Astounding Stories of Super-Science February, 2026, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. The Moors and the Fens, volume 1 (of 3) - Chapter III: Introduces Mr. Alfred Westwood Astounding Stories of Super-Science February 2026: The Moors and the Fens, volume 1 (of 3) - Chapter III Introduces Mr. Alfred Westwood By J. H. Riddell Astounding Stories of Super-Science February, 2026, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. The Moors and the Fens, volume 1 (of 3) - Chapter III: Introduces Mr. Alfred Westwood Astounding Stories of Super-Science February, 2026, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. here Astounding Stories of Super-Science February 2026: The Moors and the Fens, volume 1 (of 3) - Chapter III Introduces Mr. Alfred Westwood By J. H. Riddell By J. H. Riddell One chilly day in that most depressing of all English months, November, Mr. Merapie’s principal clerk stood in a manner at once easy and graceful before the fire in the outer office. His right foot was firmly planted upon an old-fashioned chair covered with hair-cloth, and thus he was enabled to rest his elbow on his knee, and finally to place under his chin a remarkably slender gentlemanlike hand, adorned with two rings, and set off to greater advantage by a broad linen wristband, white as the driven snow, and fine as Irish looms could weave it. To attitudinize after this fashion he considered one of the especial privileges of his situation, none of the junior clerks being ever permitted—at least never in his presence—thus conjointly to enjoy the luxury of thought, heat, and dignity, with one foot 44supported by the crazy chair, which was giving up its stuffing by almost imperceptible degrees. Whenever he was in a particularly good, or a peculiarly bad, temper, he assumed the position above indicated, and addressed by turns words of encouragement or of rebuke to his fellow-labourers, as he exhibited his jewellery, caressed his whiskers, and apparently reflected how handsome he was. For vanity was the most perceptible feature in the character of Mr. Alfred Westwood, whose cleverness was only equalled by his impudence—his impudence by his hypocrisy—his hypocrisy by his ambition—and his ambition by his self-esteem. He was fond of money, not exactly for love of it, but for love of himself. He wanted it to spend in the purchase of expensive broadcloths, fine linens, cambric handkerchiefs, new hats, rare perfumes, macassar oil, gold chains, signet rings, extraordinary soaps, and endless cigars. There was no clerk, or, indeed, no young sprig of the aristocracy, in London who dressed so well, or seemed so confirmed and utterly hopeless a dandy, as Alfred Westwood, whose hair was always arranged after the most becoming and approved mode; whose speech, carriage, deportment, manners, were, as he fondly believed, unexceptionable; who learnt privately all the new dances 45as they came out; who was conversant with the appearance of every scrap of feminine nobility that drove in the Park, or rode down Rotten Row; who saw each new piece which was brought out at, and criticised every new actor who crossed the boards of, any one of the theatres; who could wind his way blindfold through the West End—thread all the intricacies of that magic region better, perhaps, than if he had been born and brought up in Belgravia; who, to condense all into one single sentence, desired in the innermost recesses of his heart to be considered a fashionable man about town; and who was, in fact, head clerk in the establishment of Mr. Merapie, a rich, eccentric merchant, possessed of almost fabulous wealth, and residing in the “Modern Babylon.” No man of mortal mould was ever able to get a near sight of the history of Mr. Westwood’s life, and read it through from beginning to end. It was currently believed he once had parents, but no one could state the circumstance as a fact of his own knowledge. Sisters, brothers, cousins, relatives, friends, he had apparently none; he appeared merely to be a stray waif, possessed of many personal attractions, floating lightly over the sea of London society, who came of necessity in contact with, and 46greeted scores of his fellow-creatures during the course of his passage from a far distant port to some unknown destination, but who belonged to no one, made a confidant of no one, seemed claimed by no one, was loved by no one—save himself. He was of what that queen of blessed memory, Elizabeth, would, perhaps, have termed a “just height,” inasmuch as he was neither inconveniently tall, nor yet remarkably short; somewhat slight in figure, but extremely well-proportioned; of a fair complexion, with brown eyes, hair and whiskers rather dark than light, and teeth so white and regular, that from a benevolent desire not to deprive society at large of a certain pleasure, he was perpetually smiling in a manner which, although a few disagreeable persons considered it artificial, he himself deemed perfectly bewitching. But if vanity be of all human weaknesses and follies the most contemptible and unendurable, it is also the least really hurtful to any one, save the individual who, through its intervention, lives in an atmosphere of perpetual self-congratulation; and, had Mr. Westwood’s sole characteristic been an unbounded admiration for his own person, he might daintily have walked through life, the City, and his beloved West End, unchronicled, unheeded by me. 47It was, however, his leading foible, whilst ambition appeared to be his crying sin. He desired not only admiration, but position; he wished to trade, to amass wealth, to retire, to have a town residence and a country seat, servants, equipages, vineries, green-houses, paintings, grand society; and to accomplish these few trifling desires, he at the age of seven-and-twenty had started, as the phrase runs, “on his own account,” with an available capital of ten pounds three and ninepence, and a stock of assurance which, if it could only have been coined into gold, might for years have been drawn upon ad libitum, with a positive certainty that any banker in the kingdom would honour the cheque. ad libitum But impudence, unhappily, cannot by any process of alchemy be turned into sovereigns, although it may, and frequently does, prove the means of obtaining them; and ten pounds three and ninepence, unlike the present fashionable swimming vests, will not expand to unheard-of dimensions, and keep the fortunate possessor’s head above water “for ever;” and moreover, people will sometimes weary of giving credit, and begin to ask decidedly for a settlement. In consequence of all these things, Alfred Westwood, at the expiration of two brief years, found himself “unable”—so he told all whom it might 48concern—“to meet his liabilities.” In plain words, his debts were just on the verge of seven thousand pounds, and his assets not a farthing above five and twopence. In the interim he had lived like a lord, kept a cob, hired a valet, and lodged in St. James’s: and when in due course he passed through the Bankruptcy Court he blandly told the commissioner his expenditure had been most moderate—only six hundred per annum; and in an extremely genteel accent entered an indignant protest against an illiberal and insulting demand made by his creditors (when he politely appeared, at their desire, to answer their questions, and afford them all the assistance in his power), that he should give up, for their benefit, his watch, chain, rings, and eye-glass, with which articles he had adorned himself, to the end that he might, even in ruin, look like a gentleman. only But remonstrance proving vain, with a sigh he relinquished these unpaid-for mementoes of happier days, made a full statement of his affairs, solemnly affirmed he and he alone was the party deserving of commiseration, and proved to the satisfaction, though decidedly not to the gratification, of all present, that, let him be what he might—knave, simpleton, dupe, schemer, or fop—nothing in the shape of 49compensation could be wrung out of him, whether freeman or prisoner; that he had no friends who would “stand by him,” or, in other words, pay them; that a merciless prosecution would do him little harm, and could not, by possibility, benefit the sufferers in the slightest degree; that, finally, it was worse than useless to fling good money after bad; and therefore Mr. Westwood escaped better than a better man, and was permitted to go on his way rejoicing. Although he thought an immense deal on the subject, he said “never a word” when he heard his creditors were about to insure his life, in order to secure themselves, if possible, against total loss; but apparently contrite, broken spirited, and broken hearted, did all that was required of him, meekly got the requisite documents filled up and signed, went quietly before the ruling powers “to be viewed,” and have the probabilities of his death discussed and the consequent rate of premium decided on; patiently held his peace for a period, and permitted those whom he had so deliberately cheated to complete their part of the business ere he, with a grim smile on his lips, began his. What with actual anxiety, slight indisposition, and two or three sleepless nights, he found himself 50sufficiently ill to be able to carry his project into execution with a chance of success; and, accordingly, discarding all useless ornaments, with a very shabby coat, hair neither glossy nor well arranged, and a hat which he had dinged a little for the occasion, he repaired to an insurance office, where he well knew his life was considered a matter of some importance. He desired to speak with the principals upon important business, he said; and on the strength of this assertion, he was ushered forthwith into the “presence chamber.” “Gentlemen,” he began, in a cool, straightforward manner, “I believe you are rather interested in my longevity; I am Alfred Westwood, formerly a merchant, now a beggar, whose creditors have insured my life in your office.” The fact being accurately remembered, the individuals thus addressed bent anxious glances on his face, scrutinized him from head to foot, and mentally calculated how many premiums he was “good for,” whilst he proceeded: “I have come, therefore, to inform you, with feelings of deep regret—regret, more of course on my own account than yours—that I fear you will very speedily be called upon to pay the 51various policies which have been effected in this case.” It certainly was a somewhat startling announcement, and the two elderly and one middle-aged gentlemen, to whom he so tranquilly communicated the likelihood of his demise, exclaimed in a breath, “Good heavens! it is not possible——” “With all due respect,” returned Mr. Westwood, “permit me to remark, it is not merely possible, but probable; my death must take place ere long, so far as I can see; not, indeed, from any disease that medicine or skill is able to cure, but because of a malady, from the certainly fatal effects of which you, and you alone, can deliver me.” must “We!” ejaculated the trio, once again in unison. “You, gentlemen,” solemnly responded their visitor. “And what may the malady be, and how can we avert it?” they demanded. “The malady is starvation,” he replied, concealing, by a desperate effort, an almost irresistible inclination to smile; “money or a lucrative employment will save my life and your pockets. All my worldly goods, everything, in short, I was possessed of, save a tranquil conscience and the clothes I now wear, I made over to my creditors. 52What man could do more? and yet they are not satisfied; their malice pursues me so relentlessly that, in consequence of their evil reports, I can obtain no situation, no matter how humble. I am not fitted, either by education or constitution, for manual labour, even were such offered to me: I have no friends able to assist me: I have brains, talent, energy,—would prove invaluable to any person requiring an active, indefatigable clerk. I desire not, indeed, to make a new character for myself, but to demonstrate that which has been asserted of my present one is false. I have been unfortunate and wish to repair the past; but every office is closed before me, every mortal seems prejudiced against me. People will not permit me to work, I cannot beg; in fine, gentlemen, I must starve unless you, for your own interests, aid me in this dilemma. Recollect, I do not ask you to do this for my sake, but for your own; for I know quite enough of human nature to believe self is the motive power that turns the world, is the mainspring of men’s actions, is, in brief, the sole reason why, although I do stand in need of sympathy and compassion—though I am a ruined man, though I have been more ‘sinned against than sinning,’ you will help me.” 53Westwood was right; he had studied the worst part of human nature intently, and judged it correctly. Had he possessed the eloquence of a Demosthenes, he could not more speedily have struck the feeling in the hearts of his auditors, which he desired to reach, than by thus quietly stating that, if they did not at once lay out a small amount, either of time or money, to save his life, they would most probably have to pay, ere long, a large amount, in consequence of his death. His tale was a likely one enough; his haggard looks confirmed the statement; gold, they were satisfied he had none; it might be perfectly correct that almost insuperable obstacles precluded his obtaining employment; further, he had not flattered them; and even business men are too apt to fall into a trap baited with what, although a few persons term it contemptuous rudeness, uttered either for a motive or from chagrin, most others style frank, truthful sincerity. At all events, one thing was, as he stated, self-evident; it was apparently their interest to serve him, and accordingly, as he was clever, shrewd, and plausible, they speedily did so. The principals of the insurance office to which the creditors had paid premiums, held a sort of perplexed conference together; the end of which was, that a situation, not 54very lucrative indeed, but still a “start,” was procured for Mr. Alfred Westwood. He received five-and-twenty pounds for pressing necessities, to slightly replenish his wardrobe and enable him once again to appear as a “gentleman.” In short, he got, for the second time, fairly afloat; and when the ci-devant bankrupt found himself again in a position to earn money, he gaily twisted his whiskers, passed the men he had, in plain words, “robbed,” with a high head and confident air, and mentally murmuring, “I was too fast before, I will be slow and sure this time,” commenced, de nouveau, the struggle of existence, not as a pleasant experiment, but as an important reality. interest ci-devant de nouveau Years passed on: some termed Alfred Westwood a conceited fop, but others affirmed he knew perfectly what he was about: he always dressed well, perpetually kept up appearances, apparently denied himself no gratification, retained one situation until he saw another likely to suit him better, but not a moment longer; became noted for shrewd cleverness and long-headedness; mounted fortune’s ladder cautiously, and, with a vivid memory of his former desperate tumble, never took his foot from one step till he was morally certain of being able to place it on the next, and keep it there; finally, he entered, 55at a salary of two hundred per annum, the counting house of Mr. John Merapie, as assistant to the principal clerk, and in that capacity did so much more than the above individual had ever dreamt of attempting, that, at the expiration of one brief year, Mr. Westwood found himself next to Mr. Merapie, chief of the establishment,—vice Roger Aymont superannuated, or, in other words, superseded. And thus, patient reader, it came to pass that, at the not very advanced age of thirty-five, Mr. Alfred Westwood, possessed of a comfortable income, tormented with no incumbrance, in the shape of invalid father, helpless mother, insane brother, delicate sister, or tiresome child, stood enjoying the luxury of his own happy thoughts, as previously chronicled at the commencement of this chapter. “Westwood” was the word which brought his foot down and his head erect in a second of time—“Westwood.” “Sir,” responded the individual so addressed; having elicited which mark of attention, Mr. Merapie proceeded: “I have to attend the Lord Mayor’s banquet this evening, and should therefore feel glad if you could make it convenient to meet my sister, Mrs. Frazer, 56who, as you have heard, is coming from the North, and see her safely home to the Square.” Whereupon Mr. Westwood, smiling in his sweetest manner, declared, “Nothing could give him more pleasure.” “Thank you—wouldn’t trouble you if I could avoid doing so,” returned Mr. Merapie, “but necessity, you are aware——” “Knows no law,” supplied his clerk with a deferential bow, which bow fairly taking Mr. Merapie away from the outer office, and leaving Mr. Westwood temporary master of the inner one, he at once repaired to the latter, drew two chairs close together opposite the fire-place, leant his head against the back of one and disposed his limbs in a graceful attitude upon the other, crossed his arms majestically over his chest, and remained thus pondering and calculating chances till the time arrived for him to go and make acquaintance with the new comers, Mrs. Frazer and her two children. Carefully as he might have scanned the pages of a book wherein his fortune was written, did Alfred Westwood scrutinize the faces of the “widowed and the orphaned,” whom he, a stranger, thus met and greeted on their arrival to an almost unfamiliar place. 57He beheld a languid, fashionable-looking lady, a boy, in whom her very soul seemed centred, and lastly, a slight pale child, with nothing especially remarkable about her, save a pair of soft mellow eyes, a perfect wilderness of dark curls, and a peculiarly quick intelligent expression of countenance. Alfred Westwood noted every gesture, feature, word, as he conducted the trio “home;” and when, after having seen them and their luggage safely deposited in Mr. Merapie’s house, situated in what that gentleman termed “The Square,” he turned to walk to his own lodgings by the bright gaslight through some of the countless London streets, he murmured, as if by way of conclusion to some very knotty argument he had long been debating within himself, “They may prove of service to me, perhaps; at all events, I defy them to raise an obstacle in my path.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Astounding Stories. (2009). ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE, FEBRUARY 2026. USA. Project Gutenberg. Release date: February 14, 2026*, from https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/77931/pg77931-images.html#Page_99* This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org, located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Astounding Stories. (2009). ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE, FEBRUARY 2026. USA. Project Gutenberg. Release date: February 14, 2026*, from https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/77931/pg77931-images.html#Page_99* This book is part of the public domain. Astounding Stories. (2009). ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE, FEBRUARY 2026. USA. Project Gutenberg. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/77931/pg77931-images.html#Page_99 This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org, located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html. This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org, located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html. www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html
