Mr. Binns And The Bishop A Financial Story by Albert Fleming (book club recommendations .txt) 📕

Mr. Constable replied sternly, "Full accounts have been rendered; we cannot conceive that any questions can arise."

"Only one or two," said Mr. Binns, very meekly. "In this first account, for instance, I note that the carrying-over rate in one particular stock is charged at 9 per cent, and I see by the newspapers of that date it was really only 3 per cent; that really is curious; do explain it to me."

"And what on earth, sir, do you know about carrying-over rates?" demanded Mr. Constable, haughtily.

"And then, you see," went on Mr. Binns, purring softly, "up to the 3rd September there was a profit, oh yes! there really was, a profit of £300 to our dear Bishop; and you then bought shares in the 'Jumping Jenny' mine; that is again so curious, because 'Jumping Jenny' had made her last jump seven months before, and, in your expressive Stock Exchange slang, had long since 'fizzled out.'''

Then Mr. Law rose from his chair in great indignation, and said, "And who the devil are----"

"Oh now," replied Mr. Binns, shaking a shabby finger reprovingly at him, "that is quite naughty of you, and besides, you see, I have a great many more questions to ask; I hope I don't tire you. Here is one point I must draw your attention to: you apparently bought shares for the Bishop in 'Black Sukies;' now, you know, there isn't such a mine in existence, there really isn't; I have the official list in my bag, and I defy you to shew it to me; it exists only in your own fertile brains."

Mr. Binns followed up this alarming statement by leading the astounded Firm a dreadful dance through the entire accounts, "cooked accounts," he softly ejaculated. "Yes, I think we really might call them 'cooked accounts;' very painful, of course, to have to say so," and then he gave the Firm a terrible quarter of an hour. They stormed and raged, but Mr. Binns only grew more crushingly polite, always apologising when he drove home some special little thrust Then he wound up by saying, "And now, dear gentlemen, I have prepared a little debtor and creditor account on the Bishop's behalf, quite a little amateur account; it shews a credit of £300 due to him."

Mr. Constable was beside himself with fury. He snatched the Curate's account from his hand and tore it to atoms. "That for your account, sir, you're either a fool or a rogue."

Mr. Binns quietly opened his little bag and said, "Do take another copy and give one to Mr. Law; you see, I anticipated a certain amount of warmth on your part, so I made several copies." Then Mr. Law delivered his ultimatum. "Either hand over the Bishop's cheque, or clear out." "Ah," said Mr. Binns, once more diving into his bag, "what a sad memory I have;" then he produced a sealed envelope and handed it to Mr. Law. "Oh," said that gentleman, "I thought our clerical friend would come to his senses at last."

He tore open the envelope with a triumphant smile, but the smile swiftly vanished and his jaw dropped; in his hand was a writ, "Henry Saffron Walden v. Messrs. Law and Constable," claiming £300 and interest. Mr. Constable snatched it from his hand and read it also. "And here," said Mr. Binns, "is the original; personal service effected on both partners; that saves so much trouble." Mr. Law grew purple with indignation, and muttered, "I have half a mind to kick you out of the place," but his partner drew him to one side and they talked a few minutes apart.

"I must not intrude any longer," said Mr. Binns, polite to the last, "but that sad memory of mine again! Do you know, I really forgot to tell the dear Bishop's solicitors to take out a summons for obtaining money under false pretences; I think I will run back to Ely Place."

"Wait a moment," said Mr. Law, "my partner and I think there must be some mistake; we will look through your accounts."

Half-an-hour later Mr. Binns closed his little black bag with a snap; he had refused to take a cheque, and three bank-notes for £100 each were tucked away in it. As a graceful concession, he waived all claim for interest and costs. He was quite pathetic at the end; as he left he said, "You spoke, gentlemen, of the Tithe-rent question. I have written a little pamphlet on that very matter, do allow me to give you each a copy of it"--which he did, as if he were giving them his blessing.

The next day saw Mr. Binns at the Palace at Saffron Walden. The Bishop received him at once, but was still wrapped in gloom. "Sit down, Mr. Binns," he said. "Of course, I shall have to pay, I have made up my mind to that; anything to escape publicity."

Mr. Binns merely bowed and handed back to the Bishop the neat bundle of his papers and letters. "And now, my lord, I have the pleasure to present you with that."

The Bishop took the envelope and turned very white. "A writ, I suppose," he said. When he opened it and found the three bank-notes, he sprang up and seized Mr. Binns' hand. "You are the most wonderful man I ever met. I shall be grateful to you for the rest of my life. And now tell me how you brought these robbers to book."

Thereupon, Mr. Binns told him, simplifying and adapting the story to his infantile mind. When he left, the Bishop wrung his hand with evident emotion. "You shall not go unrewarded," he said.

And he was as good as his word; for when the next Canonry fell vacant, to the amazement of the Dean and Chapter, he conferred it on Mr. Binns. And it was anything but what Sydney Smith called "a Stall without fodder," for" fodder" to the tune of £700 a year fell to the acute Curate's lot.

This was the first rung of the ladder by which Mr., now Canon, Binns mounted to fame. He speedily made himself felt in all kinds of directions. The Cathedral at Saffron Walden happened just then to be in a terribly dilapidated condition. The Bishop himself abhorred the sacred edifice; it was a perpetual worry to him, and it became a perfect nuisance when the Dean and Chapter set a Restoration Fund going.

Instantly the "Anti-Scrape" Society bombarded the Times with most abusive letters. There was a frightful hubbub all round. Committees and deputations waited on the Bishop and worried him dreadfully. He pathetically said he did not dare to set foot in his own Cathedral, because stones were always crashing down, either inside or out, and his life was not safe. The deputations said that was quite immaterial, as you could make any number of new Bishops as easy as winking, but no one could ever replace the particular dog-tooth moulding, or the special 14th century masonry.

Then it was that Canon Binns took the matter in hand. First of all, he appeased the people who swore a Cathedral was solely a happy hunting-ground for architects and antiquarians. Then he propitiated the section who held gargoyles and finials in low esteem, and said a Cathedral was a place to worship in, and he wrote such judicious letters to the papers that subscriptions poured in. Then he invited a delegate from the "Anti-Scrape" people to go a tour with him in Italy (of course, at the expense of the fund), to study Lombard Gothic, though, as Saffron Walden Cathedral was pure Norman, the connection seemed remote.

Ultimately, the admirable Binns restored the Cathedral so judiciously that both parties were delighted; his fame was blown abroad, and he was made an honorary member of many Archæological Societies. After that he married the daughter of the Bishop of the next diocese; and if you chance to walk round the Close of the Cathedral any sunny morning, you will probably see two small and very ugly boys playing on the grass, who are the very image of Canon Binns himself.

Publication Date: 01-20-2015

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