't know what you did for us. We couldn't have gone on any longer—we absolutely couldn't! ​We should have gone to the river if I'd come back last night without any food or money."
"I'm sorry to hear it was as bad as that," I said.
"We couldn't have stood the boy's crying for food any longer. He's quite different to-day. He actually wanted to play—the little beggar." And he tried to laugh, but failed dismally.
"Sit down and tell me more about it," I said. "But you'd like a drink, wouldn't you?"
"No, thank you. I never drink in the morning."
I was pleased to find that his troubles had not driven him to that refuge.
It was a long, unhappy tale he told me of the painful struggle to get poorly paid work, and of losing it when he got it; of sinking through stage after stage of poverty to the bitterest want. I gathered that now and again, for weeks at a time, he and his wife had gone short of food, and at last the child had gone short, too. The memory of their sufferings stirred him at times to a kind of furious anguish.
When at last he came to the end of his tale, I said thoughtfully:
"I wonder you weren't driven to do away with your horrible stepmother. Your wife and child would have had the money, and with seven thousand a year all the world would have been eager ​to make excuses for their unfortunate kinship with a murderer. It might even have secretly applauded the deed which gave them so respectable an income."
He jumped from his chair, crying: "I never thought of it! It never occurred to me! I am a thick-headed fool! To think of drowning the boy, when there was that way out of the difficulty!"
This was the temper I wanted.
"The worst of it is, I don't see how you are to prevent yourself falling into the same straits again," I said slowly. "I'm going to do my best, but I may not be able to get you work."
"At any rate, you've shown me how to prevent my wife and the boy falling into them," he said, very seriously.
I looked at him carefully, and saw that he meant it; that to save his wife and child from want he would remove that horrible old woman himself. It seemed to me a quite natural and proper temper.
"It would be a pity to hang for the good lady," I said thoughtfully. "And there is always the danger of smirching your son's name. Yet if she stands between your child and life you will have to. A child can't endure privation for long."
​"I'll clear her out of the way, and joyfully," he said.
"I shouldn't blame you. But I fancy there's another way."
"Another way? What?" he snapped out.
"Get some one else to clear her out of the way for you."
"By Jove, if I only could!" he said, under his breath.
"It's merely a matter of money. How much would you give to be put in the possession of your seven thousand a year?"
"Fifty thousand pounds," he said.
I laughed, and said: "You are in a prodigal humor. But to accept your offer would be taking an unfair advantage of your necessity. Will you give five thousand?"
"Yes!" he shouted.
I laughed again at his eagerness, and said: "Well, I think that for that sum she could be removed."
"Done!" he cried. "Should you do it yourself? I don't want it done gently. Let her die painfully."
I have always heard that an infuriated sheep is worse than a savage dog; and the once so gentle Marmaduke seemed no exception to the rule.
"I certainly shan't do it myself; and I can't undertake that it shall be done painfully," I said gravely.
​"Well, as long as it's done somehow, I suppose I ought to be content; but I should have liked it painful," he said, with grumbling vindictiveness.
I had been right. There was no gross sentimentality about Marmaduke.
"I don't say for a moment that it will be murder; all that is to be done is to put you into possession of seven thousand a year. But of course the firm which does this kind of work is not particular how it secures its results, and it might be murder. It's a serious matter. Is your mind quite made up?"
"Quite made up!" he said firmly. "And, what's more, if you work it for me I shall consider myself under the deepest obligation to you."
"Oh, it's not much trouble to me," I said. "You had better give me a document agreeing to pay me £5,000 whenever you come into your seven thousand a year in consideration of a loan of £4,000, which I need scarcely say I do not really lend you now."
His face fell, and he said: "I'm afraid I can't do that, for there is a clause in my father's will by which I forfeit my inheritance if I anticipate any part of it by post-obits, or anything of that kind."
"The deuce there is! I was wondering how it was you hadn't kept out of want by raising ​money on your expectations, or rather certainty. Well, well, it will be enough if you give me note of hand for £5,000. But, of course, you would have to trust me to earn it."
His face cleared again, and he said cheerfully: "That's all right. I know if you didn't clear the old fiend out of the way you'd never ask for the money. You shall have a note of hand at once."
"That's settled then. And now for your immediate needs. We must consider them, for, as you can understand, prompt as this firm is, these removals cannot be arranged in a day. How much a week can you live on comfortably?"
"Thirty shillings," he said, without a thought.
I thought of his former gay cravats and their jewelled pins.
"I'll make it more than that. We'll say two pounds ten."
"Thank you," he said, really thankfully.
"And how would you like to go out of London for a while, till after this removal has taken place? I can borrow a cottage in Hertfordshire for you. It's not quite the time of year for the country, but the change should be good for your little boy."
"We should like it," he said, and his face shone at the thought. "It would be good for the boy and my wife, too. Besides, London is a kind of nightmare to us, though the old hole does not look so bad as it did yesterday."
​"Very good then. If you will bring your family to lunch here to-morrow, I will have it arranged by then; and you can go down by the four o'clock train."
I gave him a five-pound note to fit out himself and his family for the country, and had to turn him out to cut short his thanks.
When I told Angel of my arrangements she said that she had to go out shopping; and soon after her return a pretty, warm child's coat and hat and a warm woman's cloak was delivered. In the afternoon I saw Chelubai and Bottiger, and told them that I had arranged the business. Bottiger was ready enough to lend the cottage, for if he wished to go down for a day's shooting it was large enough to hold him and the Jubbs. In his praiseworthy joy at the prospect of fresh philanthropic work, he wrote out a long list of provisions to be despatched to the cottage by Shoolbred; and Chelubai swelled the order with two dozen of port and a box of cigars.
On the morrow Marmaduke brought his wife and child to lunch. Mrs. Jubb was a quiet, good-looking creature, older than her years by reason of the privation she had endured, but I thought that the return to ease would soon wear away the marks it had left on her, and restore her to her proper youth. The little boy's eyes seemed too large for his peaked face. He was a silent ​and subdued child, and Angel's untiring efforts to make him laugh were fruitless; she could only now and again draw a grave smile from him. At the sight of lunch his face filled with an anguished eagerness very painful to see. However, he ate nicely, and did not wolf his food, as he might very well have done. He did enjoy it; Angel had ransacked Spiers and Pond for dainties likely to tempt a child's palate. At lunch he absorbed every one's interest; his father and mother could not keep their eyes off him; and I saw that they were very anxious eyes. Angel had neither eyes nor ears for any one else, and I began to think that I must really find some children to play with her. After lunch she brought out of her room a large red wooden engine, and he played with it in a hushed delight.
As we had arranged, Angel then took away Mrs. Jubb to her room for a talk; and I made the needful inquiries about the habits of the wicked stepmother. Mannaduke told me that she lived at Hardstone Manor in Hampshire, once the country seat of the Scroome family, bought by his father some twenty years ago. Save for her servants, whom she bullied, she enjoyed no human intercourse, for she had been at the pains of quarrelling with all her neighbors, the rector, the doctor, the Anglo-Indians and the small gentry. She had no relations, or she had quarrelled with them ​also; at any rate, he had never seen any of them, or heard her or his father speak of them. Discounting Marmaduke's natural bitterness, she was plainly a horrible creature—she was gluttonous, she often drank too much, she was empurpled and obese. There could not be the slightest doubt that common humanity demanded her instant removal.
I learned, too, that she never stirred out of the manor house into the grounds—some six acres of garden and shrubberies—without a pack of half a dozen yapping small dogs. The village boasted a really comfortable inn, kept by a retired butler who had been for many years in Marmaduke's father's service. It would make admirable headquarters for any one reconnoitring the ground for the operations of the G. P. R. C.
At the last moment it occurred to me that this might prove the proper occasion to use my suffocating machine; and I asked Marmaduke if he had any of his stepmother's letters. Fortunately, he had half a dozen of them, and then and there took them from the little trunk which held the scanty clothes of his family.
Angel and Mrs. Jubb came back to us, for it was time to be starting to Euston. I fancied that they had both been crying over the tale of her late privations. We drove with them to the station; I took their tickets; we put them in their ​carriage and hurried away to escape their thanks.
Having seen them off, we drove to Chelubai's rooms, where Bottiger also awaited us, and held a meeting of the G. P. R. C. to deliberate upon our plan of operations. Chelubai was the first to suggest that the time had come to try my noose-bag; and then I laid before them my plan for giving the removal the appearance of suicide. I suggested that we should make use of Angel's skill in drawing, that she should work away at the letters of Marmaduke's stepmother until she could imitate her handwriting. Then we should write a letter giving that good lady's reasons for committing suicide, to be left upon the scene of her removal. When she had written the letter, Angel should go down to Hardstone, and, using her easel as a stalking-horse, observe Mrs. Jubb's habits, especially the hours and places in which she walked abroad, and the best spots to lie in wait for her. Then two of us would make a descent in the motor-car and accomplish her removal.
They were all of them pleased with my plan, and Angel fell in with it with great eagerness. She had acquired during her talk with Marmaduke's wife an even greater detestation of Marmaduke's stepmother than she was already cherishing. She was so eager, indeed, that as soon as our deliberations ended nothing would content ​her but an immediate visit to the Army and Navy Stores, where we bought a packet of notepaper very like that on which the letters to Marmaduke had been written.