The Hidden Man Read Free Page A

redeemable by the depositors on demand for a particular sum of money. The total of promissory notes is the total of money they have entrusted to us – which in this case, as I say, is a tidy amount. They shall also, of course, be in receipt of interest at 4 per cent.’
    The farmer leaned back a little, with eyes half closed, assessing the proposition as he might a ram at market.
    â€˜I’ll allow it’s a clever scheme, to use another man’s money for your own profit. But I won’t say I approve it. Suppose you send me fifty head of sheep for pasturing out, like. Well, you may allow me the shearing but you’ll want the animals still picking grass in my field when you come back for ’em. You’ll have a good deal to say to me if I’ve sent ’em off to breed in Yorkshire, never mind China.’
    Pimbo’s upper body deflated, as boasting gave way to earnestness. He appealed to me.
    â€˜Our friend doesn’t understand. Money is not sheep. What a banker does is to follow the Bank of England in London: takes in money – nota bene , not sheep – pays interest and meanwhile puts the money to work by lending it at a greater rate of interest. If he can get the better rate, there’s nothing wrong in that.’
    â€˜But,’ I replied, ‘is not the Bank of England something of a special case? Firstly it lends to the government, which is rather a safe transaction, and secondly it issues notes payable on the spot “to bearer”. To call yourself a bank you will have to lend your money to general enterprises and issue notes on the same basis. Can you stand the risk?’
    â€˜Oh! Of course, of course! I have no doubt.’
    Pimbo puffed out his chest and protruded his lips.
    â€˜If there be a Bank of England in London, and a Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh, I can see no reason why not a Bank of Lancashire, you know, or even a Bank of Preston. Moon, for one, believes we can safely issue bank notes redeemable by the bearer.’
    He turned back to the farmer, who was puzzled.
    â€˜When the notes are payable “to bearer”, Sir, it means anyone who happens to have such a note in his hand can go to the bank, you see, and on presenting it receive full value in gold and silver there and then. In that way, paper can be used in place of coin.’
    The farmer considered this proposition for a moment, then said:
    â€˜And why would any man want to do such a thing?’
    â€˜Because the note is so much lighter on the pocket, man, so much easier to transport than the coin.’ Pimbo rubbed his hands with glee. ‘It is a very safe scheme, depending on the issuer’s confidence, and Mr Moon is very strong in confidence. Very strong indeed. There is demand for this, I am certain of it, and the day is coming when my partner and I shall establish Preston’s first dedicated banking office.’
    His remarkable ears, the twin beacons of his fervour, had begun to glow red. The farmer, however, shook his head in grizzled scepticism.
    â€˜No,’ he declared with emphasis. ‘Folk like their gold and silver too much. Change it for paper? They’ll like as change a clog for a cloud.’
    *   *   *
    I recalled this conversation on the morning of our appointment as I walked the short distance to Pimbo’s Fisher Gate premises. These were yet far from resembling what we now think of as a bank: in fact, the place was still a working goldsmith’s shop, with two counters, running away from the door to the right and left – the left hand counter being reserved for valuing, buying and pawning, while the right was for selling items in precious metals. At the far end of the shop, facing the street door, there was a cashier’s desk protected by bars. Here sat Robert Hazelbury, the Chief Cashier, with writing stand, cash box and brass scales on the desk before him. In the wall at his back, a bookcase sagged under a load