THE MARKET-PLACE

by Harold Frederic

CHAPTER I

THE battle was over, and the victor remained on the field--sitting alonewith the hurly-burly of his thoughts. 

His triumph was so sweeping and comprehensive as to be somewhatshapeless to the view. He had a sense of fascinated pain when he triedto define to himself what its limits would probably be. Vistas ofunchecked, expanding conquest stretched away in every direction. He heldat his mercy everything within sight. Indeed, it rested entirely withhim to say whether there should be any such thing as mercy at all--anduntil he chose to utter the restraining word the rout of the vanquishedwould go on with multiplying terrors and ruin. He could crush andtorture and despoil his enemies until he was tired. The responsibilityof having to decide when he would stop grinding their faces might cometo weigh upon him later on, but he would not give it room in his mindto-night. 

A picture of these faces of his victims shaped itself out of the flamesin the grate. They were moulded in a family likeness, these phantomvisages: they were all Jewish, all malignant, all distorted with fright. They implored him with eyes in which panic asserted itself above rageand cunning. Only here and there did he recall a name with which tolabel one of these countenances; very few of them raised a memory ofindividual rancour. The faces were those of men he had seen, no doubt, but their persecution of him had been impersonal; his great revenge wasequally so. As he looked, in truth, there was only one face--a compositemask of what he had done battle with, and overthrown, and would trampleimplacably under foot. He stared with a conqueror's cold frown at it, and gave an abrupt laugh which started harsh echoes in the stillness ofthe Board Room. Then he shook off the reverie, and got to his feet. Heshivered a little at the sudden touch of a chill. 

A bottle of brandy, surrounded by glasses, stood on the table where thetwo least-considered of his lieutenants, the dummy Directors, had leftit. He poured a small quantity and sipped it. During the whole eventfulday it had not occurred to him before to drink; the taste of the neatliquor seemed on the instant to calm and refresh his brain. With moredeliberation, he took a cigar from the broad, floridly-decoratedopen box beside the bottle, lit it, and blew a long draught of smokethoughtfully through his nostrils. Then he put his hands in his pockets, looked again into the fire, and sighed a wondering smile. God in heaven!it was actually true!

This man of forty found himself fluttering with a novel exhilaration, which yet was not novel. Upon reflection, he perceived that he felt asif he were a boy again--a boy excited by pleasure. It surprised as muchas it delighted him to experience this frank and direct joy of achild. He caught the inkling of an idea that perhaps his years were anillusion. He had latterly been thinking of himself as middle-aged; thegrey hairs thickening at his temples had vaguely depressed him. Now allat once he saw that he was not old at all. The buoyancy of veritableyouth bubbled in his veins. He began walking up and down the room, regarding new halcyon visions with a sparkling eye. He was no longerconscious of the hated foe beneath his feet; they trod instead elasticupon the clouds. 

The sound of someone moving about in the hallway outside, and of tryinga door near by, suddenly caught his attention. He stood still andlistened with alertness for a surprised instant, then shrugged hisshoulders and began moving again. It must be nearly seven o'clock;although the allotment work had kept the clerks later than usual thatday, everybody connected with the offices had certainly gone home. Herealized that his nerves had played him a trick in giving that alarmedmomentary start--and smiled almost tenderly as he remembered how notableand even glorious a warrant those nerves had for their unsettled state. They would be all right after a night's real rest. He would know how tosleep NOW, thank God!

But yes--there was somebody outside--and this time knocking withassurance at the right door, the entrance to the outer office. After asecond's consideration, he went into this unlighted outer office, andcalled out through the opaque glass an enquiry. The sound of his voice, as it analyzed itself in his own ears, seemed unduly peremptory. Theanswer which came back brought a flash of wonderment to his eyes. Hehurriedly unlocked and opened the door. 

"I saw the lights in what I made out to be the Board Room, " saidthe newcomer, as he entered. "I assumed it must be you. Hope I don'tinterrupt anything. "

"Nothing could have given me greater pleasure, Lord Plowden, " repliedthe other, leading the way back to the inner apartment. "In fact, Icouldn't have asked anything better. "

The tone of his voice had a certain anxious note in it not quitein harmony with this declaration. He turned, under the drop-lightoverhanging the Board-table, and shook hands with his guest, as if toatone for this doubtful accent. "I shake hands with you again, " hesaid, speaking rapidly, "because this afternoon it was what you may callformal; it didn't count. And--my God!--you're the man I owe it all to. "

"Oh, you mustn't go as far as that--even in the absence of witnesses, "replied Lord Plowden, lightly. "I'll take off my coat for a fewminutes, " he went on, very much at his ease. "It's hot in here. It's bythe merest chance I happened to be detained in the City--and I saw yourlights, and this afternoon we had no opportunity whatever for a quiettalk. No--I won't drink anything before dinner, but I'll light a cigar. I want to say to you, Thorpe, " he concluded, as he seated himself"that I think what you've done is very wonderful. The Marquis thinks sotoo--but I shouldn't like to swear that he understands much about it. "

The implication that the speaker did understand remained in the airlike a tangible object. Thorpe took a chair, and the two men exchanged asilent, intent look. Their faces, dusky red on the side of the glow fromthe fire, pallid where the electric light fell slantwise upon themfrom above, had for a moment a mysterious something in common. Thenthe tension of the glance was relaxed--and on the instant no two men inLondon looked less alike. 

Lord Plowden was familiarly spoken of as a handsome man. Thorpe had evenheard him called the handsomest man in England--though this seemed inall likelihood an exaggeration. But handsome he undoubtedly was--tallwithout suggesting the thought of height to the observer, erect yetgraceful, powerfully built, while preserving the effect ofslenderness. His face in repose had the outline of the more youthfulguardsman-type--regular, finely-cut, impassive to hardness. When hetalked, or followed with interest the talk of others, it revealed almostan excess of animation. Then one noted the flashing subtlety of hisglance, the swift facility of his smile and comprehending brows, and sawthat it was not the guardsman face at all. His skin was fresh-hued, andthere was a shade of warm brown in his small, well-ordered moustasche, but his hair, wavy and worn longer than the fashion, seemed black. Therewere perceptible veins of grey in it, though he had only entered histhirty-fifth year. He was dressed habitually with the utmost possiblecare. 

The contrast between this personage and the older man confronting himwas abrupt. Thorpe was also tall, but of a burly and slouching figure. His face, shrouded in a high-growing, dust-coloured beard, invited noattention. One seemed always to have known this face--thick-featured, immobile, undistinguished. Its accessories for the time being were evenmore than ordinarily unimpressive. Both hair and beard were ragged withneglect. His commonplace, dark clothes looked as if he had slept inthem. The hands resting on his big knees were coarse in shape, androughened, and ill-kept. 

"I couldn't have asked anything better than your dropping in, " herepeated now, speaking with a drag, as of caution, on his words. "Witnesses or no witnesses, I'm anxious to have you understand that Irealize what I owe to you. "

"I only wish it were a great deal more than it is, " replied the other, with a frank smile. 

"Oh, it'll mount up to considerable, as it stands, " said Thorpe. 

He could hear that there was a kind of reservation in his voice; thesuspicion that his companion detected it embarrassed him. He foundhimself in the position of fencing with a man to whom all his feelingsimpelled him to be perfectly open. He paused, and was awkwardlyconscious of constraint in the silence which ensued. "You are very kindto put it in that way, " said Lord Plowden, at last. He seemed also to befinding words for his thoughts with a certain difficulty. He turnedhis cigar round in his white fingers meditatively. "I gather thatyour success has been complete--as complete as you yourself could havedesired. I congratulate you with all my heart. "

"No--don't say my success--say our success, " put in Thorpe. 

"But, my dear man, " the other corrected him, "my interest, compared withyours, is hardly more than nominal. I'm a Director, of course, and I'mnot displeased that my few shares should be worth something instead ofnothing, but----"

Thorpe lifted one of his heavy hands. "That isn't my view of the thingat all. To be frank, I was turning over in my mind, just awhile ago, before you came in, some way of arranging all that on a differentfooting. If you'll trust it to me, I think you'll find it's all right. "

Something in the form of this remark seemed to restore to Lord Plowdenhis accustomed fluency of speech. 

"I came here to say precisely that thing, " he began--"that I do trustit to you. We have never had any very definite talk on the subject--andpray don't think that I want to go into details now. I'd much rathernot, in fact. But what I do want to say to you is this: I believe inyou. I feel sure that you are going to go far, as the saying is. Well, I want to tie myself to your star. Do you see what I mean? You are goingto be a power in finance. You are going to be able to make and unmakemen as you choose. I should be very much obliged indeed if you wouldmake me. "

Thorpe regarded the handsome and titled man of fashion with what seemedto the other a lethargic gaze. In truth, his mind was toiling withstrenuous activity to master, in all its bearings, the significance ofwhat had been said. This habit of the abstracted and lack-lustre eye, the while he was hard at work thinking, was a fortuitous asset which hehad never up to that time learned that he possessed. Unconsciously, hedampened the spirits of his companion. 

"Don't imagine I'm trying to force myself upon you, " Lord Plowden said, growing cool in the face of this slow stare. "I'm asking nothing at all. I had the impulse to come and say to you that you are a great man, andthat you've done a great thing--and done it, moreover, in a very greatway. "

"You know how it was done!" The wondering exclamation forced itself fromThorpe's unready lips. He bent forward a little, and took a new visualhold, as it were, of his companion's countenance. 

Lord Plowden smiled. "Did you think I was such a hopeless duffer, then?"he rejoined. 

For answer, Thorpe leant back in his chair, crossed his legs, and pattedhis knee contentedly. All at once his face had lightened; a genialspeculation returned to his grey eyes. 

"Well, I was in a curious position about you, you see, " he began toexplain. The relief with which he spoke was palpable. "I could not forthe life of me make up my mind whether to tell you about it or not. Let's see--this is Thursday; did I see you Tuesday? At any rate, thescheme didn't dawn on me myself until toward evening Tuesday. But yesterday, of course, I could have told you--and again thisafternoon--but, as I say, I couldn't make up my mind. Once I had it onthe tip of my tongue--but somehow I didn't. And you--you never gave me ahint that you saw what was going on. "

Again Lord Plowden smiled. "I voted with you, " he put in softly. 

Thorpe laughed, and relit his cigar. "Well, I couldn't have askedanything better than this, " he declared once again. "It beats all therest put together, to my mind. "

"Perhaps I don't quite follow your meaning, " commented the othertentatively. 

"Why man, " Thorpe explained, hesitating a little in his choice of words, but speaking with evident fervour; "I was more anxious about you--andthe way you'd take it--than about anything else. I give you my word Iwas. I couldn't tell at all how you'd feel about the thing. You mightthink that it was all right, and then again you might round on me--orno, I don't mean quite that--but you might say it wasn't good enough foryou, and wash your hands of the whole affair. And I can't tell you whata relief it is to find that you--that you're satisfied. Now I can goahead. "

"Ah, yes--ahead, " said the younger man, thoughtfully. "Do you mindtelling me--you see I'm quite in the dark as to details--how muchfurther ahead we are likely to go? I comprehend the general nature ofour advance--but how far off is the goal you have in sight?"

"God knows!" answered Thorpe, with a rising thrill of excitement in hisvoice. "I don't give it any limit. I don't see why we should stop atall. We've got them in such a position that--why, good heavens! we cansqueeze them to death, crush them like quartz. " He chuckled grimly atthe suggestion of his simile. "We'll get more ounces to the ton out ofour crushings than they ever heard of on the Rand, too. "

"Might I ask, " interposed the other, "who may 'they' be?"

Thorpe hesitated, and knitted his brows in the effort to remember names. "Oh, there are a lot of them, " he said, vaguely. "I think I told youof the way that Kaffir crowd pretended to think well of me, and let mebelieve they were going to take me up, and then, because I wouldn't givethem everything--the very shirt off my back--turned and put their knifeinto me. I don't know them apart, hardly--they've all got names likeRhine wines--but I know the gang as a whole, and if I don't lift theroof clean off their particular synagogue, then my name is mud. "

Lord Plowden smiled. "I've always the greatest difficulty to rememberthat you are an Englishman--a Londoner born, " he declared pleasantly. "You don't talk in the least like one. On shipboard I made sure youwere an American--a very characteristic one, I thought--of some curiousWestern variety, you know. I never was more surprised in my life thanwhen you told me, the other day, that you only left England a few yearsago. "

"Oh, hardly a 'few years'; more like fifteen, " Thorpe corrected him. Hestudied his companion's face with slow deliberation. 

"I'm going to say something that you mustn't take amiss, " he remarked, after a little pause. "If you'd known that I was an Englishman, whenwe first met, there on the steamer, I kind o' suspect that you and I'dnever have got much beyond a nodding acquaintance--and even that mostlyon my side. I don't mean that I intended to conceal anything--that is, not specially--but I've often thought since that it was a mighty goodthing I did. Now isn't that true--that if you had taken me for one ofyour own countrymen you'd have given me the cold shoulder?"

"I dare say there's a good deal in what you say, " the other admitted, gently enough, but without contrition. "Things naturally shapethemselves that way, rather, you know. If they didn't, why then thewhole position would become difficult. But you are an American, to allintents and purposes. "

"Oh, no--I never took any step towards getting naturalized, " Thorpeprotested. "I always intended to come back here. Or no, I won't saythat--because most of the time I was dog-poor--and this isn't the placefor a poor man. But I always said to myself that if ever I pulled itoff--if I ever found my self a rich man--THEN I'd come piking across theAtlantic as fast as triple-expansion engines would carry me. "

The young man smiled again, with a whimsical gleam in his eye. "And youARE a rich man, now, " he observed, after a momentary pause. 

"We are both rich men, " replied Thorpe, gravely. 

He held up a dissuading hand, as the other would have spoken. "This ishow it seems to me the thing figures itself out: It can't be said thatyour name on the Board, or the Marquis's either, was of much use so faras the public were concerned. To tell the truth, I saw some time agothat they wouldn't be. Titles on prospectuses are played out in London. I've rather a notion, indeed, that they're apt to do more harm thangood--just at present, at least. But all that aside--you are the man whowas civil to me at the start, when you knew nothing whatever about myscheme, and you are the man who was good to me later on, when I didn'tknow where to turn for a friendly word. Very well; here I am! I've mademy coup! And I'd be a sweep, wouldn't I? to forget to-day what I was soglad to remember a week ago. But you see, I don't forget! The capitalof the Company is 500, 000 pounds, all in pound shares. We offered thepublic only a fifth of them. The other four hundred thousand shares aremine as vendor--and I have ear-marked in my mind one hundred thousand ofthem to be yours. "

Lord Plowden's face paled at the significance of these words. "It istoo much--you don't reflect what it is you are saying, " he murmuredconfusedly. "Not a bit of it, " the other reassured him. "Everything thatI've said goes. "

The peer, trembling a little, rose to his feet. "It is a preposterouslybig reward for the merest act of courtesy, " he insisted. "Of course ittakes my breath away for joy--and yet I feel I oughtn't to be consentingto it at all. And it has its unpleasant side--it buries me under amountain of obligation. I don't know what to do or what to say. "

"Well, leave the saying and doing to me, then, " replied Thorpe, with agesture before which the other resumed his seat. "Just a word more--andthen I suppose we'd better be going. Look at it in this way. Yourgrandfather was Lord Chancellor of England, and your father wasa General in the Crimea. My grandfather kept a small second-handbook-shop, and my father followed him in the business. In one sense, that puts us ten thousand miles apart. But in another sense, we'll saythat we like each other, and that there are ways in which we can be ofimmense use to each other, and that brings us close together. You needmoney--and here it is for you. I need--what shall I say?--a kind offriendly lead in the matter of establishing myself on the right footing, among the right people--and that's what you can do for me. Mind--I'dprefer to put it all in quite another way; I'd like to say it wasall niceness on your part, all gratitude on mine. But if you want toconsider it on a business basis--why there you have it also--perfectlyplain and clear. "

He got up as he finished, and Lord Plowden rose as well. The two menshook hands in silence. 

When the latter spoke, it was to say: "Do you know how to open one ofthose soda-water bottles? I've tried, but I can never get the trick. Ithink I should like to have a drink--after this. "

When they had put down their glasses, and the younger man was gettinginto his great-coat, Thorpe bestowed the brandy and cigars within acabinet at the corner of the room, and carefully turned a key upon them. 

"If you're going West, let me give you a lift, " said Lord Plowden, hatin hand. "I can set you down wherever you like. Unfortunately I've to goout to dinner, and I must race, as it is, to get dressed. "

Thorpe shook his head. "No, go along, " he bade him. "I've some odds andends of things to do on the way. "

"Then when shall I see you?"--began the other, and halted suddenlywith a new thought in his glance. "But what are you doing Saturday?"he asked, in a brisker tone. "It's a dies non here. Come down with meto-morrow evening, to my place in Kent. We will shoot on Saturday, and drive about on Sunday, if you like--and there we can talk at ourleisure. Yes, that is what you must do. I have a gun for you. Shall wesay, then--Charing Cross at 9:55? Or better still, say 5:15, and we willdine at home. "

The elder man pondered his answer--frowning at the problem before himwith visible anxiety. "I'm afraid I'd better not come--it's very good ofyou all the same. "

"Nonsense, " retorted the other. "My mother will be very glad indeed tosee you. There is no one else there--unless, perhaps, my sister has somefriend down. We shall make a purely family party. "

Thorpe hesitated for only a further second. "All right. Charing Cross, 5:15, " he said then, with the grave brevity of one who announces amomentous decision. 

He stood still, looking into the fire, for a few moments after hiscompanion had gone. Then, going to a closet at the end of the room, hebrought forth his coat and hat; something prompted him to hold them up, and scrutinize them under the bright light of the electric globe. He putthem on, then, with a smile, half-scornful, half-amused, playing in hisbeard. 

The touch of a button precipitated darkness upon the Board Room. He madehis way out, and downstairs to the street. It was a rainy, windy Octobernight, sloppy underfoot, dripping overhead. At the corner before him, acabman, motionless under his unshapely covered hat and glistening rubbercape, sat perched aloft on his seat, apparently asleep. Thorpe hailedhim, with a peremptory tone, and gave the brusque order, "Strand!" as heclambered into the hansom. 

CHAPTER II

"LOUISA, the long and short of it is this, " said Thorpe, half an hourlater: "you never did believe in me, as a sister should do. "

He was seated alone with this sister, in a small, low, ratherdismally-appointed room, half-heartedly lighted by two flickeringgasjets. They sat somewhat apart, confronting a fireplace, where onlythe laid materials for a fire disclosed themselves in the cold grate. Above the mantel hung an enlarged photograph of a scowling old man. Thorpe's gaze recurred automatically at brief intervals to thisportrait--which somehow produced the effect upon him of responsibilityfor the cheerlessness of the room. There were other pictures on thewalls of which he was dimly conscious--small, faded, old prints aboutDido and AEneas and Agamemnon, which seemed to be coming back to him outof the mists of his childhood. 

Vagrant impressions and associations of this childhood strayed withquaint inconsequence across the field of his preoccupied mind. Thepeculiar odour of the ancient book-shop on the floor below remained likesnuff in his nostrils. Somewhere underneath, or in the wainscoting atthe side, he could hear the assiduous gnawing of a rat. Was it the samerat, he wondered with a mental grin, that used to keep him awake nights, in one of the rooms next to this, with that same foolish noise, when hewas a boy?

"I know you always say that, " replied Louisa, impassively. 

She was years older than her brother, but, without a trace of artificeor intention, contrived to look the younger of the two. Her thick hair, drawn simply from her temples into a knot behind, was of that palestbrown which assimilates grey. Her face, long, plain, masculine incontour and spirit, conveyed no message as to years. Long and spare offigure, she sat upright in her straight-backed chair, with her large, capable hands on her knees. 

"I believed in you as much as you'd let me, " she went on, indifferently, almost wearily. "But I don't see that it mattered to you whether I didor didn't. You went your own way: you did what you wanted to do. Whathad I to do with it? I don't suppose I even knew what part of the worldyou were in more than once in two or three years. How should I knowwhether you were going to succeed, when I didn't even know what itwas you were at? Certainly you hadn't succeeded here in London--butelsewhere you might or you might not--how could I tell? And moreover, Idon't feel that I know you very well; you've grown into something verydifferent from the boy Joel that left the shop--it must be twenty yearsago. I can only know about you and your affairs what you tell me. "

"But my point is, " pursued Thorpe, watching her face with a curiouslyintent glance, "you never said to yourself: 'I KNOW he's going tosucceed. I KNOW he'll be a rich man before he dies. '"

She shook her head dispassionately. Her manner expressed fatiguedfailure to comprehend why he was making so much of this purposelesspoint. 

"No--I don't remember ever having said that to myself, " she admitted, listlessly. Then a comment upon his words occurred to her, and she spokewith more animation: "You don't seem to understand, Joel, that what wasvery important to you, didn't occupy me at all. You were always talkingabout getting rich; you kept the idea before you of sometime, at astroke, finding yourself a millionaire. That's been the idea of yourlife. But what do I know about all that? My work has been to keep a roofover my head--to keep the little business from disappearing altogether. It's been hard enough, I can tell you, these last few years, with thebig jobbers cutting the hearts out of the small traders. I had theinvalid husband to support for between three and four years--a deadweight on me every week--and then the children to look after, to clotheand educate. "

At the last word she hesitated suddenly, and looked at him. "Don't thinkI'm ungrateful"--she went on, with a troubled effort at a smile--"but Ialmost wish you'd never sent me that four hundred pounds at all. Whatit means is that they've had two years at schools where now I shan'tbe able to keep them any longer. They'll be spoiled for my kind oflife--and they won't have a fair chance for any other. I don't know whatwill become of them. "

The profound apprehension in the mother's voice did not dull the gleamin Thorpe's eyes. He even began a smile in the shadows of his unkemptmoustache. 

"But when I sent that money, for example, two years ago, and over, " hepersisted, doggedly--"and I told you there'd be more where that camefrom, and that I stood to pull off the great event--even then, now, youdidn't believe in your innermost heart that I knew what I was talkingabout, did you?"

She frowned with impatience as she turned toward him. "For heaven'ssake, Joel, " she said, sharply--"you become a bore with that stupidnonsense. I want to be patient with you--I do indeed sympathize with youin your misfortunes--you know that well enough--but you're very tiresomewith that eternal harping on what I believed and what I didn't believe. Now, are you going to stop to supper or not?--because if you are I mustsend the maid out. And there's another thing--would it be of any help toyou to bring your things here from the hotel? You can have Alfred's roomas well as not--till Christmas, at least. "

"Supposing I couldn't get my luggage out of the hotel till I'd settledmy bill, " suggested Thorpe tentatively, in a muffled voice. 

The practical woman reflected for an instant. "I was thinking, " sheconfessed then, "that it might be cheaper to leave your things there, and buy what little you want--I don't imagine, from what I've seen, thatyour wardrobe is so very valuable--but no, I suppose the bill ought tobe paid. Perhaps it can be managed; how much will it be?"

Thorpe musingly rose to his feet, and strolled over to her chair. Withhis thick hands on his sister's shoulders he stooped and kissed her onthe forehead. 

"You believe in me now, anyway, eh, Lou?" he said, as he straightenedhimself behind her. 

The unaccustomed caress--so different in character from the perfunctorysalute with which he had greeted her on his arrival from foreign parts, six months before--brought a flush of pleased surprise to her plainface. Then a kind of bewilderment crept into the abstracted gaze she wasbending upon the fireless grate. Something extraordinary, unaccountable, was in the manner of her brother. She recalled that, in truth, he wasmore than half a stranger to her. How could she tell what wild, uncanny second nature had not grown up in him under thoseoutlandish tropical skies? He had just told her that his ruin wasabsolute--overwhelming--yet there had been a covert smile in therecesses of his glance. Even now, she half felt, half heard, a chucklefrom him, there as he stood behind her!

The swift thought that disaster had shaken his brain loomed up andpossessed her. She flung herself out of the chair, and, wheeling, seizedits back and drew it between them as she faced him. It was with a stareof frank dismay that she beheld him grinning at her. 

"What"--she began, stammering--"What is the matter, Joel?"

He permitted himself the luxury of smiling blankly at her for a furthermoment. Then he tossed his head, and laughed abruptly. 

"Sit down, old girl, " he adjured her. "Try and hold yourself together, now--to hear some different kind of news. I've been playing it ratherlow down on you, for a fact. Instead of my being smashed, it's the otherway about. "

She continued to confront him, with a nervous clasp upon the chair-back. Her breathing troubled her as she regarded him, and tried to take in themeaning of his words. 

"Do you mean--you've been lying to me about--about your Company?" sheasked, confusedly. 

"No--no--not at all, " he replied, now all genial heartiness. "No--whatI told you was gospel truth--but I was taking a rise out of you all thesame. " He seemed so unaffectedly pleased by his achievement in kindlyduplicity that she forced an awkward smile to her lips. 

"I don't understand in the least, " she said, striving to remember whathe had told her. "What you said was that the public had entirely failedto come in--that there weren't enough applications for shares to payflotation expenses--those were your own words. Of course, I don'tpretend to understand these City matters--but it IS the case, isn't it, that if people don't subscribe for the shares of a new company, then thecompany is a failure?"

"Yes, that may be said to be the case--as a general rule, " he nodded ather, still beaming. 

"Well, then--of course--I don't understand, " she owned. 

"I don't know as you'll understand it much more when I've explained itto you, " he said, seating himself, and motioning her to the other chair. "But yes, of course you will. You're a business woman. You know whatfigures mean. And really the whole thing is as simple as A B C. Youremember that I told you----"

"But are you going to stop to supper? I must send Annie out before theshops close. "

"Supper? No--I couldn't eat anything. I'm too worked up for that. I'llget something at the hotel before I go to bed, if I feel like it. Butsay!"--the thought suddenly struck him--"if you want to come out withme, I'll blow you off to the swaggerest dinner in London. What d'yesay?"

She shook her head. "I shall have some bread and cheese and beer atnine. That's my rule, you know. I don't like to break it. I'm alwaysqueer next day if I do. But now make haste and tell me--you're reallynot broken then? You have really come out well?"

For answer he rose, and drew himself to his full height, and spread hisbulky shoulders backward. His grey-blue eyes looked down upon her with atriumphant glow. 

"Broken?" he echoed her word, with emphasis. "My dear Louisa, I'm notthe sort that gets broken. I break other people. Oh, God, how I shallbreak them!"

He began pacing up and down on the narrow rug before the fender, excitedly telling his story to her. Sometimes he threw the words overhis shoulder; again he held her absorbed gaze with his. He took hishands often from his pockets, to illustrate or enforce by gestures themeaning of his speech--and then she found it peculiarly difficult torealize that he was her brother. 

Much of the narrative, rambling and disconnected, with which he prefacedthis story of the day, was vaguely familiar to her. He sketched now forher in summary, and with the sonorous voice of one deeply impressed withthe dramatic values of his declamation, the chronicle of his wanderingsin strange lands--and these he had frequently told her about before. Soon she perceived, however, that he was stringing them together on anew thread. One after another, these experiences of his, as he relatedthem, turned upon the obstacles and fatal pitfalls which treachery andmalice had put in his path. He seemed, by his account, to have been ahundred times almost within touch of the goal. In China, in the DutchIndies, in those remoter parts of Australia which were a waterlesswaste when he knew them and might have owned them, and now wereyielding fabulous millions to fellows who had tricked and swindledhim--everywhere he had missed by just a hair's breadth the goldenconsummation. In the Western hemisphere the tale repeated itself. Therehad been times in the Argentine, in Brazil just before the Empire fell, in Colorado when the Silver boom was on, in British Columbia when thefirst rumours of rich ore were whispered about--many times when fortuneseemed veritably within his grasp. But someone had always played himfalse. There was never a friendship for him which could withstand thetemptation of profitable treason. 

But he had hung dauntlessly on. He had seen one concession slippingthrough his fingers, only to strain and tighten them for a clutch atanother. It did not surprise his hearer--nor indeed did it particularlyattract her attention--that there was nowhere in this rapid andcomprehensive narrative any allusion to industry of the wage-earningsort. Apparently, he had done no work at all, in the bread-winner'ssense of the word. This was so like Joel that it was taken for grantedin his sister's mind. All his voyages and adventures and painfulenterprises had been informed by the desire of the buccaneer--thepassion to reap where others had sown, or, at the worst, to getsomething for nothing. 

The discursive story began to narrow and concentrate itself when at lastit reached Mexico. The sister changed her position in her chair, andcrossed her knees when Tehuantepec was mentioned. It was from thatplace that Joel had sent her the amazing remittance over two years ago. Curiously enough, though, it was at this point in his narrative that henow became vague as to details. There were concessions of rubber forestsmentioned, and the barter of these for other concessions with moneyto boot, and varying phases of a chronic trouble about where the trueboundary of Guatemala ran--but she failed clearly to understand muchabout it all. His other schemes and mishaps she had followed readilyenough. Somehow when they came to Mexico, however, she saw everythingjumbled and distorted, as through a haze. Once or twice she interruptedhim to ask questions, but he seemed to attach such slight importance toher comprehending these details that she forbore. Only one fact wasit necessary to grasp about the Mexican episode, apparently. Whenhe quitted Tehuantepec, to make his way straight to London, at thebeginning of the year, he left behind him a rubber plantation which hedesired to sell, and brought with him between six and seven thousandpounds, with which to pay the expenses of selling it. How he hadobtained either the plantation or the money did not seem to have madeitself understood. No doubt, as his manner indicated when she venturedher enquiries, it was quite irrelevant to the narrative. 

In Mexico, his experience had been unique, apparently, in that novillain had appeared on the scene to frustrate his plans. He at leastmentioned no one who had wronged him there. When he came to London, however, there were villains and to spare. He moved to the mantel, whenhe arrived at this stage of the story, and made clear a space for hiselbow to rest among the little trinkets and photographs with which itwas burdened. He stood still thereafter, looking down at her; his voicetook on a harsher note. 

Much of this story, also, she knew by heart. This strange, bearded, greyish-haired brother of hers had come very often during the pasthalf-year to the little book-shop, and the widow's home above it, hismisshapen handbag full of papers, his heart full of rage, hope, grief, ambition, disgust, confidence--everything but despair. It was true, ithad never been quite real to her. He was right in his suggestion thatshe had never wholly believed in him. She had not been able to takealtogether seriously this clumsy, careworn, shabbily-dressed man whotalked about millions. It was true that he had sent her four hundredpounds for the education of her son and daughter; it was equally truethat he had brought with him to London a sum which any of his ancestors, so far as she knew about them, would have deemed a fortune, and which hetreated as merely so much oil, with which to lubricate the machinery ofhis great enterprise. She had heard, at various times, the embittereddetails of the disappearance of this money, little by little. Nearly aquarter of it, all told, had been appropriated by a sleek old braggartof a company-promoter, who had cozened Joel into the belief that Londoncould be best approached through him. When at last this wretch waskicked downstairs, the effect had been only to make room for a freshlot of bloodsuckers. There were so-called advertising agents, so-calledjournalists, so-called "men of influence in the City, "--a swarm ofrelentless and voracious harpies, who dragged from him in blackmailnearly the half of what he had left, before he summoned the courage anddecision to shut them out. 

Worse still, in some ways, were the men into whose hands he stumblednext--a group of City men concerned in the South African market, whoimpressed him very favourably at the outset. He got to know them byaccident, and at the time when he began to comprehend the necessity ofsecuring influential support for his scheme. Everything that he heardand could learn about them testified to the strength of their positionin the City. Because they displayed a certain amiability of mannertoward him and his project, he allowed himself to make sure of theirsupport. It grew to be a certainty in his mind that they would see himthrough. He spent a good deal of money in dinners and suppers in theirhonour, after they had let him understand that this form of propitiationwas not unpleasant to them. They chaffed him about some newspaperparagraphs, in which he was described as the "Rubber King, " withan affable assumption of amusement, under which he believed that hedetected a genuine respect for his abilities. 

Finally, when he had danced attendance upon them for the better partof two months, he laid before them, at the coffee-and-cigars stage of adinner in a private room of the Savoy, the details of his proposition. They were to form a Syndicate to take over his property, and place itupon the market; in consideration of their finding the ready money forthis exploitation, they were to have for themselves two-fifths of theshares in the Company ultimately to be floated. They listened to thesedetails, and to his enthusiastic remarks about the project itself, withrather perfunctory patience, but committed themselves that evening tonothing definite. It took him nearly a week thereafter to get an answerfrom any of them. Then he learned that, if they took the matter up atall, it would be upon the basis of the Syndicate receiving nine-tenthsof the shares. 

He conceived the idea, after he had mastered his original amazement, that they named these preposterous terms merely because they expectedto be beaten down, and he summoned all his good nature and tact forthe task of haggling with them. He misunderstood their first show ofimpatience at this, and persevered in the face of their tacit rebuffs. Then, one day, a couple of them treated him with overt rudeness, andhe, astonished out of his caution, replied to them in kind. Suddenly, hecould hardly tell why or how, they were all enemies of his. Theyclosed their office doors to him; even their clerks treated him withcontemptuous incivility. 

This blow to his pride enraged and humiliated him, curiously enough, asno other misadventure of his life had done. 

Louisa remembered vividly the description he had given to her, at thetime, of this affair. She had hardly understood why it should disturbhim so profoundly: to her mind, these men had done nothing so monstrousafter all. But to him, their offense swallowed up all the otherindignities suffered during the years of his Ishmaelitish wanderings. Asombre lust for vengeance upon them took root in his very soul. He hatednobody else as he hated them. How often she had heard him swear, insolemn vibrating tones, that to the day of his death his most sacredambition should be their punishment, their abasement in the dust andmire!

And now, all at once, as she looked up at him, where he leant againstthe mantel, these vagabond memories of hers took point and shape. It wasabout these very men that he was talking. 

"And think of it!" he was saying, impressively. "It's magnificent enoughfor me to make this great hit--but I don't count it as anything atall by comparison with the fact that I make it at their expense. Youremember the fellows I told you about?" he asked abruptly, deferring tothe confused look on her face. 

"Yes--you make it out of them, " she repeated, in an uncertain voice. Itoccurred to her that she must have been almost asleep. "But did I missanything? Have you been telling what it is that you have made?"

"No--that you shall have in good time. You don't seem to realize it, Louisa. I can hardly realize it myself. I am actually a very rich man. I can't tell how much I've got--in fact, it can be almost as much as Ilike--half a million pounds, I suppose, at the start, if I want to makeit that much. Yes--it takes the breath away, doesn't it? But best ofall--a thousand times best of all--practically every dollar of it comesout of those Kaffir swine--the very men that tried to rob me, andthat have been trying to ruin me ever since. I tell you what I wish, Louise--I wish to God there could only be time enough, and I'd take itall in half-sovereigns--two millions of them, or three millions--andjust untwist every coin, one by one, out from among their heart-strings. Oh--but it'll be all right as it is. It's enough to make a man feelreligious--to think how those thieves are going to suffer. "

"Well" she said, slowly after reflection, "it all rather frightens me. "

As if the chill in the air of the cheerless room had suddenlyaccentuated itself, she arose, took a match-box from the mantel, and, stooping, lit the fire. 

He looked down at the tall, black-clad figure, bent in stiff awkwardnessover the smoking grate, and his eyes softened. Then he took fresh noteof the room--the faded, threadbare carpet, the sparse old furniture thathad seemed ugly to even his uninformed boyish taste, the dingy walls andbegrimed low ceiling--all pathetic symbols of the bleak life to whichshe had been condemned. 

"Frightens you?" he queried, with a kind of jovial tenderness, as shegot to her feet; "frightens you, eh? Why, within a month's time, oldlady, you'll be riding in the Park in your own carriage, with niggersfolding their arms up behind, and you'll be taking it all as easy and asnatural as if you'd been born in a barouche. "

He added, in response to the enquiry of her lifted brows: "Barouche?That's what we'd call in England a landau. "

She stood with a foot upon the fender, her tired, passive face inclinedmeditatively, her rusty old black gown drawn back by one hand from thesnapping sparks. "No, " she said, slowly, joyless resignation minglingwith pride in her voice. "I was born here over the shop. "

"Well, good God! so was I, " he commented, lustily. "But that's no reasonwhy I shouldn't wind up in Park Lane--or you either. "

She had nothing to say to this, apparently. After a little, she seatedherself again, drawing her chair closer to the hearth. "It's years sinceI've lit this fire before the first of November, " she remarked, with theair of defending the action to herself. 

"Oh, we're celebrating, " he said, rubbing his hands over the reluctantblaze. "Everything goes, tonight!"

Her face, as she looked up at him, betrayed the bewilderment of hermind. "You set out to tell me what it was all about, " she reminded him. "You see I'm completely in the dark. I only hear you say that you'vemade a great fortune. That's all I know. Or perhaps you've told me asmuch as you care to. "

"Why, not at all, " he reassured her, pulling his own chair toward himwith his foot, and sprawling into it with a grunt of relief. "If you'lldraw me a glass of that beer of yours, I'll tell you all about it. It'snot a thing for everybody to know, not to be breathed to a human being, for that matter--but you'll enjoy it, and it'll be safe enough withyou. "

As she rose, and moved toward a door, he called merrily after her: "Nomore beer when that keg runs dry, you know. Nothing but champagne!"

CHAPTER III

THORPE took a long, thoughtful pull at the beer his sister brought him. 

"Ah, I didn't know I was so thirsty, " he said, when he put the glassdown. "Truth is--I've lost track of myself altogether since--since thebig thing happened. I seem to be somebody else--a comparative stranger, so to speak. I've got to get acquainted with myself, all over again. Youcan't imagine what an extraordinary feeling it is--this being hit everyfew minutes with the recollection that you're worth half a million. It's like being struck over the head. It knocks you down. There are suchthousands of things to do--you dance about, all of a flutter. You don'tknow where to begin. "

"Begin where you left off, " suggested Louisa. "You were going to tell mehow--how 'the big thing' happened. You're always coming to it--and nevergetting any further. "

Nodding comprehension of the rebuke's justification, he plungedforthwith into the tale. 

"You remember my telling you at the time how I got my Board together. I'm speaking now of the present Company--after I'd decided to be my ownpromoter, and have at least some kind of 'a look-in' for my money. Therewasn't much money left, by the way; it was considerably under threethousand. But I come to that later. First there was the Board. Here waswhere that Lord Plowden that I told you about--the man that came over onthe ship with me--came in. I went to him. I--God! I was desperate--but Ihadn't much of an idea he'd consent. But he did! He listened to me, andI told him how I'd been robbed, and how the Syndicate would have cut mythroat if I hadn't pulled away, --and he said, 'Why, yes, I'll go on yourBoard. ' Then I told him more about it, and presently he said he'd get meanother man of title--a sky-scraper of a title too--to be my Chairman. That's the Marquis of Chaldon, a tremendous diplomatic swell, you know, Ambassador at Vienna in his time, and Lord Lieutenant and all sorts ofthings, but willing to gather in his five hundred a year, all the same. "

"Do you mean that YOU pay HIM five hundred pounds a year?" asked thesister. 

"Yes, I've got a live Markiss who works for me at ten quid a week, and afew extras. The other Directors get three hundred. This Lord Plowdenis one of them--but I'll tell you more about him later on. Then there'sWatkin, he's a small accountant Finsbury way; and Davidson, he's awine-merchant who used to belong to a big firm in Dundee, but gets alongthe best way he can on a very dicky business here in London, now. Andthen there's General Kervick, awfully well-connected old chap, they say, but I guess he needs all he can get. He's started wearing his fur-coatalready. Well, that's my Board. I couldn't join it, of course, tillafter allotment--that's because I'm the vendor, as they call it--butthat hasn't interfered at all with my running the whole show. The Boarddoesn't really count, you know. It only does what I want it to do. It'sjust a form that costs me seventeen hundred a year, that's all. "

"Seventeen hundred a year, " she repeated, mechanically. 

"Well, then we got out the prospectus, d'ye see. Or first, there wereother things to be done. I saw that a good broker's name counted fora lot on a prospectus. I picked out one that I'd heard wasreasonable--it'd been a splendid name if I could have got it--but hecalmly said his price was two thousand pounds, all cash down--and I cameaway. Finally I got a fellow who hadn't done much of anything yet, andso wasn't so stiff about his figure. He agreed to take 500 pounds cash, and 2, 000 in shares. It was God's luck that I hit on him, for he turnedout, at the pinch, to be the one man in a million for me. But I'll tellyou about him later. He's the Broker, mind; you mustn't forget him. Well, then, he and I got a Solicitor--he took 200 pounds cash, but hehad to have 2, 000 shares--and the firm of Auditors--they were 100 poundscash and 1, 000 shares. Every company has to have these people pasted onto it, by law. Oh yes, and then you must have your Bankers. Youdon't pay them anything, though, thank God! Well, then, there wasthe machinery complete, all ready to start. I took a handsome set ofoffices, and furnished them up to the nines--but that I was able to dopretty well on credit. You see, ready money was getting short. 

"And now came the biggest pull of all. There was the press to beworked. "

He spoke as if there were no other papers in London but the financialjournals. 

"I didn't sleep much while that was being fixed up. You've got no moreidea of what the press means, Louisa, than you have of--of a coil ofsnakes thawing out hungry in the spring. Why, if one blackmailer cameto me, I swear a hundred did. They scared the life out of me, the firstmonth or so. And then there's a swarm of advertising agents, who saythey can keep these blackmailers off, if you'll make it worth theirwhile. But they all wanted too much money for me--and for a while I wasat my wits' ends. At last I got a fellow--he's not behaved so badly, allthings considered--who had some sporting blood in his veins, and he waswilling to do the whole thing for 5, 000 pounds, if I could pay 1, 500pounds down, and the rest in shares. But that was just what I couldn'tdo, you see, so finally he took 1, 000 pounds down and 5, 000 inshares--and as I say he's done it tolerably well. There was one editorthat I had to square personally--that is to say, 100 pounds cash--ithad to be in sovereigns, for notes could be traced--and a call of 2, 000shares at par, --he's the boss pirate that everybody has to square--andof course there were odd ten-pound notes here and there, but as a ruleI just opened the door and fired the black-mailers out. The moment afellow came in, and handed me his card, and said he had proofs of twokinds of articles in his pocket, one praising me, one damning me, I toldhim to go and see my advertising agent, and if he wouldn't do that, thento go to hell. That's the way you've got to talk in the City, " he added, as if in apologetic explanation. 

Louisa looked impassively at her brother. "Oh, I've heard the expressionas far west as the Strand, " she remarked. 

"Well, then came the issue. That was last Saturday. You saw theprospectus in Saturday morning's papers, and in the weeklies. Thelist was to be kept open, it said, till Wednesday morning--that wasyesterday. That is to say, during all that time, people could apply forshares. "

"Which they didn't do--according to your account, " the sister suggested, dryly. 

Thorpe passed his fingers through his roughened hair, and eyed her witha momentary quizzical gleam in his eye. Then he became serious again. The recollection of what he was now to narrate brought a frown to hisbrows. 

"On Tuesday afternoon, " he began, with portentous deliberation--"Or no, first I must explain something. You see, in bringing out a company, youcan't put up too stout a bluff. I mean, you've got to behave as ifyou were rolling in wealth--as if everything was coming your way, andfortunes were to be made by fastening to you. I don't know that it oftenfools anybody very much, but it's part of the game, and you must playit. Well, accordingly, my Broker goes on 'change Saturday morning, andhas his jobber shout out that he'll buy 'Rubber Consols'--that's whatour shares are called on the street--at an eighth premium; that is tosay, he offered to buy for twenty-two-and-six what we were offering tothe public for twenty shillings. Of course, you see, the object of thatwas to create the impression that there was a regular God-almightyrush for our shares. As I say, I don't know whether that ever fooledanybody--but at least there was the chance that it might start up somedealing in the shares--and all those things help. Besides, you got thesales noticed in the papers, and that might start up applications fromthe public. Well, the Broker bought 1, 000 shares this way on Saturday. On Monday, when it might still be possible to change the luck, he bought3, 500 more, still at that premium of an eighth. He bought some Tuesdaymorning too--say 4, 000. Well, now, keep those figures in your head, andkeep an eye on the Broker. He's worth watching--as you'll see. "

"What's his name?" asked the sister, with an accession of alertness inher face. "You call him 'Broker'--and that doesn't mean anything to me. They're all brokers, aren't they?"

"Semple--Colin Semple, that's his name. He's a young Scotchman--father'sa Presbyterian minister. He's a little, insignificant runt of a chap tolook at--but I learned a long time ago not to judge a singed cat by hislooks. However--where was I?"

"You were going to tell about Tuesday afternoon, weren't you?"

He nodded gravely, and straightened himself, drawing a long breath inpreparation for the dramatic recital before him. "On Tuesday afternoon, "he began again, with impressive slowness, "I was walking on ThrogmortonStreet, about four o'clock. It was raining a little--it had been rainingon and off all day--a miserable, rotten sort of a day, with greasy mudeverywhere, and everybody poking umbrellas into you. I was out walkingbecause I'd 'a' cut my throat if I'd tried to stay in the office anotherten minutes. All that day I hadn't eaten anything. I hadn't slept worthspeaking of for three nights. The whole game was up for me. I was worsethan ruined. I had half a crown in my pocket. I had ten or twelve poundsin the bank--and they wouldn't let me overdraw a farthing. I tell you, Iwas just plumb busted. 

"There came along in the gutter a sandwich-man. I'd seen the cuss beforeduring the day, walking up and down near my offices. I took noticeof him, because he was the raggedest, dirtiest, most forlorn-lookingcripple you ever saw in your life. Now I read what was on his boards. Itwas the bill of a paper that I had refused to be bled by, and thereit was in big letters: 'The Rubber Bubble Burst!' 'Thorpe's AudacityPunished!' Those were the words. I can see them with my eyes shut. Istood there, looking at the fellow, and I suppose there was something inthe way I looked, for he stopped too. Of course, he didn't know me fromAdam, but all the same, I'm damned if he didn't wink his eye at me--asif we two had a joke between us. And at that I burst out laughing--Isimply roared with laughter, like a boy at a pantomime--and I took thatlast half-crown out of my pocket, and I gave it to the sandwich-man. God! you should have seen his face. "

"I don't particularly mind, Joel, " said his sister, "but I never heardyou swear so much before. "

"Oh, what the--what the deuce!" he protested, impatiently. "Don'tinterrupt me now! Well, I went on down the street. The members of theStock Exchange were coming out of 'the house, ' and making up littlegroups on the pavement. They do business inside, you know, until closingtime--this day it happened to be four o'clock--and then they come outand deal in the street with one another, with the kerb-stone mob, whoare not allowed inside, standing round to watch the thing. I came alonginto the thick of these fellows; they were yelling out all sorts ofthings--'East Rands, ' 'Oroyas, ' 'Lake View Centrals, ' and what not, butthese went in one ear and out the other. If there ever was a man with nostomach for the market it was me. But then someone roared out:

"'At seven-eighths, sell Rubber Consols! Sell five hundred Rubber atseven-eighths! Sell five hundred at three-quarters! At three-quartersyou have 'em! Rubber Consols! Sell a thou. At three-quarters!'

"This thing went into my brain like a live coal. I stopped and lookedup at the fellow--and by God, it was one of the men I've beentalking about--one of those Kaffir scoundrels. I wish I was better atremembering names--but I knew his face. There were some of the othersaround him, and they laughed at me, and he laughed at me. Oh, they hada heap of fun out of me--for a minute or two. Pretty good fun, too! Iguess they'll remember it quite a while. "

"Go on!" Louisa adjured him. The obvious proximity of the dramaticclimax drew her forward in her chair, and brought a glow of expectationto her eyes. 

"I got myself away from that crowd somehow--I think I was afraid if Istayed I'd strangle the one who was shouting on the steps--and I wenttoward my office. But when I got to the door, I didn't have the courageto go in. I'd furnished it better, I suppose, than any other officein Austin Friars, and I had a kind of feeling that the sight of thosecarpets, and oak-tables and desks, and brass-railings and so on wouldmake me sick. I owed for 'em all, bear in mind----"

"But--Joel, " the sister interposed. "One thing I don't understand. Howmany people had applied for shares? You haven't mentioned that. "

A fleeting smile lighted up the saturnine gloom of his present mood. "Itwas hardly worth mentioning, " he answered, with bitter mirth. "Betweenfive and six thousand shares were subscribed, all told. I think thewithdrawals by telegraph brought it down to practically five thousand. We offered a hundred thousand, you know. --But let me go on with mystory. I stood there, in front of our street-door, in a kind of trance. The words of that Jew--'Sell Rubber Consols at three-quarters!'--buzzedinside my head as if they would burst it open. I turned--and I happenedto see my Broker--the Scotchman, Semple, you know--coming along towardme. Right at that minute, like a flash, something dawned on me. In lessthan a second, I saw the whole damned rotten outfit turned upside down, with me on top. I made a jump, and ran to meet Semple. 

"'How many shares of ours have you bought?' I asked him, with a griptight on his arm. 

"The little chap was looking mighty sick. He figured up in his mind. 'I'm afraid it's eight thousand five hundred, all told, ' he said, in asort of Presbyterian whimper. 

"'Well--how would these gentlemen go about it to deliver theirgoods--that is, supposing we got a settlement?'

"I asked him this, and kept my eye on his face. He looked puzzled for aminute. Then he put out his lip. Then he shot me a glance as sharp as arazor, and we looked into one another's eyes. 

"'They were shouting them out to me at three-quarters, a minute ago, ' Itold him. 

"He was onto the game like lightning. 'Wait for me in the office, ' hewhispered. 'We'll go nap on this!'

"With that he was off like a streak. He stopped running just before hegot to the corner, though, and began walking slowly, sauntering along, you know, as if his mind was on nothing but second-hand books. I watchedhim out of sight--and then I went back, and up to the offices. Thefurniture didn't scare me a bit this time. Why, I stopped and feltof the brass-railing just outside the Board Room, and I said tomyself--'Pshaw! We could have you of solid gold, if we wanted to. '"

He paused here, and regarded his sister with what she felt was intendedto be a significant look. She shrank from the confession that itsmeaning was Greek to her. "Well--and what next?" she asked, guardedly. 

"Semple came back in twenty minutes or so--and the next morning he wasat it again--and what with him and his jobber, by George, on the quiet, they picked up nearly eighteen thousand of our shares. Some they paidfifteen shillings for, some they got at twelve-and-six and even ten. That doesn't matter; it's of no more importance than the coppers yougive to crossing-sweepers. The thing was to get the shares--and by Godwe've got them! Twenty-six thousand two hundred shares, that's whatwe've got. Now, do you see what that means?"

"Why yes, " she answered, with a faint-hearted assumption of confidence. "Of course, you know the property is so good that you'll make a profiton the shares you've bought far below their value. But I don't think Iquite see----"

He interrupted her with an outburst of loud laughter. "Don't think youquite see?" he gurgled at her, with tears of pleasure in his eye. "Why, you dummy, you haven't got the faintest glimmer of a notion of what it'sall about. The value of the property's got nothing in the world todo with it. That's neither here nor there. If there wasn't any suchproperty in existence, it would be just the same. "

He had compassion upon her blank countenance, at this, and explainedmore gently: "Why, don't you see, Lou, it's this way. This is what hashappened. We've got what's called a corner on the bears. They're caughtshort, and we can squeeze them to our hearts' content. What--you don'tunderstand now? Why, see here! These fellows who've sold twenty-sixthousand of our shares--they haven't got them to sell, and theycan't get them. That is the point--they can't get them for love normoney--they must pay me my own price for them, or be ruined men. Themoment they realize the situation, they will begin offering a premiumfor Rubber Consols. The price of a one-pound share will be two pounds, then four--six--ten--twenty--thirty--whatever I want to drive it to. "

Louisa stared up at him with wide open eyes. It seemed to her that sheunderstood now. It was very exciting. 

"You see, " he went on, taking approving note of the new light ofcomprehension in her glance, "we did something that Tuesday afternoonbeside buy up these shares. Semple rushed off to his office, and he andhis clerks got up a lot of dummy applications for shares, made out inall the different names they could be safe in using, and they put theseinto the bank with the application money--Semple found that--and nextday he went and saw the advertising agent and the solicitor and theauditors--and got them to pool the shares that I've promised to givethem. A pool? That means they agree to transfer their shares to meas trustee, and let me deal with them as I like--of course to theiradvantage. In any case, their shares are vendor's shares, and couldn'tbe dealt with in this transaction. So you see the thing is hermeticallysealed. Nobody can get a share except from me, and at my price. Butthese fellows that have sold them--they've got to have them, don't yousee. They had their little temporary joke with me on the street thatafternoon--and now they must walk up to the captain's office and settle. They've got to pay me at least half a million pounds for that fewminutes' fun of theirs. I may make it a good deal more; I don't knowyet. "

"Oh, Joel!" she groaned at him, in awed stupefaction. His ratherlanguid indecision as to whether half a million was going to be enough, impressed her more powerfully than had any detail of his narrative. 

In a few comprehensive sentences he finished up for her what there wasto tell. "This afternoon my Board met to allot the shares. They saw theapplications, amounting in all to over ninety thousand shares. It tooktheir breath away--they had heard that things were going quite theother way with us. They were so tickled that they asked no questions Theallotment went through like a greased pig. About 5, 000 shares went tothose who had actually applied for them, and 88, 000 were solemnly givento the dummy applicants. Of course, there wasn't a whisper about thesedummies. Nobody winked so much as an eyelash. But I've found since thatone of the directors--that Lord Plowden I told you about--was ontothe thing all the while. But he's all right. Everybody's all right. Ofcourse the dummies' shares still stand in their names--on paper--but inreality I've got them all in my safe--in my pocket you might say. Theyare really mine, you understand. So now there's nothing for us to dobut to apply to the Stock Exchange for a special settlement date, andmeanwhile lie quiet and watch the Jews stew in their own juice. Or fryin their own fat, eh? That's better. "

"But, " she commented slowly, "you say there are no shares to bebought--and yet as I understand it, there are those five thousand thatwere sent out to the people who really applied. "

"Bravo, Lou!" he answered her jovially. "You actually do understand thething. You've put your finger straight on the point. It is true thatthose shares are out against us--or might be turned against us if theycould be bought up. But in reality, they don't count at all. In thefirst place, you see, they're scattered about among small holders, country clergymen and old maids on an annuity and so on--all over thecountry. Even if these people were all traced, and hunted up, supposeit was worth the trouble and expense, they wouldn't sell. The bigger theprice they were offered, the more mulish they would be about holding. That's always the way with them. But even if they did all sell, theirfive thousand would be a mere drop in the bucket. There would be overtwenty thousand others to be accounted for. That would be quite enoughfor my purposes. Oh, I figured all that out very carefully. My own firstnotion was to have the dummies apply for the whole hundred thousand, andeven a little over. Then, you see, we might have allotted everythingto the dummies, and sent back the money and applications of the genuineones. But that would have been rather hard to manage with the Board. TheMarkiss would have said that the returns ought to be made pro rata--thatis, giving everybody a part of what they applied for--and that wouldhave mixed everything up. And then, too, if anybody suspectedanything, why the Stock Exchange Committee would refuse us a specialsettlement--and, of course, without that the whole transaction ismoonshine. It was far too risky, and we didn't send back a penny. "

"It's all pretty risky, I should think, " she declared as she rose. "Ishould think you'd lie awake more than ever now--now that you've builtyour hopes so high and it'd be so awful to have them come to nothing. "

He smilingly shook his head. "No, it can no more fail than that gascan fail to burn when you put a light to it. It's all absolute. Myhalf-million is as right as if it were lying to my credit in the Bank ofEngland. Oh, that reminds me, " he went on in a slightly alteredtone--"it's damned comical, but I've got to ask you for a little money. I've only got about seven pounds at my bank, and just at the minute itwould give me away fearfully to let Semple know I was hard up. Of coursehe'd let me have anything I wanted--but, you can see--I don't like toask him just at the moment. "

She hesitated visibly, and scanned his face with a wistful gaze. "You'requite sure, Joel?"--she began--"and you haven't told me--how long willit be before you come into some of this money?"

"Well, "--he in turn paused over his words--"well, I suppose that by nextweek things will be in such shape that my bank will see I'm good for anoverdraft. Oh heavens, yes! there'll be a hundred ways of touching someready. But if you've got twenty or thirty pounds handy just now--I tellyou what I'll do, Lou. I'll give you a three months bill, paying onehundred pounds for every sovereign you let me have now. Come, old lady:you don't get such interest every day, I'll bet. "

"I don't want any interest from you, Joel, " she replied, simply. "Ifyou're sure I can have it back before Christmas, I think I can managethirty pounds. It will do in the morning, I suppose?"

He nodded an amused affirmative. "Why--you don't imagine, do you, "he said, "that all this gold is to rain down, and none of it hit you?Interest? Why of course you'll get interest--and capital thrown in. Whatdid you suppose?"

"I don't ask anything for myself, " she made answer, with a note ofresolution in her voice. "Of course if you like to do things for thechildren, it won't be me who'll stand in their light. They've beenspoiled for my kind of life as it is. "

"I'll do things for everybody, " he affirmed roundly. "Let's see--how oldis Alfred?"

"He'll be twenty in May--and Julia is fourteen months older than he is. "

"Gad!" was Thorpe's meditative comment. "How they shoot up! Why I wasthinking she was a little girl. " "She never will be tall, I'm afraid, "said the literal mother. "She favours her father's family. But Alfred ismore of a Thorpe. I'm sorry you missed seeing them last summer--but ofcourse they didn't stop long with me. This was no place for them--andthey had a good many invitations to visit schoolfellows and friends inthe country. Alfred reminds me very much of what you were at his age:he's got the same good opinion of himself, too--and he's not a bitfonder of hard work. "

"There's one mighty big difference between us, though, " remarked Thorpe. "He won't start with his nose held down to the grindstone by an oldfather hard as nails. He'll start like a gentleman--the nephew of a richman. "

"I'm almost afraid to have such notions put in his head, " she replied, with visible apprehension. "You mustn't encourage him to build too highhopes, Joel. It's speculation, you know--and anything might happen toyou. And then--you may marry, and have sons of your own. "

He lifted his brows swiftly--as if the thought were new to his mind. Aslow smile stole into the little wrinkles about his eyes. He opened hislips as if to speak, and then closed them again. 

"Well, " he said at last, abruptly straightening himself, and casting aneye about for his coat and hat. "I'll be round in the morning--on my wayto the City. Good-bye till then. "

CHAPTER IV

IN Charing Cross station, the next afternoon, Mr. Thorpe discovered bythe big clock overhead that he had arrived fully ten minutes too soon. This deviation from his deeply-rooted habit of catching trains at thelast possible moment did not take him by surprise. He smiled dryly, audnodded to the illuminated dial, as if they shared the secret of somequaint novelty. This getting to the station ahead of time was of apiece with what had been happening all day--merely one more token of thegeneral upheaval in the routine of his life. 

From early morning he had been acutely conscious of the feeling thathis old manners and usages and methods of thought--the thousand familiarthings that made up the Thorpe he had been--were becoming strange tohim. They fitted him no longer; they began to fall away from him. Now, as he stood here on the bustling platform, it was as if they had alldisappeared--been left somewhere behind him outside the station. Withthe two large bags which the porter was looking after--both of a quitedisconcerting freshness of aspect--and the new overcoat and shininghat, he seemed to himself a new kind of being, embarked upon a voyage ofdiscovery in the unknown. 

Even his face was new. A sudden and irresistible impulse had led him tothe barber-shop in his hotel at the outset; he could not wait till afterbreakfast to have his beard removed. The result, when he beheld it inthe mirror, had not been altogether reassuring. The over-long, thin, tawny moustasche which survived the razor assumed an undue prominence;the jaw and chin, revealed now for the first time in perhaps a dozenyears, seemed of a sickly colour, and, in some inexplicable way, misshapen. Many times during the day, at his office, at the restaurantwhere he lunched, at various outfitters' shops which he had visited, hehad pursued the task of getting reconciled to this novel visage in thelooking-glass. The little mirrors in the hansom cabs had helped him mostin this endeavour. Each returned to him an image so different from allthe others--some cadaverous, some bloated, but each with a spontaneousdistortion of its own--that it had become possible for him to strike anaverage tolerable to himself, and to believe in it. 

His sister had recognized him upon the instant, when he entered the oldbook-shop to get the money promised overnight, but in the City hisown clerks had not known him at first. There was in this an inspiringimplication that he had not so much changed his appearance as revivedhis youth. The consciousness that he was in reality still a young manspread over his mind afresh, and this time he felt that it was effacingall earlier impressions. Why, when he thought of it, the delight hehad had during the day in buying new shirts and handkerchiefs andembroidered braces, in looking over the various stocks of razors, toilet articles, studs and sleeve-links, and the like, and telling thegratified tradesmen to give him the best of everything--this delight hadbeen distinctively boyish. He doubted, indeed, if any mere youth couldhave risen to the heights of tender satisfaction from which he reflectedupon the contents of his portmanteaus. To apprehend their full value onemust have been without them for such a weary time! He had this wonderfuladvantage--that he supplemented the fresh-hearted joy of the youth innice things, with the adult man's knowledge of how bald existence couldbe without them. It was worth having lived all those forty obscure andmostly unpleasant years, for this one privilege now of being able toappreciate to the uttermost the touch of double-silk underwear. 

It was an undoubted pity that there had not been time to go to a goodtailor. The suit he had on was right enough for ordinary purposes, andhis evening-clothes were as good as new, but the thought of a costumefor shooting harassed his mind. He had brought along with him, forthis eventful visit, an old Mexican outfit of yellowish-grey cloth andleather, much the worse for rough wear, but saved from the disreputableby its suggestion of picturesque experiences in a strange and romanticcountry. At least it had seemed to him, in the morning, when he hadpacked it, to be secure in this salvation. Uneasy doubts on the subjecthad soon risen, however, and they had increased in volume and poignancyas his conceptions of a wardrobe expanded in the course of the day'sinvestigations and purchases. He had reached the point now of hopingthat it would rain bitterly on the morrow. 

It was doubly important to keep a close look-out for Lord Plowden, sincehe did not know the name of the station they were to book for, and timewas getting short. He dwelt with some annoyance upon his oversight inthis matter, as his watchful glance ranged from one entrance to another. He would have liked to buy the tickets himself, and have everything inreadiness on the arrival of his host. As it was, he could not even tellthe porter how his luggage was to be labelled, and there was nowless than two minutes! He moved forward briskly, with the thought ofintercepting his friend at the front of the station; then halted, andwent back, upon the recollection that while he was going out one way, Plowden might come in by the other. The seconds, as they passed now, became severally painful to his nerves. The ringing of a bell somewherebeyond the barrier provoked within him an impulse to tearful profanity. 

Then suddenly everything was all right. A smooth-faced, civilly-spokenyoung man came up, touched his hat, and asked: "Will you kindly show mewhich is your luggage, sir?"

Thorpe, even while wondering what business of his it was, indicated theglaringly new bags--and then only half repressed a cry of pleasure atdiscovering that Lord Plowden stood beside him. 

"It's all right; my man will look out for your things, " said the latter, as they shook hands. "We will go and get our places. "

The fat policeman at the gate touched his helmet. A lean, elderly manin a sort of guard's uniform hobbled obsequiously before them down theplatform, opened to them a first-class compartment with a low bow and adeprecatory wave of the hand, and then impressively locked the door uponthem. "The engine will be the other way, my Lord, after you leave CannonStreet, " he remarked through the open window, with earnest deference. "Are there any of your bags that you want in the compartment with you?"

Plowden had nodded to the first remark. He shook his head at the second. The elderly man at this, with still another bow, flapped out a greenflag which he had been holding furled behind his back, and extended itat arm's length. The train began slowly to move. Mr. Thorpe reflected tohimself that the peerage was by no means so played-out an institution assome people imagined. 

"Ho-ho!" the younger man sighed a yawn, as he tossed his hat into therack above his head. "We shall both be the better for some pure air. London quite does me up. And you--you've been sticking at it monthson end, haven't you? You look rather fagged--or at all events you didyesterday. You've smartened yourself so--without your beard--that Ican't say I'd notice it to-day. But I take it every sensible person isglad to get away from London. "

"Except for an odd Sunday, now and then, I haven't put my nose outsideLondon since I landed here. " Thorpe rose as he spoke, to deposit his hatalso in the rack. He noted with a kind of chagrin that his companion'swas an ordinary low black bowler. "I can tell you, I SHALL be glad ofthe change. I would have bought the tickets, " he went on, giving wordsat random to the thought which he found fixed on the surface of hismind, "if I'd only known what our station was. "

Plowden waved his hand, and the gesture seemed to dismiss the subject. He took a cigar case from his pocket, and offered it to Thorpe. 

"It was lucky, my not missing the train altogether, " he said, as theylighted their cigars. "I was up late last night--turned out late thismorning, been late all day, somehow--couldn't catch up with the clockfor the life of me. Your statement to me last night--you know it ratherupset me. "

The other smiled. "Well, I guess I know something about that feelingmyself. Why, I've been buzzing about today like a hen with her head cutoff. But it's fun, though, aint it, eh? Just to happen to remember everyonce in a while, you know, that it's all true! But of course it means athousand times more to me than it does to you. "

The train had come to a stop inside the gloomy, domed cavern of CannonStreet. Many men in silk hats crowded to and fro on the platform, and anumber of them shook the handle of the locked door. There was an effectof curses in the sound of their remarks which came through the closedwindow. Mr. Thorpe could not quite restrain the impulse to grin at them. 

"Ah, that's where you mistake, " said Plowden, contemplating the mouthfulof smoke he slowly blew forth. "My dear man, you can't imagine anybodyto whom it would mean more than it does to me--I hope none of thosefellows have a key. They're an awful bore on this train. I almostnever go by it, for that reason. Ah, thank God we're off!--But as I wassaying, this thing makes a greater difference to me than you can thinkof. I couldn't sleep last night--I give you my word--the thing upset meso. I take it you--you have never had much money before; that is, youknow from experience what poverty is?"

Thorpe nodded with eloquent gravity. 

"Well--but you"--the other began, and then paused. "What I mean is, "he resumed, "you were never, at any rate, responsible to anybody butyourself. If you had only a sovereign a day, or a sovereign a week, forthat matter, you could accommodate yourself to the requirements ofthe situation. I don't mean that you would enjoy it any more than Ishould--but at least it was open to you to do it, without attractingmuch attention. But with me placed in my ridiculous position--povertyhas been the most unbearable torture one can imagine. You see, there isno way in which I can earn a penny. I had to leave the Army when I wastwenty-three--the other fellows all had plenty of money to spend, and itwas impossible for me to drag along with a title and an empty pocket. Idaresay that I ought to have stuck to it, because it isn't nearly so badnow, but twelve years ago it was too cruel for any youngster who had anypride about him--and, of course, my father having made rather a name inthe Army, that made it so much harder for me. And after that, what wasthere? Of course, the bar and medicine and engineering and those thingswere out of the question, in those days at least. The Church?--that wasmore so still. I had a try at politics--but you need money there asmuch as anywhere else--money or big family connections. I voted inpractically every division for four years, and I made the rottenestspeeches you ever heard of at Primrose League meetings in small places, and after all that the best thing the whips could offer me was a billetin India at four hundred a year, and even that you took in depreciatedrupees. When I tried to talk about something at home, they practicallylaughed in my face. I had no leverage upon them whatever. They didn'tcare in the least whether I came up and voted or stopped at home. Theirmajority was ten to one just the same--yes, twenty to one. So that doorwas shut in my face. I've never been inside the House since--except onceto show it to an American lady last summer--but when I do go again Irather fancy"--he stopped for an instant, and nodded his handsome headsignificantly--"I rather fancy I shall turn up on the other side. "

"I'm a Liberal myself, in English politics, " interposed Thorpe. 

Plowden seemed not to perceive the connection. They had left LondonBridge behind, and he put his feet up on the cushions, and leant backcomfortably. "Of course there was the City, " he went on, speakingdiagonally across to his companion, between leisurely intervals ofabsorption in his cigar. "There have been some directors' fees, nodoubt, and once or twice I've come very near to what promised to be abig thing--but I never quite pulled it off. Really, without capital whatcan one do?--I'm curious to know--did you bring much ready money withyou to England?"

"Between six and seven thousand pounds. "

"And if it's a fair question--how much of it have you got left?"

Thorpe had some momentary doubts as to whether this was a fair question, but he smothered them under the smile with which he felt impelled toanswer the twinkle in Plowden's eyes. "Oh, less than a hundred, " hesaid, and laughed aloud. 

Plowden also laughed. "By George, that's fine!" he cried. "It'ssplendid. There's drama in it. I felt it was like that, you know. Something told me it was your last cartridge that rang the bell. It wasthat that made me come to you as I did--and tell you that you werea great man, and that I wanted to enlist under you. Ah, that kind ofcourage is so rare! When a man has it, he can stand the world onits head. " "But I was plumb scared, all the while, myself, " Thorpeprotested, genially. "Courage? I could feel it running out of my boots. "

"Ah, yes, but that's the great thing, " insisted the other. "You didn'tlook as if you were frightened. From all one could see, your nerve wassublime. And nothing else matters--it was sublime. "

"Curious--that thing happened to me once before, " commented Thorpe, withruminating slowness. "It was out on the plains, years ago, and I wasin pretty hard luck, and was making my way alone from Tucson north, andsome cowboys held me up, and were going to make kindling wood of me, they being under the impression that I was a horse-thief they werelooking after. There was five or six minutes there when my lifewasn't worth a last year's bird's-nest--and I tell you, sir, I was thescaredest man that ever drew the breath of life. And then somethinghappened to be said that put the matter right--they saw I was the wrongman--and then--why then they couldn't be polite enough to me. They halfemptied their flasks down my throat, and they rode with me all the wayto the next town, and there they wanted to buy everything liquid in theplace for me. But what I was speaking of--do you know, those fellows gota tremendous notion of my nerve. It wasn't so much that they told meso, but they told others about it. They really thought I was game to thecore--when in reality, as I tell you, I was in the deadliest funk youever heard of. "

"That's just it, " said Plowden, "the part of you which was engaged inmaking mental notes of the occasion thought you were frightened; we willsay that it was itself frightened. But the other part of you, the partthat was transacting business, so to speak--that wasn't in the leastalarmed. I fancy all born commanders are built like that. Did you eversee General Grant?"

Thorpe shook his head. 

"What reminded me of him--there is an account in his Memoirs of how hefelt when he first was given a command, at the beginning of the CivilWar. He was looking about for the enemy, who was known to be in thevicinity, and the nearer he got to where this enemy probably was, themore he got timid and unnerved, he says, until it seemed as if cowardicewere getting complete mastery of him. And then suddenly it occurred tohim that very likely the enemy was just as afraid of him as he was ofthe enemy, and that moment his bravery all returned to him. He went inand gave the other man a terrible thrashing. It doesn't apply to yourcase, particularly--but I fancy that all really brave men have thoseinner convictions of weakness, even while they are behaving likelions. Those must have been extraordinarily interesting experiences ofyours--on the plains. I wish I could have seen something of that partof America when I was there last year. Unfortunately, it didn't come myway. "

"I thought I remembered your saying you'd been West. "

Plowden smiled. "I'm afraid I did think it was West at the time. Butsince my return I've been warned that I mustn't call Chicago West. Thatwas as far as I went. I had some business there, or thought I had. Whenmy father died, that was in 1884, we found among his papers a lot ofbonds of some corporation purporting to be chartered by the State ofIllinois. Our solicitors wrote several letters, but they could find outnothing about them, and there the matter rested. Finally, last year, when I decided to make the trip, I recollected these old bonds, andtook them with me. I thought they might at least pay my expenses. Butit wasn't the least good. Nobody knew anything about them. It seems theyrelated to something that was burned up in the Great Fire--either that, or had disappeared before that time. That fire seems to have operatedlike the Deluge--it cancelled everything that had happened previously. My unhappy father had a genius for that kind of investment. I shallhave great pleasure in showing you tomorrow, a very picturesque andcomprehensive collection of Confederate Bonds. Their face value is, as Iremember it, eighty thousand dollars--that is, sixteen thousand pounds. I would entertain with joy an offer of sixteen shillings for the lot. My dear father bought them--I should not be surprised to learn that hebought them at a premium. If they ever touched a premium for a day, thatis certainly the day that he would have hit upon to buy. Oh, it was toorare! Too inspired! He left nearly a hundred thousand pounds' worth ofpaper--that is, on its face--upon which the solicitors realized, Ithink it was thirteen hundred pounds. It's hard to imagine how he gotthem--but there were actually bonds among them issued by Kossuth'sHungarian Republic in 1848. Well--now you can see the kind ofinheritance I came into, and I have a brother and sister more or less tolook after, too. "

Thorpe had been listening to these details with an almost exaggeratedexpression of sympathy upon his face. The voice in which he spoke nowbetrayed, however, a certain note of incredulity. 

"Yes, I see that well enough, " he remarked. "But what I don't perhapsquite understand--well, this is it. You have this place of yours in thecountry, and preserve game and so on--but of course I see what you mean. It's what you've been saying. What another man would think a comfortableliving, is poverty to a man in your position. "

"Oh, the place, " said Plowden. "It isn't mine at all. I could never havekept it up. It belongs to my mother. It was her father's place; it hasbeen in their family for hundreds of years. Her father, I daresay youknow, was the last Earl of Hever. The title died with him. He left threedaughters, who inherited his estates, and my mother, being the eldest, got the Kentish properties. Of course Hadlow House will come to meeventually, but it is hers during her lifetime. I may speak of it asmy place, but that is merely a facon de parler; it isn't necessary toexplain to everybody that it's my mother's. It's my home, and that'senough. It's a dear old place. I can't tell you how glad I am thatyou're going to see it. "

"I'm very glad, too, " said the other, with unaffected sincerity. 

"All the ambitions I have in the world, " the nobleman went on, sittingupright now, and speaking with a confidential seriousness, "centre roundHadlow. That is the part of me that I'm keen about. The Plowdens arethings of yesterday. My grandfather, the Chancellor, began in a verysmall way, and was never anything more than a clever lawyer, with a loudvoice and a hard heart, and a talent for money-making and politics. He got a peerage and he left a fortune. My father, for all he was asoldier, had a mild voice and a soft heart. He gave a certain militarydistinction to the peerage, but he played hell-and-tommy with thefortune. And then I come: I can't be either a Chancellor or a General, and I haven't a penny to bless myself with. You can't think of a moreidiotic box for a man to be in. But now--thanks to you--there comesthis prospect of an immense change. If I have money at my back--at onceeverything is different with me. People will remember then promptlyenough that I am a Hadlow, as well as a Plowden. I will make the partywhips remember it, too. It won't be a Secretary's billet in India atfour hundred a year that they'll offer me, but a Governorship at sixthousand--that is, if I wish to leave England at all. And we'll seewhich set of whips are to have the honour of offering me anything. Butall that is in the air. It's enough, for the moment, to realize thatthings have really come my way. And about that--about the success of theaffair--I suppose there can be no question whatever?"

"Not the slightest, " Thorpe assured him. "Rubber Consols can go up toany figure we choose to name. "

Lord Plowden proffered the cigar case again, and once more helpedhimself after he had given his companion a light. Then he threw himselfback against the cushions, with a long sigh of content. "I'm not goingto say another word about myself, " he announced, pleasantly. "I've hadmore than my legitimate innings. You mustn't think that I forget for amoment the reverse of the medal. You're doing wonderful things for me. Ionly wish it were clearer to me what the wonderful things are that I cando for you. "

"Oh, that'll be all right, " said the other, rather vaguely. 

"Perhaps it's a little early for you to have mapped out in your mindjust what you want to do, " Plowden reflected aloud. "Of course it hascome suddenly upon you--just as it has upon me. There are things inplenty that we've dreamed of doing, while the power to do them was along way off. It doesn't at all follow that these are the things weshall proceed to do, when the power is actually in our hands. But haveyou any plans at all? Do you fancy going into Parliament, for example?"

"Yes, " answered Thorpe, meditatively. "I think I should like to go intoParliament. But that would be some way ahead. I guess I've got my plansworked out a trifle more than you think. They may not be very definite, as regards details, but their main direction I know well enough. I'mgoing to be an English country gentleman. "

Lord Plowden visibly winced a little at this announcement. He seemedannoyed at the consciousness that he had done so, turning abruptly firstto stare out of the window, then shifting his position on the seat, andat last stealing an uneasy glance toward his companion. Apparently histongue was at a loss for an appropriate comment. 

Thorpe had lost none of these unwilling tokens of embarrassment. Plowdensaw that at once, but it relieved even more than it surprised him to seealso that Thorpe appeared not to mind. The older man, indeed, smiled ingood-natured if somewhat ironical comprehension of the dumb-show. 

"Oh, that'll be all right, too, " he said, with the evident intentionof reassurance. "I can do it right enough, so far as the big things areconcerned. It'll be in the little things that I'll want some steering. "

"I've already told you--you may command me to the utmost of my power, "the other declared. Upon reflection, he was disposed to be ashamedof himself. His nerves and facial muscles had been guilty of anunpardonable lapse into snobbishness--and toward a man, too, whohad been capable of behaviour more distinguished in its courtesy andgenerosity than any he had encountered in all the "upper circles" puttogether. He recalled all at once, moreover, that Thorpe's "h's" wereperfect--aud, for some occult reason, this completed his confusion. 

"My dear fellow"--he began again, confronting with verbal awkwardnessthe other's quizzical smile--"don't think I doubt anything about you. Iknow well enough that you can do anything--be anything--you like. "

Thorpe laughed softly. 

"I don't think you know, though, that I'm a public-school man, " he said. 

Plowden lifted his brows in unfeigned surprise. "No--I didn't knowthat, " he admitted, frankly. 

"Yes, I'm a Paul's Pigeon, " Thorpe went on, "as they called them inmy day. That's gone out now, I'm told, since they've moved to the bigbuildings in Hammersmith. I did very well at school, too; came out inthe first fourteen. But my father wouldn't carry the thing any further. He insisted on my going into the shop when I left St. Paul's andlearning the book-business. He had precisely the same kind of dynasticidea, you know, that you fellows have. His father and his grand-fatherhad been booksellers, and he was going to hand on the tradition to me, and my son after me. That was his idea. And he thought that Paul's wouldhelp this--but that Oxford would kill it. 

"Of course, he was right there--but he was wrong in supposing there wasa bookseller in me. I liked the books well enough, mind you--but damnthe people that came to buy them, I couldn't stand it. You stood twohours watching to see that men didn't put volumes in their pockets, andat the end of that time you'd made a profit of ninepence. While youwere doing up the parcel, some fellow walked off with a book wortheighteen-pence. It was too slow for me. I didn't hit it off with the oldman, either. We didn't precisely quarrel, but I went off on my own hook. I hung about London for some years, trying this thing and that. Once Istarted a book-shop of my own--but I did no good here. Finally I turnedit up altogether, and went to Australia. That was in 1882. I've been inalmost every quarter of the globe since; I've known what it was to beshipwrecked in a monsoon, and I've lain down in a desert not expectingto get up again, with my belt tightened to its last hole for hunger--butI can't remember that I ever wished myself back in my father'sbook-shop. "

Plowden's fine eyes sparkled his appreciation of the other's mood. He was silent for a moment, then lifted his head as if something hadoccurred to him. "You were speaking of the plan that you should succeedto your father's business--and your son after you--you're not married, are you?"

Thorpe slowly shook his head. 

"Our station is the next, " said the younger man. "It's a drive ofsomething under two miles. You'd better light another cigar. " He added, as if upon a casual afterthought: "We can both of us think of marryingnow. "

CHAPTER V

FOR the next two hours, Thorpe's thoughts were almost wholly occupiedwith various phases of the large subject of domestic service. He seemedsuddenly to have been transported to some region populated exclusivelyby clean-shaven men in brown livery. One of these was holding a spiritedhorse outside the station, and when Lord Plowden had taken the reins, and Thorpe had gathered the rugs about his knees and feet, this menialsilently associated himself with the young man who had accompanied themfrom town, on the back seat of the trap. With these people so closebehind him, Thorpe felt that any intimate conversation was out of thequestion. Indeed, talk of any sort was not invited; the big horse burstforth with high, sprawling strides upon a career through the twilight, once the main road was reached, which it taxed all Plowden's energiesto regulate. He kept up a continual murmuring monologue to theanimal--"So--so--quiet, my pet, --so--so--easy, my beauty---so--so"--andhis wrists and gloved hands were visibly under a tremendous tension ofstrain, as they held their own against the rigid arched neck and mouthof steel. Thorpe kept a grip on the side of the trap, and had only amodified pleasure in the drive. The road along which they sped seemed, in the gathering dusk, uncomfortably narrow, and he speculated a gooddeal as to how frightened the two mutes behind him must be. But silencewas such a law of their life that, though he strained his ears, he couldnot so much as hear them sigh or gasp. 

It seemed but a very few minutes before they turned off, with but themost fleeting diminution of pace, upon a private road, which speedilydeveloped into an avenue of trees, quite dark and apparently narrowerthan ever. Down this they raced precipitately, and then, coming out allat once upon an open space, swung smartly round the crescent of a gravelroad, and halted before what seemed to be the door of a greenhouse. Thorpe, as he stood up in the trap, got an uncertain, general idea of alow, pale-coloured mansion in the background, with lights showing behindcurtains in several widely separated windows; what he had taken to be aconservatory revealed itself now to be a glass gallery, built along thefront of the central portion of this house. 

A profusion of hospitable lights--tall wax-candles in brackets among thevines against the trellised wall--gave to this outlying entrance whatthe stranger felt to be a delightful effect. Its smooth tiled floor, comfortably bestrewn with rugs, was on a level with the path outside. There were low easy-chairs here, and a little wicker table bearing booksand a lady's work-basket. Further on, giant chrysanthemum blooms weremassed beneath the clusters of pale plumbago-flowers on the trellis. Directly in front, across the dozen feet of this glazed vestibule, thebroad doorway of the house proper stood open--with warm lights glowingrichly upon dark woods in the luxurious obscurity within. 

What Thorpe noted most of all, however, was the servants who seemed toswarm everywhere. The two who had alighted from the trap had contrivedsomehow mysteriously to multiply themselves in the darkness. All at oncethere were a number of young men--at the horse's head, at the backand sides of the trap, at the first doorway, and the second, andbeyond--each presenting such a smooth-faced, pallid, brown-clad replicaof all the others that Thorpe knew he should never be able to tell themapart. 

Lord Plowden paused for a moment under the candle-light to look athis watch. "We did it in a bit over eight minutes, " he remarked, withobvious satisfaction. "With four people and heavy roads that's not sobad--not so bad. But come inside. "

They moved forward through the wide doorway into an apartment the likeof which Thorpe had not seen before. It was a large, square room, witha big staircase at the end, which separated and went off to right andleft, half-way up its visible course. Its floor was of inlaid woods, oldand uneven from long use, and carpeted here and there by the skins oftigers and leopards. There were many other suggestions of the chaseabout the room: riding boots, whips, spurs, and some stands of archaicweapons caught the eye at various points; the heads of foxes and deerpeeped out on the blackened panels of the walls, from among clusters ofhooks crowded with coats, hats, and mackintoshes. At the right, where afire glowed and blazed under a huge open chimney-place, there were lowchairs and divans drawn up to mark off a space for orderly domesticoccupation. The irregularity of every thing outside--the great table inthe centre of the hall strewn with an incongruous litter of caps, books, flasks, newspapers, gloves, tobacco-pouches; the shoes, slippers, and leggings scattered under the benches at the sides--all thisself-renewing disorder of a careless household struck Thorpe with aprofound surprise. It was like nothing so much as a Mexican ranch--andto find it in the ancestral home of an English nobleman, filled tooverflowing with servants, amazed him. 

The glances that he cast about him, however, were impassive enough. Hismind was charged with the ceaseless responsibility of being astonishedat nothing. A man took his hat, and helped him off with his coat. Another moved toward the staircase with his two bags. 

"If you will follow Pangbourn, " said his host, indicating this seconddomestic, "he will look after you. You would like to go up and changenow, wouldn't you? There's a fire in your room. "

Thus dismissed, he went up the stairs in the wake of his portmanteaus, taking the turning to the left, and then proceeding by a long, lowpassage, round more than one corner, to what he conceived to be a wingof the house. The servant ushered him into a room--and, in despite ofhimself, he sighed with pleasure at the sight of it. The prettiest andmost charming of rooms it seemed to him to be--spacious and quaintlyrambling in shape, with a delicately-figured chintz repeating the daintyeffects of the walls upon the curtains and carpet and bed-hangings andchair-covers, and with a bright fire in the grate throwing its warm, cozy glow over everything. He looked at the pictures on the walls, atthe photographs and little ornaments on the writing desk, and the highposts and silken coverlet of the big bed, and, secure in the avertedface of the servant, smiled richly to himself. 

This servant, kneeling, had unstrapped and opened the new bags. Thorpelooked to see him quit the room, this task accomplished, and wasconscious of something like dismay at the discovery that he intended tounpack them as well. Pangbourn began gravely to unwrap one paper parcelafter another and to assort their contents in little heaps on the sofabeside him. He did it deftly, imperturbably, as if all the gentlemen hehad ever seen carried their belongings in packages done up by tradesmen. 

Thorpe's impulse to bid him desist framed itself in words on the tip ofhis tongue--but he did not utter these words. After circling idly, handsin pockets, about the man and the bags for a little time, he inventedsomething which it seemed better for him to say. 

"I don't know what you'll be able to make of those things, " he remarked, casually. "My man has been buying them today--and I don't know what hemayn't have forgotten. My whole outfit of that sort of thing went astrayor was stolen at some station or other--the first part of the week--Ithink it must have been Leeds. "

"Yes, sir, " said Pangbourn, without emotion. "They're very careless, sir. "

He went on impassively, shaking out the black garments and spreadingthem on the bed, laying out a shirt and tie beside them, and arrangingthe razors, strop, and brushes on the dressing-table. He seemed toforesee everything--for there was not an instant's hesitation in theclock-like assiduity of his movements, as he bestowed handkerchiefs, inone drawer, socks in another, hung pyjamas before the fire, and setthe patent-leather pumps against the fender. Even the old Mexicanshooting-suit seemed in no way to disconcert him. He drew forth itsconstituent elements as with a practised hand; when he had hung them up, sombrero and all, in the wardrobe against the wall, they had thetrick of making that venerable oaken receptacle look as if it had beenfashioned expressly for them. 

Thorpe's earlier uneasiness quite lost itself in his admiration forPangbourn's resourceful dexterity. The delighted thought that nowhe would be needing a man like this for himself crossed his mind. Conceivably he might even get this identical Pangbourn--treasure thoughhe were. Money could command everything on this broad globe--and why notPangbourn? He tentatively felt of the coins in his pocket, as it becameapparent that the man's task was nearing completion--and then frownedat himself for forgetting that these things were always reserved for theend of a visit. 

"Will you dress now, sir?" asked Pangbourn. His soft, distinctenunciation conveyed the suggestion of centuries of training. 

"Eh?" said Thorpe, finding himself for the moment behind the other'sthought. 

"Shall you require me any further, sir?" the man reframed the question, deferentially. 

"Oh! Oh--no, " replied Thorpe. "No--I'll get along all right. "

Left to himself, he began hurriedly the task of shaving and dressing. The candles on either side of the thick, bevelled swinging mirrorpresented a somewhat embarrassing contrast to the electric light hewas used to--but upon second thought he preferred this restrainedaristocratic glimmer. 

He had completed his toilet, and was standing at the bay-window, withhis shoulder holding back the edge of the curtain, looking out upon thedarkened lawn and wondering whether he ought to go downstairs or waitfor someone to summon him, when he heard a knock at his door. Beforehe could answer, the door opened, and he made out in the candle-andfirelight that it was Lord Plowden who had come in. He stepped forwardto meet his host who, clad now in evening-clothes, was smoking acigarette. 

"Have they looked after you all right?" said Plowden, nonchalantly. "Have a cigarette before we go down? Light it by the candle. They neverwill keep matches in a bedroom. "

He seated himself in an easy-chair before the fire, as he spoke, andstretched out his shining slippers toward the grate. "I thought I'd tellyou before we went down"--he went on, as Thorpe, with an elbow on themantel, looked down at his handsome head--"my sister has a couple ofladies visiting her. One of them I think you know. Do you remember onshipboard a Miss Madden--an American, you know--very tall and fine, withbright red hair--rather remarkable hair it was?"

"I remember the lady, " said Thorpe, upon reflection, "but we didn'tmeet. " He could not wholly divest his tone of the hint that in thosedays it by no means followed that because he saw ladies it was open tohim to know them. 

Lord Plowden smiled a little. "Oh, you'll like her. She's great fun--ifshe's in the mood. My mother and sister--I had them call on her inLondon last spring--and they took a great fancy to her. She's got noend of money, you know--at least a million and a half--dollars, unfortunately. Her parents were Irish--her father made his pile in thewaggon business, I believe--but she's as American as if they'd crossedover in--what was it, the 'Sunflower'?--no, the 'Mayflower. ' Marvelouscountry for assimilation, that America is! You remember what I toldyou--it's put such a mark on you that I should never have dreamt youwere English. "

Thorpe observed his companion, through a blue haze of smoke, in silence. This insistence upon the un-English nature of the effect he produced wasnot altogether grateful to his ears. 

"The other one, " continued Plowden, "is Lady Cressage. You'll beinterested in her--because a few years ago she was supposed to be themost beautiful woman in London. She married a shocking bounder--hewould have been Duke of Glastonbury, though, if he had lived--but he wasdrowned, and she was left poor as a church mouse. Oh! by the way!" hestarted up, with a gleam of aroused interest on his face--"it didn't inthe least occur to me. Why, she's a daughter of our General Kervick. Howdid he get on the Board, by the way? Where did you pick him up?"

Thorpe bent his brows in puzzled lines. "Why, you introduced me to himyourself, didn't you?" he asked, slowly. 

Plowden seemed unaffectedly surprised at the suggestion, as he turned itover in his mind. "By George! I think you're right, " he said. "I'd quiteforgotten it. Of course I did. Let me see--oh yes, I reconstruct itreadily enough now. Poor old chappie--he needs all he can get. He wasbothering her about money--that was it, I remember now--but what anidiot I was to forget it. But what I was saying--there's no one else butmy mother and sister, and my brother Balder. He's a youngster--twenty orthereabouts--and he purports to be reading for his exams for the Army. If they opened his head, though, I doubt if they'd find anything butcricket and football, unless it might be a bit of golf. Well--that's theparty. I thought you might like to have a notion of them in advance. Ifyou've finished your cigarette"--he threw his own into the grate, androse as he spoke--"we may as well be moving along. By the way, " heconcluded, as they walked toward the door, "I've an idea that we won'tsay anything, just at the moment, about our great coup. I should like tokeep it as a little surprise--for my mother and sister, you know. "

Some two hours later, Thorpe found the leisure and the restoredequanimity needful for a dispassionate survey of his surroundings. Hehad become temporarily detached from the group over by the fireplace inthe big drawing-room and was for the first time that evening very muchat his ease. It was all much simpler, upon experiment, than he hadfeared. He stood now in a corner of the ornate apartment, whither he hadwandered in examining the pictures on the walls, and contemplated withserenity the five people whom he had left behind him. He was consciousof the conviction that when he rejoined them, it would be on anew footing of assured equality. He knew now the exact measure ofeverything. 

The Hon. Balder Plowden--a tall, heavily-built youth, with enormousshoulders and thick, hard hands, and pale straw-coloured hair and browsand eyelashes--had amiably sauntered beside him, and was elucidating forhis benefit now, in slow, halting undertones, some unfathomable mysteryconnected with the varying attitude of two distinct breeds of terrierstoward rats. Across the room, just within reach of the flickering ruddyfirelight from the hearth, the American guest, Miss Madden, was seatedat the piano, playing some low and rather doleful music. Thorpe benthis head, and assumed an air of attention, but in truth he listenedto neither the Honourable Balder nor the piano. His thoughts wereconcentrated jealously upon his own position in this novel setting. Hesaid to himself that it was all right. Old Lady Plowden had seemedto like him from the start. The genial, if somewhat abstracted, motherliness of her welcome had been, indeed, his sheet anchorthroughout the evening. She had not once failed to nod her head andsmile and twinkle her little kind eyes through their spectacles at him, whenever by word or look he had addressed her. Nor did his originalhalf-suspicion, that this was her manner to people in general, justifyitself upon observation. She was civil, even excessively civil, to theother two guests, but these ladies did not get the same eager and intentsmile that he could command. He reasoned it out that Plowden must havesaid something pleasant to his mother about him--perhaps even tothe point of explaining that he was to be the architect of theirfortunes--but he did not like to ascribe all her hospitable warmthto that. It was dear to him to believe that she liked him on his ownmerits--and he did believe it, as his softened glance rested upon herwhere she sat almost facing him in her padded, wicker chair--small, white-haired, rosy-cheeked, her intelligent face radiating a kind ofalert placidity which somehow made him feel at home. 

He had not been as much at home with the others. The Honourable Balder, of course, didn't count; nobody paid attention to him, and least of alla busy Rubber King. He gave not much more heed to the American--the tallyoung woman with the red hair and the million and a half of dollars. Shewas plainly a visitor like himself, not at all identified with the innerlife of the household. He fancied, moreover, that she in no way desiredto be thus identified. She seemed to carry herself with a deliberatealoofness underlying her surface amiability. Then he had spoken his fewwords with her, once or twice, he had got this effect of stony reserveclose beneath her smile and smooth words. True, this might mean onlythat she felt herself out of her element, just as he did--but to him, really it did not matter what she felt. A year ago--why, yes, even afortnight ago--the golden rumour of millions would have shone roundher auburn hair in his eyes like a halo. But all that was changed. Calculated in a solidified currency, her reported fortune shrank to amere three hundred thousand pounds. It was a respectable sum for a womanto have, no doubt, but it did nothing to quicken the cool indifferencewith which he considered her. 

The two other young women were different. They were seated together on asofa, so placed as regarded his point of view, that he saw only inpart the shadowed profiles of the faces they turned toward the piano. Although it was not visible to him, the posture of their shoulders toldhim that they were listening to the music each holding the other'shand. This tacit embrace was typical in his mind of the way they hungtogether, these two young women. It had been forced upon his perceptionsall the evening, that this fair-haired, beautiful, rather stately LadyCressage, and the small, swarthy, round-shouldered daughter of thehouse, peering through her pince-nez from under unduly thick blackbrows, formed a party of their own. Their politeness toward him had beenas identical in all its little shades of distance and reservation as ifthey had been governed from a single brain-centre. It would be unfairto them to assume from their manner that they disliked him, or were evenunfavourably impressed by him. The finesse of that manner was far toodelicate a thing to call into use such rough characterizations. It wasrather their action as a unit which piqued his interest. He thought hecould see that they united upon a common demeanour toward the Americangirl, although of course they knew her much better than they knewhim. It was not even clear to him that there were not traces of thiscombination in their tone toward Plowden and the Honourable Balder. Thebond between them had twisted in it strands of social exclusiveness, andstrands of sex sympathy. 

He did not analyze all this with much closeness in his thoughts, but theimpressions of it were distinct enough to him. He rather enjoyedthese impressions than otherwise. Women had not often interested himconsecutively to any large degree, either in detail or as a whole. Hehad formulated, among other loose general notions of them, however, theidea that their failure to stand by one another was one of their gravestweaknesses. This proposition rose suddenly now in his mind, and claimedhis attention. It became apparent to him, all at once, that his opinionsabout women would be henceforth invested with a new importance. He hadscarcely before in his life worn evening dress in a domestic circlewhich included ladies--certainly never in the presence of suchcertificated and hall-marked ladies as these. His future, however, was to be filled with experiences of this nature. Already, after thisbriefest of ventures into the new life, he found fresh conceptions ofthe great subject springing up in his thoughts. In this matter of womensticking together, for example--here before his eyes was one of theprettiest instances of it imaginable. As he looked again at the twofigures on the sofa, so markedly unlike in outward aspect, yet knitto each other in such a sisterly bond, he found the spectacle reallytouching. 

Lady Cressage had inclined her classic profile even more toward thepiano. Thorpe was not stirred at all by the music, but the spirit ofit as it was reflected upon this beautiful facial outline--sensitive, high-spirited, somewhat sad withal--appealed to something in him. Hemoved forward cautiously, noiselessly, a dozen restricted paces, and halted again at the corner of a table. It was a relief that theHonourable Balder, though he followed along, respected now his obviouswish for silence. But neither Balder nor anyone else could guess thatthe music said less than nothing to his ears--that it was the face thathad beckoned him to advance. 

Covertly, with momentary assurances that no one observed him, he studiedthis face and mused upon it. The white candle-light on the shining wallbeyond threw everything into a soft, uniform shadow, this side of thethread of dark tracery which outlined forehead and nose and lips andchin. It seemed to him that the eyes were closed, as in reverie; hecould not be sure. 

So she would have been a Duchess if her husband had lived! He saidto himself that he had never seen before, or imagined, a face whichbelonged so indubitably beneath a tiara of strawberry leaves indiamonds. The pride and grace and composure, yes, and melancholy, ofthe great lady--they were all there in their supreme expression. Andyet--why, she was no great lady at all. She was the daughter of hisold General Kervick--the necessitous and haughtily-humble old militarygentleman, with the grey moustache and the premature fur coat, who didwhat he was told on the Board without a question, for a pitiful threehundred a year. Yes--she was his daughter, and she also was poor. Plowden had said so. 

Why had Plowden, by the way, been so keen about relieving her from herfather's importunities? He must have had it very much at heart, tohave invented the roundabout plan of getting the old gentleman adirectorship. But no--there was nothing in that. Why, Plowden had evenforgotten that it was he who suggested Kervick's name. It would havebeen his sister, of course, who was evidently such chums with LadyCressage, who gave him the hint to help the General to something if hecould. And when you came to think of it, these aristocrats andmilitary men and so on, had no other notion of making money save bydirectorships. Clearly, that was the way of it. Plowden had rememberedKervick's name, when the chance arose to give the old boy a leg up, andthen had clean forgotten the circumstance. The episode rather increasedhis liking for Plowden. 

He glanced briefly, under the impulse of his thought, to where the peersat, or rather sprawled, in a big low chair before the fire. He was sonearly recumbent in it, indeed, that there was nothing to be seen ofhim but an elbow, and two very trim legs extended to the brass fender. Thorpe's gaze reverted automatically to the face of General Kervick'sdaughter. He wondered if she knew about the Company, and about him, and about his ability to solidify to any extent her father's financialposition. Even more, upon reflection, he wondered whether she was veryfond of her father; would she be extremely grateful to one who shouldrender him securely comfortable for life? Miss Madden rose from thepiano before Thorpe noted that the music had ceased. There came fromthe others a soft but fervent chorus of exclamations, the sincerity andenthusiasm of which made him a little ashamed. He had evidently beendeaf to something that deeply moved the rest. Even Balder made remarkswhich seemed to be regarded as apposite. 

"What IS it?" asked Lady Cressage, with obvious feeling. "I don't knowwhen anything has touched me so much. "

"Old Danish songs that I picked up on the quai in Paris for a franc ortwo, " replied Miss Madden. "I arranged and harmonized them--and, oddlyenough, the result is rather Keltic, don't you think?"

"We are all of us Kelts in our welcome to music--and musicians--likethis, " affirmed Lord Plowden, who had scrambled to his feet. 

With sudden resolution, Thorpe moved forward and joined theconversation. 

CHAPTER VI

THORPE'S life-long habit of early rising brought him downstairs nextmorning before anybody else in the house, apparently, was astir. At allevents, he saw no one in either the hall or the glass vestibule, as hewandered about. Both doors were wide open, however, to the mild, damp morning air. He found on one of the racks a cap that was lessuncomfortable than the others, and sauntered forth to look about him. 

His nerves were by no means in so serene a state as his reason told himthey ought to be. The disquieting impression of bad dreams hung abouthim. The waking hour--always an evil time for him in these latter daysof anxiety--had been this morning a peculiarly depressing affair. It hadseemed to him, in the first minutes of reviving consciousness, that hewas a hopelessly ruined and discredited man; the illusion of disasterhad been, indeed, so complete and vivid that, even now, more than anhour later, he had not shaken off its effects. 

He applied his mental energies, as he strolled along the gravel paths, to the task of reassuring himself. There were still elements of chancein the game, of course, but it was easy enough, here in the daylight, to demonstrate that they had been cut down to a minimum--that it wasnonsense to borrow trouble about them. He reviewed the situation inpainstaking detail, and at every point it was all right, or as nearlyall right as any human business could be. He scolded himself sharply forthis foolish susceptibility to the intimidation of nightmares. "Look atPlowden!" he bade his dolorous spirit. "See how easy he takes things. "

It was undeniable that Lord Plowden took things very easily indeed. He had talked with eloquence and feeling about the miseries andhumiliations of a peerage inadequately endowed with money, but no tracesof his sufferings were visible to Thorpe's observant eye. The noblemanhimself looked the very image of contented prosperity--handsome, buoyant, light-hearted, and, withal, the best-groomed man in London. And this ancestral home of his--or of his mother's, since he seemed toinsist upon the distinction--where were its signs of a stinted income?The place was overrun with servants. There was a horse which covered adistance of something like two miles in eight minutes. Inside and out, Hadlow House suggested nothing but assured plenty. Yet its master toldthe most unvarying tales of poverty, and no doubt they were in one sensetrue. What he wished to fix his mind upon, and to draw strength forhimself from, was the gay courage with which these Plowdens behaved asif they were rich. 

The grounds at the front of the house, hemmed in by high hedges andtrees from what seemed to be a public road beyond, were fairly spacious, but the sleek decorum of their arrangement, while it pleased him, wasscarcely interesting. He liked better to study the house itself, whichin the daylight revealed itself as his ideal of what a historic Englishcountry-house of the minor class should be. 

There had been a period in his youth when architecture had attracted himgreatly as offering a congenial and lucrative career. Not much remainedto him now of the classifications and phraseology which he had gone tothe trouble of memorizing, in that far-off time, but he still looked atbuildings with a kind of professional consciousness. Hadlow Housesaid intelligible things to him, and he was pleased with himself forunderstanding them. It was not new in any part, apparently, but therewas nothing pretentious in its antiquity. It had never been a castle, or a fortified residence. No violent alteration in habits or needsdistinguished its present occupants from its original builders. Ithad been planned and reared as a home for gentle people, at somenot-too-remote date when it was already possible for gentle people tohave homes, without fighting to defend them. One could fancy that itscalm and infinitely comfortable history had never been ruffled from thatday to this. He recalled having heard it mentioned the previous eveningthat the house stood upon the site of an old monastery. No doubt thataccounted for its being built in a hollow, with the ground-floor on theabsolute level of the earth outside. The monks had always chosen theselow-lying sheltered spots for their cloisters. Why should they have doneso? he wondered--and then came to a sudden mental stop, absorbed in asomewhat surprised contemplation of a new version of himself. He wasbecoming literary, historical, bookish! His mind had begun to throw openagain, to abstract thoughts and musings, its long-closed doors. He hadread and dreamed so much as a lad, in the old book-shop! For many yearsthat boyhood of eager concern in the printed page had seemed to him tobelong to somebody else. Now, all at once, it came back to him as hisown possession; he felt that he could take up books again where he haddropped them, perhaps even with the old rapt, intent zest. 

Visions rose before him of the magnificent library he would gather forhimself. And it should be in no wise for show--the gross ostentation ofthe unlettered parvenu--but a genuine library, which should ministerto his own individual culture. The thought took instant hold upon hisinterest. By that road, his progress to the goal of gentility would besmooth and simple. He seemed not to have reasoned it out to himself indetail before, but now, at all events, he saw his way clearly enough. Why should he be tormented with doubts and misgivings about himself, asif he had come out of the gutter?

Why indeed? He had passed through--and with credit, too--one of thegreat public schools of England. He had been there on a footing ofperfect equality, so far as he saw, with the sons of aristocraticfamilies or of great City potentates. And as to birth, he had behind himthree generations at least of scholarly men, men who knew the contents, as well as the commercial value, of the books they handled. 

His grandfather had been a man of note in his calling. The tradition ofLord Althorp's confidence in him, and of how he requited it bysecuring Caxton's "Golden Legend" for the library of that distinguishedcollector, under the very nose of his hot rival, the Duke ofMarlborough, was tenderly cherished as an heirloom in the old shop. And Thorpe's father, too, though no such single achievement crowned hismemory, had been the adviser and, as one might say, the friend of manynotable writers and patrons of literature. The son of such forbearsneeded only money to be recognized by everybody as a gentleman. 

On his mother's side, now that he thought of it, there was somethingperhaps better still than a heritage of librarians' craft and tastes. His mother's maiden name was Stormont, and he remembered well enough thesolemnity with which she had always alluded to the fact, in the courseof domestic discussions. Who the Stormonts were he could not recall thathe had ever learned, but his mother had been very clear indeed abouttheir superiority to the usual ruck of people. He would ask his sisterwhether she knew anything about them. In the meantime there was nodenying that Stormont was a fine-sounding name. He reflected that itwas his own middle name--and, on the instant, fancy engraved for him acard-plate on which appeared the legend--"Mr. Stormont Thorpe. "

It was an inspiration! "Joel" he had not used for so many years that now, after six months' familiarity with it on his sister's lips, he could notget accustomed to it. The colourless and non-committal style of "J. S. Thorpe, " under which he had lived so long, had been well enough for theterm of his exile--the weary time of obscure toil and suspense. But now, in this sunburst of smiling fortune, when he had achieved the right to aname of distinction--here it was ready to his hand. A fleeting questionas to whether he should carry the "J" along as an initial put itselfto his mind. He decided vigorously against it. He had always had aprejudice against men who, in the transatlantic phrase, parted eithertheir hair or their names in the middle. 

He had made his unheeding way past the house to the beginning of theavenue of trees, which he remembered from the previous evening's drive. To his right, an open space of roadway led off in the direction of thestables. As he hesitated, in momentary doubt which course to take, thesound of hoofs in the avenue caught his ear, and he stood still. In amoment there came into view, round a curve in the leafy distance, twohorses with riders, advancing at a brisk canter. Soon he perceived thatthe riders were ladies; they drew rein as they approached him, and thenit was to be seen that they were the pair he had judged to be such closefriends last night--Lady Cressage and the daughter of the house. 

They smiled and nodded down at him, as he lifted his cap and bowed. Their cheeks were glowing and their eyes sparkling with the exhilarationof their ride. Even the Hon. Winifred looked comely and distinguishedin his eyes, under the charm of this heightened vivacity. She seemed tocarry herself better in the saddle than she did out of it; the sweep ofher habit below the stirrup lent dignity to her figure. 

But her companion, whose big chestnut mount was pacing slowly toward thestepping-block--how should he bring within the compass of thought theimpressions he had had of her as she passed? There seemed to have beenno memory in his mind to prepare him for the beauty of the picture shehad made. Slender, erect, exquisitely-tailored, she had gone by likesome queen in a pageant, gracious yet unapproachable. He stared afterher, mutely bewildered at the effect she produced upon him--until he sawthat a groom had run from the stable-yard, and was helping the divinityto dismount. The angry thought that he might have done this himself rosewithin him--but there followed swiftly enough the answering convictionthat he lacked the courage. He did not even advance to proffer hisservices to the other young lady, while there was still time. The truthwas, he admitted ruefully to himself, they unnerved him. 

He had talked freely enough to them, or rather to the company of whichthey made part, the previous evening. There had been an hour or more, indeed, before the party broke up, in which he had borne the lion'sshare of the talk--and they had appeared as frankly entertained as theothers. In fact, when he recalled the circle of faces to which hehad addressed his monologue of reminiscences--curious experiences andadventures in Java and the Argentine, in Brazil and the Antilles andMexico and the far West--it was in the face of Lady Cressage that heseemed to discern the most genuine interest. 

Why should she frighten him, then, by daylight? The whimsical theorythat the wine at dinner had given him a spurious courage occurredto him. He shrugged his shoulders at it, and, with his hands in hispockets, turned toward the stables. 

The stable-yard is, from some points of view, the prettiest thing aboutHadlow. There is a big, uneven, grass-grown space, in the centre ofwhich, from a slight mound, springs an aged oak of tremendous girthand height. All around this enclosure are buildings of the same paleyellowish brick as the mansion itself, but quaintly differing onefrom another in design and size. Stables, carriage-houses, kennels, alaundry, a brewery, and half a dozen structures the intention of whichis now somewhat uncertain--some flat-topped, some gabled, others withturrets, or massive grouped chimneys, or overhanging timbered upperstories--form round this unkempt, shadowed green a sort of village, witha communal individuality of its own. 

A glance shows its feudal relation to, and dependence upon, the greathouse behind which it nestles; some of the back-kitchens and officesof this great house, indeed, straggle out till they meet and mergethemselves into this quadrangle. None the less, it presents to theenquiring gaze a specific character, of as old a growth, one mightthink, as the oak itself. Here servants have lived, it may be, sinceman first learned the trick of setting his foot on his brother's neck. Plainly enough, the monks' servants lived and worked here; half thebuildings on the side nearest the house belong to their time, and oneof them still bears a partially-defaced coat of arms that must havebelonged to an Abbot. And when lay lord succeeded cleric, only the garband vocabulary of servitude were altered in this square. Its populationcrossed themselves less, and worked much harder, but they remained in aworld of their own, adjacent aud subject to the world of their masters, yet separated from it by oh! such countless and unthinkable distances. 

Thorpe sauntered along the side of the stables. He counted three menand a boy who visibly belonged to this department. The dog-cart of theprevious evening had been run out upon the brick-pavement which drainedthe stables, and glistened with expensive smartness now beneath thesponge of one of the hostlers. Under cover, he discerned two othercarriages, and there seemed to be at least half a dozen horses. Themen who, in the half gloom of the loose-boxes, were busy grooming theseanimals made a curious whistling noise as they worked. Everybody in theyard touched a forelock to him as he passed. 

From this quaint, old-world enclosure he wandered at his leisure, through an open gate in the wall at the back, into the gardens behindthe house. There was not much in the way of flowers to look at, buthe moved about quite unconscious of any deprivation. A cluster ofgreenhouses, massed against the southern side of the mansion, attractedhis listless fancy, and he walked toward what appeared to be an entranceto them. The door was locked, but he found another further on whichopened to his hand. The air was very hot and moist inside, and the placewas so filled with broad-leaved, umbrageous tropical plants that he hadto stoop to make his way through to the end. The next house had a moretolerable atmosphere, and contained some blossoms to which he gavemomentary attention. In the third house, through the glass-door, hecould see a man--evidently a gardener--lifting some pots to a shelfoverhead. 

The thought occurred to him that by entering into conversation with thisman, he might indirectly obtain a hint as to the usual breakfast-hour atHadlow. It was now nearly ten o'clock, and he was getting very hungry. Would they not ring a bell, or sound a gong, or something? he wondered. Perhaps there had been some such summons, and he had not heard it. Itmight be the intelligent thing for him to return to the house, at allevents, and sit in the hall where the servants could see him, in casethe meal was in progress. 

Looking idly through the glass at the gardener, meanwhile, it suddenlydawned upon him that the face and figure were familiar. He stared moreintently at the man, casting about in his memory for a clue to hisidentity. It came to him that the person he had in mind was a fellownamed Gafferson, who had kept an impoverished and down-at-the-heelssort of hotel and general store on the road from Belize to Boon Town, inBritish Honduras. Yes, it undoubtedly was Gafferson. What on earth washe doing here? Thorpe gave but brief consideration to this problem. It was of more immediate importance to recall the circumstances of hiscontact with the man. He had made Gafferson's poor shanty of an hotelhis headquarters for the better part of a month--the base of suppliesfrom which he made numerous prospecting tours into the mountains of theinterior. Had he paid his bill on leaving? Yes, there was no doubt aboutthat. He could even recall a certain pity for the unbusiness-likescale of charges, and the lack of perception of opportunity, whichcharacterized the bill in question. He remembered now his impressionthat Gafferson would never do any good. It would be interesting to knowwhat kind of an impression he, in turn, had produced on his thriftlesshost. At any rate, there was no good reason why he should not find out. He opened the door and went in. 

The gardener barely looked up from his occupation, and drew aside tolet the newcomer pass with no sign of a gesture toward his cap. Thorpehalted, and tried to look at the pots on the staging as if he knew aboutsuch things. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, in the tentative tone of one who is inno need of information, but desires to be affable. 

"Drying off the first lot of gloxinias, " answered the other. "Somepeople put 'em on their sides, but I like 'em upright, close to theglass. It stands to reason, if you think about it. "

"Why, certainly, " said Thorpe, with conviction. In his mind hecontrasted the independence of Gafferson's manner with the practisedservility of the stable-yard--and thought that he liked it--and thenwas not so sure. He perceived that there was no recognition of him. Thegardener, as further desultory conversation about his work progressed, looked his interlocutor full in the face, but with a placid, sheep-likegaze which seemed to be entirely insensible to variations in the humanspecies. 

"How did you ever get back here to England?" Thorpe was emboldened toask at last. In comment upon the other's stare of puzzled enquiry, hewent on: "You're Gafferson, aren't you? I thought so. When I last sawyou, you were running a sort of half-way house, t'other side of Belize. That was in '90. "

Gafferson--a thick-set, squat man of middle age, with a stragglingreddish beard--turned upon him a tranquil but uninformed eye. "I supposeyou would have been stopping at Government House, " he remarked. "Thatwas in Sir Roger Goldsworthy's time. They used to come out often to seemy flowers. And so you remembered my name. I suppose it was because ofthe Gaffersoniana hybrids. There was a good bit in the papers about themlast spring. " Thorpe nodded an assent which it seemed better not to putinto words. "Well, it beats all, " he mused aloud. "Why, man, there'sgold in those mountains! You had an inside track on prospecting, placedas you were. And there's cocoa--and some day they'll coin money inrubber, too. All that country's waiting for is better communications. And you were on the spot, and knew all the lay of the land--and yet hereyou are back in England, getting so much a month for messing about inthe mud. "

He saw swiftly that his reflections had carried him beyond his earlierlimit, and with rapidity decided upon frankness. "No, I wasn't in theGovernor's outfit at all. I was looking for gold then--with occasionallyan eye on rubber. I stopped at your place. Don't you remember me? Myname's Thorpe. I had a beard then. Why, man, you and one of your niggerswere with me three or four days once, up on the ridge beyond the BurntHills--why, you remember, the nigger was from San Domingo, and he wasforever bragging about the San Domingo peppers, and saying those on themainland hadn't enough strength to make a baby wrinkle his nose, and youfound a pepper coming through the swamp, and you tipped me the wink, and you handed that pepper to the nigger, and it damned near killed him. Hell! You must remember that!"

"That would have been the Chavica pertusum, " said Gafferson, thoughtfully. He seemed to rouse himself to an interest in the storyitself with some difficulty. "Yes--I remember it, " he admitted, finally. "I shouldn't have known you though. I'm the worst in the world aboutremembering people. It seems to be growing on me. I notice that when Igo up to London to the shows, I don't remember the men that I had thelongest talks with the time before. Once you get wrapped up in yourflowers, you've got no room in your head for anything else--that's theway of it. "

Thorpe considered him with a ruminating eye. "So this is the sort ofthing you really like, eh? You'd rather be doing this, eh? than makingyour pile in logwood and mahogany out there, or floating a gold mine?"Gafferson answered quite simply: "I wasn't the kind to ever make a pile. I got led into going out there when I was a youngster, and there didn'tseem to be any good in trying to get back, but I wasn't making more thana bare living when you were there, and after that I didn't even do thatmuch. It took me a good many years to find out what my real fancy was. Ihated my hotel and my store, but I was crazy about my garden. Finally anAmerican gentleman came along one day, and he put up at my place, andhe saw that I was as near ruined as they make 'em, and he says to me, 'You're no good to run a hotel, nor yet a store, and this aint yourcountry for a cent. What you're born for is to grow flowers. You can'tafford to do it here, because nobody'll pay you for it, but you gatherup your seeds and roots and so on, and come along with me to Atlanta, Georgia, and I'll put fat on your bones. '

"That's what he said to me, and I took him at his word, and I was withhim two years, and then I thought I'd like to come to England, and sincethen I've worked my way up here, till now I take a Royal Horticulturalmedal regular, and there's a clematis with salmon-coloured bars that'llbe in the market next spring that's named after my master. And whatcould I ask more 'n that?"

"Quite right, " said Thorpe. "What time do they have breakfast here?"

The gardener's round, phlegmatic, florid countenance had taken on a mildglow of animation during his narrative. It relapsed into lethargy at theadvent of this new topic. 

"It seems to me they eat at all hours, " he said. "But if you want to seehis Lordship, " he went on, considering, "about noon would be your besttime. "

"See his Lordship!" repeated Thorpe, with an impatient grin. "Why I'm aguest here in the house. All I want is something to eat. "

"A guest, " Gafferson repeated in turn, slowly. There was nothingunpleasant in the intonation, and Thorpe's sharp glance failed to detectany trace of offensive intention in his companion's fatuous visage. Yetit seemed to pass between the two men that Gafferson was surprised, andthat there were abundant grounds for his surprise. 

"Why, yes, " said Thorpe, with as much nonchalance as he could summon, "your master is one of my directors. I've taken a fancy to him, and I'mgoing to make a rich man of him. He was keen about my seeing his placehere, and kept urging me to come, and so finally I've got away overSunday to oblige him. By the way--I shall buy an estate in the countryas soon as the right thing offers, and I shall want to set up no end ofgardens and greenhouses and all that. I see that I couldn't come to abetter man than you for advice. I daresay I'll put the whole arrangementof it in your hands. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Whatever his Lordship agrees to, " the gardener replied, sententiously. He turned to the staging, and took up one of the pots. 

Thorpe swung on his heel, and moved briskly toward the further door, which he could see opened upon the lawn. He was conscious of annoyancewith this moon-faced, dawdling Gafferson, who had been afforded such asplendid chance of profiting by an old acquaintanceship--it might evenbe called, as things went in Honduras, a friendship--and who had soclumsily failed to rise to the situation. The bitter thought of goingback and giving him a half-crown rose in Thorpe's inventive mind, and hepaused for an instant, his hand on the door-knob, to think it over. Thegratuity would certainly put Gafferson in his place, but then the spiritin which it was offered would be wholly lost on his dull brain. Andmoreover, was it so certain that he would take it? He had not said "sir"once, and he had talked about medals with the pride of a scientist. Therules were overwhelmingly against a gardener rejecting a tip, of course, but if there was no more than one chance in twenty of it, Thorpe decidedthat he could not afford the risk. 

He quitted the greenhouse with resolution, and directed his steps towardthe front of the mansion. As he entered the hall, a remarkably tunefuland resonant chime filled his ears with novel music. He looked and sawthat a white-capped, neatly-clad domestic, standing with her back to himbeside the newel-post of the stairs, was beating out the tune with twopadded sticks upon some strips of metal ranged on a stand of Indianworkmanship. The sound was delightful, but even more so was theimplication that it betokened breakfast. 

With inspiration, he drew forth the half-crown which he had beenfingering in his pocket, and gave it to the girl as she turned. "That'sthe kind of concert I like, " he declared, bestowing the patronage of ajovial smile upon her pleased and comely face. "Show me the way to thisbreakfast that you've been serenading about. "

Out in the greenhouse, meanwhile, Gafferson continued to regard blanklythe shrivelled, fatty leaves of the plant he had taken up. "Thorpe, "he said aloud, as if addressing the tabid gloxinia--"Thorpe--yes--Iremember his initials--J. S. Thorpe. Now, who's the man that told meabout him? and what was it he told me?"

CHAPTER VII

THE experiences of the breakfast room were very agreeable indeed. Thorpefound himself the only man present, and, after the first few minutes ofembarrassment at this discovery, it filled him with surprised delightto note how perfectly he was at his ease. He could never have imaginedhimself seated with four ladies at a table--three of them, moreover, ladies of title--and doing it all so well. 

For one thing, the ladies themselves had a morning manner, so tospeak, which differed widely from the impressions he had had of theirdeportment the previous evening. They seemed now to be as simple andfresh and natural as the unadorned frocks they wore. They listened withan air of good-fellowship to him when he spoke; they smiled at the rightplaces; they acted as if they liked him, and were glad of his company. 

The satisfied conviction that he was talking well, and behaving well, accompanied him in his progress through the meal. His confession at theoutset of his great hunger, and of the sinister apprehensions whichhad assailed him in his loitering walk about the place, proved a mostfortuitous beginning; after that, they were ready to regard everythinghe said as amusing. 

"Oh, when we're by ourselves, " the kindly little old hostess explainedto him, "my daughter and I breakfast always at nine. That was our houryesterday morning, for example. But when my son is here, then it'sfarewell to regularity. We put breakfast back till ten, then, as a kindof compromise between our own early habits and his lack of any sort ofhabits. Why we do it I couldn't say--because he never comes down in anyevent. He sleeps so well at Hadlow--and you know in town he sleepsvery ill indeed--and so we don't dream of complaining. We're only tooglad--for his sake. "

"And Balder, " commented the sister, "he's as bad the other way. Hegets up at some unearthly hour, and has his tea and a sandwich from thestill-room, and goes off with his rod or his gun or the dogs, and wenever see him till luncheon. "

"I've been on the point of asking so many times, " Miss Maddeninterposed--"is Balder a family name, or is it after the Viking inMatthew Arnold's poem?"

"It was his father's choice, " Lady Plowden made answer. "I think theViking explanation is the right one--it certainly isn't in eitherfamily. I can't say that it attracted me much--at first, you know. "

"Oh, but it fits him so splendidly, " said Lady Cressage. "He looks thepart, as they say. I always thought it was the best of all the soldiernames--and you have only to look at him to see that he was predestinedfor a soldier from his cradle. "

"I wish the Sandhurst people would have a good long look at him, then, "put in the mother with earnestness underlying the jest of her tone. "Thepoor boy will never pass those exams in the world. It IS ridiculous, as his father always said. If there ever was a man who was made for asoldier, it's Balder. He's a gentleman, and he's connected by traditionwith the Army, and he's mad about everything military--and surely he'sas clever as anybody else at everything except that wretched matterof books, and even there it's only a defect of memory--and yet thatsuffices to prevent his serving his Queen. And all over England thereare young gentlemen like that--the very pick of the hunting-fields, strong and brave as lions, fit to lead men anywhere, the very menEngland wants to have fighting her battles--and they can't get placesin the Army because--what was it Balder came to grief over lasttime?--because they can't remember whether it's Ispahan or Teheranthat's the capital of Persia. 

"They are the fine old sort that would go and capture both places at thepoint of the bayonet--and find out their names afterward--but it seemsthat's not what the Army wants nowadays. What is desired now is superiorclerks, and secretaries and professors of languages--and much good theywill do us when the time of trouble comes!"

"Then you think the purchase-system was better?" asked the Americanlady. "It always seemed to me that that must have worked so curiously. "

"Prefer it?" said Lady Plowden. "A thousand times yes! My husband madeone of the best speeches in the debate on it--one do I say?--first andlast he must have made a dozen of them. If anything could have keptthe House of Lords firm, in the face of the wretched Radical outcry, itwould have been those speeches. He pointed out all the evils thatwould follow the change. You might have called it prophetic--the wayhe foresaw what would happen to Balder--or not Balder in particular, ofcourse, but that whole class of young gentlemen. 

"As he said, you have only to ask yourself what kind of people the lowerclasses naturally look up to and obey and follow. Will they be orderedabout by a man simply because he knows Greek and Latin and Hebrew? Dothey respect the village schoolmaster, for example, on account of hislearning? Not in the very slightest! On the contrary, they regard himwith the greatest contempt. The man they will serve is the man whosebirth gives him the right to command them, or else the man with money inhis pockets to make it worth their while. These two are the only leadersthey understand. And if that's true here in England, in times of peace, among our own people, how much truer must it be of our soldiers, awayfrom England, in a time of war?"

"But, mamma, " the Hon. Winifred intervened, "don't you see how badlythat might work nowadays? now that the good families have so littlemoney, and all the fortunes are in the hands of stockjobbing people--andso on? It would be THEIR sons who would buy all the commissions--and I'msure Balder wouldn't get on at all with that lot. "

Lady Plowden answered with decision and great promptness. "You see solittle of the world, Winnie dear, that you don't get very clear ideas ofits movements. The people who make fortunes in England are every whitas important to its welfare as those who inherit names, and individuallyI'm sure they are often much more deserving. Every generation sniffsat its nouveaux riches, but by the next they have become merged in thearistocracy. It isn't a new thing in England at all. It has always beenthat way. Two-thirds of the peerage have their start from a wealthymerchant, or some other person who made a fortune. They are really theback-bone of England. You should keep that always in mind. "

"Of course--I see what you mean"--Winnie replied, her dark cheekflushing faintly under the tacit reproof. She had passed hertwenty-fifth birthday, but her voice had in it the docileself-repression of a school-girl. She spoke with diffident slowness, her gaze fastened upon her plate. "Of course--my grandfather wasa lawyer--and your point is that merchants--and others who makefortunes--would be the same. "

"Precisely, " said Lady Plowden. "And do tell us, Mr. Thorpe"--she turnedtoward where he sat at her right and beamed at him over her spectacles, with the air of having been wearied with a conversation in which hebore no part--"is it really true that social discontent is becoming moremarked in America, even, than it is with us in England?"

"I'm not an American, you know, " he reminded her. "I only know one ortwo sections of the country--and those only as a stranger. You shouldask Miss Madden. "

"Me?" said Celia. "Oh, I haven't come up for my examinations yet. I'mlike Balder--I'm preparing. "

"What I should like Mr. Thorpe to tell us, " suggested Lady Cressage, mildly, "is about the flowers in the tropics--in Java, for example, orsome of the West Indies. One hears such marvelous tales about them. "

"Speaking of flowers, " Thorpe suddenly decided to mention the fact; "Imet out in one of the greenhouses here this morning, an old acquaintanceof mine, the gardener, Gafferson. The last time I saw him, he wasrunning the worst hotel in the world in the worst country in theworld--out in British Honduras. "

"But he's a wonderful gardener, " said Lady Cressage. "He's a magician;he can do what he likes with plants. It's rather a hobby of mine--orused to be--and I never saw his equal. "

Thorpe told them about Gafferson, in that forlorn environment on theBelize road, and his success in making them laugh drew him on to otherpictures of the droll side of life among the misfits of adventure. Theladies visibly dallied over their tea-cups to listen to him; thecharm of having them all to himself, and of holding them in interestedentertainment by his discourse--these ladies of supremely refinedassociations and position--seemed to provide an inspiration of its own. He could hear that his voice was automatically modulating itself totheir critical ears. His language was producing itself with as muchdelicacy of selection as if it came out of a book--and yet preservingthe savour of quaint, outlandish idiom which his listeners clearlyliked. Upon the instant when Lady Plowden's gathering of skirts, andglance across the table, warned him that they were to rise, he saiddeliberately to himself that this had been the most enjoyable episode ofhis whole life. 

There were cigar boxes on the fine old oak mantel, out in the hall, andWinnie indicated them to him with the obvious suggestion that he wasexpected to smoke. He looked her over as he lit his cigar--where shestood spreading her hands above the blaze of the logs, and concludedthat she was much nicer upon acquaintance than he had thought. Herslight figure might not be beautiful, but beyond doubt its lines wereladylike. The same extenuating word applied itself in his mind to herthin and swarthy, though distinguished, features. They bore the stampof caste, and so did the way she looked at one through her eye-glasses, from under those over-heavy black eyebrows, holding her head a littleto one side. Though it was easy enough to guess that she had a spirit ofher own, her gentle, almost anxious, deference to her mother had shownthat she had it under admirable control. 

He had read about her in a peerage at his sister's book-shop theprevious day. Unfortunately it did not give her age, but that was not soimportant, after all. She was styled Honourable. She was the daughterof one Viscount and the sister of another. Her grandfather had beenan Earl, and the book had shown her to possess a bewildering numberof relationships among titled folks. All this was very interesting tohim--and somewhat suggestive. Vague, shapeless hints at projects rose inhis brain as he looked at her. 

"I'm afraid you think my brother has odd notions of entertaining hisguests, " she remarked to him, over her shoulder. The other ladies hadnot joined them. 

"Oh, I'm all right, " he protested cordially. "I should hate to havehim put himself out in the slightest. " Upon consideration he added: "Isuppose he has given up the idea of shooting to-day. "

"I think not, " she answered. " The keeper was about this morning, thatis--and he doesn't often come unless they are to go out with the guns. Isuppose you are very fond of shooting. "

"Well--I've done some--in my time, " Thorpe replied, cautiously. It didnot seem necessary to explain that he had yet to fire his first gun onEnglish soil. "It's a good many years, " he went on, "since I had thetime and opportunity to do much at it. I think the last shooting I didwas alligators. You hit 'em in the eye, you know. But what kind of ahand I shall make of it with a shot-gun, I haven't the least idea. Isthe shooting round I here pretty good?"

"I don't think it's anything remarkable. Plowden says my brotherBalder kills all the birds off every season. Balder's by way of beinga crack-shot, you know. There are some pheasants, though. We saw themflying when we were out this morning. "

Thorpe wondered if it would be possible to consult her upon the questionof apparel. Clearly, he ought to make some difference in his garb, yetthe mental vision of him-self in those old Mexican clothes revealeditself now as ridiculously impossible. He must have been out of his mindto have conceived anything so preposterous as rigging himself out, amongthese polished people, like a cow-puncher down on his luck. 

"I wonder when your brother will expect to start, " he began, uneasily. "Perhaps I ought to go and get ready. "

"Ah, here comes his man, " remarked the sister. A round-faced, smooth-mannered youngster--whom Thorpe discovered to be wearingcord-breeches and leather leggings as he descended the stairs--advancedtoward him and prefaced his message by the invariable salutation. "HisLordship will be down, sir, in ten minutes--and he hopes you'll beready, sir, " the valet said. 

"Send Pangbourn to this gentleman's room, " Miss Winnie bade him, andwith a gesture of comprehensive submission he went away. 

The calm readiness with which she had provided a solution for hisdifficulties impressed Thorpe greatly. It would never have occurred tohim that Pangbourn was the answer to the problem of his clothes, yet howobvious it had been to her. These old families did something more thanfill their houses with servants; they mastered the art of making theseservants an integral part of the machinery of existence. Fancy having aman to do all your thinking about clothes for you, and then dress you, into the bargain. Oh, it was all splendid. 

"It seems that we're going shooting, " Thorpe found himself explaining, afew moments later in his bedroom, to the attentive Pangbourn. Hedecided to throw himself with frankness upon the domestic's resourcefulgood-feeling. "I haven't brought anything for shooting at all. Somehow Igot the idea we were going to do rough riding instead--and so I fetchedalong some old Mexican riding-clothes that make me feel more at homein the saddle than anything else would. You know how fond a man gets ofold, loose things like that. But about this shooting--I want you to fixme out. What do I need? Just some breeches and leggings, eh? You canmanage them for me, can't you?"

Pangbourn could and did--and it was upon his advice that the Mexicanjacket was utilized to complete the out-fit. Its shape was beyond doubtuncommon, but it had big pockets, and it looked like business. Thorpe, as he glanced up and down his image in the tall mirror of the wardrobe, felt that he must kill a large number of birds to justify the effect ofpitiless proficiency which this jacket lent to his appearance. 

"We will find a cap below, sir, " Pangbourn announced, with serenity, andThorpe, who had been tentatively fingering the big, flaring sombrero, thrust it back upon its peg as if it had proved too hot to handle. 

Downstairs in the hall there was more waiting to be done, and there wasnobody now to bear him company. He lit another cigar, tried on variouscaps till he found a leathern one to suit him, and then dawdled aboutthe room and the adjoining conservatory for what seemed to him more thanhalf an hour. This phase of the aristocratic routine, he felt, did notcommend itself so warmly to him as did some others. Everybody else, however, seemed to regard it as so wholly a matter of course thatPlowden should do as he liked, that he forbore formulating a complainteven to himself. 

At last, this nobleman's valet descended the stairs once more. "HisLordship will be down very shortly now, sir, " he declared--"and will yoube good enough to come into the gun-room, sir, and see the keeper?"

Thorpe followed him through a doorway under the staircase--the existenceof which he had not suspected--into a bare-looking apartment fitted likea pantry with shelves. After the semi-gloom of the hall, it was almostglaringly lighted. The windows and another door opened, he saw, upon acourt connected with the stable-yard. By this entrance, no doubt, hadcome the keeper, a small, brown-faced, brown-clothed man of matureyears, with the strap of a pouch over his shoulder, who stood looking atthe contents of the shelves. He mechanically saluted Thorpe in turn, andthen resumed his occupation. There were numerous gun cases on the lowershelf, and many boxes and bags above. 

"Did his Lordship say what gun?" the keeper demanded of the valet. Hehad a bright-eyed, intent glance, and his tone conveyed a sense of somebroad, impersonal, out-of-doors disdain for liveried house-men. 

The valet, standing behind Thorpe, shrugged his shoulders and eloquentlyshook his head. 

"Do you like an 'ammerless, sir?" the keeper turned to Thorpe. 

To his intense humiliation, Thorpe could not make out the meaning of thequery. "Oh, anything'll do for me, " he said, awkwardly smiling. "It'syears since I've shot--I daresay one gun'll be quite the same as anotherto me. "

He felt the knowing bright eyes of the keeper taking all hismeasurements as a sportsman. "You'd do best with 'B, ' sir, I fancy, " thefunctionary decided at last, and his way of saying it gave Thorpe thenotion that "B" must be the weapon that was reserved for school-boys. Hewatched the operation of putting the gun together, and then took it, andlaid it over his arm, and followed the valet out into the hall again, indignified silence. To the keeper's remark--"Mr. Balder has its mate withhim today, sir, " he gave only a restrained nod. 

There were even now whole minutes to wait before Lord Plowden appeared. He came down the stairs then with the brisk, rather impatient air of abusy man whose plans are embarrassed by the unpunctuality of others. He was fully attired, hob-nailed shoes, leggings, leather coat and cap, gloves, scarf round his throat and all--and he behaved as if there wasnot a minute to lose. He had barely time to shake perfunctorily thehand Thorpe offered him, and utter an absent-minded "How are you thismorning?"

To the valet, who hurried forward to open the outer door, bearing hismaster's gun and a camp-stool, he said reproachfully, "We are very latetoday, Barnes. " They went out, and began striding down the avenue oftrees at such a pace that the keeper and his following of small boys anddogs, who joined them near the road, were forced into a trot to keep upwith it. 

Thorpe had fancied, somehow, that a day's shooting would affordexceptional opportunities for quiet and intimate talk with his host, but he perceived very soon that this was not to be the case. They walkedtogether for half a mile, it is true, along a rural bye-road first andthen across some fields, but the party was close at their heels, andPlowden walked so fast that conversation of any sort, save an occasionalremark about the birds and the covers between him and the keeper, wasimpracticable. The Hon. Balder suddenly turned up in the landscape, leaning against a gate set in a hedgerow, and their course was deflectedtoward him, but even when they came up to him, the expedition seemedto gain nothing of a social character. The few curt words that wereexchanged, as they halted here to distribute cartridges and hold briefconsultation, bore exclusively upon the subject in hand. 

The keeper assumed now an authority which Thorpe, breathing heavily overthe unwonted exercise and hoping for nothing so much as that they wouldhenceforth take things easy, thought intolerable. He was amazed thatthe two brothers should take without cavil the arbitrary orders of thiselderly peasant. He bade Lord Plowden proceed to a certain point in onedirection, and that nobleman, followed by his valet with the gun andthe stool, set meekly off without a word. Balder, with equal docility, vaulted the gate, and moved away down the lane at the bidding of thekeeper. Neither of them had intervened to mitigate the destiny of theirguest, or displayed any interest as to what was going to become of him. 

Thorpe said to himself that he did not like this--and though afterward, when he had also climbed the gate and taken up his station under aclump of trees at the autocrat's behest, he strove to soothe his ruffledfeelings by the argument that it was probably the absolutely correctdeportment for a shooting party, his mind remained unconvinced. Moreover, in parting from him, the keeper had dropped a blunt injunctionabout firing up or down the lane, the tone even more than the matter ofwhich nettled him. 

To cap all, when he presently ventured to stroll about a little fromthe spot on which he had been planted, he caught a glimpse against theskyline of the distant Lord Plowden, comfortably seated on the stoolwhich his valet had been carrying. It seemed to Thorpe at that momentthat he had never wanted to sit down so much before in his life--and heturned on his heel in the wet grass with a grunt of displeasure. 

This mood vanished utterly a few moments later. The remote sounds hadbegun to come to him, of boys shouting and dogs barking, in the recessesof the strip of woodland which the lane skirted, and at these hehastened back to his post. It did not seem to him a good place, and whenhe heard the reports of guns to right and left of him, and nothing camehis way, he liked it less than ever; it had become a matter of offendedpride with him, however, to relieve the keeper of no atom of theresponsibility he had taken upon himself. If Lord Plowden's guest hadno sport, the blame for it should rest upon Lord Plowden's over-arrogantkeeper. Then a noise of a different character assailed his ears, punctuated as it were by distant boyish cries of "mark!" These cries, and the buzzing sound as of clockwork gone wrong which they accompaniedand heralded, became all at once a most urgent affair of his own. He strained his eyes upon the horizon of the thicket--and, as if byinstinct, the gun sprang up to adjust its sight to this eager gaze, andfollowed automatically the thundering course of the big bird, and then, taking thought to itself, leaped ahead of it and fired. Thorpe's firstpheasant reeled in the air, described a somersault, and fell like aplummet. 

He stirred not a step, but reloaded the barrel with a hand shaking forjoy. From where he stood he could see the dead bird; there could neverhave been a cleaner "kill. " In the warming glow of his satisfaction inhimself, there kindled a new liking of a different sort for Plowdenand Balder. He owed to them, at this belated hour of his life, a noveldelight of indescribable charm. There came to him, from the woods, theshrill bucolic voice of the keeper, admonishing a wayward dog. He wasconscious of even a certain tenderness for this keeper--and again thecry of "mark!" rose, strenuously addressed to him. 

Half an hour later the wood had been cleared, and Thorpe saw the restof the party assembling by the gate. He did not hurry to join them, butwhen Lord Plowden appeared he sauntered slowly over, gun over arm, withas indifferent an air as he could simulate. It pleased him tremendouslythat no one had thought it worth while to approach the rendezvous byway of the spot he had covered. His eye took instant stock of the gamecarried by two of the boys; their combined prizes were eight birds and arabbit, and his heart leaped within him at the count. 

"Well, Thorpe?" asked Plowden, pleasantly. The smell of gunpowder andthe sight of stained feathers had co-operated to brighten and cheer hismood. "I heard you blazing away in great form. Did you get anything?"

Thorpe strove hard to give his voice a careless note. "Let some of theboys run over, " he said slowly. "There are nine birds within sight, andthere are two or three in the bushes--but they may have got away. "

"Gad!" said Balder. 

"Magnificent!" was his brother's comment--and Thorpe permitted himselfthe luxury of a long-drawn, beaming sigh of triumph. 

The roseate colouring of this triumph seemed really to tint everythingthat remained of Thorpe's visit. He set down to it without hesitationthe visible augmentation of deference to him among the servants. Thetemptation was very great to believe that it had affected the ladies ofthe house as well. He could not say that they were more gracious to him, but certainly they appeared to take him more for granted. In a hundredlittle ways, he seemed to perceive that he was no longer held mentallyat arm's length as a stranger to their caste. Of course, his ownrestored self-confidence could account for much of this, but he clung tothe whimsical conceit that much was also due to the fact that he was theman of the pheasants. 

Sunday was bleak and stormy, and no one stirred out of the house. He wasalone again with the ladies at breakfast, and during the long day he wasmuch in their company. It was like no other day he had ever imagined tohimself. 

On the morrow, in the morning train by which he returned alone to town, his mind roved luxuriously among the fragrant memories of that day. He had been so perfectly at home--and in such a home! There were somethings which came uppermost again and again--but of them all he dweltmost fixedly upon the recollection of moving about in the greenhousesand conservatories, with that tall, stately, fair Lady Cressage for hisguide, and watching her instead of the flowers that she pointed out. Ofwhat she had told him, not a syllable stuck in his mind, but the musicof the voice lingered in his ears. 

"And she is old Kervick's daughter!" he said to himself more than once. 

CHAPTER VIII

IT may be that every other passenger in that morning train to Londonnursed either a silent rage, or declaimed aloud to fellow-sufferers inindignation, at the time consumed in making what, by the map, should beso brief a journey. In Thorpe's own compartment, men spoke with savageirony of cyclists alleged to be passing them on the road, and exchangeddark prophecies as to the novelties in imbecility and helplessness whichthe line would be preparing for the Christmas holidays. The old jokeabout people who had gone travelling years before, and were believedto be still lost somewhere in the recesses of Kent, revived itself amidgloomy approbation. The still older discussion as to whether the SouthEastern or the Brighton was really the worst followed naturally in itswake, and occupied its accustomed half-hour--complicated, however, uponthis occasion, by the chance presence of a loquacious stranger who saidhe lived on the Chatham-and-Dover, and who rejected boisterously theidea that any other railway could be half so bad. 

The intrusion of this outsider aroused instant resentment, and thechampions of the South Eastern and the Brighton, having piled upadditional defenses in the shape of personal recollections of delayand mismanagement quite beyond belief, made a combined attack upon thenewcomer. He was evidently incapable, their remarks implied, of knowinga bad railway when he saw one. To suggest that the characterless andinoffensive Chatham-and-Dover, so commonplace in its tame virtues, was to be mentioned in the same breath with the daringly inventiveand resourceful malefactors whose rendezvous was London Bridge, showedeither a weak mind or a corrupt heart. Did this man really live on theDover line at all? Angry countenances plainly reflected the doubt. 

But to Thorpe the journey seemed short enough--almost too short. The conversation interested him not at all; if he had ever known theSouthern lines apart, they were all one to him now. He looked out of thewindow, and could have sworn that he thought of nothing but the visitfrom which he was returning. 

When he alighted at Cannon Street, however, it was to discover that hismind was full of a large, new, carefully-prepared project. It came tohim, ready-made and practically complete, as he stood on the platform, superintending the porter's efforts to find his bags. He turned it overand over in his thoughts, in the hansom, more to familiarize himselfwith its details than to add to them. He left the cab to wait for him atthe mouth of a little alley which delves its way into Old Broad Streetthrough towering walls of commercial buildings, old and new. 

Colin Semple was happily in his office--a congeries of small, huddledrooms, dry and dirty with age, which had a doorway of its own in acorner of the court--and Thorpe pushed on to his room at the end likeone who is assured of both his way and his welcome. 

The broker was standing beside a desk, dictating a letter to a clerkwho sat at it, and with only a nod to Thorpe he proceeded to finishthis task. He looked more than once at his visitor as he did so, ina preoccupied, impersonal way. To the other's notion, he seemed thepersonification of business--without an ounce of distracting superfluousflesh upon his wiry, tough little frame, without a trace of unnecessarypoliteness, or humour, or sensibility of any sort. He was the machineperfected and fined down to absolute essentials. He could understand ajoke if it was useful to him to do so. He could drink, and even smokecigarettes, with a natural air, if these exercises seemed properly tobelong to the task he had in hand. Thorpe did not conceive him doinganything for the mere human reason that he liked to do it. There wasmore than a touch of what the rustic calls "ginger" in his hair andclosely-cropped, pointed beard, and he had the complementary floridskin. His eyes--notably direct, confident eyes--were of a grey which hadin it more brown than blue. He wore a black frock-coat, buttoned close, and his linen produced the effect of a conspicuous whiteness. 

He turned as the clerk left the room, and let his serious, thinlips relax for an instant as a deferred greeting. "Well?" he asked, impassively. 

"Have you got a quarter-of-an-hour?" asked Thorpe in turn. "I want atalk with you. "

For answer, Semple left the room. Returning after a minute or two, he remarked, "Go ahead till we're stopped, " and seated himself on thecorner of the desk with the light inconsequence of a bird on a twig. Thorpe unbuttoned his overcoat, laid aside his hat, and seated himself. 

"I've worked out the whole scheme, " he began, as if introducing theproduct of many sleepless nights' cogitations. "I'm going to leaveEngland almost immediately--go on the Continent and loaf about--I'venever seen the Continent. "

Semple regarded him in silence. "Well?" he observed at last. 

"You see the idea, don't you?" Thorpe demanded. 

The broker twitched his shoulders slightly. "Go on, " he said. 

"But the idea is everything, " protested the other. "We've been thinkingof beginning the campaign straight away--but the true game now is to lielow--silent as the grave. I go away now, d'ye see? Nothing particularis said about it, of course, but in a month or two somebody notices thatI'm not about, and he happens to mention it to somebody else--and sothere gets to be the impression that things haven't gone well with me, d'ye see? On the same plan, I let all the clerks at my office go. TheSecretary'll come round every once in a while to get letters, ofcourse, and perhaps he'll keep a boy in the front office for show, but practically the place'll be shut up. That'll help out the generalimpression that I've gone to pieces. Now d'ye see?"

"It's the Special Settlement you're thinking of, " commented Semple. 

"Of course. The fellows that we're going to squeeze would move heavenand hell to prevent our getting that Settlement, if they got windof what was going on. The only weak point in our game is just there. Absolutely everything hangs on the Settlement being granted. Naturally, then, our play is to concentrate everything on getting it granted. Wedon't want to raise the remotest shadow of a suspicion of what we'reup to, till after we're safe past that rock. So we go on in the wayto attract the least possible attention. You or your jobber makes theordinary application for a Special Settlement, with your six signaturesand so on; and I go abroad quietly, and the office is as good as shutup, and nobody makes a peep about Rubber Consols--and the thing worksitself. You do see it, don't you?"

"I see well enough the things that are to be seen, " replied Semple, witha certain brevity of manner. "There was a sermon of my father's that Iremember, and it had for its text, 'We look not at the things which areseen, but at the things which are not seen. '"

Thorpe, pondering this for a moment, nodded his head. "Semple, " he said, bringing his chair forward to the desk, "that's what I've come for. Iwant to spread my cards on the table for you. I know the sum you've laidout already, in working this thing. We'll say that that is to be paidback to you, as a separate transaction, and we'll put that to one side. Now then, leaving that out of consideration, what do you think you oughtto have out of the winnings, when we pull the thing off? Mind, I'm notthinking of your 2, 000 vendor's shares----"

"No--I'm not thinking much of them, either, " interposed Semple, with akind of dry significance. 

"Oh, they'll be all right, " Thorpe affirmed. He laughed unconsciously ashe did so. "No, what I want to get at is your idea of what should cometo you, as a bonus, when I scoop the board. "

"Twenty thousand pounds, " said Semple, readily. 

Thorpe's slow glance brightened a trifle. "I had thought thirty would bea fairer figure, " he remarked, with an effort at simplicity. 

The broker put out his under-lip. "You will find people rather disposedto distrust a man who promises more than he's asked, " he remarkedcoldly. 

"Yes--I know what you mean, " Thorpe hurried to say, flushing awkwardly, even though the remark was so undeserved; "but it's in my nature. I'mfull of the notion of doing things for people that have done thingsfor me. That's the way I'm built. Why"--he halted to consider theadvisability of disclosing what he had promised to do for Lord Plowden, and decided against it--"why, without you, what would the wholething have been worth to me? Take one thing alone--the money for theapplications--I could have no more got at it than I could at the CrownJewels in the Tower. I've wondered since, more than once--if you don'tmind the question--how did you happen to have so much ready money lyingabout. "

"There are some Glasgow and Aberdeen folk who trust me to invest forthem, " the broker explained. "If they get five per cent. For the fourmonths, they'll be very pleased. And so I shall be very pleased to takethirty thousand instead of twenty--if it presents itself to your mind inthat way. You will give me a letter to that effect, of course. "

"Of course, " assented Thorpe. "Write it now, if you like. " He pushed hischair forward, closer to the desk, and dipped a pen in the ink. "WhatI want to do is this, " he said, looking up. "I'll make the promise forthirty-two thousand, and I'll get you to let me have two thousand incash now--a personal advance. I shall need it, if I'm to hang about onthe Continent for four months. I judge you think it'll be four monthsbefore things materialize, eh?"

"The Special Settlement, in the natural order of events, would comeshortly after the Christmas holidays. That is nearly three months. Thenthe work of taking fort-nightly profits will begin--and it is for you tosay how long you allow that to go on. "

"But about the two thousand pounds now, " Thorpe reminded him. 

"I think I will do that in this way, " said Semple, kicking his smalllegs nonchalantly. "I will buy two thousand fully-paid shares of you, for cash down, NOT vendor's shares, you observe--and then I will takeyour acknowledgment that you hold them for me in trust up to a givendate. In that way, I would not at all weaken your market, and I wouldhave a stake in the game. " "Your stake's pretty big, already, " commentedThorpe, tentatively. 

"It's just a fancy of mine, " said the other, with his first smile. "Ilike to hold shares that are making sensational advances. It is veryexciting. "

"All right, " said Thorpe, in accents of resignation. He wrote out twoletters, accepting the wording which Semple suggested from his perch onthe desk, and then the latter, hopping down, took the chair in turn andwrote a cheque. 

"Do you want it open?" he asked over his shoulder. "Are you going to getit cashed at once?"

"No--cross it, " said the other. "I want it to go through my bankers. It'll warm their hearts toward me. I shan't be going till the end of theweek, in any event. I suppose you know the Continent by heart. "

"On the contrary, very little indeed. I've had business in Frankfortonce, and in Rotterdam once, and in Paris twice. That is all. "

"But don't you ever do anything for pleasure?" Thorpe asked him, as hefolded the cheque in his pocket-book. 

"Oh yes--many things, " responded the broker, lightly. "It's a pleasure, for example, to buy Rubber Consols at par. "

"Oh, if you call it buying, " said Thorpe, and then softened his wordswith an apologetic laugh. "I didn't tell you, did I? I've been spendingSaturday and Sunday with Plowden--you know, the Lord Plowden on myBoard. "

"I know of him very well, " observed the Scotchman. 

"Has he a place that he asks people down to, then? That isn't the usualform with guinea-pigs. "

"Ah, but, he isn't the guinea-pig variety at all, " Thorpe asserted, warmly. "He's really a splendid fellow--with his little oddities, likethe rest of us, of course, but a decent chap all through. Place?I should think he HAD got a place! It's one of the swellest oldcountry-houses you ever saw--older than hell, you know--and it's keptup as if they had fifty thousand a year. Do you happen to know what hisreal income is supposed to be?"

Semple shook his head. He had taken his hat, and was smoothing it deftlywith the palm of his hand. 

"I asked, " Thorpe went on, "because he had so much to say about hispoverty. To hear him talk, you'd think the bailiffs were sitting on hisdoorstep. That doesn't prevent his having fast horses, and servants allover the place, and about the best shooting I've seen in the South ofEngland. As luck would have it, I was in wonderful form. God! how Iknocked the pheasants!" A clerk showed his head at the door, with ameaning gesture. "I must go now, " said Semple, briskly, and led the wayout to another room. He halted here, and dismissed his caller with thebrief injunction, "Don't go away without seeing me. "

It was the noon-hour, and the least-considered grades of the City'sslaves were in the streets on the quest for cheap luncheons. Thorpenoted the manner in which some of them studied the large bill offare placarded beside a restaurant door; the spectacle prompted himluxuriously to rattle the gold coins remaining in his pocket. He hadbeen as anxious about pence as the hungriest of those poor devils, onlya week before. And now! He thrust up the door in the roof of the cab, and bade the driver stop at his bank. Thence, after some brief but veryagreeable business, and a hurried inspection of the "Court" section ofa London Directory, he drove to a telegraph station and despatched twomessages. They were identical in terms. One sought General Kervickat his residence--he was in lodgings somewhere in the Hanover Squarecountry--and the other looked for him at his club. Both begged him tolunch at the Savoy at two o'clock. 

There was time and to spare, now. Thorpe dismissed the cab at hishotel--an unpretentious house in Craven Street, and sent his luggage tohis rooms. There were no letters for him on the board in the hallway, and he sauntered up to the Strand. As by force of habit, he turnedpresently into a side-street, and stopped opposite the ancient book-shopof his family. 

In the bright yet mellow light of the sunny autumn noontide, the blacksand roans and smoked drabs of the low old brick front looked more dingyto his eye than ever. It spoke of antiquity, no doubt, but it was adismal and graceless antiquity of narrow purposes and niggling thrift. It was so little like the antiquity, for example, of Hadlow House, thatthe two might have computed their age by the chronological systems ofdifferent planets. Although his sister's married name was Dabney, andshe had been sole proprietor for nearly a dozen years, the sign over thedoorway bore still its century-old legend, "Thorpe, Bookseller. "

He crossed the street, and paused for a moment to run an eye over thebooks and placards exposed on either side of the entrance. A small boyguarded these wares, and Thorpe considered him briefly, with curiousrecollections of how much of his own boyhood had been spent on thatvery spot. The lad under observation had a loutish and sullen face; itsexpression could not have been more devoid of intellectual suggestionsif he had been posted in a Wiltshire field to frighten crows witha rattle, instead of being set here in the highway of the world'sbrain-movement, an agent of students and philosophers. Thorpe wonderedif in his time he could have looked such a vacant and sour youngfool. No--no. That could not be. Boys were different in his day--andespecially boys in book-shops. They read something and knew something ofwhat they handled. They had some sort of aspirations, fitful and vagueas these might be, to become in their time bookmen also. And in thosedays there still were bookmen--widely-informed, observant, devoted oldbookmen--who loved their trade, and adorned it. 

Thorpe reflected that, as he grew older, he was the better able toapprehend the admirable qualities of that departed race of literature'sservants. Indeed, it seemed that he had never adequately realized beforehow proud a man might well be of descending from a line of such men. The thought struck him that very likely at this identical doorway, twogenerations back, a poor, out-at-the-elbows, young law-student namedPlowden had stood and turned over pages of books he could not dream ofbuying. Perhaps, even, he had ventured inside, and deferentially pickedacquaintance with the Thorpe of the period, and got bookish advice andfriendly counsel for nothing. It was of no real significance that thelaw-student grew to be Lord Chancellor, and the bookseller remained abook-seller; in the realm of actual values, the Thorpes were as good asthe Plowdens. 

A customer came out of the shop, and Thorpe went in, squeezing his wayalong the narrow passage between the tall rows of books, to the smallopen space at the end. His sister stood here, momentarily occupied at ahigh desk. She did not look up. 

"Well--I visited his Lordship all right. " He announced his presence thusgenially. 

"I hope you're the better for it, " she remarked, turning to him, after apause, her emotionless, plain face. 

"Oh, immensely, " he affirmed, with robust jocularity. "You should haveseen the way they took to me. It was 'Mr. Thorpe' here and 'Mr. Thorpe'there, all over the place. Ladies of title, mind you--all to myself atbreakfast two days running. And such ladies--finer than silk. Oh, it'sclear as daylight--I was intended for a fashionable career. "

She smiled in a faint, passive way. "Well--they say 'better latethan never, ' you know. " "And after all, IS it so very late?" he said, adopting her phrase as an expression of his thought. "I'm just turnedforty, and I feel like a boy. I was looking at that 'Peerage' there, the other day--and do you know, I'm sixteen years younger than the firstLord Plowden was when they made him a peer? Why he didn't even get intothe House of Commons until he was seven-and-forty. "

"You seem to have the Plowden family on the brain, " she commented. 

"I might have worse things. You've no idea, Lou, how nice it all is. Themother, Lady Plowden--why she made me feel as if I was at the veryleast a nephew of hers. And so simple and natural! She smiled at me, and listened to me, and said friendly things to me--why, just as anybodymight have done. You'll just love her, when you know her. "

Louisa laughed in his face. "Don't be a fool, Joel, " she adjured him, with a flash of scornful mirth. He mingled a certain frowning impatiencewith the buoyancy of his smile. "Why, of course, you'll know her, " heprotested. "What nonsense you're thinking of! Do you suppose I'm goingto allow you to mess about here with second-hand almanacs, and a sign inyour window of 'threepence in the shilling discount for cash, ' while I'ma millionaire? It's too foolish, Lou. You annoy me by supposing such athing!"

"There's no good talking about it at all, " she observed, after a littlepause. "It hasn't come off yet, for one thing. And as I said the othernight, if you want to do things for the children, that's another matter. They're of an age when they can learn whatever anybody chooses to teachthem. "

"Where are they now?" he asked. Upon the instant another plan began tounfold itself in the background of his mind. 

"They're both at Cheltenham, though they're at different places, ofcourse. I was recommended to send Julia there--one of our old customersis a Governor, or whatever it's called--and he got special terms forher. She was rather old, you know, to go to school, but he arranged itvery nicely for her--and there is such a good boys' college there, it seemed the wisest thing to send Alfred too. Julia is to finish atChristmas-time--and what I'm going to do with her afterward is more thanI know. "

"Is she pretty?" the uncle of Julia enquired. 

"She's very nice, " the mother answered, with vague extenuation in hertone. "I don't know about her looks--she varies so much. Sometimes Ithink she's pretty--and then again I can't think it. She's gotgood features, and she holds herself well, and she's very much thelady--rather too much, I think, sometimes--but it all depends upon whatyou call pretty. She's not tall, you know. She takes after her father'sfamily. The Dabneys are all little people. "

Thorpe seemed not to care about the Dabneys. "And what's Alfred like?"he asked. 

"He wants to be an artist!" There was a perceptible note of apprehensionin the mother's confession. 

"Well--why shouldn't he--if he's got a bent that way?" demanded Thorpe, with reproof in his tone. "Did you want him to be a shop-keeper?"

"I should like to see him a doctor, " she replied with dignity. "It wasalways my idea for him. "

"Well, it's no good--even as an idea, " he told her. "Doctors are likeparsons--they can't keep up with the times. The age is outgrowing them. Only the fakirs in either profession get anything out of it, nowadays. It's all mystery and sleight-of-hand and the confidence trick--medicineis--and if you haven't got just the right twist of the wrist, you're notin it. But an artist stands on his merits. There is his work--done byhis own hands. It speaks for itself. There's no deception--it's easyenough to tell whether it's good or bad. If the pictures are good, people buy them. If they're bad, people don't buy them. Of course, itwon't matter to Alfred, financially speaking, whether his pictures sellwell or not. But probably he'd give it up, if he didn't make a hit ofit. 

"I don't know that there's any crying need that he should do anything. My own idea for him, perhaps, would be the Army, but I wouldn't dream offorcing it on him against his will. I had a bitter enough dose of that, myself, with father. I'd try to guide a youngster, yes, and perhapsargue with him, if I thought he was making a jack of himself--but Iwouldn't dictate. If Alfred thinks he wants to be an artist, in God'sname let him go ahead. It can be made a gentlemanly trade--and the mainthing is that he should be a gentleman. "

Louisa had listened to this discourse with apathetic patience. "If youdon't mind, I don't know that I do, " she said when it was finished. "Perhaps he wouldn't have made a good doctor; he's got a very quicktemper. He reminds me of father--oh, ever so much more than you do. Hecontradicts everything everybody says. He quite knows it all. "

"But he's a good fellow, isn't he?" urged Thorpe. "I mean, he's got hislikable points? I'm going to be able to get along with him?"

"I didn't get along with him very well, " the mother admitted, reluctantly, "but I daresay with a man it would be different. You see, his father was ill all those four years, and Alfred hated the shop asbad as you did, and perhaps in my worry I blamed him more than was fair. I want to be fair to him, you know. "

"But is he a gentleman? That puts it in a word, " Thorpe insisted. 

"Oh, mercy yes, " Louisa made ready answer. "My only fear is--whether youwon't find him too much of a gentleman. "

Thorpe knitted his brows. "I only hope we're talking about the samething, " he said, in a doubtful tone. Before she could speak, he liftedhis hand. "Never mind--I can see for myself in ten minutes more than youcould tell me in a lifetime. I've got a plan. I'm going on the Continentin a few days' time, to stay for three or four months. I've got nothingspecial to do--just to travel about and see things and kill time--Ishall probably go to Italy and Switzerland and Paris and the Rhineand all sorts of places--and it occurred to me that I'd take the twoyoungsters with me. I could get acquainted with them, that way, andthey'd be company for me. I've been lonesome so long, it would feel goodto have some of my own flesh and blood about me--and I suppose they'd betickled to death to go. "

"Their schooling and board are paid for up to Christmas, " Mrs. Dabneyobjected, blankly. 

"Bah!" Thorpe prolonged the emphatic exclamation into somethinggood-natured, and ended it with an abrupt laugh. "What on earthdifference does that make? I could go and buy their damned colleges, andlet the kids wear them for breastpins if I wanted to. You said the girlwas going to quit at Christmas in any case. Won't she learn more in fourmonths travelling about on the Continent, than she would trotting aroundin her own tracks there at Cheltenham?

"And it's even more important for the boy. He's of an age when he oughtto see something of the world, and I ought to see something of him. Whatever he's going to do, it's time that he began getting his specialstart for it. " He added, upon a luminous afterthought: "Perhaps hisseeing the old Italian picture galleries and so on will cure him ofwanting to be an artist. "

The mother's air displayed resigned acquiescence rather than conviction. "Well--if you really think it's best, " she began, "I don't know thatI ought to object. Goodness knows, I don't want to stand in their way. Ever since you sent that four hundred pounds, it hasn't seemed as ifthey were my children at all. They've scarcely listened to me. And nowyou come, and propose to take them out of my hands altogether--and allI can say is--I hope you feel entirely justified. And so, shall I writethem to come home? When do you think of starting? Julia ought to havesome travelling clothes. "

"I can wait till you get her ready--only you must hurry up about it. "

Remembering something, he took out his cheque-book, and spread it onthe desk. "I will give you back that thirty, " he said, as he wrote, "andhere's a hundred to get the youngsters ready. You won't waste any time, will you? and if you want more tell me. "

A customer had entered the shop, and Thorpe made it the occasion forleaving. 

His sister, looking after her brother with the cheque in her hand, was conscious of a thought which seemed to spell itself out in visibleletters before her mental vision. "Even now I don't believe in him, " theimpalpable legend ran. 

CHAPTER IX

GENERAL KERVICK was by habit a punctual man, and Thorpe found himhovering, carefully gloved and fur-coated, in the neighbourhood of theluncheon-room when he arrived. It indeed still lacked a few minutes ofthe appointed hour when they thus met and went in together. They werefortunate enough to find a small table out on the balcony, sufficientlyremoved from any other to give privacy to their conversation. 

By tacit agreement, the General ordered the luncheon, speaking French tothe waiter throughout. Divested of his imposing great-coat, he was seento be a gentleman of meagre flesh as well as of small stature. He hadthe Roman nose, narrow forehead, bushing brows, and sharply-cut mouthand chin of a soldier grown old in the contemplation of portraits of theDuke of Wellington. His face and neck were of a dull reddish tint, whichseemed at first sight uniformly distributed: one saw afterward thatit approached pallor at the veined temples, and ripened into purple inminute patches on the cheeks and the tip of the pointed nose. Againstthis flushed skin, the closely-cropped hair and small, neatly-waxedmoustache were very white indeed. It was a thin, lined, care-worn face, withal, which in repose, and particularly in profile, produced an effectof dignified and philosophical melancholy. The General's over-prominentlight blue eyes upon occasion marred this effect, however, by glancesof a bold, harsh character, which seemed to disclose unpleasant depthsbelow the correct surface. His manner with the waiters was abrupt andsharp, but undoubtedly they served him very well--much better, in truth, than Thorpe had ever seen them serve anybody before. 

Thorpe observed his guest a good deal during the repast, and formednumerous conclusions about him. He ate with palpable relish of everydish, and he emptied his glass as promptly as his host could fillit. There was hardly a word of explanation as to the purpose of theirmeeting, until the coffee was brought, and they pushed back theirchairs, crossed their legs, and lighted cigars. 

"I was lucky to catch you with my wire, at such short notice, " Thorpesaid then. "I sent two, you know--to your chambers and your club. Whichof them found you?"

"Chambers, " said the General. "I rarely dress till luncheon time. I readin bed. There's really nothing else to do. Idleness is the curse of mylife. "

"I've been wondering if you'd like a little occupation--of a well-paidsort, " said Thorpe slowly. He realized that it was high time to inventsome pretext for his hurried summons of the General. 

"My dear sir, " responded the other, "I should like anything that hadmoney in it. And I should very much like occupation, too--if it were, ofcourse, something that was--was suitable to me. "

"Yes, " said Thorpe, meditatively. "I've something in my mind--not at alldefinite yet--in fact, I don't think I can even outline it to youyet. But I'm sure it will suit you--that is, if I decide to go on withit--and there ought to be seven or eight hundred a year for you init--for life, mind you. "

The General's gaze, fastened strenuously upon Thorpe, shook a little. "That will suit me very well, " he declared, with feeling. "WhateverI can do for it"--he let the sentence end itself with a significantgesture. 

"I thought so, " commented the other, trifling with the spoon in his cup. "But I want you to be open with me. I'm interested in you, and I want tobe of use to you. All that I've said, I can do for you. But first, I'm curious to know everything that you can tell me about yourcircumstances. I'm right in assuming, I suppose, that you're--thatyou're not any too well-fixed. "

The General helped himself to another little glass of brandy. His moodseemed to absorb the spirit of the liqueur. "Fixed!" he repeated with apeevish snap in his tone. "I'm not 'fixed' at all, as you call it. GoodGod, sir! They no more care what becomes of me than they do abouttheir old gloves. I gave them name and breeding and position--andeverything--and they round on me like--like cuckoos. " His pale, bulgingeyes lifted their passionless veil for an instant as he spoke, andflashed with the predatory fierceness of a hawk. 

Intuition helped Thorpe to guess whom "they" might mean. The tempervisibly rising in the old man's mind was what he had hoped for. Heproceeded with an informed caution. "Don't be annoyed if I touch uponfamily matters, " he said. "It's a part of what I must know, in order tohelp you. I believe you're a widower, aren't you, General?"

The other, after a quick upward glance, shook his head resentfully. "Mrs. Kervick lives in Italy with HER son-in-law--and her daughter. He is a man of property--and also, apparently, a man of remarkablecredulity and patience. " He paused, to scan his companion's face. "They divide him between them, " he said then, from clenched teeth--"andI--mind you--I made the match! He was a young fellow that I found--and Ibrought him home and introduced him--and I haven't so much as an Italianpostage-stamp to show for it. But what interest can you possibly takein all this?" The unamiable glance of his eyes was on the instantsurcharged with suspicion. 

"How many daughters have you?" Thorpe ventured the enquiry with inwarddoubts as to its sagacity. 

"Three, " answered the General, briefly. It was evident that he was alsobusy thinking. 

"I ask because I met one of them in the country over Sunday, " Thorpedecided to explain. 

The old soldier's eyes asked many questions in the moment of silence. "Which one--Edith?--that is, Lady Cressage?" he enquired. "Of course--itwould have been her. "

Thorpe nodded. "She made a tremendous impression upon me, " he observed, watching the father with intentness as he let the slow words fall. 

"Well she might, " the other replied, simply. "She's supposed to be themost beautiful woman in England. "

"Well--I guess she is, " Thorpe assented, while the two men eyed eachother. 

"Is the third sister unmarried?" it occurred to him to ask. The tone ofthe question revealed its perfunctory character. 

"Oh--Beatrice--she's of no importance, " the father replied. "She goes infor writing, and all that--she's not a beauty, you know--she lives withan old lady in Scotland. The oldest daughter--Blanche--she has some goodlooks of her own, but she's a cat. And so you met Edith! May I ask whereit was?"

"At Hadlow House--Lord Plowden's place, you know. "

The General's surprise at the announcement was undoubted. "AtPlowden's!" he repeated, and added, as if half to himself, "I thoughtthat was all over with, long ago. "

"I wish you'd tell me about it, " said Thorpe, daringly. "I've made itplain to you, haven't I? I'm going to look out for you. And I want youto post me up, here, on some of the things that I don't understand. Youremember that it was Plowden who introduced you to me, don't you? It wasthrough him that you got on the Board. Well, certain things thatI've seen lead me to suppose that he did that in order to please yourdaughter. Did you understand it that way?"

"It's quite likely, in one sense, " returned the General. He spoke withmuch deliberation now, weighing all his words. "He may have thoughtit would please her; he may not have known how little my poor affairsconcerned her. "

"Well, then, " pursued Thorpe, argumentatively, "he had an object inpleasing her. Let me ask the question--did he want to marry her?"

"Most men want to marry her, " was the father's non-committal response. His moustache lifted itself in the semblance of a smile, but the blueeyes above remained coldly vigilant. 

"Well--I guess that's so too, " Thorpe remarked. He made a fleetingmental note that there was something about the General which impelledhim to think and talk more like an American than ever. "But was HEspecially affected that way?"

"I think, " said Kervick, judicially, "I think it was understood thatif he had been free to marry a penniless wife, he would have wished tomarry her. "

"Do you know, " Thorpe began again, with a kind of diffidenthesitation--"do you happen to have formed an idea--supposing that hadbeen the case--would she have accepted him?" "Ah, there you have me, "replied the other. "Who can tell what women will accept, and whatthey will refuse? My daughter refused Lord Lingfield--and he is anUnder-Secretary, and will be Earl Chobham, and a Cabinet Minister, and arich man. After that, what are you to say?"

"You speak of her as penniless, " Thorpe remarked, with a casual air. 

"Six hundred a year, " the father answered. "We could have rubbed alongafter a fashion on it, if she had had any notions at all of taking myadvice. I'm a man of the world, and I could have managed her affairs forher to her advantage, but she insisted upon going off by herself. Sheshowed not the slightest consideration for me--but then I am accustomedto that. "

Thorpe smiled reflectively, and the old gentleman read in this anencouragement to expand his grievances. 

"In my position, " he continued, helping himself to still anothertiny glass, "I naturally say very little. It is not my form to makecomplaints and advertise my misfortunes. I daresay it's a fault. Iknow it kept me back in India--while ever so many whipper-snappers werepromoted over my head--because I was of the proud and silent sort. Itwas a mistake, but it was my nature. I might have put by a comfortableprovision for my old age, in those days, if I had been willing to pushmy claims, and worry the Staff into giving me what was my due. But thatI declined to do--and when I was retired, there was nothing for me butthe ration of bread and salt which they serve out to the old soldierwho has been too modest. I served my Queen, sir, for forty years--and Ishould be ashamed to tell you the allowance she makes me in my old age. But I do not complain. My mouth is closed. I am an English gentleman andone of Her Majesty's soldiers. That's enough said, eh? Do you follow me?And about my family affairs, I'm not likely to talk to the first comer, eh? But to you I say it frankly--they've behaved badly, damned badly, sir. 

"Mrs. Kervick lives in Italy, at the cost of HER son-in-law. He haslarge estates in one of the healthiest and most beautiful parts; he hasa palace, and more money than he knows what to do with--but it seemsthat he's not my son-in-law. I could do with Italy very well--but thatdoesn't enter into anyone's calculations. No! let the worn-out oldsoldier sell boot-laces on the kerb! That's the spirit of woman-kind. And my daughter Edith--does she care what becomes of me? Listen to me--Isecured for her the very greatest marriage in England. She would havebeen Duchess of Glastonbury today if her husband had not played the fooland drowned himself. "

"What's that you say?" put in Thorpe, swiftly. 

"It was as good as suicide, " insisted the General, with doggedness. Hisface had become a deeper red. "They didn't hit it off together, andhe left in a huff, and went yachting with his father, who was his ownsailing-master--and, as might be expected, they were both drowned. Thetitle would have gone to her son--but no, of course, she had no son--andso it passed to a stranger--an outsider that had been an usher in aschool, or something of that sort. You can fancy what a blow this was tome. Instead of being the grandfather of a Duke, I have a childless widowthrust back upon my hands! Fine luck, eh? And then, to cap all, shetakes her six hundred a year and goes off by herself, and gives me thecold shoulder completely. What is it Shakespeare says? 'How sharper thana serpent's teeth'----"

Thorpe brought his fist down upon the table with an emphasis whichabruptly broke the quotation in half. He had been frowning moodilyat his guest for some minutes, relighting his cigar more than oncemeanwhile. He had made a mental calculation of what the old man had hadto drink, and had reassured himself as to his condition. His garrulitymight have an alcoholic basis, but his wits were clear enough. It wastime to take a new line with him. 

"I don't want to hear you abuse your daughter, " he admonished him now, with a purpose glowing steadily in his firm glance. "Damn it all, whyshouldn't she go off by herself, and take care of her own money herown way? It's little enough, God knows, for such a lady as she is. Whyshould you expect her to support you out of it? No--sit still! Listen tome!"--he stretched out his hand, and laid it with restraining heavinessupon the General's arm--"you don't want to have any row with me. You can't afford it. Just think that over to yourself--you--can'tafford--it. "

Major-General Kervick's prominent blue eyes had bulged forth in ragetill their appearance had disconcerted the other's gaze. They remainedstill too much in the foreground, as it were, and the angry scarletsand violets of the cheeks beneath them carried an unabated threat ofapoplexy--but their owner, after a moment's silence, made a sign withhis stiff white brows that the crisis was over. "You must rememberthat--that I have a father's feelings, " he gasped then, huskily. 

Thorpe nodded, with a nonchalance which was not wholly affected. He hadlearned what he wanted to know about this veteran. If he had the fiercemeannesses of a famished old dog, he had also a dog's awe of a stick. Itwas almost too easy to terrorize him. 

"Oh, I make allowances for all that, " Thorpe began, vaguely. "Butit's important that you should understand me. I'm this sort of a man:whatever I set out to do, and put my strength into it, that I do! I killevery pheasant I fire at; Plowden will tell you that! It's a way I have. To those that help me, and are loyal to me, I'm the best friend inthe world. To those that get in my way, or try to trip me up, I'm thedevil--just plain devil. Now then--you're getting three hundred a yearfrom my Company, that is to say from me, simply to oblige my friendPlowden. You don't do anything to earn this money; you're of no earthlyuse on the Board. If I chose, I could put you off at the end of the yearas easily as I can blow out this match. But I propose not only to keepyou on, but to make you independent. Why do I do that? You should askyourself that question. It can't be on account of anything you can dofor the Company. What else then? Why, first and foremost, because youare the father of your daughter. "

"Let me tell you the kind of man I am, " said the General, inflating hischest, and speaking with solemnity. 

"Oh, I know the kind of man you are, " Thorpe interrupted him, coolly. "Iwant to talk now. "

"It was merely, " Kervick ventured, in an injured tone, "that I can be asloyal as any man alive to a true friend. "

"Well, I'll be the true friend, then, " said Thorpe, with impatientfinality. "And now this is what I want to say. I'm going to be a veryrich man. You're not to say so to anybody, mind you, until the thingspeaks for itself. We're keeping dark for a few months, d'ye see?--lyinglow. Then, as I say, I shall be a very rich man. Well now, I wouldn'tgive a damn to be rich, unless I did with my money the things that Iwanted to do, and got the things with it that I wanted to get. Whatevertakes my fancy, that's what I'll do. "

He paused for a moment, mentally to scrutinize a brand-new project whichseemed, by some surreptitious agency, to have already taken his fancy. It was a curious project; there were attractive things about it, andobjections to it suggested themselves as well. 

"I may decide, " he began speaking again, still revolving thishypothetical scheme in his thoughts--"I may want to--well, here's whatoccurs to me as an off-chance. I take an interest in your daughter, d'yesee? and it seems a low-down sort of thing to me that she should be sopoor. Well, then--I might say to you, here's two thousand a year, say, made over to you in your name, on the understanding that you turn overhalf of it, say, to her. She could take it from you, of course, as herfather. You could say you made it out of the Company. Of course it mighthappen, later on, that I might like to have a gentle hint dropped toher, d'ye see, as to where it really came from. Mind, I don't say thisis what is going to be done. It merely occurred to me. "

After waiting for a moment for some comment, he added a second thought:"You'd have to set about making friends with her, you know. In any case, you'd better begin at that at once. "

The General remained buried in reflection. He lighted a cigarette, andpoured out for himself still another petit verre. His pursed lips andknitted brows were eloquent of intense mental activity. 

"Well, do you see any objections to it?" demanded Thorpe, at last. 

"I do not quite see the reasons for it, " answered the other, slowly. "What would you gain by it?"

"How do you mean--gain?" put in the other, with peremptory intoleranceof tone. 

General Kervick spread his hands in a quick little gesture. These handswere withered, but remarkably well-kept. "I suppose one doesn't dosomething for nothing, " he said. "I see what I would gain, and what shewould gain, but I confess I don't see what advantage you would get outof it. "

"No-o, I daresay you don't, " assented Thorpe, with sneering serenity. "But what does that matter? You admit that you see what you would gain. That's enough, isn't it?"

The older man's veined temples twitched for an instant. He straightenedhimself in his chair, and looked hard at his companion. There was aglistening of moisture about his staring eyes. 

"It surely isn't necessary--among gentlemen"--he began, cautiouslypicking his phrases--"to have quite so much that's unpleasant, is it?"

"No--you're right--I didn't mean to be so rough, " Thorpe declared, withspontaneous contrition. Upon the instant, however, he perceivedthe danger that advantage might be taken of his softness. "I'm aplain-spoken man, " he went on, with a hardening voice, "and people musttake me as they find me. All I said was, in substance, that I intendedto be of service to you--and that that ought to interest you. "

The General seemed to have digested his pique. "And what I was tryingto say, " he commented deferentially, "was that I thought I saw ways ofbeing of service to you. But that did not seem to interest you at all. "

"How--service?" Thorpe, upon consideration, consented to ask. 

"I know my daughter so much better than you do, " explained the other; "Iknow Plowden so much better; I am so much more familiar with the wholesituation than you can possibly be--I wonder that you won't listen tomy opinion. I don't suggest that you should be guided by it, but I thinkyou should hear it. "

"I think so, too, " Thorpe declared, readily enough. "What IS youropinion?"

General Kervick sipped daintily at his glass, and then gave anembarrassed little laugh. "But I can't form what you might call anopinion, " he protested, apologetically, "till I understand a bit moreclearly what it is you propose to yourself. You mustn't be annoyed if Ireturn to that--'still harping on my daughter, ' you know. If I MUST askthe question--is it your wish to marry her?"

Thorpe looked blankly at his companion, as if he were thinking ofsomething else. When he spoke, it was with no trace of consciousnessthat the question had been unduly intimate. 

"I can't in the least be sure that I shall ever marry, " he replied, thoughtfully. "I may, and I may not. But--starting with that proviso--Isuppose I haven't seen any other woman that I'd rather think aboutmarrying than--than the lady we're speaking of. However, you see it'sall in the air, so far as my plans go. "

"In the air be it, " the soldier acquiesced, plausibly. "Let us considerit as if it were in the air--a possible contingency. This is whatI would say--My--'the lady we are speaking of' is by way of being adifficult lady--'uncertain, coy, and hard to please' as Scott says, youknow--and it must be a very skilfully-dressed fly indeed which bringsher to the surface. She's been hooked once, mind, and she has a horrorof it. Her husband was the most frightful brute and ruffian, you know. Iwas strongly opposed to the marriage, but her mother carried it through. But--yes--about her--I think she is afraid to marry again. If she doesever consent, it will be because poverty has broken her nerve. If she iskept on six hundred a year, she may be starved, so to speak, into takinga husband. If she had sixteen hundred--either she would never marry atall, or she would be free to marry some handsome young pauper who caughther fancy. That would be particularly like her. You would be simplyendowing some needy fellow, beside losing her for yourself. D'yefollow me? If you'll leave it to me, I can find a much better way thanthat--better for all of us. "

"Hm!" said Thorpe, and pondered the paternal statement. "I see what youmean, " he remarked at last. "Yes--I see. "

The General preserved silence for what seemed a long time, deferringto the reverie of his host. When finally he offered a diversion, inthe form of a remark about the hour, Thorpe shook himself, and thenponderously rose to his feet. He took his hat and coat from the waiter, and made his way out without a word. 

At the street door, confronting the waning foliage of the Embankmentgarden, Kervick was emboldened to recall to him the fact of hispresence. "Which way are you going?" he asked. 

"I don't know, " Thorpe answered absently. "I think--I think I'll take awalk on the Embankment--by myself. "

The General could not repress all symptoms of uneasiness. "But when am Ito see you again?" he enquired, with an effect of solicitude that defiedcontrol. 

"See me?" Thorpe spoke as if the suggestion took him by surprise. 

"There are things to be settled, are there not?" the other faltered, indistressed doubt as to the judicious tone to take. "You spoke, you know, of--of some employment that--that would suit me. "

Thorpe shook himself again, and seemed by an effort to recall hiswandering attention. "Oh yes, " he said, with lethargic vagueness--"Ihaven't thought it out yet. I'll let you know--within the week, probably. "

With the briefest of nods, he turned and crossed the road. Walkingheavily, with rounded shoulders and hands plunged deep in his overcoatpockets, he went through the gateway, and chose a path at random. To theidlers on the garden benches who took note of him as he passed, hegave the impression of one struggling with nausea. To his own blurredconsciousness, he could not say which stirred most vehemently withinhim, his loathing for the creature he had fed and bought, or his bitterself-disgust. 

The General, standing with exaggerated exactness upon the doorstep, had followed with his bulging eyes the receding figure. He stood stillregarding the gateway, mentally summarizing the events of the day, afterthe other had vanished. At last, nestling his chin comfortably into thefur of his collar, he smiled with self-satisfaction. "After all, " hesaid to himself, "there are always ways of making a cad feel that he isa cad, in the presence of a gentleman. "

CHAPTER X

ON a Sunday afternoon, early in February, Thorpe journeyed with hisniece and nephew from Bern to Montreux. 

The young people, with maps and a guide-book open, sat close together atthe left side of the compartment. The girl from time to time rubbed thesteam from the window with a napkin out of the lunch-basket. They bothstared a good deal through this window, with frequent exclamations ofpetulance. 

"Isn't it too provoking!" cried the girl, turning to her uncle at last. "This is where we are now--according to Baedeker: 'As the train proceedswe enjoy a view of the Simmen-Thal and Freiburg mountains to the left, the Moleson being conspicuous. ' And look at it! For all one can see, wemight as well be at Redhill. "

"It is pretty hard luck, " Thorpe assented, passively glancing past herat the pale, neutral-tinted wall of mist which obscured the view. "Buthang it all--it must clear up some time. Just you have patience, andyou'll see some Alps yet. "

"Where we're going, " the young man interposed, "the head-porter told meit was always cloudier than anywhere else. "

"I don't think that can be so, " Thorpe reasoned, languidly, from hiscorner. "It's a great winter resort, I'm told, and it rather stands toreason, doesn't it? that people wouldn't flock there if it was so bad asall that. "

"The kind of people we've seen travelling in Switzerland, " said thegirl--"they would do anything. "

Thorpe smiled, with tolerant good humour. "Well, you can comfortyourself with the notion that you'll be coming again. The mountains'llstay here, all right, " he assured her. The young people smiled backat him, and with this he rearranged his feet in a new posture on theopposite seat, lighted another cigar, and pillowed his head once moreagainst the hard, red-plush cushion. Personally, he did not in the leastresent the failure of the scenery. 

For something more than three months, this purposeless pleasure-tour hadbeen dragging him about from point to point, sleeping in strange beds, eating extraordinarily strange food, transacting the affairs of asight-seer among people who spoke strange languages, until he wassurfeited with the unusual. It had all been extremely interesting, ofcourse, and deeply improving--but he was getting tired of talking tonobody but waiters, and still more so of having nothing to do which hecould not as well leave undone if he chose. After a few days moreof Switzerland--for they had already gazed with blank faces at thisuniversal curtain of mist from such different points of view as Lucerne, Interlaken, and Thun--it was clear to him that they would, as hephrased it, to himself, make a break for home. Unless, indeed, somethinghappened at Montreux. Ah, would anything happen at Montreux? For fourdays his mind had been automatically reverting to that question; itlurked continually in the background of his thoughts, now, as he smokedand idly ruminated, on his way southward through the fog. 

All the rest of the prolonged trip had been without any specific motive, so far as he was concerned. The youngsters had planned all its routesand halts and details of time and connections, and he had gone along, with cheerful placidity, to look at the things they bade him observe, and to pay the bills. Perhaps in all things their tastes had not beenhis tastes. He would have liked more of Paris, he fancied, and less ofthe small Dutch and North German towns which they seemed to fancyso much. Still, the beer was good--and really their happiness, as aspectacle, had given him more satisfaction than a thousand miles ofboulevards could have done. 

He liked this niece and nephew of his more than he could ever haveimagined himself liking any young people. They had been shy with him atthe outset--and for the first week his experiment had been darkened bythe belief that, between themselves, they did not deem him quite goodenough. He had been wise enough, then, to have it out with the girl--shewas the one to whom he felt it easiest to talk frankly--and haddiscovered, to his immense relief, that they conceived him to beregarding them as encumbrances. At breakfast next morning, with tactfulgeniality, he set everything right, and thereafter they were allextremely happy together. 

So far as he could judge, they were very superior young people, bothintellectually and spiritually. The girl spoke French, and her brotherGerman, with what seemed to him remarkable proficiency. Their youngminds were the repositories of an astounding amount of information:they knew who Charles the Bold was; they pointed out to their uncle thedistinction between Gothic and Romanesque arches; they explained whatwas the matter with the Anabaptists; they told him that the story ofthe Bishop and the rats at Bingen was a baseless myth, and that probablythere had never been any such man as William Tell. Nor did they get allthis out of the guide-books which they pored over with such zest. It wasimpossible not to see that they were familiar with large numbers of thesubjects that these books discussed, and that the itinerary whichthey marked out had reference to desires and interests that they hadcultivated for themselves. 

Julia, upon even first sight, made a much pleasanter impression than hermother's hesitating description had prepared him for. As he came to knowher well, he ceased to remember that there was a question in any mindas to her being a pretty girl. There was less colour in her face than hecould have wished. Her smooth, pallid skin, almost waxen in texture, hada suggestion of delicate health which sometimes troubled him a little, but which appealed to the tenderness in his nature all the time. Theface was unduly thin, perhaps, but this, and the wistful glance of thelarge grey eyes in repose, made up an effect that Thorpe found touchedhim a good deal. Even when she was in visibly high spirits, the look inthese eyes seemed to him to be laying claim to his protection. Shecould be merry upon occasion, in a gentle and tranquil way, and as herself-confidence expanded under the shelter of their growing intimacy, she disclosed to her uncle plenty of initiative and individuality--butwhat he felt in her most was a peculiarly sweet and girlishtrustfulness, which made him like himself more than he had everdone before. He could feel that he was at his very best--a hithertounsuspected best--when Julia was about. He wanted to buy for hereverything in the windows upon which she bestowed the most casualapproving glance. It was a delight merely to look at her, and tomeditate upon the felicity of being able to do things for so charming agirl. 

Alfred made a less direct demand upon his uncle's admiration, but hewas a very good fellow all round. He was big and fair and muscular, and nothing about him but his spectacles seemed in Thorpe's mind to berelated to his choice of art as a profession. That so robust and heartya young fellow should wish to put paint on a canvas with small brushes, was to the uncle an unaccountable thing. It was almost as if he hadwanted to knit, or do embroidery. Of the idleness and impatience ofdiscipline which his mother had seemed to allege against him, Thorpefailed to detect any signs. The young man was never very late in themorning, and, beside his tireless devotion to the task of hunting up oldpictures in out-of-the-way places, did most of the steward's work ofthe party with intelligence and precision. He studied the time-tables, audited the hotel-bills, looked after the luggage, got up thestreet-maps of towns and the like, to such good purpose that they neverlost a train, or a bag, or themselves. Truly, an excellent young man. Thorpe noted with especial satisfaction his fine, kindly big-brotherattitude toward his sister Julia--and it was impossible for him toavoid the conviction that Louisa was a simpleton not to appreciate suchchildren. They did not often allude to their mother; when they did, itwas in language the terms of which seemed more affectionate than thetone--and Thorpe said often to himself that he did not blame them. Itwas not so much that they had outgrown their mother's point of view. They had never occupied it. 

The journey, so far as Thorpe comprehended its character, had beenshaped with about equal regard for Julia's interest in the romance ofhistory, and Alfred's more technical and practical interest in art. Each had sufficient sympathy with the tastes of the other, however, toprevent any tendency to separation. They took their uncle one day to seewhere William the Silent was assassinated, and the next to observe howRembrandt's theory of guild portrait-painting differed from Van derHelst's, with a common enthusiasm. He scrutinized with patient loyaltyeverything that they indicated to him, and not infrequently theyappeared to like very much the comments he offered. These were chieflyof a sprightly nature, and when Julia laughed over them he felt that shewas very near to him indeed. 

Thus they saw Paris together--where Thorpe did relinquish some of themultiplied glories of the Louvre to sit in front of a cafe by theOpera House and see the funny people go past--and thence, by Bruges andAntwerp, to Holland, where nobody could have imagined there were as manypictures as Thorpe saw with his own weary eyes. There were wonderful oldbuildings at Lubeck for Julia's eyes to glisten over, and pictures atBerlin, Dresden, and Dusseldorf for Alfred. 

The assumption existed that the excursion into the Thuringenwald to seethe memorials of Luther was especially for the uncle's benefit, and hetried solicitously to say or look nothing which might invalidate it. There were other places in Germany, from Mainz to Munich, which heremembered best by their different beers. They spent Christmas atVienna, where Julia had heard that its observance was peculiarlyinsisted upon, and then they saw the Tyrol in its heaviest vesture ofwinter snows, and beautiful old Basle, where Alfred was crazier aboutHolbein than he had been at Munich over Brouwer. Thorpe looked verycarefully at the paintings of both men, and felt strengthened in hishopes that when Alfred got a little older he would see that this picturebusiness was not the thing for a young gentleman with prospects to gointo. 

It was at Basle that Thorpe received a letter from London which directlyaltered the plans of the party. He had had several other lettersfrom London which had produced no such effect. Through Semple, hehad followed in outline the unobtrusive campaign to secure a SpecialSettlement, and had learned that the Stock Exchange Committee, apparently without opposition, had granted one for the first week inFebruary. 

Even this news, tremendously important as it was, did not prompt Thorpeto interfere with the children's projects. There was no longer any pointin remaining away from London; there were, indeed, numerous reasonsfor a prompt return. But he was loth to deprive the youngsters of thatdescent into smiling, sunlit Italy upon which they had so fondly dweltin fancy, and after all Semple could do all that was needful to be donefor another month. 

So they went to Basle, and here it was that another kind of letter came. It was in a strange hand, at once cramped and fluttering, which puzzledthe recipient a good deal; it was a long time before even the signatureunravelled itself. Then he forced himself to decipher it, sentence bysentence, with a fierce avidity. It was from General Kervick. 

The next morning Thorpe astonished his young companions by suggestingan alteration in their route. In a roundabout and tentative fashion--inwhich more suspicious observers must have detected somethingshamefaced--he mentioned that he had always heard a great deal aboutMontreux as a winter-resort. The fact that he called it Montroox raisedin Julia's mind a fleeting wonder from whom it could be that he hadheard so much about it, but it occurred to neither her nor her brotherto question his entire good faith. Their uncle had displayed, hitherto, a most comforting freedom from discrimination among European towns; hehad, indeed, assured them many times that they were all one to him. Thathe should suddenly turn up now with a favourite winter-resort of hisown selection surprised them considerably, but, upon reflection, it alsopleased them. He had humoured all their wishes with such unfailingand bountiful kindness, that it was a delight to learn that there wassomething he wanted to do. They could not finish their breakfast tillthe guide-book had been brought to the table. 

"Oh! How splendid!" Julia had cried then. "The Castle of Chillon isthere!"

"Why of course!" said Thorpe, complacently. 

They laughed gayly at him for pretending that he had known this, and heas good-humouredly accepted their banter. He drew a serious long breathof relief, however, when their backs were turned. It had gone off muchbetter than he had feared. 

Now, on this Sunday afternoon, as the train made its sure-footed wayacross the mountains, the thought that he was actually to alight atMontreux at once fascinated and depressed him. He was annoyed withhimself for suffering it to get such a hold upon his mind. What wasthere in it, anyway? There was a big hotel there, and he and hisyoungsters were to stop at it, and if he accidentally encountered acertain lady who was also stopping there--and of course the meetingwould bear upon its face the stamp of pure chance--what of it?

And if he did meet her, thus fortuitously--what would happen then? Nodoubt a lady of her social position met abroad great numbers of peoplethat she had met at home. It would not in any way surprise her--thischance encounter of which he thought so much. Were there sufficientgrounds for imagining that it would even interest her? He forced hismind up to this question, as it were, many times, and invariably itshied and evaded the leap. 

There had been times, at Hadlow House, when Lady Cressage had seemedsupremely indifferent to the fact of his existence, and there hadbeen other times when it had appeared manifest that he pleased her--orbetter, perhaps, that she was willing to take note of how much shepleased him. It must have been apparent to her--this fact thatshe produced such an impression upon him. He reasoned this outsatisfactorily to himself. These beautiful women, trained fromchildhood for the conquest of a rich husband, must have cultivated anextraordinary delicacy of consciousness, in such matters. They must havedeveloped for themselves what might be called a sixth sense--a power offeeling in the air what the men about were thinking of them. More thanonce he had caught a glimmer of what he felt to be the operation of thissense, in the company of Lady Cressage. He could not say that it hadbeen discernible in her glance, or her voice, or her manner, precisely, but he was sure that he had seen it, somehow. 

But even assuming all this--admitting that in October, on a wet Sunday, in the tedium of a small country-house party, she had shown somemomentary satisfaction in the idea that he was profoundly impressed byher--did it at all follow that in February, amid the distractions of afashionable winter-resort, and probably surrounded by hosts of friends, she would pay any attention to him whatever? The abject fear that shemight not even remember him--might not know him from Adam when he stoodbefore her--skulked about in the labyrinths of his mind, but he drove itback whenever it showed itself. That would be too ignominious. 

The young people at the other side of the compartment, forever wipingthe window with the napkin, and straining their eyes to see theinvisible, diverted his unsettled attention. A new perception of howmuch he liked them and enjoyed having them with him, took hold of histhoughts. It had not occurred to him before, with any definiteness, thathe would be insupportably lonely when the time came to part with them. 

Now, when he dwelt upon it, it made him feel sad and old. 

He said to himself at once, with decision, that there need be no partingat all. He would take a house without delay, and they should live withhim. He could not doubt that this would be agreeable to them; it wouldsolve every problem for him. 

His fancy sketched out the natural and legitimate extensions of thisproject. There would be, first of all, a house in town--a furnishedhouse of a modest sort, having no pretension save to provide a cheerfultemporary shelter for three people who liked one another. Here thenew household would take shape, and get its right note of character. Apparently Louisa would not be urged to form part of this household. Hesaid to himself with frankness that he didn't want her, and there hadbeen nothing to indicate that her children would pine for her. Sheshowed good sense when she said that her place was in the shop, andin her ancestral home over the shop. No doubt there would be a certainawkwardness, visible to others if not to themselves, about her living inone part of London and her children in another. But here also her goodsense would come on;--and, besides, this furnished house in town wouldbe a mere brief overture to the real thing--the noble country mansionhe was going to have, with gardens and horses and hounds and artificiallakes and deer parks and everything. Quite within the year he would beable to realize this consummation of his dreams. 

How these nice young people would revel in such a place--and how theywould worship him for having given it to them for a home! His heartwarmed within him as he thought of this. He smiled affectionately at thepicture Julia made, polishing the glass with vehement circular movementsof her slight arm, and then grimacing in comic vexation at the deadlyabsence of landscape outside. Was there ever a sweeter or more lovablegirl in this world? Would there have to be some older woman to managethe house, at the beginning? he wondered. He should like it immensely ifthat could be avoided. Julia looked fragile and inexperienced--but shewould be twenty-one next month. Surely that was a mature enough age forthe slight responsibility of presiding over servants who should be thebest that money could buy. Many girls were married, and given householdsof their own to manage, when they were even younger. 

This reflection raised an obstacle against the smooth-flowing currentof his thoughts. Supposing that Julia got the notion of marrying--howmiserable that would make everything. Very likely she would never do anysuch thing; he had observed in her no shadow of a sign that a thought ofmatrimony had ever crossed her brain. Yet that was a subject upon which, of course, she could not be asked to give pledges, even to herself. 

Thorpe tried to take a liberal view of this matter. He argued to himselfthat there would be no objection at all to incorporating Julia's husbandinto the household, assuming that she went to the length of taking one, and that he was a good fellow. On this latter point, it was only thebarest justice to Julia's tastes and judgment to take it for grantedthat he would be a good fellow. Yet the uncle felt uneasily thatthis would alter things for the worse. The family party, with thathypothetical young man in it, could never be quite so innocently andcompletely happy as--for instance--the family party in this compartmenthad been during these wonderful three months. 

Mechanically he rubbed the window beside him, and turned to look outwith a certain fixedness--as if he might chance to catch a glimpse ofthe bridegroom with whom Julia would have it in her power to disturbthe serenity of their prospective home. A steep white cliff, recedingsullenly against the dim grey skyline; a farmhouse grotesquely low forits size, crouching under big shelving galleries heaped with snow;an opening in front, to the right, where vaguely there seemed to be avalley into which they would descend--he saw these things. They remainedin his mind afterward as a part of something else that he saw, withhis mental vision, at the same moment--a strikingly real and vividpresentment of Lady Cressage, attired as he had seen her in the saddle, her light hair blown about a little under her hat, a spot of colourin the exquisite cheek, the cold, impersonal dignity of a queen in thebeautiful profile. 

The picture was so actual for the instant that he uttered an involuntaryexclamation--and then looked hastily round to see whether his companionshad heard it. Seemingly they had not; he lolled again upon thecomfortless cushion, and strove to conjure up once more the apparition. Nothing satisfactory came of the effort. Upon consideration, he grewuncertain as to whether he had seen anything at all. At the most it wasa kind of half-dream which had visited him. He yawned at the thought, and lighted a fresh cigar. All at once, his mind had become too indolentto do any more thinking. A shapeless impression that there would be agood many things to think over later on flitted into his brain and outagain. 

"Well, how are the mountains using you, now?" he called out to hisniece. 

"Oh, I could shake them!" she declared. "Listen to this: 'A view ofsingular beauty, embracing the greater part of the Lake of Geneva, andthe surrounding mountains, is suddenly disclosed. ' That's where we arenow--or were a minute ago. You can see that there is some sort of valleyin front of us--but that is all. If I could only see one mountain withsnow on it----"

"Why, it's all mountains and all snow, when you come to that, " Thorpeinsisted, with jocose perversity. "You're on mountains yourself, all thetime. "

"You know what I mean, " she retorted. "I want to see something like thecoloured pictures in the hotels. "

"Oh, probably it will be bright sunlight tomorrow, " he said, for perhapsthe twentieth time that day. 

"There--that looks like water!" said Alfred. "See? just beyond thevillage. Yes, it is water. There's your Lake of Geneva, at all events. "

"But it isn't the right colour, " protested Julia, peering through theglass. "It's precisely like everything else: it's of no colour at all. And they always paint it such a lovely blue! Really, uncle, the SwissGovernment ought to return you your money. "

"You wait till you see it tomorrow--or next day, " said the uncle, vaguely. He closed his eyes, and welcomed a drowsy mood. As he went offto sleep, the jolting racket of the train mellowed itself into a murmurof "tomorrow or next day, tomorrow or next day, " in his ears. 

CHAPTER XI

FROM their windows, high up and at the front of the big hotel, Julialooked down upon the Lake of Geneva. She was in such haste to beholdit that she had not so much as unbuttoned her gloves; she held hermuff still in her hand. After one brief glance, she groaned aloud withvexation. 

Beyond the roadway, and the deserted miniature pier of Territet, bothdishevelled under melting and mud-stained snow, there lay a patch ofwater--motionless, inconspicuous, of a faded drab colour--which at somesmall distance out vaguely ceased to look like water and, yet a littlefurther out, became part and parcel of the dull grey mist. Save for theforlorn masts of a couple of fishing boats, beached under the shelterof the pier, there was no proof in sight that this was a lake at all. Itwas as uninspiring to the eye as a pool of drippings from umbrellas in aporch. 

While her uncle and brother occupied themselves with the luggage beingbrought up by the porters, she opened a window and stepped out uponthe tiny balcony. A flaring sign on the inner framework of this balconybesought her in Swiss-French, in the interests of order, not to feedthe birds. The injunction seemed meaningless to her until she perceived, over by the water, several gulls lazily wheeling about. They were almostas grey as the fog they circled in. Suddenly they seemed to perceiveher in turn, and, swerving sharply, came floating toward the hotel, withharsh, almost menacing cries. She hurried in, and shut the window withdecision. It seemed to her that the smile with which, as she turned, shewas able to meet her uncle's look, was a product of true heroism. 

Apparently this smile did not altogether delude him. "Oh, now, youmustn't get down on your luck, " he adjured her. "We're going to beawfully cozy here. Have you seen your room? It's just there, in a littlealley to the right of the door. They say it has an even finer viewthan these windows. Oh, you needn't laugh--this is the best view in theworld, I'm told by those who know. And as a winter-resort, why----"

"I say, look here!" The interruption came from Alfred, who, having goneout on one of the balconies, put in his head now to summon them. "Comehere! Here's some fun. "

He pointed out to Thorpe the meaning of the inscription on the sign, andthen pulled him forward to observe its practical defiance. A score ofbig gulls were flapping and dodging in excited confusion close beforethem, filling their ears with a painful clamour. Every now and again, one of the birds, recovering its senses in the hurly-burly, would make acurving swoop downward past the rows of windows below, and triumphantlycatch in its beak something that had been thrown into the air. 

Thorpe, leaning over his railing, saw that a lady on a balcony one floorbelow, and some yards to the left, was feeding the birds. She laughedaloud as she did so, and said something over her shoulder to a companionwho was not visible. 

"Well, that's pretty cool, " he remarked to his niece, who had come tostand beside him. "She's got the same sign down there that we've got. Ican see it from here. Or perhaps she can't read French. "

"Or perhaps she isn't frightened of the hotel people, " suggested thegirl. She added, after a little, "I think I'll feed them myself inthe morning. I certainly shall if the sun comes out--as a sort ofThanksgiving festival, you know. "

Her uncle seemed not to hear her. He had been struck by the exceptionalgrace of the gestures with which the pieces of bread were flung forth. The hands and wrists of this lady were very white and shapely. Themovements which she made with them, all unaware of observation as shewas, and viewed as he viewed them from above, were singularly beautifulin their unconstraint. It was in its way like watching some remarkablefine dancing, he thought. He could not see much of her face, from hisperch, but she was tall and fashionably clad. There was a loose coveringof black lace thrown over her head, but once, as she turned, he couldsee that her hair was red. Even in this fleeting glimpse, the unusualtint attracted his attention: there was a brilliancy as of fire in it. Somehow it seemed to make a claim upon his memory. He continued to staredown at the stranger with an indefinable sense that he knew somethingabout her. 

Suddenly another figure appeared upon the balcony--and in a flash hecomprehended everything. These idiotic, fighting gluttons of gullshad actually pointed out to him the object of his search. It wasLady Cressage who stood in the doorway, there just below him--and hercompanion, the red-haired lady who laughed hotel-rules to scorn, was theAmerican heiress who had crossed the ocean in his ship, and whom hehad met later on at Hadlow. What was her name--Martin? No--Madden. Heconfronted the swift impression that there was something odd about thesetwo women being together. At Hadlow he had imagined that they did notlike each other. Then he reflected as swiftly that women probably hadtheir own rules about such matters. He seemed to have heard, or read, perhaps, that females liked and disliked each other with the mostcapricious alternations and on the least tangible of grounds. At allevents, here they were together now. That was quite enough. 

The two ladies had gone in, and closed their window. The sophisticatedbirds, with a few ungrateful croaks of remonstrance, had drifted awayagain to the water. His niece had disappeared from his elbow. StillThorpe remained with his arms folded on the railing, his eyes fixed onthe vacant balcony, below to the left. 

When at last he went inside, the young people were waiting for him withthe project of a stroll before dinner. The light was failing, but therewas plenty of time. They had ascertained the direction in which Chillonlay; a servant had assured them that it was only a few minutes' walk, and Alfred was almost certain that he had seen it from the window. 

Thorpe assented with a certain listlessness, which they had never notedin his manner before, but when Julia begged him not to stir if he werein the slightest degree tired, he replied honestly enough that he woulddo anything rather than be left alone. Then, of course, they said, thereshould be no walk, but to this he would not listen. The party troopeddownstairs, accordingly, and out into the street. The walking was vile, but, as Julia had long ago said, if they were to be deterred by slushthey would never get anywhere or see anything. 

It proved to be too late and too dark to either enter the castle or getmuch of an idea of its exterior. Returning, they paused again to lookinto the lighted window of the nice little book-shop. The numerousphotographs of what they were entitled to behold from the windows oftheir hotel seemed more convincing than photographs usually were. As theyoung people inspected them, they became reassured. It was not crediblethat such a noble vista would forever deny itself to such earnestpilgrims. When their uncle introduced this time his ancient formulaabout the certainty of brilliant sunshine in the morning, they somehowfelt like believing him. 

"Yes--I really think it must change, " Julia declared, with herfascinated glance upon the photographs. 

Alfred looked at his watch. "We'd better get along to the hotel, hadn'twe?" he suggested. 

"By the way"--Thorpe began, with a certain uneasiness ofmanner--"speaking of dinner, wouldn't you like to dine at the big tabled'hote, instead of up in our sitting-room?"

"If you're tired of our dining alone--by all means, " answered Julia, readily. There was obvious surprise, however, in both her look and tone. 

"Tired nothing!" he assured her. "I like it better than anything else inthe world. But what I mean is--I was thinking, seeing that this issuch a great winter-resort, and all the swagger people of Europe comehere--that probably you youngsters would enjoy seeing the crowd. "

Julia's glance, full of affectionate appreciation, showed how wholly shedivined his spirit of self-sacrifice. "We wouldn't care in the leastfor it, " she declared. "We enjoy being a little party by ourselves everywhit as much as you do--and we both hate the people you get at tabled'hotes--and besides, for that matter, if there are any real swellshere, you may be sure they dine in their own rooms. "

"Why, of course!" Thorpe exclaimed swiftly, in palpable self-rebuke. "Idon't know what I could have been thinking of. Of course they would dinein their rooms. "

Next morning, Thorpe rose earlier than ever--with the impression of apeculiarly restless and uncomfortable night behind him. It was not untilhe had shaved and dressed that he noted the altered character of theair outside. Although it was not fully daylight yet, he could see theoutlines of the trees and vinerows on the big, snow-clad hill, whichmonopolized the prospect from his window, all sharp and clear cut, as ifhe were looking at them through an opera-glass. He went at once to thesitting-room, and thrust the curtains aside from one of the windows. 

A miracle had been wrought in the night. The sky overhead was serenelycloudless; the lake beneath, stirring softly under some faint passingbreeze, revealed its full breadth with crystalline distinctness. Betweensky and water there stretched across the picture a broad, looming, dimly-defined band of shadow, marked here and there at the top bylittle slanting patches of an intensely glowing white. He looked at thisdarkling middle distance for a moment or two without comprehension. Thenhe turned and hurriedly moved to the door of Julia's room and beat uponit. 

"Get up!" he called through the panels. "Here's your sunrise--here'syour Alpine view. Go to your window and see it!"

A clear voice, not unmirthful, replied: "I've been watching it for halfan hour, thanks. Isn't it glorious?"

He was more fortunate at the opposite door, for Alfred was stillasleep. The young man, upon hearing the news, however, made a toilet ofunexampled brevity, and came breathlessly forth. Thorpe followed himto the balcony, where he stood collarless and uncombed, with the freshmorning breeze blowing his hair awry, his lips parted, his eyes staringwith what the uncle felt to be a painful fixedness before him. 

Thorpe had seen many mountains in many lands. They did not interest himvery much. He thought, however, that he could see now why people whohad no mountains of their own should get excited about Switzerland. Heunderstood a number of these sentimental things now, for that matter, which had been Greek to him three months before. Unreceptive as hisphilistinism may have seemed to these delightful youngsters, it wasapparent enough to him that they had taught him a great deal. If hecould not hope to share their ever-bubbling raptures and enthusiasms, at least he had come to comprehend them after a fashion, and even todiscern sometimes what it was that stirred them. 

He watched his nephew now--having first assured himself by acomprehensive downward glance that no other windows of the hotel-frontwere open. The young man seemed tremendously moved, far too much so totalk. Thorpe ventured once some remarks about the Mexican mountains, which were ever so much bigger, as he remembered them, but Alfred paidno heed. He continued to gaze across the lake, watching in rapt silenceone facet after another catch the light, and stand out from the murkygloom, radiantly white, till at last the whole horizon was a mass ofshining minarets and domes, and the sun fell full on his face. Then, with a long-drawn sigh, he turned, re-entered the room, and threwhimself into a chair. 

"It's too good!" he declared, with a half-groan. "I didn't know it wouldbe like that. "

"Why nothing's too good for us, man, " his uncle told him. 

"THAT is, " said the boy, simply, and Thorpe, after staring for a moment, smiled and rang the bell for breakfast. 

When Julia made her appearance, a few minutes later, the table wasalready laid, and the waiter was coming in with the coffee. 

"I thought we'd hurry up breakfast, " her uncle explained, after shehad kissed him and thanked him for the sunrise he had so successfullypredicted--"because I knew you'd both be crazy to get out. "

He had not over-estimated their eagerness, which was so great, indeed, that they failed to note the excessive tranquility of his own demeanour. He ate with such unusual deliberation, on this exciting morning, thatthey found themselves at the end of their repast when, apparently, hehad but made a beginning. 

"Now you mustn't wait for me at all, " he announced to them then. "I'm alittle tired this morning--and I think I'd just like to lie around andsmoke, and perhaps read one of your novels. But you two must get yourthings on and lose no time in getting out. This is the very best time ofday, you know--for Alpine scenery. I'd hate to have you miss any of it. "

Under his kindly if somewhat strenuous insistence, they went to theirrooms to prepare for an immediate excursion. He was so anxious to havethem see all there was to be seen that, when Julia returned, properlycloaked and befurred, and stood waiting at the window, he scolded alittle. 

"What on earth is that boy doing?" he exclaimed, with a latent snarl inhis tone which was novel to her ear. "He'll keep you here till noon!"

"He's shaving, I think. He won't be long, " she replied, with greatgentleness. After a moment's pause, she turned from the window and camegayly forward. 

"Oh, I forgot: I was going to feed the birds. There are several of themout there now. " As she spoke, she busily broke up some of the rolls onthe table. Her face was bright with the pleasure of the thought. 

"If you don't much mind, Julia, " her uncle began, with almost pleadingintonations, "I rather think I wouldn't feed those birds. The rule isthere before our eyes, you know--and it's always been my idea that ifyou're at a hotel it's the correct thing to abide by its rules. It'sjust an idea of mine--and I daresay, if you think about it, you'll feelthe same way. "

The girl freed the last remaining bread-crumb from her gloves. "Why, ofcourse, uncle, " she said, with promptitude. 

Although there was no hint of protest in her tone or manner, he feltimpelled to soften still further this solitary demonstration of hisauthority. "You see I've been all round the world, my little girl, " heexplained, haltingly, "and when a man's done that, and knocked abouteverywhere, he's apt to get finicking and notional about trifles everyonce in a while. "

"You're less so than anybody I ever knew, " she generously interposed. 

"Oh, no I'm not. You don't know me well enough yet; that's what's thematter. And you see, Julia--another thing just because you saw that ladythrowing out bread, that aint a very good reason why you should do it. You don't know what kind of a person she may be. Girls have got to be sofrightfully careful about all that sort of thing. "

Julia offered a constrained little laugh in comment. "Oh, you don't knowhow careful I can be, " she said. 

"But you're not annoyed?" he entreated her--and for answer she camebehind him, and rested an arm on his shoulder, and patted it. He strokedher hand with his own. "That's something like the nicest niece in theworld!" he exclaimed, with fervour. 

When at last she and her brother had gone, he made short work of hisbreakfast, and drank his coffee at a gulp. A restless activity suddenlyinformed his movements. He lit a cigar, and began pacing up and down theroom, biting his lips in preoccupation as he went. After a little, heopened a window, and ventured cautiously as far out on the balconyas was necessary to obtain a view of the street below. Eventually, heidentified his nephew and niece among the pedestrians beneath him, andhe kept them in sight till, after more than one tiresome halt at a shopwindow, they disappeared round a bend in the road. Then he turned andcame back into the room with the buoyant air of a man whose affairs areprospering. 

He smiled genially to himself as he gathered from the table in onecapacious hand all the pieces of bread his beloved niece had brokenup, and advanced again to the open window. Waiting here till one of thedingy gulls moving aimlessly about was headed toward him, he tossed outa fragment. The bird dashed at it with a scream, and on the instant thewhole squawking flock were on wing. He suffered the hubbub to proceedunappeased for a little while he kept a watchful though furtive eyeon that balcony to the left, below. Unhappily he could not get out farenough to see whether the inner curtains of its window were drawn. Hethrew another bit of bread, and then looked at his watch. It was a fewminutes past nine. Surely people travelling to see scenery would be upby this hour. 

The strategy of issuing just enough bread to keep the featheredconcourse in motion commended itself to his mind. As a precautionarymeasure, he took all the rolls remaining on the table, and put them inthe drawer of a desk by the window. It even occurred to him to ring formore bread, but upon consideration that seemed too daring. The waiterwould be sufficiently surprised at the party's appetites as it was. 

Half an hour later, his plan of campaign suddenly yielded a victory. Lady Cressage appeared on her balcony, clad in some charming sort ofmorning gown, and bareheaded. She had nothing in her hands, and seemedindifferent to the birds, but when Thorpe flung forth a handful offragments into the centre of their whirling flock, she looked up at him. It was the anxious instant, and he ventured upon what he hoped was adecorous compromise between a bow and a look of recognition. 

She was in no haste to answer either. He could see rather than hearthat she said something to her invisible companion within, the while sheglanced serenely in the general direction of his balcony. It seemed tohim that the answer to her remark, whatever it was, must have exerteda direct influence upon his destiny, for Lady Cressage all at oncefocussed her vague regard upon him, and nodded with a reasonablygracious smile. 

"It's wonderful luck to find you here, " he called down to her. Havingplayed their part, he wished now that the birds were at Jericho. Theirobstreperous racket made conversation very difficult. Apparently shemade him an answer, but he could catch nothing of it. 

"I'm here with my niece and nephew, " he shouted down. "I don't hear whatyou say. May I come down and pay my respects--later on? What is yournumber, and when may I come?"

These questions, as he flashed them in review through his mind, seemedto be all right from the most exacting social point of view. Doubtlessit was equally all right that, before replying, she should consult hercompanion, as she did at some length. Then she replied--and he had nodifficulty now in hearing her above the birds--that it would bevery nice of him to come, say, in an hour's time. She told him thenumber--and then almost abruptly went in. 

Thorpe, during this hour that ensued, smoked with volcanic energy. Hetried to interest himself in one after another of half a dozen Tauchnitznovels his niece carried about, with a preposterous absence of success. He strove to arrange in some kind of sequence the things that he shouldsay, when this momentous interview should begin, but he could think ofnothing which did not sound silly. It would be all right, he argued tohimself in the face of this present mental barrenness; he always talkedwell enough on the spur of the moment, when the time came--and still wasnot reassured. 

He wondered if both ladies would be there to receive him, anddecided that they would probably regard that as indispensable to theproprieties. In that case, their conversation would necessarily be ofthe most casual and general character. He would tell them a good dealabout his niece, he foresaw. A man travelling about with a niece--andsuch a delightfully lady-like and engaging little niece--would take onsome added interest and dignity, he perceived, in the eyes of ladiestravelling alone. He essayed to estimate just how much they wouldprobably like Julia. Of course he would say nothing about her mother andthe book-shop; a vague allusion to a widowed sister would be ample onthat head. But there could be confident references to Cheltenham; heknew from what Julia had said that it suggested the most satisfactorysocial guarantees, if taken strictly by itself. And then so much woulddepend upon Julia herself! If she succeeded in striking up a friendshipwith them--ah, then everything would be all right. Perhaps they wouldtake a fancy to Alfred too! He was a boy, of course, but conceivably thefact that he wanted to paint, and knew about pictures, would appeal tothem. He seemed to have heard somewhere that artists were the very devilamong women. 

At last the weary time of waiting had worn itself out, somehow, and, after a final polishing before his glass, he went down, and found hisright corridor, and knocked at the door. A pleasant voice bade himenter, and, hat and gloves in hand, he went in. 

As he had imagined, both ladies were present. He had not been prepared, however, for the fact that it was the American who played the part ofhostess. It was she who received him, and invited him to sit down, andgenerally made him free of the apartment. When he shook hands with LadyCressage, there was somehow an effect of the incidental in the ceremony, as if she were also a guest. 

Nothing could have been simpler or more pleasing than the little visitturned out to be. Miss Madden had suddenly grown tired of the snowlessand dripping English winter, and had as promptly decided to come toSwitzerland, where the drifts ought to be high enough, and the frostssearching enough, in all conscience. They had selected Territet, becauseit was familiar to her, and because it was on the way to Martigny andBrieg, and she had had a notion of crossing either the Simplon or theSt. Bernard in winter. As she found now, the St. Bernard was quiteimpracticable, but admittedly a post road was kept open over theSimplon. It was said now that she would not be allowed to proceed bythis, but it often happened that she did the things that she was notallowed to do. The hotel-people at both Brieg and Berisal had writtenrefusing to let their horses attempt the Simplon journey, and they wereof course quite within their rights, but there were other horses inSwitzerland. One surely could buy horses--and so on. 

Thorpe also had his turn at autobiography. He told rather whimsicallyof his three months' experiences at the tail of the juvenile whirligigs, and his auditors listened to them with mild smiles. He ventured uponnumerous glowing parentheses about Julia, and they at least did not saythat they did not want to know her. They heard with politeness, too, what he could contrive to drag in about his artist-nephew, and said itmust be very pleasant for him to have such nice company. At least MissMadden said this: her companion, as he thought it over afterward, seemedhardly to have said anything at all. She answered the few remarks whichhe found it possible to direct to her, but the responses took no holdupon his memory. He fancied that she was bored, or unhappy, or both. 

Finally, in the midst of commonplaces which, to his apprehension, wereverging upon flatness, a bold inspiration disclosed itself--assplendid as the Dent du Midi revealing its glaciers above the mountingsunrise--in his brain. 

"We should all be charmed if you would come up and dine with ustonight, " he said, under the abrupt impulsion of this idea. "It's beensuch an age since we wanderers have had the privilege of company at ourtable!"

The felicity of these phrases from his lips attracted his admiringattention, even while he waited in suspense for an answer to them. 

The ladies exchanged a look. "Yes, " said Miss Madden, after theslightest of pauses, "we shall be very happy. "

Shortly thereafter Thorpe took his leave, and went downstairs and out. He wandered about till luncheon time, observing the mountains across thelake from various standpoints, and, as it were, with new eyes. He wasinterested in them in a curious new fashion; they seemed to say thingsto him. His lip curled once at the conceit that he was one of the Alpshimself. 

CHAPTER XII

IT did not happen until three days later that Thorpe's opportunity tospeak alone with Lady Cressage came. 

In this brief period, the two parties seemed to have become fused in aremarkable intimacy. This was clearly due to the presence of the youngpeople, and Thorpe congratulated himself many times each day upon thestriking prescience he had shown in bringing them. 

Both the ladies unaffectedly liked Julia; so much so that they seemedunwilling to make any plans which did not include her. Then it was onlya matter of course that where she went her brother should go--and afurther logical step quite naturally brought in their willing uncle. Ifhe had planned everything, and now was ordering everything, it could nothave gone more to his liking. 

Certain side speculations lent a savour to the satisfaction with whichhe viewed this state of affairs. He found many little signs to confirmthe suspicion that the two ladies had been the readier to make much ofJulia because they were not overkeen about each other's society. Thebright, sweet-natured girl had come as a welcome diversion to a couplewho in seclusion did battle with tendencies to yawn. He was not quiteconvinced, for that matter, that the American lady always went to thattrouble. She seemed to his observation a wilful sort of person, whowould not be restrained by small ordinary considerations from doing thethings she wanted to do. Her relations with her companion afforded himfood for much thought. Without any overt demonstrations, she producedthe effect of ordering Lady Cressage about. This, so far as it went, tended to prejudice him against her. On the other hand, however, she wasso good to Julia, in a peculiarly frank and buoyant way which fascinatedthe girl, that he could not but like her. And she was very good toAlfred too. 

There was, indeed, he perceived, a great deal of individuality about thefriendship which had sprung up between Miss Madden and his nephew. Shewas years his senior--he settled it with himself that the American couldnot be less than seven-and-twenty, --yet Alfred stole covert glances ofadmiration at her, and seemed to think of nothing but opportunities forbeing in her company as if--as if--Thorpe hardly liked to complete thecomparison in his own thoughts. Alfred, of course, said it was all onaccount of her wonderful hair; he rather went out of his way todilate upon the enthusiasm her "colour scheme"--whatever that mightmean--excited in him as an artist. The uncle had moments of profoundskepticism about this--moments when he uneasily wondered whether it wasnot going to be his duty to speak to the young man. For the most part, however, he extracted reassurance from Miss Madden's demeanour towardthe lad. She knew, it seemed, a vast deal about pictures; at least shewas able to talk a vast deal about them, and she did it in such a calmlydogmatic fashion, laying down the law always, that she put Alfred in theposition of listening as a pupil might listen to a master. The humilitywith which his nephew accepted this position annoyed Thorpe uponoccasion, but he reasoned that it was a fault on the right side. Verylikely it would help to keep the fact of the lady's seniority moreclearly before the youngster's mind, and that would be so much gained. 

And these apprehensions, after all, were scarcely to be counted in thebalance against the sense of achieved happiness with which these halcyondays kept Thorpe filled. The initiatory dinner had gone off perfectly. He could have wished, indeed, that Julia had a smarter frock, and morerings, when he saw the imposing costumes and jewelled throats and handsof his guests--but she was a young girl, by comparison, he reflected, and there could be no doubt that they found her charming. As for Alfred, he was notably fine-looking in his evening-clothes--infinitely more likethe son of a nobleman, the gratified uncle kept saying to himself, than that big dullard, the Honourable Balder. It filled him with a newpleasure to remember that Alfred had visiting cards presenting his nameas D'Aubigny, which everybody of education knew was what the degenerateDabney really stood for. The lad and his sister had united upon thisexcellent change long ago at Cheltenham, and oddly enough they hadconfessed it to their uncle, at the beginning of the trip, with a showof trepidation, as if they feared his anger. With radiant gayety hehad relieved their minds by showing them his card, with "Mr. StormontThorpe" alone upon it. At the dinner table, in the proudest momentof his life, he had made himself prouder still by thinking howdistinguished an appearance his and Alfred's cards would make togetherin the apartment below next day. 

But next day, the relations between the two parties had already becometoo informal for cards. Julia went down to see them; they came up to seeJulia. Then they all went for a long walk, with luncheon at Vevey, andbefore evening Alfred was talking confidently of painting Miss Madden. Next day they went by train to St. Maurice, and, returning after dark, dined without ceremony together. This third day--the weather stillremaining bright--they had ascended by the funicular road to Glion, andwalked on among the swarming luegers, up to Caux. Here, after luncheon, they had wandered about for a time, regarding the panorama of lake andmountains. Now, as the homeward descent began, chance led the two youngpeople and Miss Madden on ahead. 

Thorpe found himself walking beside Lady Cressage. He had upon his armher outer wrap, which she said she would put on presently. To look atthe view he must glance past her face: the profile, under the gracefulfur cap, was so enriched by glowing colour that it was, to his thought, as if she were blushing. 

"How little I thought, a few months ago, " he said, "that we should bemountaineering together!"

"Oh, no one knows a day ahead, " she responded, vaguely. "I had probablyless notion of coming to Switzerland then than you had. "

"Then you don't come regularly?"

"I have never seen either Germany or Switzerland before. I have scarcelybeen out of England before. "

"Why now"--he paused, to think briefly upon his words--"I took it forgranted you were showing Miss Madden around. "

"It 's quite the other way about, " she answered, with a cold littlelaugh. "It is she who is showing me around. It is her tour. I am thechaperone. " Thorpe dwelt upon the word in his mind. He understood whatit meant only in a way, but he was luminously clear as to the bitternessof the tone in which it had been uttered. 

"No--it didn't seem as if it were altogether--what I might call--YOURtour, " he ventured. They had seen much of each other these past fewdays, but it was still hard for him to make sure whether their freedomof intercourse had been enlarged. 

The slight shrug of the shoulders with which, in silence, she commentedupon his remark, embarrassed him. For a moment he said nothing. He wenton then with a renewed consciousness of risk. 

"You mustn't be annoyed with me, " he urged. "I've been travelling withthat dear little niece of mine and her brother, so long, that I'vegot into a habit of watching to notice if the faces I see round me arehappy. And when they're not, then I have a kind of fatherly notion ofinterfering, and seeing what's wrong. "

She smiled faintly at this, but when he added, upon doubtfulinspiration--"By the way, speaking of fathers, I didn't know at Hadlowthat you were the daughter of one of my Directors"--this smile frozeupon the instant. 

"The Dent du Midi is more impressive from the hotel, don't you think?"she remarked, "than it is from here. "

Upon consideration, he resolved to go forward. "I have taken a greatinterest in General Kervick, " he said, almost defiantly. "I am seeing toit that he has a comfortable income--an income suitable to a gentlemanof his position--for the rest of his life. "

"He will be very glad of it, " she remarked. 

"But I hoped that you would be glad of it too, " he told her, bluntly. Acurious sense of reliance upon his superiority in years had come to him. If he could make his air elderly and paternal enough, it seemed likelythat she would defer to it. "I'm talking to you as I would to my niece, you know, " he added, plausibly. 

She turned her head to make a fleeting survey of his face, as if thepoint of view took her by surprise. "I don't understand, " she said. "Youare providing an income for my father, because you wish to speak to melike an uncle. Is that it?"

He laughed, somewhat disconsolately. "No--that isn't it, " he said, andlaughed again. "I couldn't tell, you know, that you wouldn't want totalk about your father. " "Why, there's no reason in the world for nottalking of him, " she made haste to declare. "And if he's got somethinggood in the City, I'm sure I'm as glad as anyone. He is the sort thatought always to have a good deal of money. I mean, it will bring out hismore amiable qualities. He does not shine much in adversity--any morethan I do. "

Thorpe felt keenly that there were fine things to be said here--but hehad confidence in nothing that came to his tongue. "I've been a poor manall my life--till now, " was his eventual remark. 

"Please don't tell me that you have been very happy in your poverty, "she adjured him, with the dim flicker of a returning smile. "Very likelythere are people who are so constituted, but they are not my kind. Idon't want to hear them tell about it. To me poverty is the horror--theunmentionable horror!"

"There never was a day that I didn't feel THAT!" Thorpe put fervour intohis voice. "I was never reconciled to it for a minute. I never ceasedswearing to myself that I'd pull myself out of it. And that's whatmakes me sort of soft-hearted now toward those--toward those who haven'tpulled themselves out of it. "

"Your niece says you are soft-hearted beyond example, " remarked LadyCressage. 

"Who could help being, to such a sweet little girl as she is?" demandedthe uncle, fondly. 

"She is very nice, " said the other. "If one may say such a thing, Ifancy these three months with her have had an appreciable effect uponyou. I'm sure I note a difference. "

"That's just what I've been saying to myself!" he told her. He wasvisibly delighted with this corroboration. "I've been alone practicallyall my life. I had no friends to speak of--I had no fit company--Ihadn't anything but the determination to climb out of the hole. Well, I've done that--and I've got among the kind of people that I naturallylike. But then there came the question of whether they would like me. Itell you frankly, that was what was worrying the heart out of me when Ifirst met you. I like to be confessing it to you now--but you frightenedme within an inch of my life. Well now, you see, I'm not scared of youat all. And of course it's because Julia's been putting me through acourse of sprouts. "

The figure was lost upon Lady Cressage, but the spirit of the remarksseemed not unpleasant to her. "I'm sure you're full of kindness, "she said. "You must forget that I snapped at you--about papa. " "All Iremember about that is, " he began, his eye lighting up with the thoughtthat this time the opportunity should not pass unimproved, "that yousaid he didn't shine much in adversity---any more than you did. Now onthat last point I disagree with you, straight. There wouldn't be anyplace in which you wouldn't shine. "

"Is that the way one talks to one's niece?" she asked him, almostlistlessly. "Such flattery must surely be bad for the young. " Her wordswere sprightly enough, but her face had clouded over. She had no heartfor the banter. 

"Ah"--he half-groaned. "I only wish I knew what was the right way totalk to you. The real thing is that I see you're unhappy--and that getson my nerve--and I should like to ask you if there wasn't somethingI could do--and ask it in such a way that you'd have to admit therewas--and I don't know enough to do it. "

He had a wan smile for thanks. "But of course there is nothing, " shereplied, gently. 

"Oh, there must be!" he insisted. He had no longer any clear notions asto where his tongue might not lead him. "There must be! You said I mighttalk to you as I would to Julia. "

"Did I?"

"Well, I'm going to, anyway, " he went on stoutly, ignoring the note ofdefinite dissent in her interruption. "You ARE unhappy! You spoke aboutbeing a chaperone. Well now, to speak plainly, if it isn't entirelypleasant for you with Miss Madden--why wouldn't you be a chaperone forJulia? I must be going to London very soon--but she can stay here, or goto Egypt, or wherever she likes--and of course you would do everything, and have everything--whatever you liked, too. "

"The conversation is getting upon rather impossible grounds, I'mafraid, " she said, and then bit her lips together. Halting, she frowneda little in the effort of considering her further words, but there wasnothing severe in the glance which she lifted to him as she beganto speak. "Let us walk on. I must tell you that you misconceive thesituation entirely. Nobody could possibly be kinder or more consideratethan Miss Madden. Of course she is American--or rather Irish-American, and I'm English, and our notions and ways are not always alike. Butthat has nothing to do with it. And it is not so much that she hasmany thousands a year, and I only a few hundreds. That in itself wouldsignify nothing--and if I must take help from somebody I would rathertake it from Celia Madden than anybody else I know--but this is thepoint, Mr. Thorpe. I do not eat the bread of dependence gracefully. Ipull wry faces over it, and I don't try very much to disguise them. Thatis my fault. Yes--oh yes, I know it is a fault--but I am as I am. Andif Miss Madden doesn't mind--why"--she concluded with a mirthless, uncertain laugh--"why on earth should you?"

"Ah, why should I?" he echoed, reflectively. "I should like desperatelyto tell you why. Sometime I will tell you. "

They walked on in silence for a brief space. Then she put out her handfor her wrap, and as she paused, he spread it over her shoulders. 

"I am amazed to think what we have been saying to each other, " she said, buttoning the fur as they moved on again. "I am vexed with myself. "

"And more still with me, " he suggested. 

"No-o--but I ought to be. You've made me talk the most shockingrubbish. "

"There we disagree again, you know. Everything you've said's beenperfect. What you're thinking of now is that I'm not an old enoughfriend to have been allowed to hear it. But if I'm not as old a friendas some, I wish I could make you feel that I'm as solid a friend asany--as solid and as staunch and as true. I wish I could hear you sayyou believed that. "

"But you talk of 'friends, '" she said, in a tone not at allresponsive--"what is meant by 'friends'? We've chanced to meettwice--and once we barely exchanged civilities, and this time we've beenhotel acquaintances--hardly more, is it?--and you and your young peoplehave been very polite to me--and I in a silly moment have talked toyou more about my affairs than I should--I suppose it was because youmentioned my father. But 'friends' is rather a big word for that, isn'tit?"

Thorpe pouted for a dubious moment. "I can think of a bigger wordstill, " he said, daringly. "It's been on the tip of my tongue more thanonce. "

She quickened her pace. The air had grown perceptibly colder. Thedistant mountains, visible ever and again through the bare branches, were of a dark and cheerless blue, and sharply defined against the sky. It was not yet the sunset hour, and there were no mists, but the lightof day seemed to be going out of the heavens. He hurried on beside herin depressed silence. 

Their companions were hidden from view in a convolution of the windingroad, but they were so near that their voices could be heard as theytalked. Frequently the sound of laughter came backward from them. 

"They're jolly enough down there, " he commented at last, moodily. 

"That's a good reason for our joining them, isn't it?" Her tone was atonce casual and pointed. 

"But I don't want to join them!" he protested. "Why don't you stay withme--and talk?" "But you bully me so, " she offered in explanation. 

The phrase caught his attention. Could it be that it expressed herreal feeling? She had said, he recalled, that he had made her talk. Hercomplaint was like an admission that he could overpower her will. Ifthat were true--then he had resources of masterfulness still in reservesufficient to win any victory. 

"No--not bully you, " he said slowly, as if objecting to the word ratherthan the idea. "That wouldn't be possible to me. But you don't know mewell enough to understand me. I am the kind of man who gets the thingshe wants. Let me tell you something: When I was at Hadlow, I had nevershot a pheasant in my life. I used to do tolerably well with a rifle, but I hardly knew anything about a shot-gun, and I don't suppose I'dever killed more than two or three birds on the wing--and that was agesago. But I took the notion that I would shoot better than anybody elsethere. I made up my mind to it--and I simply did it, that's all. I don'tknow if you remember--but I killed a good deal more than both the othersput together. I give you that as an example. I wanted you to think thatI was a crack shot--and so I made myself be a crack shot. "

"That is very interesting, " she murmured. They did not seem to bewalking quite so fast. 

"Don't think I want to brag about myself, " he went on. "I don't fancymyself--in that way. I'm not specially proud of doing things--it's thethings themselves that I care for. If some men had made a great fortune, they would be conceited about it. Well, I'm not. What I'm keen about isthe way to use that fortune so that I will get the most out of it--themost happiness, I mean. The thing to do is to make up your mindcarefully what it is that you want, and to put all your power andresolution into getting it--and the rest is easy enough. I don't thinkthere's anything beyond a strong man's reach, if he only believes enoughin himself. "

"But aren't you confusing two things?" she queried. The subjectapparently interested her. "To win one's objects by sheer personal forceis one thing. To merely secure them because one's purse is longer thanother people's--that's quite another matter. "

He smiled grimly at her. "Well, I'll combine the two, " he said. 

"Then I suppose you will be altogether irresistible, " she said, lightly. "There will be no pheasants left for other people at all. "

"I don't mind being chaffed, " he told her, with gravity. "So long asyou're good-natured, you can make game of me all you like. But I'm inearnest, all the same. I'm not going to play the fool with my money andmy power. I have great projects. Sometime I'll tell you about them. Theywill all be put through--every one of them. And you wouldn't object totalking them over with me--would you?"

"My opinion on 'projects' is of no earthly value--to myself or anyoneelse. "

"But still you'd give me your advice if I asked it?" he persisted. "Especially if it was a project in which you were concerned?"

After a moment's constrained silence she said to him, "You must haveno projects, Mr. Thorpe, in which I am concerned. This talk is all verywide of the mark. You are not entitled to speak as if I were mixed upwith your affairs. There is nothing whatever to warrant it. "

"But how can you help being in my projects if I put you there, and keepyou there?" he asked her, with gleeful boldness. "And just ask yourselfwhether you do really want to help it. Why should you? You've seenenough of me to know that I can be a good friend. And I'm the kind offriend who amounts to something--who can and will do things for those helikes. What obligation are you under to turn away that kind of a friend, when he offers himself to you? Put that question plainly to yourself. "

"But you are not in a position to nominate the questions that I am toput to myself, " she said. The effort to import decision into her toneand manner was apparent. "That is what I desire you to understand. Wemust not talk any more about me. I am not the topic of conversation. "

"But first let me finish what I wanted to say, " he insisted. "My talkwon't break any bones. You'd be wrong not to listen to it--becauseit's meant to help you--to be of use to you. This is the thing, LadyCressage: You're in a particularly hard and unpleasant position. Like myfriend Plowden"--he watched her face narrowly but in vain, in the dulllight, for any change at mention of the name--"like my friend Plowdenyou have a position and title to keep up, and next to nothing to keepit up on. But he can go down into the City and make money--or try to. Hecan accept Directorships and tips about the market and so on, from menwho are disposed to be good to him, and who see how he can be of use tothem--and in that way he can do something for himself. But there is thedifference: you can't do these things, or you think you can't, whichis the same thing. You're all fenced in; you're surrounded bynotice-boards, telling you that you mustn't walk this way or look thatway; that you mustn't say this thing or do the other. Now yourfriend down ahead there--Miss Madden--she doesn't take much stockin notice-boards. In fact, she feeds the gulls, simply because she'sforbidden to do it. But you--you don't feed any gulls, and yet you'reannoyed with yourself that you don't. Isn't that the case? Haven't Iread you right?"

She seemed to have submitted to his choice of a topic. There was notouch of expostulation in the voice with which she answered him. "I seewhat you think you mean, " she said. 

"Think!" he responded, with self-confident emphasis. "I'm not'thinking. ' I'm reading an open book. As I say, you're notcontented--you're not happy; you don't try to pretend that you are. But all the same, though you hate it, you accept it. You think that youreally must obey your notice-boards. Now what I tell you you ought to dois to take a different view. Why should you put up all this barbedwire between yourself and your friends? It doesn't do anybody else anygood--and it does you harm. Why, for example, should Plowden be free totake things from me, and you not?"

She glanced at him, with a cold half-smile in her eye. "Unfortunately Iwas not asked to join your Board. "

He pressed his lips tightly together, and regarded her meditatively ashe turned these words over in his mind. "What I'm doing for Plowden, "he said with slow vagueness meanwhile, "it isn't so much because he's onthe Board. He's of no special use to me there. But he was nice to me ata time when that meant everything in the world to me--and I don't forgetthings of that sort. Besides, I like him--and it pleases me to let himin for a share of my good fortune. See? It's my way of enjoying myself. Well now, I like you too, and why shouldn't I be allowed to let you inalso for a share of that good fortune? You think there's a difference, but I tell you it's imaginary--pure moonshine. Why, the very peoplewhose opinion you're afraid of--what did they do themselves when theSouth African craze was on? I'm told that the scum of the earth hadonly to own some Chartered shares, and pretend to be 'in the know' aboutthem--and they could dine with as many duchesses as they liked. I knewone or two of the men who were in that deal--I wouldn't have them in myhouse--but it seems there wasn't any other house they couldn't go to inLondon. "

"Oh yes, there were many houses, " she interposed. "It wasn't a niceexhibition that society made of itself--one admits that, --but it wasonly one set that quite lost their heads. There are all kinds of sets, you know. And--I don't think I see your application, in any event. Thecraze, as you call it, was all on a business basis. People ran afterthose who could tell them which shares were going up, and they gambledin those shares. That was all, wasn't it?"

Still looking intently at her, he dismissed her query with a littleshake of the head. "'On a business basis, '" he repeated, as if talkingto himself. "They like to have things 'on a business basis. '"

He halted, with a hand held out over her arm, and she paused as well, in a reluctant, tentative way. "I don't understand you, " she remarked, blankly. 

"Let me put it in this way, " he began, knitting his brows, andmarshalling the thoughts and phrases with which his mind had been busy. "This is the question. You were saying that you weren't asked to join myBoard. You explained in that way how I could do things for Plowden, and couldn't do them for you. Oh, I know it was a joke--but it had itsmeaning--at least to me. Now I want to ask you--if I decide to formanother Company, a very small and particular Company--if I should decideto form it, I say--could I come to you and ask you to join THAT Board?Of course I could ask--but what I mean is--well, I guess you know what Imean. "

The metaphor had seemed to him a most ingenious and satisfactory vehiclefor his purpose, and it had broken down under him amid evidences ofconfusion which he could not account for. All at once his sense ofphysical ascendancy had melted away--disappeared. He looked at LadyCressage for an instant, and knew there was something shuffling andnerveless in the way his glance then shifted to the dim mountain chainbeyond. His heart fluttered surprisingly inside his breast, during thesilence which ensued. 

"Surely you must have said everything now that you wished to say, " sheobserved at last. She had been studying intently the trodden snow at herfeet, and did not even now look up. The constraint of her manner, and acertain pleading hesitation in her words, began at once to restore hisself-command. "Do not talk of it any further, I beg of you, " she wenton. "We--we have been lagging behind unconscionably. If you wish toplease me, let us hurry forward now. And please!--no more talk at all!"

"But just a word--you're not angry?"

She shook her head very slightly. 

"And you do know that I'm your friend--your solid, twenty-four-caratfriend?"

After a moment's pause, she made answer, almost in a whisper--"Yes--bemy friend--if it amuses you, "--and led the way with precipitate stepsdown the winding road. 

CHAPTER XIII

TWO days later, Thorpe and his young people took an early morning trainfor Geneva--homeward bound. 

It was entirely easy to accept their uncle's declaration that urgentbusiness summoned him to London, yet Julia and Alfred, when they chancedto exchange glances after the announcement, read in each other's eyesthe formless impression that there were other things beside business. Their uncle, they realized, must be concerned in large and probablyventuresome enterprises; but it did not fit with their conception of hischaracter that commercial anxieties should possess the power to upsethim. And upset he undeniably was. 

They traced his disturbance, in a general way, to the morning followingthe excursion up to Glion and Caux. He told them then that he had sleptvery badly, and that they must "count him out" of their plans for theday. He continued to be counted out of what remained of their stayat Territet. He professed not to be ill, but he was restless andpreoccupied. He ate little, but smoked continuously, and drank spiritsa good deal, which they had not seen him do before. Nothing would inducehim to go out either day. 

Strangely enough, this disturbance of their uncle's equanimitysynchronized with an apparent change in the attitude of their newfriends on the floor below. This change was, indeed, more apparentthan definable. The ladies were, to the nicest scrutiny, as kindly andaffable as ever, but the sense of comradeship had somehow vanished. Insensibly, the two parties had ceased to have impulses and tastes incommon. There were no more trips together--no more fortuitous luncheonsor formal dinners as a group. 

The young people looked up at the front of the big hotel on thismorning of departure, after they had clambered over the drifts into thesnow-bedecked train, and opened the window of their compartment. Theymade sure that they could identify the windows of Miss Madden's suite, and that the curtains were drawn aside--but there was no other tokenof occupancy discernible. They had said good-bye to the two ladies theprevious evening, of course--it lingered in their minds as a ratherperfunctory ceremony--but this had not prevented their hoping foranother farewell glimpse of their friends. No one came to wave a handfrom the balcony, however, and the youngsters looked somewhat dubiouslyat each other as the train moved. Then intuitively they glanced towardtheir uncle--and perceived that he had his hat pulled over his eyes, andwas staring with a kind of moody scowl at the lake opposite. 

"Fortunately, it is a clear day, " said Julia. "We shall see Mont Blanc. "

Her voice seemed to have a hollow and unnatural sound in her own ears. Neither her uncle nor her brother answered her. 

At breakfast, meanwhile, in the apartment toward which the young peoplehad turned their farewell gaze in vain, Miss Madden sipped her coffeethoughtfully while she read a letter spread upon the table beside her. 

"It's as they said, " she observed. "You are not allowed to drive in themountains with your own horses and carriage. That seems rather quaintfor a model Republic--doesn't it?"

"I daresay they're quite right, " Lady Cressage replied, listlessly. "It's in the interest of safety. People who do not know the mountainswould simply go and get killed in avalanches and hurricanes--and allthat. I suppose that is what the Government wishes to prevent. "

"And you're on the side of the Government, " said the other, with atwinkle in her brown eyes. "Truly now--you hated the whole idea ofdriving over the Simplon. "

Lady Cressage lifted her brows in whimsical assent as she nodded. 

"But do you like this Russian plan any better?" demanded Celia. "I wishfor once you would be absolutely candid and open with me--and let meknow to the uttermost just what you think. " "'For once'?" queried theother. Her tone was placid enough, but she allowed the significance ofthe quotation to be marked. 

"Oh, I never wholly know what you're thinking, " Miss Madden declared. She put on a smile to alleviate the force of her remarks. "It is notyou alone--Edith. Don't think that! But it is ingrained in yourcountry-women. You can't help it. It's in your blood to keep thingsback. I've met numbers of English ladies who, I'm ready to believe, would be incapable of telling an untruth. But I've never met one of whomI could be sure that she would tell me the whole truth. Don't you seethis case in point, " she pursued, with a little laugh, "I could not dragit out of you that you disliked the Simplon idea, so long as there wasa chance of our going. Immediately we find that we can't go, you admitthat you hated it. "

"But you wanted to go, " objected Lady Cressage, quietly. "That was theimportant thing. What I wanted or did not want had nothing to do withthe matter. "

Celia's face clouded momentarily. "Those are not the kind of things Ilike to hear you say, " she exclaimed, with a certain vigour. "They puteverything in quite a false light. I am every whit as anxious that youshould be pleased as that I should. You know that well enough. I've saidit a thousand times--and have I ever done anything to disprove it? ButI never can find out what you do want--what really will please you! Younever will propose anything; you never will be entirely frank about thethings I propose. It's only by watching you out of the corner of my eyethat I can ever guess whether anything is altogether to your liking ornot. "

The discussion seemed to be following lines familiar to them both. "Thatis only another way of saying what you discovered long ago, " saidLady Cressage, passively--"that I am deficient in the enthusiasms. Butoriginally you were of the opinion that you had enthusiasms enough fortwo, and that my lack of them would redress the balance, so to speak. I thought it was a very logical opinion then, and, from my own point ofview, I think so now. But if it does not work in practice, at least theresponsibility of defending it is not mine. "

"Delightful!" cried Celia, smiling gayly as she put down her cup again. "You are the only woman I've ever known who was worth arguing with. The mere operation makes me feel as if I were going through Oxford--orpassing the final Jesuit examinations. Heaven knows, I would get uparguments with you every day, for the pure enjoyment of the thing--ifI weren't eternally afraid of saying something that would hurt yourfeelings, and then you wouldn't tell me, but would nurse the wound insilence in the dark, and I should know that something was wrong, andhave to watch you for weeks to make out what it was--and it would allbe too unhappy. But it comes back, you see, to what I said before. Youdon't tell me things!"

Edith smiled in turn, affectionately enough, but with a wistful reserve. "It is a constitutional defect--even national, according to you. Howshall I hope to change, at this late day? But what is it you want me totell you?--I forget. "

"The Russian thing. To go to Vienna, where we get our passports, andthen to Cracow, and through to Kief, which they say is awfully wellworth while--and next Moscow--and so on to St. Petersburg, in timeto see the ice break up. It is only in winter that you see thecharacteristic Russia: that one has always heard. With the furs and thesledges, and the three horses galloping over the snow--it seems to me itmust be the best thing in Europe--if you can call Russia Europe. That's the way it presents itself to me--but then I was brought up ina half-Arctic climate, and I love that sort of thing--in its properseason. It is different with you. In England you don't know what a realwinter is. And so I have to make quite sure that you think you wouldlike the Russian experiment. "

The other laughed gently. "But if I don't know what a real winter is, how can I tell whether I will like it or not? All I do know is that I amperfectly willing to go and find out. Oh yes--truly--I should like verymuch to go. "

Miss Madden sighed briefly. "All right, " she said, but with a notableabsence of conviction in her tone. 

A space of silence ensued, as she opened and glanced through anothernote, the envelope of which had borne no postmark. She pouted her lipsover the contents of this missive, and raised her eyebrows in token ofsurprise, but as she laid it down she looked with a frank smile at hercompanion. 

"It's from our young friend, " she explained, genially--"thepainter-boy--Mr. D'Aubigny. It is to remind me of a promise he says Imade--that when I came to London he should paint my portrait. I don'tthink I promised anything of the kind--but I suppose that is a detail. It's all my unfortunate hair. They must have gone by this time--theywere to go very early, weren't they?"

Lady Cressage glanced at the clock. "It was 8:40, I think--fully half anhour ago, " she answered, with a painstaking effect of indifference. 

"Curious conglomeration"--mused the other. "The boy and girl are socivilized, and their uncle is so rudimentary. I'm afraid they arespoiling him just as the missionaries spoil the noble savage. Theyought to go away and leave him alone. As a barbarian he was rathereffective--but they will whitewash him and gild him and make a tamemonstrosity of him. But I suppose it's inevitable. Having made hisfortune, it is the rule that he must set up as a gentleman. We do itmore simply in America. One generation makes the fortune, and leavesit to the next generation to put on the frills. My father, for example, never altered in the slightest degree the habits he formed when he was apoor workman. To the day of his death, blessed old man, he remained whathe had always been--simple, pious, modest, hard-working, kindly, andthrifty--a model peasant. Nothing ever tempted him a hair's-breadth outof the path he had been bred to walk in. But such nobility of mind andtemper with it all! He never dreamed of suggesting that I should walkin the same path. From my earliest childhood I cannot remember his everputting a limitation upon me that wasn't entirely sensible and generous. I must have been an extremely trying daughter, but he never said so;he never looked or acted as if he thought so. --But I never stop when Ibegin talking of my father. "

"It's always very sweet to me to hear you talk of him, " Lady Cressageput in. "One knows so few people who feel that way about their fathers!"

Celia nodded gravely, as if in benevolent comment upon something thathad been left unsaid. The sight of the young artist's note recalled herearlier subject. "Of course there is a certain difference, " she wenton, carelessly, --"this Mr. Thorpe is not at all a peasant, as the phrasegoes. He strikes one, sometimes, as having been educated. "

"Oh, he was at a public school, Lord Plowden tells me, " said the other, with interest. "And his people were booksellers--somewhere in London--sothat he got a good smattering of literature and all that. He certainlyhas more right to set up as a gentleman than nine out of ten of thenouveaux riches one sees flaunting about nowadays. And he can talk verywell indeed--in a direct, practical sort of way. I don't quite followyou about his niece and nephew spoiling him. Of course one can see thatthey have had a great effect upon him. He sees it himself--and he's veryproud of it. He told me so, quite frankly. But why shouldn't it be anice effect?"

"Oh, I don't know, " Celia replied, idly. "It seemed to me that he wasthe kind of piratical buccaneer who oughtn't to be shaved and polishedand taught drawing-room tricks--I feel that merely in the interestof the fitness of things. Have you looked into his eyes--I mean whenthey've got that lack-lustre expression? You can see a hundred thousanddead men in them. "

"I know the look you mean, " said Lady Cressage, in a low voice. 

"Not that I assume he is going to kill anybody, " pursued Miss Madden, with ostensible indifference, but fixing a glance of aroused attentionupon her companion's face, "or that he has any criminal intentionswhatever. He behaves very civilly indeed, and apparently his niece andnephew idolize him. He seems to be the soul of kindness to them. It maybe that I'm altogether wrong about him--only I know I had the instinctof alarm when I caught that sort of dull glaze in his eye. I met anAfrican explorer a year ago, or so, about whose expeditions dark storieswere told, and he had precisely that kind of eye. Perhaps it was thisthat put it into my head--but I have a feeling that this Thorpe is anexceptional sort of man, who would have the capacity in him for terriblethings, if the necessity arose for them. "

"I see what you mean, " the other repeated. She toyed with thebread-crumbs about her plate, and reflectively watched theirmanipulation into squares and triangles as she went on. "But may thatnot be merely the visible sign of an exceptionally strong and masterfulcharacter? And isn't it, after all, the result of circumstances whethersuch a character makes, as you put it, a hundred thousand dead men, orenriches a hundred thousand lives instead? We agree, let us say, thatthis Mr. Thorpe impresses us both as a powerful sort of personality. Thequestion arises, How will he use his power? On that point, we lookfor evidence. You see a dull glaze in his eye, and you draw hostileconclusions from it. I reply that it may mean no more than that he issleepy. But, on the other hand, I bring proofs that are actively inhis favour. He is, as you say, idolized by the only two members of hisfamily that we have seen--persons, moreover, who have been brought upin ways different to his own, and who would not start, therefore, withprejudices in his favour. Beyond that, I know of two cases in whichhe has behaved, or rather undertaken to behave, with really lavishgenerosity--and in neither case was there any claim upon him of asubstantial nature. He seems to me, in fact, quite too much disposedto share his fortune with Tom, Dick, and Harry--anybody who exciteshis sympathy or gets into his affections. " Having said this much, LadyCressage swept the crumbs aside and looked up. "So now, " she added, witha flushed smile, "since you love arguments so much, how do you answerthat?"

Celia smiled back. "Oh, I don't answer it at all, " she said, and hervoice carried a kind of quizzical implication. "Your proofs overwhelmme. I know nothing of him--and you know so much!"

Lady Cressage regarded her companion with a novel earnestness anddirectness of gaze. "I had a long, long talk with him--the afternoon wecame down from Glion. "

Miss Madden rose, and going to the mantel lighted a cigarette. Shedid not return to the table, but after a brief pause came and took aneasy-chair beside her friend, who turned to face her. "My dear Edith, "she said, with gravity, "I think you want to tell me about thattalk--and so I beg you to do so. But if I'm mistaken--why then I beg youto do nothing of the kind. "

The other threw out her hands with a gesture of wearied impatience, andthen clasped them upon her knee. "I seem not to know what I want! Whatis the good of talking about it? What is the good of anything?"

"Now--now!" Celia's assumption of a monitor's tone had reference, apparently, to something understood between the two, for Lady Cressagedeferred to it, and even summoned the ghost of a smile. 

"There is really nothing to tell, "--she faltered, hesitatingly--"thatis, nothing happened. I don't know how to say it--the talk left my mindin a whirl. I couldn't tell you why. It was no particular thing that wassaid--it seemed to be more the things that I thought of while somethingelse was being talked about--but the whole experience made a mosttremendous impression upon me. I've tried to straighten it out in my ownmind, but I can make nothing of it. That is what disturbs me, Celia. Noman has ever confused me in this silly fashion before. Nothing could bemore idiotic. I'm supposed to hold my own in conversation with peopleof--well, with people of a certain intellectual rank, --but this man, whois of hardly any intellectual rank at all, and who rambled on withoutany special aim that one could see--he reduced my brain to a sort ofporridge. I said the most extraordinary things to him--babbling rubbishwhich a school-girl would be ashamed of. How is that to be accountedfor? I try to reason it out, but I can't. Can you?"

"Nerves, " said Miss Madden, judicially. 

"Oh, that is meaningless, " the other declared. "Anybody can say'nerves. ' Of course, all human thought and action is 'nerves. '"

"But yours is a special case of nerves, " Celia pursued, with gentleimperturbability. "I think I can make my meaning clear to you--thoughthe parallel isn't precisely an elegant one. The finest thoroughbreddog in the world, if it is beaten viciously and cowed in its youth, willalways have a latent taint of nervousness, apprehension, timidity--callit what you like. Well, it seems to me there's something like that inyour case, Edith. They hurt you too cruelly, poor girl. I won't sayit broke your nerve--but it made a flaw in it. Just as a soldier's oldwound aches when there's a storm in the air--so your old hurt distractsand upsets you under certain psychological conditions. It's a ratherclumsy explanation, but I think it does explain. "

"Perhaps--I don't know, " Edith replied, in a tone of melancholy reverie. "It makes a very poor creature out of me, whatever it is. "

"I rather lose patience, Edith, " her companion admonished her, gravely. "Nobody has a right to be so deficient in courage as you allow yourselfto be. "

"But I'm not a coward, " the other protested. "I could be as brave asanybody--as brave as you are--if a chance were given me. But of what useis bravery against a wall twenty feet high? I can't get over it. I onlywound and cripple myself by trying to tear it down, or break throughit. --Oh yes, I know what you say! You say there is no wall--that it isall an illusion of mine. But unfortunately I'm unable to take that view. I've battered myself against it too long--too sorely, Celia!"

Celia shrugged her shoulders in comment. "Oh, we women all have ourwalls--our limitations--if it comes to that, " she said, with a kindof compassionate impatience in her tone. "We are all ridiculoustogether--from the point of view of human liberty. The free woman is afraud--a myth. She is as empty an abstraction as the 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity' that the French put on their public buildings. I used tohave the most wonderful visions of what independence would mean. Ithought that when I was absolutely my own master, with my money and mycourage and my free mind, I would do things to astonish all mankind. Butreally the most I achieve is the occasional mild surprise of aGerman waiter. Even that palls on one after a time. And if you wereindependent, Edith--if you had any amount of money--what difference doyou think it would make to you? What could you do that you don't do, orcouldn't do, now?"

"Ah, now"--said the other, looking up with a thin smile--"now is aninterval--an oasis. "

Miss Madden's large, handsome, clear-hued face, habitually serene in itsexpression, lost something in composure as she regarded her companion. "I don't know why you should say that, " she observed, gently enough, butwith an effect of reproof in her tone. "I have never put limits to theconnection, in my own mind--and it hadn't occurred to me that you weredoing so in yours. "

"But I'm not, " interposed Lady Cressage. 

"Then I understand you less than ever. Why do you talk about an'interval'? What was the other word?--'oasis'--as if this were a briefhalt for refreshments and a breathing-spell, and that presently you mustwander forth into the desert again. That suggestion is none of mine. Weagreed that we would live together--'pool our issues, ' as they say inAmerica. I wanted a companion; so did you. I have never for an instantregretted the arrangement. Some of my own shortcomings in the matter Ihave regretted. You were the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen, and you were talented, and you seemed to like me--and I promised myselfthat I would add cheerfulness and a gay spirit to your other gifts--andin that I have failed wofully. You're not happy. I see that only tooclearly. "

"I know--I'm a weariness and a bore to you, " broke in the other, despondingly. 

"That is precisely what you're not, " Celia went on. "We mustn't usewords of that sort. They don't describe anything in our life at all. ButI should be better pleased with myself if I could really put my fingeron what it is that is worrying you. Even if we decided to break up ourestablishment, I have told you that you should not go back to what youregard as poverty. Upon that score, I had hoped that your mind was easy. As I say, I think you attach more importance to money than those whohave tested its powers would agree to--but that's neither here northere. You did not get on well on 600 pounds a year--and that is enough. You shall never have less than twice that amount, whether we keeptogether or not--and if it ought to be three times the amount, thatdoesn't matter. 

"You don't seem to realize, Edith"--she spoke with increasedanimation--"that you are my caprice. You are the possession that I amproudest of and fondest of. There is nothing else that appeals to me ahundredth part as much as you do. Since I became independent, the onereal satisfaction I have had is in being able to do things for you--tohave you with me, and make you share in the best that the world canoffer. And if with it all you remain unhappy, why then you see I don'tknow what to do. "

"Oh, I know--I behave very badly!" Lady Cressage had risen, and withvisible agitation began now to pace the room. "I deserve to be throwninto the lake--I know it well enough! But Celia--truly--I'm as incapableof understanding it as you are. It must be that I am possessed bydevils--like the people in the New Testament. Perhaps someone will comealong who can cast them out. I don't seem able to do it myself. I can'trule myself at all. It needs a strength I haven't got!"

"Ah!" said Celia, thoughtfully. The excited sentences which Edith threwover her shoulder as she walked appeared, upon examination, to contain asuggestion. 

"My dear child, " she asked abruptly, after a moment's silence, "do youwant to marry?"

Lady Cressage paused at the mantel, and exchanged a long steadfastglance with her friend. Then she came slowly forward. "Ah, that is whatI don't know, " she answered. Apparently the reply was candid. 

Miss Madden pursed her lips, and frowned a little in thought. Then, atsome passing reflection, she smiled in a puzzled fashion. At last shealso rose, and went to the mantel for another cigarette. "Now I amgoing to talk plainly, " she said, with decision. "Since the subject ismentioned, less harm will be done by speaking out than by keeping still. There is a debate in your mind on the matter, isn't there?"

The other lady, tall, slender, gently ruminative once more, stood at thewindow and with bowed head looked down at the lake. "Yes--I suppose itmight be called that, " she replied, in a low voice. 

"And you hesitate to tell me about it? You would rather not?" Celia, after an instant's pause, went on without waiting for an answer. "I begthat you won't assume my hostility to the idea, Edith. In fact, I'm notsure I don't think it would be the best thing for you to do. Marriage, a home, children--these are great things to a woman. We can say that shepays the price of bondage for them--but to know what that signifies, wemust ask what her freedom has been worth to her. "

"Yes, " interposed the other, from the window. "What have I done with myfreedom that has been worth while?"

"Not much, " murmured Celia, under her breath. She moved forward, andstood beside Edith, with an arm round her waist. They looked together atthe lake. 

"It is Lord Plowden, is it not?" asked the American, as the silence grewconstrained. 

Lady Cressage looked up alertly, and then hesitated over her reply. "No, " she said at last. Upon reflection, and with a dim smile flickeringin her side-long glance at Celia, she added, "He wants to marry you, youknow. "

"Leave that out of consideration, " said Celia, composedly. "He has neversaid so. I think it was more his mother's idea than his, if it existedat all. Of course I am not marrying him, or anybody else. But I saw atHadlow that you and he were--what shall I say?--old friends. "

"He must marry money, " the other replied. In an unexpected burst ofcandour she went on: "He would have asked me to marry him if I hadhad money. There is no harm in telling you that. It was quiteunderstood--oh, two years ago. And I think I wished I had themoney--then. "

"And you don't wish it now?"

A slight shake of Edith's small, shapely head served for answer. Aftera little, she spoke in a musing tone: "He is going to have money of hisown, very soon, but I don't think it would attract me now. I like himpersonally, of course, but--there is no career, no ambition, no future. "

"A Viscount has future enough behind him, " observed Celia. 

"It doesn't attract me, " the other repeated, vaguely. "He is handsome, and clever, and kind and all that--but he would never appeal to any ofthe great emotions--nor be capable of them himself He is too smooth, toowell-balanced, too much the gentleman. That expresses it badly--but doyou see what I mean?"

Celia turned, and studied the beautiful profile beside her, in a steady, comprehending look. 

"Yes, I think I see what you mean, " she said, with significance in hertone. 

Lady Cressage flushed, and released herself from her companion's arm. "But I don't know myself what I mean!" she exclaimed, despairingly, asshe moved away. "I don't know!--I don't know!"

CHAPTER XIV

ON the last day of February, Mrs. Dabney was surprised if notexhilarated by a visit from her two children in the little book-shop. 

"It's the last day in the world that I should have thought you'd 'a'come out on, " she told them, in salutation--and for comment they allglanced along the dark narrow alley of shelves to the street window. Agloomy spectacle it was indeed, with a cold rain slanting through thediscredited remnants of a fog, which the east wind had broken up, butcould not drive away, and with only now and again a passer-by movingacross the dim vista, masked beneath an umbrella, or bent forward withchin buried in turned-up collar. In the doorway outside the sulky boystamped his feet and slapped his sides with his arms in pantomimicmutiny against the task of guarding the book-stalls' dripping covers, which nobody would be mad enough to pause over, much less to lift. 

"I don't know but I'd ought to let the boy bring in the books and gohome, " she said, as their vague gaze was attracted by his gestures. "Butit isn't three yet--it seems ridiculous to close up. Still, if you'd bemore comfortable upstairs--"

"Why, mamma! The idea of making strangers of us, " protested Julia. She strove to make her tone cheerful, but its effect of rebuke wasunmistakable. 

The mother, leaning against the tall desk, looked blankly at herdaughter. The pallid flicker of the gas-jet overhead made her long, listless face seem more devoid of colour than ever. 

"But you are as good as strangers, aren't you?" she observed, coldly. "You've been back in town ten days and more, and I've scarcely laid eyesupon either of you. But don't you want to sit down? You can put thoseparcels on the floor anywhere. Or shall I do it for you?"

Alfred had been lounging in the shadowed corner against a heap of oldmagazines tied in bundles. He sprang up now and cleared the chair, buthis sister declined it with a gesture. Her small figure had straighteneditself into a kind of haughty rigidity. 

"There has been so much to do, mamma, " she explained, in a clear, coolvoice. "We have had hundreds of things to buy and to arrange about. Allthe responsibility for the housekeeping rests upon me--and Alfredhas his studio to do. But of course we should have looked in upon yousooner--and much oftener--if we had thought you wanted us. But really, when we came to you, the very day after our return, it was impossiblefor us to pretend that you were glad to see us. "

"Oh, I was glad enough, " Mrs. Dabney made answer, mechanically. "Whyshouldn't I be glad? And why should you think I wasn't glad? Did youexpect me to shout and dance?"

"But you said you wouldn't come to see us in Ovington Square, " Alfredreminded her. 

"That's different, " she declared. "What would I be doing in OvingtonSquare? It's all right for you to be there. I hope you'll be happythere. But it wouldn't add anything to your happiness to have me there;it would be quite the other way about. I know that, if you DON'T. Thisis my place, here, and I intend to stick to it!"

Julia's bright eyes, scanning the apathetic, stubborn maternalcountenance, hardened beyond their wont. "You talk as if there had beensome class war declared, " she said, with obvious annoyance. "You knowthat Uncle Stormont would like nothing better than to be as nice to youas he is to us. "

"Uncle Stormont!" Mrs. Dabney's repetition of the words was surchargedwith hostile sarcasm. "But his name was Stormont as much as it was Joel, "broke in Alfred, from his dark corner. "He has a perfect right to usethe one he likes best. "

"Oh, I don't dispute his right, " she replied, once more in herpassionless monotone. "Everybody can call themselves whatever theyplease. It's no affair of mine. You and your sister spell your father'sname in a way to suit yourselves: I never interfered, did I? You haveyour own ideas and your own tastes. They are quite beyond me--butthey're all right for you. I don't criticize them at all. What I say isthat it is a great mercy your uncle came along, with his pockets fullof money to enable you to make the most of them. If I were religious Ishould call that providential. "

"And that's what we DO call it, " put in Julia, with vivacity. "And whyshould you shut your doors against this Providence, mamma? Just think ofit! We don't insist upon your coming to live at Ovington Square at all. Probably, as you say, you would be happier by yourself--at least forthe present. But when Uncle St--when uncle says there's more than enoughmoney for us all, and is only too anxious for you to let him do thingsfor you--why, he's your own brother! It's as if I should refuse to allowAlfred to do things for me. "

"That you never did, " interposed the young man, gayly. "I'll say thatfor you, Jule. "

"And never will, " she assured him, with cheerful decision. "Butno--mamma--can't you see what we mean? We have done what you wanted usto do. You sent us both to much better schools than you could afford, from the time we were of no age at all--and when uncle's money came yousent us to Cheltenham. We did you no discredit. We worked very well; webehaved ourselves properly. We came back to you at last with fair reasonto suppose that you would be--I won't say proud, but at least wellsatisfied with us--and then it turned out that you didn't like us atall. "

"I never said anything of the sort, " the mother declared, with a touchof animation. 

"Oh no--you never said it, " Julia admitted, "but what else can we thinkyou mean? Our uncle sends for us to go abroad with him, and you busyyourself getting me ready, and having new frocks made and all that--andI never hear a suggestion that you don't want me to go----"

"But I did want you to go, " Mrs. Dabney affirmed. 

"Well, then, when I come back--when we come back, and tell you whatsplendid and generous plans uncle has made for us, and how he has takena beautiful furnished house and made it our home, and so on, --why, youwon't even come and look at the house!"

"But I don't want to see it, " the mother retorted; obstinately. 

"Well, then, you needn't!" said Alfred, rising. "Nobody will ask youagain. " "Oh yes they will, " urged Julia, glancing meaningly from oneto the other. All her life, as it seemed, she had been accustomed tomediate between these two unpliable and stubborn temperaments. From herearliest childhood she had understood, somehow, that there was a Dabneyhabit of mind, which was by comparison soft and if not yielding, thenpolitic: and set over against it there was a Thorpe temper full ofgnarled and twisted hardnesses, and tenacious as death. In the daysof her grandfather Thorpe, whom she remembered with an alarmeddistinctness, there had existed a kind of tacit idea that his name aloneaccounted for and justified the most persistent and stormy bad temper. That old man with the scowling brows bullied everybody, suspectedeverybody, apparently disliked everybody, vehemently demanded his ownwill of everybody--and it was all to be explained, seemingly, by thefact that he was a Thorpe. 

After his disappearance from the scene--unlamented, to the best ofJulia's juvenile perceptions--there had been relatively peaceful timesin the book-shop and the home overhead, yet there had existed always arecognized line of demarcation running through the household. Julia andher father--a small, hollow-chested, round-shouldered young man, with apale, anxious face and ingratiating manner, who had entered the shop asan assistant, and remained as a son-in-law, and was now the thinnest ofunsubstantial memories--Julia and this father had stood upon one sideof this impalpable line as Dabneys, otherwise as meek and tractablepersons, who would not expect to have their own way. 

Alfred and his mother were Thorpes--that is to say, people whonecessarily had their own way. Their domination was stained by noneof the excesses which had rendered the grandfather intolerable. Theirsurface temper was in truth almost sluggishly pacific. Underneath, however, ugly currents and sharp rocks were well known to have apotential existence--and it was the mission of the Dabneys to see thatno wind of provocation unduly stirred these depths. Worse even thanthese possibilities of violence, however, so far as every-day life wasconcerned, was the strain of obstinacy which belonged to the Thorpetemper. A sort of passive mulishness it was, impervious to argument, immovable under the most sympathetic pressure, which particularly triedthe Dabney patience. It seemed to Julia now, as she interposed hersoothing influence between these jarring forces, that she had spentwhole years of her life in personal interventions of this sort. 

"Oh yes they will, " she repeated, and warned her brother into thebackground with a gesture half-pleading half-peremptory. "We are yourchildren, and we're not bad or undutiful children at all, and I'm surethat when you think it all over, mamma, you'll see that it would beabsurd to let anything come between you and us. "

"How could I help letting it come?" demanded the mother, listlesslyargumentative. "You had outgrown me and my ways altogether. It wasnonsense to suppose that you would have been satisfied to come back andlive here again, over the shop. I couldn't think for the life of me whatI was going to do with you. But now your uncle has taken all that intohis own hands. He can give you the kind of home that goes with youreducation and your ideas--and what more do you want? Why should you comebothering me?"

"How unjust you are, mamma!" cried Julia, with a glaze of tears upon herbright glance. 

The widow took her elbow from the desk, and, slowly straighteningherself, looked down upon her daughter. Her long plain face, habituallygrave in expression, conveyed no hint of exceptional emotion, but thefingers of the large, capable hands she clasped before her writhedrestlessly against one another, and there was a husky-threat of collapsein her voice as she spoke:

"If you ever have children of your own, " she said, "and you slave yourlife out to bring them up so that they'll think themselves yourbetters, and they act accordingly--then you'll understand. But you don'tunderstand now--and there's no good our talking any more about it. Comein whenever it's convenient--and you feel like it. I must go back to mybooks now. "

She took up a pen at this, and opened the cash-book upon the blotter. Her children, surveying her blankly, found speech difficult. With somemurmured words, after a little pause, they bestowed a perfunctory kissupon her unresponsive cheek, and filed out into the rain. 

Mrs. Dabney watched them put up their umbrella, and move off Strandwardbeneath it. She continued to look for a long time, in an aimless, ruminating way, at the dismal prospect revealed by the window and theglass of the door. The premature night was closing in miserably, withincreasing rain, and a doleful whistle of rising wind round the corner. At last she shut up the unconsidered cash-book, lighted another gas-jet, and striding to the door, rapped sharply on the glass. 

"Bring everything in!" she called to the boy, and helped out hisapprehension by a comprehensive gesture. 

Later, when he had completed his task, and one of the two narrow outletsfrom the shop in front was satisfactorily blocked with the wares fromwithout, and all the floor about reeked with the grimy drippings of theoilskins, Mrs. Dabney summoned him to the desk in the rear. 

"I think you may go home now, " she said to him, with the laconicabruptness to which he was so well accustomed. "You have a home, haven'tyou?"

Remembering the exhaustive enquiries which the Mission people had madeabout him and his belongings, as a preliminary to his getting this job, he could not but be surprised at the mistress's question. In confusionhe nodded assent, and jerked his finger toward his cap. 

"Got a mother?" she pursued. Again he nodded, with augmented confidence. 

"And do you think yourself better than she is?"

The urchin's dirty and unpleasant face screwed itself up in anxiousperplexity over this strange query. Then it cleared as he thought hegrasped the idea, and the rat-eyes he lifted to her gleamed with thefell acuteness of the Dials. "I sh'd be sorry if I wasn't, " he answered, in swift, rasping accents. "She's a rare old boozer, she is! It's afair curse to an honest boy like me, to 'ave--" "Go home!" she bade him, peremptorily--and frowned after him as he ducked and scuttled from theshop. 

Left to herself, Mrs. Dabney did not reopen the cash-book--the wretchedday, indeed, had been practically a blank in its history--but loiteredabout in the waning light among the shelves near the desk, altering theposition of books here and there, and glancing cursorily through others. Once or twice she went to the door and looked out upon the rain-soakedstreet. A tradesman's assistant, opposite, was rolling the iron shuttersdown for the night. If business in hats was over for the day, how muchmore so in books! Her shop had never been fitted with shutters--for whatreason she could not guess. The opened pages of numerous volumes weredisplayed close against the window, but no one had ever broken a paneto get at them. Apparently literature raised no desires in the criminalbreast. To close the shop there was nothing to do but lock and bolt thedoor and turn out the lights. At last, as the conviction of nightfallforced itself upon her from the drenched darkness outside, she bentto put her hand to the key. Then, with a little start of surprise, she stood erect. Someone was shutting an umbrella in the doorway, preparatory to entering the shop. 

It was her brother, splashed and wet to the knees, but with a glowingface, who pushed his way in, and confronted her with a broad grin. Therewas such a masterful air about him, that when he jovially threw an armround her gaunt waist, and gathered her up against his moist shoulder, she surprised herself by a half-laughing submission. 

Her vocabulary was not rich in phrases for this kind of emergency. "Domind what you're about!" she told him, flushing not unpleasurably. 

"Shut up the place!" he answered, with lordly geniality. "I've walkedall the way from the City in the rain. I wanted the exertion--I couldn'thave sat in a cab. Come back and build up the fire, and let's have atalk. God! What things I've got to tell you!"

"There isn't any fire down here, " she said, apologetically, as theyedged their way through the restricted alley to the rear. "The oldfireplace took up too much room. Sometimes, in very sharp weather, Ihave an oil-stove in. Usually the gas warms it enough. You don't findit too cold--do you?--with your coat on? Or would you rather comeupstairs?"

"Never mind the cold, " he replied, throwing a leg over the stool beforethe desk. "I can't stay more 'n a minute or two. What do you think we'vedone today?"

Louisa had never in her life seen her brother look so well as he didnow, sprawling triumphantly upon the stool under the yellow gas-light. His strong, heavily-featured face had somehow ceased to be commonplace. It had acquired an individual distinction of its own. He looked up ather with a clear, bold eye, in which, despite its gloss of good-humour, she discerned a new authority. 

The nervous and apprehensive lines had somehow vanished from thecountenance, and with them, oddly enough, that lethargic, heavyexpression which had been their complement. He was all vigour, readiness, confidence, now. She deemed him almost handsome, thiscurious, changeable brother of hers, as he beat with his fist in ameasured way upon the desk-top to emphasize his words, and fastened hiscommanding gaze upon her. 

"We took very nearly twenty thousand pounds to-day, " he went on. "Thisis the twenty-eighth of February. A fortnight ago today was the firstsettlement. I wasn't here, but Semple was--and the working of it is allin his hands. He kept as still as a mouse that first day. They had todeliver to us 26, 000 shares, and they hadn't got one, but we didn't makeany fuss. The point was, you see, not to let them dream that they werecaught in a trap. We didn't even put the price up to par. They had tocome to Semple, and say there didn't seem to be any shares obtainablejust at the moment, and what would he carry them over at? That means, to let them postpone delivery for another fortnight. He was as smoothas sweet-oil with them, and agreed to carry them over till today withoutany charge at all. But today it was a little different. The price was upten shillings above par. That is to say, Semple arranged with a jobber, on the quiet, d'ye see? to offer thirty shillings for our one-poundshares. That offer fixed the making-up price. So then, when they werestill without shares to-day, and had to be carried over again, they hadto pay ten shillings' difference on each of twenty-six thousand shares, plus the difference between par and the prices they'd sold at. Thatmakes within a few hundreds of 20, 000 pounds in cash, for one day'shaul. D'ye see?"

She nodded at him, expressively. Through previous talks she had reallyobtained an insight into the operation, and it interested her more thanshe would have cared to confess. 

"Well, then, we put that 20, 000 pounds in our pockets, " he proceededwith a steady glow in his eyes. "A fortnight hence, that is March 14th, we ring the bell on them again, and they march up to the captain'soffice and settle a second time. Now what happens on the 14th? A jobbermakes the price for Semple again, and that settles the new sum they haveto pay us in differences. It is for us to say what that price shall be. We'll decide on that when the time comes. We most probably will just putit up another ten shillings, and so take in just a simple 13, 000 pounds. It's best in the long run, I suppose, to go slow, with small rises likethat, in order not to frighten anybody. So Semple says, at any rate. "

"But why not frighten them?" Louisa asked. "I thought you wanted tofrighten them. You were full of that idea a while ago. "

He smiled genially. "I've learned some new wrinkles since then. We'llfrighten 'em stiff enough, before we're through with them. But at thestart we just go easy. If they got word that there was a 'corner, ' therewould be a dead scare among the jobbers. They'd be afraid to sell orname a price for Rubber Consols unless they had the shares in hand. Andthere are other ways in which that would be a nuisance. Presently, ofcourse, we shall liberate some few shares, so that there may be someactual dealings. Probably a certain number of the 5, 000 which went tothe general public will come into the market too. But of course you seethat all such shares will simply go through one operation before theycome back to us. Some one of the fourteen men we are squeezing willsnap them up and bring them straight to Semple, to get free from thefortnightly tax we are levying on them. In that way we shall eventuallylet out say half of these fourteen 'shorts, ' or perhaps more than half. "

"What do you want to do that for?" The sister's grey eyes had caught ametallic gleam, as if from the talk about gold. "Why let anybody out?Why can't you go on taking their money for ever?"

Thorpe nodded complacently. "Yes--that's what I asked too. It seemed tome the most natural thing, when you'd got 'em in the vise, to keep themthere. But when you come to reflect--you can't get more out of a manthan there is in him. If you press him too hard, he can always gobankrupt--and then he's out of your reach altogether, and you loseeverything that you counted on making out of him. So, after a certainpoint, each one of the fourteen men whom we're squeezing must be dealtwith on a different footing. We shall have to watch them all, and studytheir resources, as tipsters watch horses in the paddock. 

"You see, some of them can stand a loss of a hundred thousand poundsbetter than others could lose ten thousand. All that we have to know. Wecan take it as a principle that none of them will go bankrupt and losehis place on the exchange unless he is pressed tight to the wall. Well, our business is to learn how far each fellow is from the wall to startwith. Then we keep track of him, one turn of the screw after another, till we see he's got just enough left to buy himself out. Then we'll lethim out. See?"

"It's cruel, isn't it?" she commented, calmly meditative, after a littlepause. 

"Everything in the City is cruel, " he assured her with a light tone. "All speculative business is cruel. Take our case, for example. Iestimate in a rough way that these fourteen men will have to pay overto us, in differences and in final sales, say seven hundred thousandpounds--maybe eight hundred. Well, now, not one of those fellows everearned a single sovereign of that money. They've taken the whole ofit from others, and these others took it from others still, and so onalmost indefinitely. There isn't a sovereign of it that hasn't beenthrough twenty hands, or fifty for that matter, since the last man whohad done some honest work for it parted company with it. Well--moneylike that belongs to those who are in possession of it, only so longas they are strong enough to hold on to it. When someone stronger stillcomes along, he takes it away from them. They don't complain: they don'tcry and say it's cruel. They know it's the rule of the game. They acceptit--and begin at once looking out for a new set of fools and weaklingsto recoup themselves on. That's the way the City goes. "

Thorpe had concluded his philosophical remarks with ruminative slowness. As he lapsed into silence now, he fell to studying his own hands onthe desk-top before him. He stretched out the fingers, curved themin different degrees, then closed them tight and turned the bulkyhard-looking fists round for inspection in varying aspects. 

"That's the kind of hand, " he began again, thoughtfully, "that breaksthe Jew in the long run, if there's only grit enough behind it. I usedto watch those Jews' hands, a year ago, when I was dining and winingthem. They're all thin and wiry and full of veins. Their fingersare never still; they twist round and keep stirring like a lobster'sfeelers. But there aint any real strength in 'em. They get hold of mostof the things that are going, because they're eternally on the move. It's their hellish industry and activity that gives them such a pull, and makes most people afraid of them. But when a hand like that takesthem by the throat"--he held up his right hand as he spoke, with thethick uncouth fingers and massive thumb arched menacingly in a powerfulmuscular tension--"when THAT tightens round their neck, and they feelthat the grip means business--my God! what good are they?"

He laughed contemptuously, and slapped the relaxed palm on the desk witha noise which made his sister start. Apparently the diversion recalledsomething to her mind. 

"There was a man in here asking about you today, " she remarked, in acasual fashion. "Said he was an old friend of yours. "

"Oh, yes, everybody's my 'old friend' now, " he observed with beamingindifference. "I'm already getting heaps of invitations to dinners anddances and all that. One fellow insisted on booking me for Easterfor some salmon fishing he's got way down in Cumberland. I told him Icouldn't come, but he put my name down all the same. Says his wife willwrite to remind me. Damn his wife! Semple tells me that when our squeezereally begins and they realize the desperate kind of trap they're in, they'll simply shower attentions of that sort on me. He says thesocial pressure they can command, for a game of this kind, is somethingtremendous. But I'm not to be taken in by it for a single pennyworth, d'ye see? I dine with nobody! I fish and shoot and go yachting withnobody! Julia and Alfred and our own home in Ovington Square--that'llbe good enough for me. By the way--you haven't been out to see us yet. We're all settled now. You must come at once--why not with me, now?"

Louisa paid no heed to this suggestion. She had been rummaging amongsome loose papers on the top of the desk, and she stepped round now tolift the lid and search about for something inside. 

"He left a card for you, " she said, as she groped among the desk'scontents. "I don't know what I did with it. He wrote something on it. "

"Oh, damn him, and his card too, " Thorpe protested easily. "I don't wantto see either of them. "

"He said he knew you in Mexico. He said you'd had dealings together. Heseemed to act as if you'd want to see him--but I didn't know. I didn'ttell him your address. "

Thorpe had listened to these apathetic sentences without much interest, but the sum of their message appeared suddenly to catch his attention. He sat upright, and after a moment's frowning brown study, lookedsharply up at his sister. 

"What was his name?" he asked with abruptness. 

"I don't in the least remember, " she made answer, holding the desk-topup, but temporarily suspending her search. "He was a little man, five-and-fifty, I should think. He had long grey hair--a kind ofQuaker-looking man. He said he saw the name over the door, and heremembered your telling him your people were booksellers. He only gotback here in England yesterday or the day before. He said he didn't knowwhat you'd been doing since you left Mexico. He didn't even know whetheryou were in England or not!"

Thorpe had been looking with abstracted intentness at a set ofgreen-bound cheap British poets just at one side of his sister's head. "You must find that card!" he told her now, with a vague severity inhis voice. "I know the name well enough, but I want to see what he'swritten. Was it his address, do you remember? The name itself wasTavender, wasn't it? Good God! Why is it a woman never knows whereshe's put anything? Even Julia spends hours looking for button-hooks orcorkscrews or something of that sort, every day of her life! They'vegot nothing in the world to do except know where things are, right undertheir nose, and yet that's just what they don't know at all!"

"Oh, I have a good few other things to do, " she reminded him, as shefumbled again inside the obscurity of the desk. "I can put my hand onany one of four thousand books in stock, " she mildly boasted over hershoulder, "and that's something you never learned to do. And I can tellif a single book is missing--and I wouldn't trust any shopman I everknew to do that. "

"Oh of course, you're an exception, " he admitted, under a sense ofjustice. "But I wish you'd find the card. "

"I know where it is, " she suddenly announced, and forthwith closed thedesk. Moving off into the remoter recesses of the crowded interior, shereturned to the light with the bit of pasteboard in her hand. "I'd stuckit in the little mirror over the washstand, " she explained. 

He almost snatched it from her, and stood up the better to examine itunder the gas-light. "Where is Montague Street?" he asked, with roughdirectness. 

"In Bloomsbury--alongside the Museum. That's one Montague Street--Idon't know how many others there may be. "

Thorpe had already taken up his umbrella and was buttoning his coat. "Yes--Bloomsbury, " he said hurriedly. "That would be his form. And yousay he knew nothing about my movements or whereabouts--nothing about theCompany, eh?" He looked at his watch as he spoke. Evidently the presenceof this stranger had excited him a good deal. 

"No, " she assured him, reflectively; "no, I'm sure he didn't. From whathe said, he doesn't know his way about London very well, or anywhereelse, for that matter, I should say. "

Thorpe nodded, and put his finger to his forehead with a meaning look. "No--he's a shade off in the upper story, " he told her in a confidentialtone. "Still, it's important that I should see him, "--and with only ahasty hand-shake he bustled out of the shop. 

By the light of the street lamp opposite, she could see him on thepavement, in the pelting rain, vehemently signalling with his umbrellafor a cab. 

CHAPTER XV

"We've got a spare room here, haven't we?" Thorpe asked his niece, whenshe came out to greet him in the hall of their new home in OvingtonSquare. He spoke with palpable eagerness before even unbuttoning hisdamp great-coat, or putting off his hat. "I mean it's all in workingorder ready for use?"

"Why yes, uncle, " Julia answered, after a moment's thought. "Is someonecoming?"

"I think so, " he replied, with a grunt of relief. He seemed increasinglypleased with the project he had in mind, as she helped him off with histhings. The smile he gave her, when she playfully took his arm to leadhim into the adjoining library, was clearly but a part of the satisfiedgrin with which he was considering some development in his own affairs. 

He got into his slippers and into the easy-chair before the bright fireand lit a cigar with a contented air. 

"Well, my little girl?" he said, with genial inconsequence, and smiledagain at her, where she stood beside the mantel. 

"It will be such a lark to play the hostess to a stranger!" sheexclaimed. "When is he coming?--I suppose it is a 'he, '" she added, lessbuoyantly. 

"Oh--that fellow, " Thorpe said, as if he had been thinking of somethingelse. "Well--I can't tell just when he will turn up. I only learned hewas in town--or in England--a couple of hours ago. I haven't seen himyet at all. I drove round to his lodgings, near the British Museum, but he wasn't there. He only comes there to sleep, but they told me heturned in early--by nine o'clock or so. Then I went round to a hotel andwrote a note for him, and took it back to his lodgings, and left it forhim. I told him to pack up his things as soon as he got it, and drivehere, and make this his home--for the time being at least. "

"Then it's some old friend of yours?" said the girl. "I know I shalllike him. "

Thorpe laughed somewhat uneasily. "Well--yes--he's a kind of a friend ofmine, " he said, with a note of hesitation in his voice. "I don't know, though, that you'll think much of him. He aint what you'd call a ladies'man. "

He laughed again at some thought the words conjured up. "He's a curious, simple old party, who'd just like a comfortable corner somewhere byhimself, and wouldn't expect to be talked to or entertained at all. If he does come, he'll keep to himself pretty well. He wouldn't beany company for you. I mean, --for you or Alfred either. I think he'sa Canadian or West Indian, --British subject, at all events, --but he'slived all his life in the West, and he wouldn't know what to do ina drawing-room, or that sort of thing. You'd better just not pay anyattention to him. Pass the time of day, of course, but that's all. "

Julia's alert, small-featured face expressed some vague disappointmentat what she heard, but her words were cheerful enough. "Oh ofcourse--whatever he likes best, " she said. "I will tell Potter to makeeverything ready. I suppose there's no chance of his being here in timefor dinner?"

Thorpe shook his head, and then lifted his brows over some newperplexity. "I guess he'd want to eat his meals out, anyway, " he said, after some thought. "I don't seem to remember much about him inthat respect--of course, everything was so different in camp out inMexico--but I daresay he wouldn't be much of an ornament at the table. However, that'll be all right. He's as easy to manage as a rabbit. If Itold him to eat on the roof, he'd do it without a murmur. You see it'sthis way, Julia: he's a scientific man--a kind of geologist, and miningexpert and rubber expert--and chemical expert and all sort of things. Isuppose he must have gone through college--very likely he'll turn out tohave better manners than I was giving him credit for. I've only seen himin the rough, so to speak. We weren't at all intimate then, --but we haddealings together, and there are certain important reasons why I shouldkeep close in touch with him while he's here in London. But I'll try anddo that without letting you be bothered. " "What an idea!" cried Julia. "As if that wasn't what we had the house for--to see the people you wantto see. "

Her uncle smiled rather ruefully, and looked in a rather dubious way athis cigar. "Between you and me and the lamp-post, Jule, " he said, with aslow, whimsical drawl, "there isn't a fellow in the world that I wantedto see less than I did him. But since he's here--why, we've got to makethe best of it. "

After dinner, Thorpe suffered the youngsters to go up to thedrawing-room in the tacit understanding that he should probably not seethem again that night. He betook himself then once more to the library, as it was called--the little, cozy, dark-panelled room off the hall, where the owner of the house had left two locked bookcases, and whereThorpe himself had installed a writing-desk and a diminutive safe forhis papers. The chief purpose of the small apartment, however, wasindicated by the two big, round, low-seated easy-chairs before thehearth, and by the cigar boxes and spirit-stand and tumblers visiblebehind the glass of the cabinet against the wall. Thorpe himselfcalled the room his "snuggery, " and spent many hours there in slipperedcomfort, smoking and gazing contentedly into the fire. Sometimes Juliaread to him, as he sat thus at his ease, but then he almost invariablywent to sleep. 

Now, when he had poured out some whiskey and water and lit a cigar, thelounging chairs somehow did not attract him. He moved about aimlessly inthe circumscribed space, his hands in his pockets, his burly shouldersrounded, his face dulled and heavy as with a depression of doubt. Thesound of the piano upstairs came intermittently to his ears. Often heascended to the drawing-room to hear Julia play--and more often still, with all the doors open, he enjoyed the mellowed murmur of her musichere at his ease in the big chair. But tonight he had no joy in thenoise. More than once, as he slouched restlessly round the room, thenotion of asking her to stop suggested itself, but he forbore to put itinto action. Once he busied himself for a time in kneeling before hissafe, and scrutinizing in detail the papers in one of the bundles itcontained. 

At last--it was after ten o'clock, and the music above had ceased--thewelcome sounds of cab-wheels without, and then of the door-bell, came todispel his fidgeting suspense. On the instant he straightened himself, and his face rearranged its expression. He fastened upon the door of theroom the controlled, calm glance of one who is easily confident aboutwhat is to happen. 

"Quaker-looking" was not an inapt phrase for the person whom the maidushered into the room through this door. He was a small, thin, elderlyman, bowed of figure and shuffling in gait. His coat and large, low-crowned hat, though worn almost to shabbiness, conveyed anindefinable sense of some theological standard, or pretence to sucha standard. His meagre face, too, with its infinity of anxious yetmeaningless lines, and its dim spectacled eyes, so plainly overtaxed bythe effort to discern anything clearly, might have belonged to any oldvillage priest grown childish and blear-eyed in the solitude of stupidbooks. Even the blotches of tell-tale colour on his long nose were notaltogether unclerical in their suggestion. A poor old man he seemed, as he stood blinking in the electric light of the strange, warmapartment--a helpless, worn old creature, inured through long years tobleak adverse winds, hoping now for nothing better in this world thanpresent shelter. 

"How do you do, Mr. Thorpe, " he said, after a moment, with nervousformality. "This is unexpectedly kind of you, sir. "

"Why--not at all!" said Thorpe, shaking him cordially by the hand. "Whathave we got houses for, but to put up our old friends? And how are you, anyway? You've brought your belongings, have you? That's right!" Heglanced into the hall, to make sure that they were being taken upstairs, and then closed the door. "I suppose you've dined. Take off your hat andcoat! Make yourself at home. That's it--take the big chair, there--so!And now let's have a look at you. Well, Tavender, my man, you haven'tgrown any younger. But I suppose none of us do. And what'll you have todrink? I take plain water in mine, but there's soda if you prefer it. And which shall it be--Irish or Scotch?"

Mr. Tavender's countenance revealed the extremity of his surprise andconfusion at the warmth of this welcome. It apparently awed him as well, for though he shrank into a corner of the huge chair, he painstakinglyabstained from resting his head against its back. Uncovered, this headgained a certain dignity of effect from the fashion in which thethin, iron-grey hair, parted in the middle, fell away from the full, intellectual temples, and curled in meek locks upon his collar. A vagueresemblance to the type of Wesley--or was it Froebel?--might have hinteditself to the observer's mind. 

Thorpe's thoughts, however, were not upon types. "Well"--he said, fromthe opposite chair, in his roundest, heartiest voice, when the otherhad with diffidence suffered himself to be served, and had deferentiallylighted on one side the big cigar pressed upon him--"Well--and how's theworld been using you?"

"Not very handsomely, Mr. Thorpe, " the other responded, in a hushed, constrained tone. 

"Oh, chuck the Misters!" Thorpe bade him. "Aren't we old pals, man?You're plain Tavender, and I'm plain Thorpe. "

"You're very kind, " murmured Tavender, still abashed. For someminutes he continued to reply dolefully, and with a kind of shamefacedreluctance, to the questions piled upon him. He was in evil luck:nothing had gone well with him; it had been with the greatest difficultythat he had scraped together enough to get back to London on the chanceof obtaining some expert commission; practically he possessed nothingin the world beyond the clothes on his back, and the contents of two oldcarpet-bags--these admissions, by degrees, were wormed from him. 

"But have you parted with the concession, then, that you bought fromme?" Thorpe suddenly asked him. "Help yourself to some more whiskey!"

Tavender sighed as he tipped the decanter. "It isn't any good, " heanswered, sadly. "The Government repudiates it--that is, the CentralGovernment at Mexico. Of course, I never blamed you. I bought it with myeyes open, and you sold it in perfect good faith. I never doubted thatat all. But it's not worth the paper it's written on--that's certain. It's that that busted me--that, and some other things. "

"Well--well!" said Thorpe, blankly. His astonishment was obviouslygenuine, and for a little it kept him silent, while he pondered thenovel aspects of the situation thus disclosed. Then his eyes brightened, as a new path outlined itself. 

"I suppose you've got the papers?--the concession and my transfer to youand all that?" he asked, casually. 

"Oh, yes, " replied Tavender. He added, with a gleam of returningself-command--"That's all I have got. "

"Let's see--what was it you paid me?--Three thousand eight hundredpounds, wasn't it?"

Tavender made a calculation in mental arithmetic. "Yes, something likethat. Just under nineteen thousand dollars, " he said. 

"Well, " remarked Thorpe, with slow emphasis, "I won't allow you tosuffer that way by me. I'll buy it back from you at the same price youpaid for it. "

Tavender, beginning to tremble, jerked himself upright in his chair, and stared through his spectacles at his astounding host. "You say"--hegasped--"you say you'll buy it back!"

"Certainly, " said Thorpe. "That's what I said. "

"I--I never heard of such a thing!" the other faltered with increasingagitation. "No--you can't mean it. It isn't common sense!"

"It's common decency, " replied the big man, in his most commandingmanner. "It's life and death to you--and it doesn't matter a flea-biteto me. So, since you came to grief through me, why shouldn't I do thefair thing, and put you back on your legs again?"

Tavender, staring now at those shrunken legs of his, breathed heavily. The thing overwhelmed him. Once or twice he lifted his head and essayedto speak, but no speech came to his thin lips. He moistened themeventually with a long deliberate pull at his glass. 

"This much ought to be understood, however, " Thorpe resumed, reflectingupon his words as he went along. "If I'm to buy back a dead horse, likethat, it's only reasonable that there should be conditions. I supposeyou've seen by this time that even if this concession of ours wasrecognized by the Government there wouldn't be any money in it to speakof. I didn't realize that two years ago, any more than you did, but it'splain enough now. The trade has proved it. A property of rubber treeshas no real value--so long as there's a wilderness of rubber trees allround that's everybody's property. How can a man pay even the intereston his purchase money, supposing he's bought a rubber plantation, whenhe has to compete with people who've paid no purchase money at all, butjust get out as much as they like from the free forest? You must knowthat that is so. "

Tavender nodded eloquently. "Oh yes, I know that is so. You can prove itby me. "

Thorpe grinned a little. "As it happens, that aint what I need to haveyou prove, " he said, dryly. "Now WE know that a rubber property is nogood--but London doesn't know it. Everybody here thinks that it's agreat business to own rubber trees. Why, man alive, do you know"--theaudacity of the example it had occurred to him to cite brought agratified twinkle to his eyes as he went on--"do you know that a manhere last year actually sold a rubber plantation for four hundredthousand pounds--two millions of dollars! Not in cash, of course, butin shares that he could do something with--and before he's done withit, I'm told, he's going to make twice that amount of money out of it. That'll show you what London is like. "

"Yes--I suppose they do those things, " remarked Tavender, vaguely. 

"Well--my point is that perhaps I can do something or other with thisconcession of yours here. I may even be able to get my money back on it. At any rate I'll take my chances on it--so that at least you shan't loseanything by it. Of course, if you'd rather try and put it on the marketyourself, why go ahead!" There was a wistful pathos in the way Tavendershook his head. "Big money doesn't mean anything to me any more, " hesaid, wearily. "I'm too old and I'm too tired. Why--four--five--yes, half a dozen times I've had enough money to last me comfortably all mylife--and every time I've used it as bait to catch bigger money with, and lost it all. I don't do that any more! I've got something the matterwith me internally that takes the nerve all out of me. The doctors don'tagree about it, but whatever its name is I've got it for keeps. ProbablyI shan't live very long"--Thorpe recalled that the old man had alwaystaken a gloomy view of his health after the third glass--"and if youwant to pay me the nineteen thousand dollars, or whatever it is, why Ishall say 'God bless you, ' and be more than contented. "

"Oh, there's something more to it than that, " observed Thorpe, with anadded element of business-like briskness in his tone. "If I let you outin this way--something, of course, you could never have dreamed wouldhappen--you must do some things for me. I should want you, for example, to go back to Mexico at once. Of course, I'd pay your expenses out. Orsay, I'd give you a round four thousand pounds to cover that and someother things too. You wouldn't object to that, would you?"

The man who, two hours before, had confronted existence with the changeof his last five-pound note in his pocket, did not hesitate now. "Ohno, that would be all right, " with reviving animation, he declared. Hehelped himself again from the cut-glass decanter. "What would you wantme to do there?"

"Oh, a report on the concession for a starter, " Thorpe answered, with careful indifference. "I suppose they still know your name as anauthority. I could make that all right anyway. But one thing I oughtto speak of--it might be rather important--I wouldn't like to have youmention to anybody that the concession has at any time been yours. Thatmight tend to weaken the value of your report, don't you see? Let it besupposed that the concession has been my property from the start. Youcatch my point, don't you? There never was any such thing as a transferof it to you. It's always been mine!"

Tavender gave his benefactor a purblind sort of wink. "Always belongedto you? Why of course it did, " he said cheerfully. 

The other breathed a cautious prolonged sigh of relief "You'd betterlight a fresh one, hadn't you?" he asked, observing with a kind ofcontemptuous tolerance the old man's efforts to ignite a cigar which hadmore than once unrolled like a carpenter's shaving in his unaccustomedfingers, and was now shapelessly defiant of both draught and suction. Tavender laughed to himself silently as he took a new cigar, andpuffed at the match held by his companion. The air of innocence andlong-suffering meekness was falling rapidly away from him. He put hisshabby boots out confidently to the fender and made gestures with hisglass as he talked. 

"My mistake, " he declared, in insistent tones, "was in not turning downscience thirty years ago and going in bodily for business. Then I shouldhave made my pile as you seem to have done. But I tried to do somethingof both. Half the year I was assaying crushings, or running a level, oranalyzing sugars, for a salary, and the other half I was trying to do agamble with that salary on the strength of what I'd learned. You can'tring the bell that way. You've got to be either a pig or a pup. Youcan't do both. Now, for instance, if I'd come to London when you did, and brought my money with me instead of buying your concession withit----"

"Why, what good do you suppose you would have done?" Thorpe interruptedhim with good-natured brusqueness. "You'd have had it taken from youin a fortnight! Why, man, do you know what London is? You'd have had nomore chance here than a naked nigger in a swamp-full of alligators. "

"You seem to have hit it off, " the other objected. "This is as fine ahouse as I was ever in. "

"With me it's different, " Thorpe replied, carelessly. "I have the talentfor money-making. I'm a man in armour. The 'gators can't bite me, noryet the rattle-snakes. "

"Yes--men are made up differently, " Tavender assented, withphilosophical gravity. Then he lurched gently in the over-large chair, and fixed an intent gaze upon his host. "What did you make your moneyin?" he demanded, not with entire distinctness of enunciation. "Itwasn't rubber, was it?"

Thorpe shook his head. "There's no money in rubber. I'm entirely infinance--on the Stock Exchange--dealing in differences, " he replied, with a serious face. 

The explanation seemed wholly acceptable to Tavender. He mused upon itplacidly for a time, with his reverend head pillowed askew against thecorner of the chair. Then he let his cigar drop, and closed his eyes. 

The master of the house bent forward, and noiselessly helped himself toanother glass of whiskey and water. Then, sinking back again, he eyedhis odd guest meditatively as he sipped the drink. He said to himselfthat in all the miraculous run of luck which the year had brought him, this was the most extraordinary manifestation of the lot. It had beenso easy to ignore the existence of this tiresome and fatuous old man, solong as he was in remote Mexico, that he had practically forgotten him. But he should not soon forget the frightened shock with which he hadlearned of his presence in London, that afternoon. For a minute or two, there in his sister's book-shop, it had seemed as if he were fallingthrough the air--as if the substantial earth had crumbled away fromunder him. But then his nerve had returned to him, his resourceful brainhad reasserted itself. With ready shrewdness he had gone out, and metthe emergency, and made it the servant of his own purposes. 

He could be glad now, unreservedly glad, that Tavender had come toLondon, that things had turned out as they had. In truth, he stood nowfor the first time on solid ground. When he thought of it, now, the riskhe had been running all these months gave him a little sinking of theheart. Upon reflection, the performance of having sold the same propertyfirst to Tavender in Mexico and then to the Rubber Consols Company inLondon might be subject to injurious comment, or worse. The fact that itwas not a real property to begin with had no place in his thoughts. It was a concession--and concessions were immemorially worth what theywould fetch. But the other thing might have been so awkward--and now itwas all right!

For an hour and more, till the fire burnt itself out and the guest'ssnoring became too active a nuisance, Thorpe sat lost in thiscongratulatory reverie. Then he rose, and sharply shaking Tavender intoa semblance of consciousness, led him upstairs and put him to bed. 

Three days later he personally saw Tavender off at Waterloo station bythe steamer-train, en route for Southampton and New York. The old manwas in childlike good spirits, looking more ecclesiastical than everin the new clothes he had been enabled to buy. He visibly purred withcontent whenever his dim eyes caught sight of the new valise and steamertrunk, which belonged to him, on the busy platform. 

"You've been very kind to me, Thorpe, " he said more than once, as theystood together beside the open door of the compartment. "I was neverso hospitably treated before in my life. Your attention to me has beenwonderful. I call you a true friend. "

"Oh, that's all right! Glad to do it, " replied the other, lightly. Intruth he had not let Tavender stray once out of his sight during thosethree days. He had dragged him tirelessly about London, showing him thesights from South Kensington Museum to the Tower, shopping with him, resting in old taverns with him, breakfasting, lunching, aud diningwith him--in the indefatigable resolution that he should strike upno dangerous gossiping acquaintance with strangers. The task had beentiresome in the extreme--but it had been very well worth while. 

"One thing I'm rather sorry about, " Tavender remarked, in apologeticparenthesis--"I ought to have gone down and seen that brother-in-law ofmine in Kent. He's been very good to me, and I'm not treating him verywell. I wrote to tell him I was coming--but since then I haven't hada minute to myself. However, I can write to him and explain how ithappened. And probably I'll be over again sometime. "

"Why, of course, " said Thorpe, absently. The allusion to thebrother-in-law in Kent had escaped his notice, so intent was he upon anew congeries of projects taking vague shape in his mind. 

"Think of yourself as my man out there, " he said now, slowly, followingthe clue of his thoughts. "There may be big things to do. Write to me asoften as you can. Tell me everything that's going on. Money will be noobject to me--you can have as much as you like--if things turn up outthere that are worth taking up. But mind you say nothing about me--orany connection you've ever had with me. You'll get a letter from theSecretary of a Company and the Chairman asking for a report on a certainproperty, and naming a fee. You simply make a good report--on itsmerits. You say nothing about anything else--about me, or the history ofthe concession, or its validity, or anything. I mustn't be alluded to inany way. You quite understand that?"

"Trust me!" said the old man, and wrung his benefactor's hand. 

It was indeed with a trustful eye that Thorpe watched the train draw outof the station. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE week following the August Bank Holiday is very rarely indeed a busyor anxious time in the City. In the ordinary course of things, itserves as the easy-going prelude--with but casual and inattentive visitseastward, and with only the most careless glances through the financialpapers--to the halcyon period of the real vacation. Men come to the Cityduring this week, it is true, but their thoughts are elsewhere--on themoors, on the blue sea, on the glacier or the fiord, or the pleasantGerman pine forests. 

To the great mass of City people; this August in question began in anormal enough fashion. To one little group of operators, however, and tothe widening circle of brokers, bankers, and other men of affairs whoseinterests were more or less involved with those of this group, it was aseason of keen perturbation. A combat of an extraordinary character wasgoing on--a combat which threatened to develop into a massacre. Evento the operators who, unhappily for themselves, were principals in thisfight, it was a struggle in the dark. They knew little about it, beyondthe grimly-patent fact that they were battling for their very lives. The outer ring of their friends and supporters and dependents knew stillless, though their rage and fears were perhaps greater. The "press"seemed to know nothing at all. This unnatural silence of the City'smouthpieces, usually so resoundingly clamorous upon the one side and theother when a duel is in progress, gave a sinister aspect to the thing. The papers had been gagged and blindfolded for the occasion. This initself was of baleful significance. It was not a duel which they hadbeen bribed to ignore. It was an assassination. 

Outwardly there was nothing to see, save the unofficial, bald statementthat on August 1st, the latest of twelve fortnightly settlements in thisstock, Rubber Consols had been bid for, and carried over, at 15 poundsfor one-pound shares. The information concerned the public at large notat all. Nobody knew of any friend or neighbour who was fortunate enoughto possess some of these shares. Readers here and there, noting thefigures, must have said to themselves that certain lucky people werecoining money, but very little happened to be printed as to the identityof these people. Stray notes were beginning to appear in the personalcolumns of the afternoon papers about a "Rubber King" of the name ofThorpe, but the modern exploitation of the world's four corners makes somany "kings" that the name had not, as yet, familiarized itself to thepopular eye. 

City men, who hear more than they read, knew in a general way about this"Rubber King. " He was an outsider who had come in, and was obviouslyfilling his pockets; but it was a comforting rule that outsiders who didthis always got their pockets emptied for them again in the long run. There seemed nothing about Thorpe to suggest that he would prove anexception to the rule. He was investing his winnings with great freedom, so the City understood, and his office was besieged daily by promotersand touts. They could clean out his strong-box faster than the profitsof his Rubber corner could fill it. To know such a man, however, couldnot but be useful, and they made furtive notes of his number in AustinFriars on their cuffs, after conversation had drifted from him to othertopics. 

As to the Rubber corner itself, the Stock Exchange as a whole wasapathetic. When some of the sufferers ventured cautious hints about thepossibility of official intervention on their behalf, they were laughedat by those who did not turn away in cold silence. Of the fourteen menwho had originally been caught in the net drawn tight by Thorpe andSemple, all the conspicuous ones belonged to the class of "wreckers, " aclass which does not endear itself to Capel Court. 

Both Rostocker and Aronson, who, it was said, were worst hit, were menof great wealth, but they had systematically amassed these fortunes bystrangling in their cradles weak enterprises, and by undermining andtoppling over other enterprises which would not have been weak if theyhad been given a legitimate chance to live. Their system was legalenough, in the eyes alike of the law and of the Stock Exchange rules. They had an undoubted right to mark out their prey and pursue it, andbring it down, and feed to the bone upon it. But the exercise of thisright did not make them beloved by the begetters and sponsors of theirvictims. When word first went round, on the last day of February, thata lamb had unexpectedly turned upon these two practised and confidentwolves, and had torn an ear from each of them, and driven them pell-mellinto a "corner, " it was received on all sides with a gratified smile. 

Later, by fortnightly stages, the story grew at once more tragic andmore satisfactory. Not only Rostocker and Aronson, but a dozen otherswere in the cul de sac guarded by this surprising and bloody-mindedlamb. Most of the names were well-known as those of "wreckers. " In thiscategory belonged Blaustein, Ganz, Rothfoere, Lewis, Ascher, andMendel, and if Harding, Carpenter, and Vesey could not be so confidentlyclassified, at least their misfortune excited no particular sympathy. Two other names mentioned, those of Norfell and Pinney, were practicallyunknown. 

There was some surprise, however, at the statement that the old andrespected and extremely conservative firm of Fromentin Bros. Wasentangled in the thing. Egyptian bonds, minor Levantine loans, discountsin the Arabian and Persian trades--these had been specialties of theFromentins for many years. Who could have expected to find them caughtamong the "shorts" in Mexican rubber? It was Mexico, wasn't it, thatthese Rubber Consols purported to be connected with?

Thorpe's Company, upon its commercial merits, had not been consideredat all by the gentlemen of the Stock Exchange, at the time of itsflotation. Men vaguely and with difficulty recalled the fact of itsprospectus, when the "corner" in its shares was first talked about. They looked it up in their lists and files, later on, but its terms saidnothing to them. Nobody discussed the value of the assets owned by thisCompany, or the probability of its paying a dividend--even when theprice bid for its shares was making the most sensational upward leaps. How Thorpe stood with his shareholders, or whether he had any genuineshareholders behind him at all, was seen by the keen eyes of Capel Courtto be beside the question. Very likely it was a queer affair, if thetruth were known--but at least it had substance enough in it to begiving the "wreckers" a lively time. 

By the end of July it was understood that the fight was better worthwatching than anything that had been seen in a long time. The onlytrouble was that there was so little to see. The papers said nothing. The sufferers were the reverse of garrulous. The little red Scotchman, Semple, who was the visible avenging sword of the "corner, " was moreimperturbably silent than anybody else. His fellow-members in the"House" watched him now, however, with a new respect. They discoveredunsuspected elements of power in his thin, tight mouth, in the direct, cold glances of his brown-grey eyes, in the very way he carried his headand wore his hat. He came to be pointed out, and nodded about behind hisback, more than anyone else in the "House, " and important men sought hisacquaintance, with an awkward show of civility, who were notorious fortheir rude exclusiveness. 

It might be, of course, that his "corner" would break under him at anyfortnightly settlement, but already he had carried it much further thansuch things often went, and the planning of the coup had been beyonddoubt Napoleonic. 

Had this small sandy Scot planned it, or was he merely the weapon inThorpe's hand? Both views had their supporters on the Exchange, butafter the wrench of August 1st, when with an abrupt eighty-shillingrise the price of Rubber Consols stood at 15 pounds, and it was tobe computed that Semple had received on that single day nearly 75, 000pounds in differences and "backwardation, " a story was set afloat whichgave Thorpe the undivided credit of the invention. It was related ascoming from his own lips that he had schemed it all out to be revengedupon a group of Jewish operators, against whom he had a grievance. Inconfirmation of this tale, it was pointed out that, of the seven menstill held pinned in the fatal "corner, " six were Jews--and this did, upon first glance, look significant. But then it was objected, uponreflection, that Blaustein and Ascher had both been permitted to maketheir escape, and this hardly justified the theory of an implacableanti-Semitic vendetta. The objection seemed reasonable, but it was metin turn by the point that Blaustein and Ascher had been bled white, as Bismarck's phrase went, before they were released, whereas the fiveChristians had been liberated with relatively moderate fines. Upon thewhole, a certain odour of the Judenhetze clung thereafter about the"corner" in Rubber Consols. 

On an afternoon of the following week, Mr. Stormont Thorpe was alone inthe Board Room of the offices in Austin Friars. He had risen from thegreat roller-topped desk over between the windows, and walked now witha lethargic, tired step to and fro before the empty fireplace, yawningmore than once, and stretching out his arms in the supreme gesture offatigue. After a dozen listless rounds, something occurred to him. Hemoved with a certain directness of purpose to the cabinet in the corner, unlocked it, and poured out for himself a tumbler of brandy and soda. He drank it without a pause, then turned again, and began pacing up anddown as before, his hands clasped behind him, his head bent in thought. 

The intervening six months had effected visible changes in the outerman. One noted most readily that the face had grown fuller in itslower parts, and was far less browned than formerly. The large, heavycountenance, with its square jaws masked now under increased flesh, itsbeginnings of a double-chin, and its slightly flabby effect of pallor, was no longer lacking in individual distinction. It was palpably thevisage of a dictator. The moustache had been cut down to militarybrevity, and the line of mouth below it was eloquent of rough power. Thesteady grey eyes, seemingly smaller yet more conspicuous than before, revealed in their glance new elements of secretiveness, of strategysupported by abundant and confident personal force. 

The man himself seemed scarcely to have grown stouter. He held himselfmore compactly, as it were; seemed more the master of all his physicalexpressions. He was dressed like a magnate who was also a person oftaste. There was a flower in the lapel of his well-shaped frock-coat, and the rustle of his starched and spotless white waistcoat murmuredpleasantly of refined toilets. 

"The Marquis of Chaldon--and a gentleman, with him. "

The announcement, from a clerk who had noiselessly opened the door, imposed itself with decorum upon Thorpe's reverie. 

"Who is the gentleman with him?" Thorpe began austerely to ask, afteran instant's hesitation. But this briefest of delays had brought thecallers into plain view behind the clerk, and with a slight gesture themaster assented to their entrance. 

This large apartment was no longer called the Board Room by anybody. Bytacit processes, it had become Mr. Thorpe's room. Not even the titularChairman of the Company, the renowned and eminent Lord Chaldon, ex-Ambassador and ex-Viceroy, entered this chamber now with anyassumption of proprietorship in it. No hint of a recollection that therewere such things as the Company and the Board, or that he was nominallythe head of both, expressed itself in his Lordship's demeanour as headvanced, his hand a little extended. 

The noble Chairman was white of beard and hair, and extremely courteousof manner--a small, carefully-clad, gracious old gentleman, whosemild pink countenance had, with years of anxiety about ways andmeans, disposed itself in lines which produced a chronic expression ofsolicitude. A nervous affection of the eyelids lent to this look, atintervals, a beseeching quality which embarrassed the beholder. Allmen had liked him, and spoken well of him throughout his long andhard-worked career. Thorpe was very fond of him indeed, and put arespectful cordiality into his grasp of the proffered hand. Then helooked, with a certain thinly-veiled bluntness of enquiry, past theMarquis to his companion. 

"You were very kind to give me the appointment, " said Lord Chaldon, witha little purring gloss of affability upon the earnestness of his tone. "I wish very much to introduce to you my friend, my old friend I maysay, Monsieur Alexandre Fromentin. We slept together under the sametent, in the Persian country beyond Bagdad--oh, it must have been quiteforty years ago. We were youngsters looking to win our first spursthen--I in my line, he in his. And often since we have renewed that oldfriendship--at many different places--India, and Constantinople, andEgypt. I wish heartily to commend him to your--your kindness. "

Thorpe had perfunctorily shaken hands with the stranger--a tall, slender, sharp-faced, clean-shaven, narrow-shouldered man, who by theseaccounts of his years ought not to have such excessively black hair. Hebowed in a foreign fashion, and uttered some words which Thorpe, thoughhe recognized them as English in intent, failed to follow. The voicewas that of an elderly man, and at a second glance there were plentyof proofs that he might have been older than the Marquis, out there inPersia, forty years ago. But Thorpe did not like old men who dyed theirhair, and he offered his visitors chairs, drawn up from the table towardhis desk, with a certain reserve of manner. Seating himself in therevolving chair at the desk itself, he put the tips of his fingerstogether, and looked this gentleman with the Continental name andexperience in the face. 

"Is there something you wish me to do?" he asked, passively facilitatingthe opening of conversation. 

"Ah, my God! 'Something'!"--repeated the other, with a flutteringgesture of his hands over his thin, pointed knees--"everything, Mr. Thorpe!"

"That's a tolerably large order, isn't it?" Thorpe asked, calmly, movinga slow, inscrutable glance from one to the other of his callers. 

"I could ask for nothing that would be a greater personal favour--andkindness"--Lord Chaldon interposed. His tone bore the stress ofsincerity. 

"That means a great deal to me, as you know, my Lord, " replied Thorpe, "but I don't in the least understand--what is it that your friendwants?"

"Only that I shall not be buried in a bankrupt's grave, " the suppliantanswered, with a kind of embittered eagerness of utterance. "That Ishall not see disgraced the honoured name that my father and his fatherbequeathed to my care!"

Thorpe's large, composed countenance betrayed a certain perplexity. "There must be a mistake, " he observed. "I don't even know this name ofyours. I never heard it before. "

The other's mobile face twisted itself in a grimace of incredulity. Hehad a conspicuously wide mouth, and its trick of sidelong extension atthis moment was very unpleasant. "Ah, Herr Je! He never heard it, " heejaculated, turning nervously to the Marquis. "Would to the good God younever had!" he told Thorpe, with suppressed excitement. 

Lord Chaldon, his own voice shaken a little, interposed with anexplanation. "My friend is the head--the respected head--of the firm ofFromentin Brothers. I think you have--have dealings with them. "

Thorpe, after a furtive instant of bewilderment, opened his mouth. "Oh! I see, " he said. "I know what you mean now. With the Frenchpronunciation, I didn't recognize the name. I've always heard it called'Fromen'-tin' here in London. Oh, yes, of course--Fromen'tin Brothers. "

His lips shut tight again at this. The listeners had caught no helpfulclue from the tone of his words. They exchanged a glance, and then M. Fromentin spoke. 

"Mr. Thorpe, " he began, slowly, with an obvious effort atself-repression. "It is a very simple story. Our house is an old one. My father's grandfather organized the finance of the commissariat ofGeneral Bonaparte in Egypt. He created the small beginnings of thecarpet and rug importation from Asia Minor. His son, and in turn hisson, followed him. They became bankers as well as importers. Theyhelped very greatly to develop the trade of the Levant. They were notavaricious men, or usurers. It is not in our blood. Your Chairman, LordChaldon, who honours me so highly by calling me his friend--he willassure you that we have a good name in the East. Our banks havebefriended the people, and never oppressed or injured them. For thatreason--I will say perhaps for that reason--we have never become a veryrich house. It is possible to name bankers who have made large fortunesout of Egypt. It was different with us. Lord Chaldon will tell youthat of our own free will--my two brothers and I--of our own choice weconsented to lose a fifth of all our possessions, rather than coin intogold by force the tears and blood of the wretched fellaheen. "

"Yes--I have never known a more honourable or humane action, " put in theMarquis, fervently. 

"And then my brothers die--Polydor, who lived mostly at Smyrna, andwhose estate was withdrawn from the business by his widow, and Augustin, who lived here in London after 1870, and died--it is now six years ago. He left a son, Robert, who is my nephew, and my partner. He is now ofan age--perhaps thirty years. He was a small child when he came toLondon--he has become more English than the English themselves. Hisactivity and industry are very great; he forms plans of such magnitudeand numbers that they would compel his grandfather to turn in hiscoffin. I am in indifferent health. I live much at Homburg and Marienbadand at Cairo. Practically speaking, I have retired from business. Thereremain branches of our house--in several places--but the London househas become the centre of all things--and Robert has become the Londonhouse. This I make plain to your mind, do I, Mr. Thorpe?"

The other, with his chin sunk within the collar of his white waistcoat, and scrutinizing the narrator with a steadfast though impassive glance, made the faintest possible nod of assent. 

"I had great confidence in Robert, " the old man went on. His eyes weredimming with tears, and his voice quavered uncertainly. "His plansseemed wise, even if they risked more than formerly. The conditions ofbusiness are wholly altered since my youth--and it was best, I thought, to make Robert free to act under these conditions, which he understoodmuch better than I could pretend to do. Thus it was that when he said itwas necessary for Fromentin Brothers to belong to the Stock Exchange, I did not object. He was active and bold and clever, and he was in thethick of the fight. Therefore he should be the judge in all things. Andthat is our ruin. In the time of the South African excitement, he won agreat deal of money. Then he lost it all and more. Then gambling began, and his fortunes went now up, now down, but always, as his books show tome now--sinking a little on the average. He grew more adventurous--morecareless. He put many small counters upon different numbers on thetable. You know what I mean? And in an accursed moment, because othergamblers were doing the same, he sold two thousand of your shares, without having them in his hands. Voila! He wishes now to put a bulletthrough his brain. He proposes that as the fitting end of FromentinFreres. "

Thorpe, his chin on his breast, continued to regard the melancholyfigure opposite with a moody eye. It seemed a long minute before hebroke the tense silence by a sigh of discomfort. "I do not discuss thesethings with anybody, " he said then, coldly. "If I had known who youwere, I don't think you'd have got in. "

The Marquis of Chaldon intuitively straightened himself in his chair, and turned toward the speaker a glance of distressed surprise. 

"Or no--I beg your pardon, " Thorpe hastened to add, upon the instanthint of this look--"that doesn't convey my meaning. Of course, ourChairman brings whom he pleases. His friends--as a matter of course--areour friends. What I should have said was that if this had been mentionedbeforehand to me, I should have explained that it wasn't possible todiscuss that particular business. "

"But--pardon me"--said Lord Chaldon, in a quiet, very gentle, yetinsistent voice, which seemed now to recall to its listeners the factthat sovereigns and chancellors had in their day had attentive ears forits tones--"pardon me, but why should it not be possible?"

Thorpe frowned doubtfully, and shifted his position in his chair. "Whatcould I say, if it were discussed?" he made vague retort. "I'm merelyone of the Directors. You are our Chairman, but you see he hasn't foundit of any use to discuss it with you. There are hard and fast rulesabout these things. They run their natural course. You are not abusiness man, my Lord----"

"Oh, I think I may be called a 'business man, '" interposed the nobleman, suavely. "They would tell you so in Calcutta, I think, and in Cairo too. When one considers it, I have transacted a great deal of business--onthe behalf of other people. And if you will permit me--I do not imputeindirection, of course--but your remark seems to require a footnote. Itis true that I am Chairman of the Board on which you are a Director--butit is not quite the whole truth. I as Chairman know absolutely nothingabout this matter. As I understand the situation, it is not in yourcapacity as a Director that you know anything about it either. Yet----"

He paused, as if suddenly conscious of some impropriety in thisdomestic frankness before a third party, and Thorpe pounced through hiswell-mannered hesitation with the swiftness of a bird of prey. 

"Let me suggest, " he said roundly, lifting his head and poising ahand to hold attention, while he thought upon what it was he shouldsuggest--"this is what I would say. It seems rather irregular, doesn'tit? to debate the matter in the presence of an outsider. You see ityourself. That is partly what I meant. Now I have met Mr. Fromentin, " hegave the name its English vowels with an obstinate emphasis, "and I haveheard his statement. You have heard it too. If he wishes to lay morefacts before us, why, well and good. But then I would suggest thathe leave the matter in our hands, to discuss and look into betweenourselves. That seems to you the proper course, doesn't it, LordChaldon?"

The French banker had been studying with strained acuteness the biglymphatic mask of the Director, with sundry sharp glances aside at theChairman. The nervous changes on his alert, meagre old face showedhow intently he followed every phase of their talk. A certain sardonicperception of evil in the air curled on his lip when he saw the Marquisaccede with a bow and wave of the hand to Thorpe's proposition. Then hemade his bow in turn, and put the best face possible upon the matter. 

"Naturally I consult your convenience--and the proprieties, " he said, with an effect of proud humility. "There are but a few other facts tosubmit. My nephew has already paid, in differences upon those accursedtwo thousand shares, a sum of nearly 30, 000 pounds. I have the figuresin my pocket--but they are fixed in my head as well. Twenty-eightthousand five hundred, those differences already amount to, not to speakof interest. At the last settlement, August 1st, the price per share was15 pounds. That would make 30, 000 pounds more, if we bought now--or atotal of practically 60, 000 pounds. Eh bien! I beg for the privilege ofbeing allowed to buy these shares now. It is an unpleasant confessionto make, but the firm of Fromentin Freres will be made very poor by thisloss of 60, 000 pounds. It was not always so, but it is so now. My nephewRobert has brought it into that condition. You see my shame at thisadmission. With all my own means, and with his sister's marriageportion, we can make up this sum of 30, 000 pounds, and still enablethe firm to remain in existence. I have gone over the books verypainstakingly, since I arrived in London. It can be kept afloat, andit can be brought back to safe and moderately profitable courses--ifnothing worse happens. With another six weeks like the last, thiswill not be at all possible. We shall have the cup of dishonour thrustbetween our teeth. That will be the end of everything. "

M. Fromentin finished in tremulous, grave tones. After looking withblurred eyes for a moment into Thorpe's face, he bowed his head, andsoftly swayed the knees upon which his thin, dark hands maintained theirclutch. Not even the revelation of hair quite white at the roots, undulywidening the track of parting on the top of his dyed head, could robthis movement of its mournful dignity. 

Thorpe, after a moment's pause, took a pencil and paper from the desk, and made a calculation. He bit his lips and frowned at the sight ofthese figures, and set down some others, which seemed to please him nomore. Then, with a sudden gesture as of impatience, he rose to his feet. 

"How much is that sister's marriage portion you spoke of?" he asked, rather brusquely. 

The French gentleman had also risen. He looked with an air ofastonishment at his questioner, and then hardened his face. "I apologizefor mentioning it, " he said, with brevity. "One does not speak of familyaffairs. "

"I asked you how much it was, " pursued Thorpe, in a masterful tone. "Aman doesn't want to rob a girl of her marriage portion. "

"I think I must not answer you, " the other replied, hesitatingly. "Itwas the fault of my emotion to introduce the subject. Pray leave theyoung lady out of account. "

"Then I've nothing more to say, " Thorpe declared, and seated himselfagain with superfluous energy. He scowled for a little at the disorderof his desk, and then flung forth an angry explanation. "If you evadefair questions like that, how can you expect that I will go out of myway to help you?"

"Oh, permit me, Mr. Thorpe"--the Marquis intervened soothingly--"I thinkyou misapprehend. My friend, I am sure, wished to evade nothing. Hehad the idea that he was at fault in--in alluding to a purely domesticmatter as--as a--what shall I say?--as a plea for your consideration. "He turned to the old banker. "You will not refuse to mention the sum tome, will you, my friend?"

M. Fromentin shrugged his shoulders. "It is ten thousand pounds, " hereplied, almost curtly. 

Thorpe was seemingly mollified. "Very well, then, " he said. "I will sellyou 2, 000 shares at ten pounds. "

The others exchanged a wondering look. 

"Monsieur, " the banker stammered--"I see your meaning. You will forgiveme--it is very well meant indeed by you--but it was not my proposition. The market-price is fifteen pounds--and we were prepared to pay it. "Thorpe laughed in a peremptory, gusty way. "But you can't pay more thanI ask!" he told him, with rough geniality. "Come, if I let you and yournephew in out of the cold, what kind of men-folk would you be to insistthat your niece should be left outside? As I said, I don't want hermoney. I don't want any woman's money. If I'm going to be nice to therest of the family, what's the objection to my being nice to her?"

"Monsieur, " said the Frenchman, after an instant's reflection, "I offernone. I did not at the moment perceive the spirit of your words, butI recognize now that it was delicacy itself. I tender you the mostprofound thanks--for ALL the family. "

After some further conversation the elder Fromentin took his departure. Lord Chaldon apparently proposed to accompany him, but Thorpe begged himto remain, and he put aside his hat once more and resumed his seat. 

Thorpe walked about a little, with his hands in his pockets, in arestless way. "If it isn't unpleasant to you, I think I'll light acigar, " he said suddenly, and moved over to the cabinet. He poured out adrink of neat brandy, as well, and furtively swallowed it. Then he cameback, preceded by a cloud of smoke. 

"It went terribly against the grain, " he said, with a rueful laugh. "I'dsworn to let no Jew off with an inch of hide left on him--and here threeof them have been wheedled out of my grip already. "

"Jews?" exclaimed the Marquis, much puzzled. "Did you--did you thinkFromentin was a Jew? God bless me! he's no more one than I am! Why, noteven so much, for there IS a Herschell in my pedigree. Why, dear man, they were Crusaders!"

Thorpe smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I never noticed much, " he said. "Itwas a foreign-looking name. I took it for granted. "

Lord Chaldon bent his brows a little. "Yes-s"--he murmured, meditatively. "I've heard it mentioned that your enterprise wassuspected of an anti-Semitic twist. Do you mind my talking a little withyou about that?"

"Oh, not at all, " the other answered with languid acquiescence, as heseated himself. 

CHAPTER XVII

LORD CHALDON'S instructive little monologue on the subject of theHebrew in finance afforded Thorpe a certain pleasure, which was in itscharacter, perhaps, more social than intellectual. 

It was both a flattering and striking experience to have so eminent aman at the side of one's desk, revealing for one's guidance the secretsof sovereigns and cabinets. Great names were mentioned in the courseof this dissertation--mentioned with the authoritative ease of one whodined with princes and prime ministers--and Thorpe felt that he sharedin the distinction of this familiarity with the august. He was in theposition of paying a salary to this courtly old nobleman and statesman, who could tell him of his own intimate knowledge how Emperors conversedwith one another; how the Pope fidgeted in his ornate-carved chair whenthe visitor talked on unwelcome topics; how a Queen and an opera-bouffedancer waged an obscure and envenomed battle for the possession of acounting-house strong box, and in the outcome a nation was armed withinferior old muskets instead of modern weapons, and the girl got thedifference expressed in black pearls. 

These reminiscences seemed to alter the atmosphere, and even theappearance, of the Board Room. It was almost as if the apartment itselfwas becoming historic, like those chambers they pointed out to thetourist wherein crowned heads had slept. The manner of the Marquis lentitself charmingly to this illusion. He spoke in a facile, mellifluousvoice, and as fluently as if he had been at work for a long timepreparing a dissertation on this subject, instead of taking it up now bychance. In his tone, in his gestures, in the sustained friendlinessof his facial expressions, there was a palpable desire to please hisauditor--and Thorpe gave more heed to this than to the thread of thediscourse. The facts that he heard now about the Jewish masters ofinternational finance were doubtless surprising and suggestive to adegree, but somehow they failed to stimulate his imagination. LordChaldon's statesmanlike discussion of the uses to which they putthis vast power of theirs; his conviction that on the whole they werebeneficent; his dread of the consequences of any organized attempt totake this power away from them, and put it into other and less capablehands--no doubt it was all very clever and wise, but Thorpe did not carefor it. 

At the end he nodded, and, with a lumbering movement, altered hisposition in his chair. The fixed idea of despoiling Rostocker, Aronson, Ganz, Rothfoere, Lewis, and Mendel of their last sixpence had been in nowise affected by this entertaining homily. There appeared to be no needof pretending that it had been. If he knew anything of men and theirmanners, his titled friend would not object to a change of topic. 

"Lord Chaldon, " he said abruptly, "we've talked enough about generalmatters. While you're here, we might as well go into the subject of theCompany. Our annual meeting is pretty nearly due--but I think it wouldbe better to have it postponed. You see, this extraordinary developmentof dealing in our shares on the Stock Exchange has occupied my entireattention. There has been no time for arranging the machinery ofoperations on our property in Mexico. It's still there; it's all right. But for the time being, the operations in London are so much moreimportant. We should have nothing to tell our shareholders, if webrought them together, except that their one-pound shares are worthfifteen pounds, and they know that already. "

The Marquis had listened with a shrewdly attentive eye upon thespeaker's face. The nervous affection of his eyelids gave him now aminute of blinking leisure in which to frame his comment. "I have notheard that my shares are worth fifteen pounds, " he said then, with adirect, meaning little smile. 

"No, " Thorpe laughed, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "That'swhat I want to talk to you about. You see, when the Company was started, it was impossible to foresee that this dealing in our ordinary shareswould swamp everything else. If things had taken their usual course, and we had paid our attention to Mexico instead of to the London StockExchange, my deferred vendor's shares, two thousand of which you hold, would by this time be worth a good bit. As it is, unfortunately, theyare outside of the deal. They have nothing to do with the movement ofthe ordinary shares. But of course you understand all that. "

Lord Chaldon assented by an eloquent nod, at once resigned and hopeful. 

"Well--that is contrary to all my expectations--and intentions, " Thorperesumed. "I don't want you to suffer by this unlooked-for change in theshape of things. You hold two thousand shares--only by accident they'rethe wrong kind of shares. Very well: I'll make them the right kindof shares. I'll have a transfer sent to you tomorrow, so that you canreturn those vendor's shares to me, and in exchange for them I'll giveyou two thousand fully-paid ordinary shares. You can sell these at once, if you like, or you can hold them on over one more settlement, whicheveryou please. "

"This is very munificent, " remarked Lord Chaldon, after an instant'sself-communion. His tone was extremely gracious, but he displayed noneof the enthusiastic excitement which Thorpe perceived now that he hadlooked for. The equanimity of Marquises, who were also ex-Ambassadors, was evidently a deeper-rooted affair than he had supposed. This elderlyand urbane diplomat took a gift of thirty thousand pounds as he mighthave accepted a superior cigar. 

A brief pause ensued, and was ended by another remark from the nobleman:"I thought for the moment of asking your advice--on this question ofselling, " he continued. "But it will be put more appropriately, perhaps, in this way: Let me leave it entirely in your hands. Whatever you dowill be right. I know so little of these things--and you know so much. "

Thorpe put out his lips a trifle, and looked away for an instant infrowning abstraction. "If it were put in that way--I think I shouldsell, " he said. "It's all right for me to take long chances--it's mygame--but there's no reason why you should risk things. But let me putit in still another way, " he added, with the passing gleam of a newthought over the dull surface of his eye. "What do you say to our makingthe transaction strictly between ourselves? Here are shares to bearer, in the safe there. I say that two thousand of them are yours: that makesthem yours. I give you my cheque for thirty thousand pounds--here, now, if you like--and that makes them mine again. The business is finishedand done with--inside this room. Neither of us is to say anything aboutit to a soul. Does that meet your views?"

The diplomat pondered the proposition--again with a lengthenedperturbation of the eyelids. "It would be possible to suggest a varietyof objections, if one were of a sophistical turn of mind, " he said atlast, smilingly reflective. "Yet I see no really insuperable obstaclein the path. " He thought upon it further, and went on with an enquiringupward glance directed suddenly at Thorpe: "Is there likely to be anyvery unpleasant hubbub in the press--when it is known that the annualmeeting has been postponed?"

Thorpe shook his head with confidence. "No--you need have no fear ofthat. The press is all right. It's the talk of the City, I'm told--theway I've managed the press. It isn't often that a man has all three ofthe papers walking the same chalk-line. "

The Marquis considered these remarks with a puzzled air. Then he smiledfaintly. "I'm afraid we're speaking of different things, " he suggested. "Apparently you refer to the financial papers. I had scarcely given thema thought. It does not seem to me that I should mind particularly whatthey said about me--but I should care a great deal about the otherpress--the great public press. "

"Oh, what do they know about these things?" said Thorpe, lightly. "Sofar as I can see, they don't know about anything, unless it gets intothe police court, or the divorce court, or a court of some kind. They'rethe funniest sort of papers I ever saw. Seems as if they didn't thinkanything was safe to be printed until it had been sworn to. Why anybodyshould be afraid of them is more than I can see. "

"Nevertheless, " persisted his Lordship, blandly, "I should greatlydislike any public discussion of our Company's affairs. I hope it isquite clear that that can be avoided. "

"Absolutely!" Thorpe told him, with reassuring energy. "Why, discussionsdon't make themselves. Somebody has to kick before anything getsdiscussed. And who is to kick here? The public who hold the shares arenot likely to complain because they've gone up fifteen hundred or twothousand per cent. And who else has any interest in what the Company, asa Company, does?"

"Ah, that is a question which has occurred to me, " said Lord Chaldon, "and I shall be glad if it is already answered. The only people likelyto 'kick, ' as you put it so simply, would be, I take it, Directors andother officers of the Company who find themselves holding a class ofshares which does not participate in the present rise. I speak with someconfidence--because I was in that position myself until a fewminutes ago--and I don't mind confessing that I had brought myself tocontemplate the contingency of ultimately being compelled to--to 'kick'a little. Of course, so far as I am concerned, events have put me in adiametrically different frame of mind. If I came prepared--I won't sayto curse, but to--to criticize--I certainly remain to bless. But yousee my point. I of course do not know what you have done as regards theother members of the Board. "

"I don't care about them, " said Thorpe, carelessly. "You are the onethat I wished to bring in on the ground-floor. The others don't matter. Of course, I shall do something for them; they shan't be allowed to maketrouble--even supposing that it would be in their power to make trouble, which isn't the case. But it won't be done by any means on the samescale that--" he paused abruptly, and the two men tacitly completed hissentence in the glance they exchanged. 

The Marquis of Chaldon rose, and took up his hat and stick. "If youwill post it to me--in a registered letter--my town house--please, " heremarked, with a charmingly delicate hesitation over the phrases. Thenhe put out his hand: "I need not say how fully I appreciate your greatkindness to my old friend Fromentin. It was a noble action--one I shallalways reflect upon with admiration. "

"I hope you won't mention it, though, " said Thorpe, as they shook hands;"either that or--or anything else. "

"I shall preserve the most guarded--the most diplomatic secrecy, " hisLordship assured him, as they walked toward the door. 

Thorpe opened this door, and stepped aside, with a half bow, tofacilitate the exit of the Marquis, who bent gracious acknowledgmentof the courtesy. Then, with an abrupt start of surprise, the two menstraightened themselves. Directly in front of them, leaning lightlyagainst the brass-rail which guarded the entrance to the Board Room, stood Lord Plowden. 

A certain sense of confusion, unwelcome but inevitable, visiblyenveloped this chance meeting. The Marquis blinked very hard as heexchanged a fleeting hand-shake with the younger nobleman, and murmuredsome indistinguishable commonplaces. Then, with a graceful celerity, which was more than diplomatic, he disappeared. Thorpe, with moredifficulty, recovered a sort of stolidity of expression that might passfor composure. He in turn gave his hand to the newcomer, and nodded tohim, and achieved a doubtful smile. 

"Come in!" he said, haltingly. "Where did you drop from? Glad to seeyou! How are all your people?"

A moment later the young Viscount was seated in the chair which theelderly Marquis had vacated. He presented therein a figure which, inits way, was perhaps as courtly as the other had been--but the way waswidely different. Lord Plowden's fine, lithe form expressed no deferencein its easy postures. His handsome face was at no pains to assumeconciliatory or ingratiating aspects. His brilliant brown eyes sparkleda confident, buoyant gaze full into the heavy, lethargic countenance ofthe big man at the desk. 

"I haven't bothered you before, " he said, tossing his gloves into hishat, and spreading his frock-coat out by its silk lapels. He crossed hislegs, and sat back with a comfortable smile. "I knew you were awfullybusy--and I kept away as long as I could. But now--well, the truthis--I'm in rather of a hole. I hope you don't mind my coming. "

"Why not at all, " said Thorpe, laconically. After a momentary pause headded: "The Marquis has just been consulting me about the postponementof the annual meeting. I suppose you agree with us--that it would bebetter to put it off. There's really nothing to report. Of course, you know more about the situation than he does--between ourselves. The shareholders don't want a meeting; it's enough for them that theirshares are worth fifteen or twenty times what they paid for them. Andcertainly WE don't need a meeting, as things stand now. "

"Ah yes--how do things stand now?" asked Lord Plowden, briskly. 

"Well, "--Thorpe eyed his visitor with a moody blankness of gaze, hischin once more buried in his collar--"well, everything is going allright, as far as I can see. But, of course, these dealings in our sharesin the City have taken up all my time--so that I haven't been able togive any attention to starting up work in Mexico. That being the case, Ishall arrange to foot all the bills for this year's expenses--the rent, the Directors' fees and clerk-hire and so on--out of my own pocket. Itcomes, all told, to about 2, 700 pounds--without counting my extra 1, 000pounds as Managing Director. I don't propose to ask for a penny of that, under the circumstances--and I'll even pay the other expenses. So thatthe Company isn't losing a penny by our not getting to work at thedevelopment of the property. No one could ask anything fairer thanthat. --And are your mother and sister quite well?"

"Oh, very well indeed, thanks, " replied the other. He relapsed abruptlyinto a silence which was plainly preoccupied. Something of the radiantcheerfulness with which his face had beamed seemed to have faded away. 

"I'm in treaty for a house and a moor in the Highlands"--Thorpe went on, in a casual tone--"in fact, I'm hesitating between three or four placesthat all seem to be pretty good--but I don't know whether I can get awaymuch before the twentieth. I hope you can contrive to come while I'mthere. I should like it very much if you would bring your mother andsister--and your brother too. I have a nephew about his age--a fineyoung fellow--who'd be company for him. Why can't you say now thatyou'll all come?"

Lord Plowden emerged from his brown study with the gleam of some newidea on his face. "I might bring my sister, " he said. "My mother hatesScotland. She doesn't go about, either, even in England. But I daresayWinnie would enjoy it immensely. She has a great opinion of you, youknow. "

"I only saw her that once, " Thorpe remarked. Some thought behind hiswords lent a musing effect to the tone in which they were uttered. Thebrother's contemplative smile seemed a comment upon this tone. 

"Women are curious creatures, " he said. "They take fancies and dislikesas swiftly and irresponsibly as cloud-shadows shift and change on amountain-side in April. But I happen to know that my sister does likeyou immensely. So does my mother, " he added, with another little smile. He continued to regard Thorpe's face, but there was an increasinguncertainty in his glance. "You've put on flesh, haven't you?" heventured, after a brief pause. There was the implication in his voiceand manner that he observed changes which disconcerted him. 

"Not much, I guess, " replied the other, carelessly. "I've beensticking to the City pretty closely. That's all. There's nothing thata fortnight's rest won't put right. I should like it first-rate to haveyou and your sister come. I'll let you know which place I decide upon. Very likely you can manage to bring her at the same time that some otherladies will be there. I expect Lady Cressage and Miss Madden, you know. "

Lord Plowden stared at his friend. "Are they back? Have they returned toEngland?" he asked, confusedly. 

"Oh, didn't you know?" Thorpe pursued, with an accession of amiability. He visibly had pleasure in the disclosure of the other's ignorance. "They've been in London for two or three weeks. That is, Miss Madden hasbeen taking flying trips to see cathedrals and so on, but Lady Cressagehas stayed in town. Their long journeyings have rather done her up. "He looked Plowden straight in the eye, and added with an air ofdeliberation: "I'm rather anxious about her health. "

The nobleman frankly abandoned his efforts to maintain an undisturbedfront. "You--are--anxious, " he repeated, frowning in displeasedwonderment. 

"Why yes--why not?" demanded Thorpe, with a sudden growl in his voice. As he covered the handsome Viscount with his heavy, intent gaze, impulses of wrath stirred within him. Why should this fop of a lordlingput on this air of contemptuous incredulity? "What is there so amazingabout that? Why shouldn't I be anxious?"

The peremptory harshness of his manner, and the scowl on his big, lowering face, brought a sort of self-control back to the other. He shrugged his shoulders, with an attempt at nonchalance. "Why notindeed!" he said, as lightly as he could. With hands on knees, he bentforward as if to rise. "But perhaps I'd better come in another day, " hesuggested, tentatively. "I'm interrupting you. "

"No--sit still, " Thorpe bade him, and then, with chin settled moredeterminedly than ever in his cravat, sat eyeing him in a long, doursilence. 

Lord Plowden found it impossible to obtain from this massive, apatheticvisage any clue to the thoughts working behind it. He chanced to recallthe time when he had discussed with Thorpe the meaning and values ofthis inscrutable expression which the latter's countenance could assume. It had seemed interesting and even admirable to him then--but then hehad not foreseen the possibility that he himself might some day confrontits adamantine barrier with a sinking heart. All at once he could bearthis implacable sphinx-gaze no longer. 

"I'm sure some other day would be better, " he urged, with an openoverture to propitiation in his tone. "You're not in the mood to bebothered with my affairs today. "

"As much today as any other, " Thorpe answered him, slowly. 

The other sat suddenly upright--and then upon a moment's reflection roseto his feet. "I don't in the least know what to make of all this, " hesaid, with nervous precipitancy. "If I've offended you in any way, sayso, and I will apologize at once. But treatment of this sort passes mycomprehension. "

Thorpe in truth did not himself comprehend it much more clearly. Somestrange freak of wilfulness impelled him to pursue this unintelligiblepersecution. "I've said nothing about any offense, " he declared, in ahard, deliberate voice. "It is your own word. All the same--I mentionthe name of a lady--a lady, mind you, whom I met under your ownroof--and you strike attitudes and put on airs as if--as if I wasn'tgood enough!"

"Oh, upon my word, that's all rubbish!" the other broke in. "Nothingcould have been further from my thoughts, I assure you. Quite naturallyI was surprised for the moment at a bit of unexpected news--but that wasall. I give you my word that was all. "

"Very well, then, " Thorpe consented grudgingly to mutter. 

He continued his sullen scrutiny of the man standing before him, notinghow the vivacity of his bearing had deteriorated in these few minutes. He had cut such a gallant figure when he entered the room, with hissparkling eye and smile, his almost jaunty manner, his superior tailor'splumage--and now he was such a crestfallen and wilted thing! Rememberingtheir last conversation together--remembering indeed how full of likingfor this young nobleman he had been when they last met--Thorpe pausedto wonder at the fact that he felt no atom of pity for him now. What washis grievance? What had Plowden done to provoke this savage hostility?Thorpe could not tell. He knew only that unnamed forces dragged himforward to hurt and humiliate his former friend. Obscurely, no doubt, there was something about a woman in it. Plowden had been an admirer ofLady Cressage. There was her father's word for it that if there had beenmoney enough he would have wished to marry her. There had been, as well, the General's hint that if the difficulty of Plowden's povertywere removed, he might still wish to marry her--a hint which Thorpediscovered to be rankling with a sudden new soreness in his mind. Wasthat why he hated Plowden? No--he said to himself that it was not. He was going to marry Lady Cressage himself. Her letter, signifyingdelicately her assent to his proposal, had come to him that verymorning--was in his pocket now. What did he care about the bye-goneaspirations of other would-be suitors? And, as for Plowden, he hadnot even known of her return to London. Clearly there remained nocommunications of any sort between them. It was not at all on heraccount, he assured himself, that he had turned against Plowden. Butwhat other reason could there be? He observed his visitor's perturbedand dejected mien with a grim kind of satisfaction--but still he couldnot tell why. 

"This is all terribly important to me, " the nobleman said, breakingthe unpleasant silence. His voice was surcharged with earnestness. "Apparently you are annoyed with something--what it may be I can't forthe life of me make out. All I can say is"--and he broke off with ahelpless gesture which seemed to imply that he feared to say anything. 

Thorpe put out his lips. "I don't know what you mean, " he said, brusquely. 

"What I mean"--the other echoed, with bewildered vagueness of glance. "I'm all at sea. I don't in the least grasp the meaning of anything. Youyourself volunteered the declaration that you would do great things forme. 'We are rich men together'--those were your own words. I urged youat the time to go slowly--to consider carefully whether you weren'tbeing too generous. I myself said to you that you were ridiculouslyexaggerating what you called your obligation to me. It was you whoinsisted upon presenting me with 100, 000 shares. "

"Well, they are here ready for you, " said Thorpe, with calculatedcoldness. "You can have them whenever you please. I promised them toyou, and set them aside for you. You can take them away with you now, if you like. What are you kicking up this fuss for, then? Upon myword!--you come here and suggest to me that I made promises to you whichI've broken!"

Plowden looked hard at him, as he turned over in his mind the purport ofthese words. "I see what you are doing, " he said then. "You turn overto me 100, 000 vendor's deferred shares. Thanks! I have already 1, 000 ofthem. I keep them in the same box with my father's Confederate bonds. "

"What the hell do you mean?" Thorpe broke in with explosive warmth, lifting himself in his chair. 

"Oh, come now, Thorpe, " Plowden retorted, "let's get this talk on anintelligent, common-sense footing. " He had regained something of hisself-control, and keenly put forward now to help him all his persuasivegraces of eye and speech. He seated himself once more. "I'm convincedthat you want to be good to me. Of course you do! If I've seemed herefor a minute or two to think otherwise, it was because I misunderstoodthings. Don't let there be any further misunderstandings! I apologizefor doing you the momentary injustice of suspecting that you were goingto play off the vendor's shares on me. Of course you said it--but it wasa joke. "

"There seems to be a joke somewhere, sure enough, " said Thorpe, in drylymetallic tones--"but it isn't me who's the joker. I told you you shouldhave 100, 000 of my 400, 000 shares, didn't I? I told you that in so manywords. Very well, what more do you want? Here they are for you! I keepmy promise to the letter. But you--you seem to think you're entitled tomake a row. What do you mean by it?"

"Just a little word"--interposed Plowden, with strenuous calmness ofutterance--"what you say may be true enough--yes, I admit it is true asfar as it goes. But was that what either of us had in our minds atthe time? You know it wasn't! You had just planned a coup on the StockExchange which promised you immense rewards. I helped you to pass abogus allotment through our Board--without which your coup wouldn't havebeen worth a farthing. You were enthusiastically grateful to me then. Inthe excitement of the moment you promised me a quarter of all you shouldmake. 'WE ARE BOTH RICH MEN!' I remember those very words of yours. Theyhave never been out of my mind. We discussed the things that we wouldeach do, when we came into this wealth. It was taken for granted in allour talk that your making money meant also my making money. That was thecomplete understanding--here in London, and while you were at my house. You know it as well as I do. And I refuse to suppose that you seriouslyintend to sit there and pretend that you meant to give me nothing but anarmful of waste paper. It would be too monstrous!"

Thorpe rapped with his nails on the desk, to point the force of hisrejoinder: "How do you account for the fact, my Lord"--he gave hiswords a chillingly scornful precision of utterance--"that I distinctlymentioned 400, 000 vendor's shares of mine, 100, 000 of which I promisedto turn over to you? Those were the specific terms, were they not? Youdon't deny it? Then what are you talking about?"

"I account for it in this way"--said Plowden, after a moment's baffledreflection: "at that time you yourself hadn't grasped the differencebetween the two classes of shares. You thought the vendor's shares wouldplay a part in the game. Ah! I see I've hit the mark! That was the wayof it!--And now here, Thorpe! Let all that's been said be bye-gones! Idon't want any verbal triumph over you. You don't want to wrong me--andyourself too--by sticking to this quibble about vendor's shares. Youintended to be deuced good to me--and what have I done that you shouldround on me now? I haven't bothered you before. I came today onlybecause things are particularly rotten, financially, just now. And Idon't even want to hold you to a quarter--I leave that entirely to you. But after all that's been said and done--I put it to you as one man toanother--you are morally bound to help me out. "

"How do you mean?--'all that's been said and done'?" Thorpe asked thequestion in some confusion of moods. Perhaps it was the ethical forceof Lord Plowden's appeal, perhaps only a recurring sense of his earlieraffection for the man--but for the moment he wavered in his purpose. 

The peer flushed a little, as he looked at the floor, revolving possibleanswers to this query. His ear had been quick to seize the note ofhesitation in Thorpe's tone. He strove anxiously to get togetherconsiderations which should tip the fluttering balance definitely hisway. 

"Well, " he began slowly, "I hardly know how to put it. Of course therewas, in the first place, the immense expectation of fortune which yougave me, and which I'm afraid I've more than lived up to. And then, ofcourse, others shared my expectations. It wasn't a thing one couldvery well keep to oneself. My mother and my sister--especially mysister--they were wonderfully excited about it. You are quite the heroin their eyes. And then--you remember that talk we had, in which yousaid I could help you--socially, you know. I did it a little, just as astart, but of course there's no end to what could be done. You've beentoo busy heretofore, but we can begin now whenever you like. I don'tmind telling you--I've had some thoughts of a possible marriage for you. In point of blood and connections it would be such a match as a commonerhasn't made before in my memory--a highly-cultivated and highly-bredyoung lady of rank--and settlements could be made so that a considerablequantity of land would eventually come to your son. I needn't tell youthat land stands for much more than money, if you happen to set yourmind on a baronetcy or a peerage. Of course--I need scarcely say--Imention this marriage only as something which may or may not attractyou, --it is quite open to you to prefer another, --but there is hardlyanything of that sort in which I and my connections could not be of useto you. "

Even more by the tone and inflection of these words than by the phrasesthemselves, Thorpe divined that he was being offered the hand of theHon. Winifred Plowden in marriage. He recalled vividly the fact thatonce the shadow of some such thought had floated through his ownbrain; there had been a moment--it seemed curiously remote, like adream-phantom from some previous state of existence--when he had dweltwith personal interest upon her inheritance from long lines of noblemen, and her relation to half the peerage. Then, swiftly, illogically, hedisliked the brother of this lady more than ever. 

"All that is talking in the air, " he said, with abrupt decision. "Isee nothing in it. You shall have your vendor's shares, precisely as Ipromised you. I don't see how you can possibly ask for anything more. "He looked at the other's darkling face for a moment, and then rose withunwieldy deliberation. "If you're so hard up though, " he continued, coldly, "I don't mind doing this much for you. I'll exchange thethousand vendor's shares you already hold the ones I gave you to qualifyyou at the beginning--for ordinary shares. You can sell those forfifteen thousand pounds cash. In fact, I'll buy them of you now. I'llgive you a cheque for the amount. Do you want it?"

Lord Plowden, red-faced and frowning, hesitated for a fraction of time. Then in constrained silence he nodded, and Thorpe, leaning ponderouslyover the desk, wrote out the cheque. His Lordship took it, folded it up, and put it in his pocket without immediate comment. 

"Then this is the end of things, is it?" he asked, after an awkwardsilence, in a voice he strove in vain to keep from shaking. 

"What things?" said the other. 

Plowden shrugged his shoulders, framed his lips to utter something whichhe decided not to say, and at last turned on his heel. "Good day, " hecalled out over his shoulder, and left the room with a flagrant air ofhostility. 

Thorpe, wandering about the apartment, stopped after a time at thecabinet, and helped himself to a drink. The thing most apparent to himwas that of set purpose he had converted a friend into an enemy. Why hadhe done this? He asked himself the question in varying forms, over hisbrandy and soda, but no convincing answer came. He had done it becausehe had felt like doing it. It was impossible to trace motives furtherthan that. 

CHAPTER XVIII

"EDITH will be down in a very few moments, " Miss Madden assured Thorpethat evening, when he entered the drawing-room of the house she hadtaken in Grafton Street. 

He looked into her eyes and smiled, as he bowed over the hand sheextended to him. His glance expressed with forceful directness histhought: "Ah, then she has told you!"

The complacent consciousness of producing a fine effect inevening-clothes had given to Mr. Stormont Thorpe habitually now amildness of manner, after the dressing hour, which was lacking to hisdeportment in the day-time. The conventional attire of ceremony, juggledin the hands of an inspired tailor, had been brought to lend to hisponderous figure a dignity, and even something of a grace, which theman within assimilated and made his own. It was an equable and ratheramiable Thorpe whom people encountered after nightfall--a gentleman wholooked impressive enough to have powerful performances believed of him, yet seemed withal an approachable and easy-going person. Men who sawhim at midnight or later spoke of him to their womenkind with a certainsignificant reserve, in which trained womankind read the suggestion thatthe "Rubber King" drank a good deal, and was probably not wholly nice inhis cups. 

This, however, could not be said to render him less interesting in anyeyes. There was indeed about it the implication of a generous nature, orat the least of a blind side--and it is not unpleasant to discover theseattributes in a new man who has made his half-million, and has, or mayhave, countless favours to bestow. 

It was as if his tongue instead of his eyes had uttered theexclamation--"Ah, then she has told you!"--for Miss Madden took it ashaving been spoken. "I'm not disposed to pretend that I'm overjoyedabout it, you know, " she said to him bluntly, as their hands dropped, and they stood facing each other. "If I said I congratulated you, itwould be only the emptiest form. And I hate empty forms. "

"Why should you think that I won't make a good husband?" Thorpe askedthe question with a good-natured if peremptory frankness which camemost readily to him in the presence of this American lady, herself sooutspoken and masterful. 

"I don't know that I specially doubt it, " she replied. "I suppose anyman has in him the makings of what is called a good husband--if theconditions are sufficiently propitious. "

"Well then--what's the matter with the conditions?" he demanded, jocosely. 

Miss Madden shrugged her shoulders slightly. Thorpe noted the somewhatluxuriant curves of these splendid shoulders, and the creamy whitenessof the skin, upon which, round the full throat, a chain of diamonds layas upon satin--and recalled that he had not seen her before in what hephrased to himself as so much low-necked dress. The deep fire-gleam inher broad plaits of hair gave a wonderful brilliancy to this colouringof brow and throat and bosom. He marvelled at himself for discoveringonly now that she also was beautiful--and then thrilled with pride atthe thought that henceforth his life might be passed altogether amongbeautiful women, radiant in gems and costly fabrics, who would smileupon him at his command. 

"Oh, I have no wish to be a kill-joy, " she protested. "I'm sure I hopeall manner of good results from the--the experiment. "

"I suppose that's what it comes to, " he said, meditatively. "It's all anexperiment. Every marriage in the world must be that--neither more norless. "

"With all the experience of the ages against its coming out right. " Shehad turned to move toward a chair, but looked now over her shoulder athim. "Have you ever seen what seemed to you an absolutely happy marriagein your life?"

Upon reflection he shook his head. "I don't recall one on the spur ofthe minute, " he confessed. "Not the kind, I mean, that you read aboutin books. But I've seen plenty where the couple got along together ina good, easy, comfortable sort of way, without a notion of any sortof unpleasantness. It's people who marry too young who do most of thefighting, I imagine. After people have got to a sensible age, and knowwhat they want and what they can get along without, why then there'sno reason for any trouble. We don't start out with any school-boy andschool-girl moonshine. "

"Oh, there's a good deal to be said for the moonshine, " she interruptedhim, as she sank upon the sofa. 

"Why certainly, " he assented, amiably, as he stood looking down at her. "The more there is of it, the better--if it comes naturally, and peopleknow enough to understand that it is moonshine, and isn't the be-all andend-all of everything. "

"There's a lover for you!" Miss Madden cried, with mirth and derisionmingled in her laugh. 

"Don't you worry about me, " he told her. "I'm a good enough lover, all right. And when you come to that, if Edith is satisfied, I don'tprecisely see what----"

"What business it is of mine?" she finished the sentence for him. "You're entirely right. As you say, IF she's satisfied, no one else hasanything to do with it. "

"But have you got any right to assume that she isn't satisfied?" heasked her with swift directness--"or any reason for supposing it?"

Miss Madden shook her head, but the negation seemed qualified by thewhimsical smile she gave him. "None whatever, " she said--and on theinstant the talk was extinguished by the entrance of Lady Cressage. 

Thorpe's vision was flooded with the perception of his rare fortune ashe went to meet her. He took the hand she offered, and looked into thesmile of her greeting, and could say nothing. Her beauty had gathered toit new forces in his eyes--forces which dazzled and troubled his glance. The thought that this exquisite being--this ineffable compoundof feeling and fine nerves and sweet wisdom and wit andloveliness--belonged to him seemed too vast for the capacity of hismind. He could not keep himself from trembling a little, and fromdiverting to a screen beyond her shoulder a gaze which he felt to beovertly dimmed and embarrassed. 

"I have kept you waiting, " she murmured. 

The soft sound of her voice came to his ears as from a distance. Itbore an unfamiliar note, upon the strangeness of which he dwelt for adetached instant. Then its meaning broke in upon his consciousness fromall sides, and lighted up his heavy face with the glow of a conqueror'sself-centred smile. He bent his eyes upon her, and noted with acontrolled exaltation how her glance in turn deferred to his, andfluttered beneath it, and shrank away. He squared his big shoulders andlifted his head. Still holding her jewelled hand in his, he turnedand led her toward the sofa. Halting, he bowed with an exaggeratedgenuflection and flourish of his free hand to Miss Madden, the while heflashed at her a glance at once of challenge and of deprecation. Throughthe sensitized contact of the other hand, he felt that the woman he heldbowed also, and in his own spirit of confused defiance and entreaty. The laugh he gave then seemed to dispel the awkwardness which hadmomentarily hung over the mocking salutation. 

Miss Madden laughed too. "Oh, I surrender, " she said. "You dragcongratulations from me. "

Some quality in the tone of this ungracious speech had the effect ofputting the party at its ease. Lady Cressage seated herself beside herfriend on the sofa, and gently, abstractedly, patted one of her hands. Thorpe remained on his feet, looking down at the pair with satisfiedcheerfulness. He tool, a slip of paper from his pocket, to support astatement he was making. 

"I'm forever telling you what a strain the City is on a man in myposition, " he said--"and today I had the curiosity to keep an account ofwhat happened. Here it is. I had thirty callers. Of those, how many doyou suppose came to see me on my own business? Just eight. That is tosay, their errands were about investments of mine, but most of themmanaged to get in some word about axes of their own to grind. All therest made no pretence at all of thinking about anybody but themselves. I've classified them, one by one, here. 

"First, there were six men who wanted me to take shares of one sort oranother, and I had to more or less listen to what they tried to makeout their companies were like. They were none of them any good. Eightdifferent fellows came to me with schemes that haven't reached thecompany stage. One had a scheme for getting possession of a niggerrepublic in the West Indies by raising a loan, and then repudiating allthe previous loans. Another wanted me to buy a paper for him, in whichhe was to support all my enterprises. Another wanted to start a bank--Iapparently to find the money, and he the brains. One chap wanted me tofinance a theatrical syndicate--he had a bag full of photographs of anactress all eyes and teeth and hair, --and another chap had a scheme allworked out for getting a concession from Spain for one of the CarolineIslands, and putting up a factory there for making porpoise-hideleather. 

"Then there were three inventors--let's see, here they are--one with acoiled wire spring for scissors inside a pocket-knife, and one witha bottle, the whole top of which unscrews instead of having a cork orstopper, and one with an electrical fish-line, a fine wire inside thesilk, you know, which connects with some battery when a fish bites, andrings a bell, and throws out hooks in various directions, and does allsorts of things. 

"Well then, there was a man who wanted me to take the chairmanship ofa company, and one who wanted me to guarantee an overdraft at his bank, and two who wanted to borrow money on stock, and one parson-fellow whotried to stick me for a subscription to some Home or other he said hehad for children in the country. He was the worst bounder of the lot. 

"Well, there's twenty-seven people--and twenty of them strangers tome, and not worth a penny to me, and all trying to get money out of me. Isn't that a dog's life for one?"

"I don't know, " said Miss Madden, contemplatively. "A lady may havetwice that number of callers in an afternoon--quite as great strangersto all intents and purposes--and not even have the satisfaction ofdiscovering that they had any object whatever in calling. At least yourpeople had some motive: the grey matter in their brain was working. Andbesides, one of them might have had something to say which you wouldvalue. I don't think that ever happens among a lady's callers; does it, Edith?"

Edith smiled, pleasantly and yet a little wistfully, but said nothing. 

"At any rate, " Thorpe went on, with a kind of purpose gathering in hiseyes, "none of those fellows cost me anything, except in time. But thenI had three callers, almost in a bunch, and one of them took out of methirty thousand pounds, and another fifteen thousand pounds, and thethird--an utter stranger he was--he got an absolute gratuity of tenthousand pounds, besides my consent to a sale which, if I had refusedit, would have stood me in perhaps forty or fifty thousand pounds more. You ladies may thank your stars you don't have that kind of callers!"

The sound of these figures in the air brought a constrained look to thefaces of the women. Seemingly they confronted a subject which was not totheir liking. The American, however, after a moment's pause, took it upin an indifferent manner. 

"You speak of an 'absolute gratuity. ' I know nothing of London Citymethods--but isn't ten thousand pounds a gratuity on a rather largescale?"

Thorpe hesitated briefly, then smiled, and, with slow deliberation, drewup a chair and seated himself before them. "Perhaps I don't mind tellingyou about it, " he began, and paused again. "I had a letter in my mailthis morning, " he went on at last, giving a sentimental significance toboth tone and glance--"a letter which changed everything in the worldfor me, and made me the proudest and happiest man above ground. AndI put that letter in my pocket, right here on the left side--and it'sthere now, for that matter"--he put his hand to his breast, as if underthe impulse to verify his words by the production of the missive, andthen stopped and flushed. 

The ladies, watching him, seemed by their eyes to condone themawkishness of the demonstration which had tempted him. There was indeeda kind of approving interest in their joint regard, which he had notexperienced before. 

"I had it in my pocket, " he resumed, with an accession of mellow emotionin his voice, "and none of the callers ever got my thoughts very farfrom that letter. And one of these was an old man--a French banker whomust be seventy years old, but dyes his hair a kind of purple black--andit seems that his nephew had got the firm into a terrible kind ofscrape, selling 2, 000 of my shares when he hadn't got them to sell andcouldn't get them--and the old man came to beg me to let him out atpresent market figures. He got Lord Chaldon--he's my Chairman, youknow--to bring him, and introduce him as his friend, and plead forhim--but I don't think all that, by itself, would have budged me anatom. But then the old man told how he was just able to scrape togethermoney enough to buy the shares he needed, at the ruling price, and hehappened to mention that his niece's marriage portion would have tobe sacrificed. Well, then, do you know, that letter in my pocket saidsomething to me. .. . And--well, that's the story. The girl' s portion, Iwormed it out of him, was ten thousand. .. And I struck that much offthe figure that I allowed him to buy his shares, and save his firm, for. .. . It was all the letter that did it, mind you!"

He concluded the halting narrative amid a marked silence. The ladieslooked at him and at each other, but they seemed surprised out of theirfacility of comment. In this kind of flustered hush, the door was openedand dinner was announced. 

Miss Madden welcomed the diversion by rising with ostentatious vigour. "I will take myself out, " she declared, with cheerful promptness leadingthe way. Lady Cressage took the arm Thorpe offered her, and gave notoken of comprehending that her wrist was being caressingly pressedagainst his side as they moved along. 

At the little table shining in the centre of the dark, cool dining-room, talk moved idly about among general topics. A thunderstorm broke overthe town, at an early stage of the dinner, and the sound of the rushingdownpour through the open windows, and the breath of freshness whichstirred the jaded air, were pleasanter than any speech. Thoughts rovedintuitively country-ward, where the long-needed rain would be doweringthe landscape with new life--where the earth at sunrise would be greenagain, and buoyant in reawakened energy, and redolent with the perfumesof sweetest summer. They spoke of the fields and the moors with thelonging of tired town-folk in August. 

"Oh, when I get away"--said Thorpe, fervently, "it seems to me that Idon't want ever to come back. These last few weeks have got terribly onmy nerve. And really--why should I come back? I've been asking myselfthe question--more today than ever before. Of course everything hasbeen different today. But if I'm to get any genuine good out of my--myfortune--I must pull away from the City altogether sometime--and why notnow? Of course, some important things are still open--and they have tobe watched night and day--but after all, Semple--that's my Broker--hecould do it for me. At the most, it won't last more than another sixweeks. There is a settlement-day next week, the 15th, and another afortnight after, on the 29th, and another on September 12th. Well, thosethree days, if they're worked as I intend they shall be, and nothingunforeseen happens, will bring in over four hundred thousand pounds, andclose the 'corner' in Rubber Consols for good. Then I need never see theCity again, thank God! And for that matter--why, what is six weeks?It's like tomorrow. I'm going to act as if I were free already. The rainfills me full of the country. Will you both come with me tomorrowor next day, and see the Pellesley place in Hertfordshire? By thephotographs it's the best thing in the market. The newest parts of itare Tudor--and that's what I've always wanted. "

"How unexpected you are!" commented Miss Madden. "You are almostthe last person I should have looked to for a sentiment about Tudorfoundations. "

Thorpe put out his lips a trifle. "Ah, you don't know me, " he replied, in a voice milder than his look had promised. "Because I'm rough andpractical, you mustn't think I don't know good things when I see them. Why, all the world is going to have living proof very soon"--he paused, and sent a smile surcharged with meaning toward the silent member of thetrio--"living proof that I'm the greatest judge of perfection in beautyof my time. "

He lifted his glass as he spoke, and the ladies accepted with aninclination of the head, and a touch of the wine at their lips, histacit toast. "Oh, I think I do know you, " said Celia Madden, calmlydiscursive. "Up to a certain point, you are not so unlike other men. Ifpeople appeal to your imagination, and do not contradict you, or boreyou, or get in your way, you are capable of being very nice indeedto them. But that isn't a very uncommon quality. What is uncommonin you--at least that is my reading--is something which accordingto circumstances may be nice, or very much the other way about. It'ssomething which stands quite apart from standards of morals or ethics orthe ordinary emotions. But I don't know, whether it is desirable for meto enter into this extremely personal analysis. "

"Oh yes, go on, " Thorpe urged her. He watched her face with an almostexcited interest. 

"Well--I should say that you possessed a capacity for sudden andcapricious action in large matters, equally impatient of reasoningand indifferent to consequences, which might be very awkward, and eventragic, to people who happened to annoy you, or stand in your road. Youhave the kind of organization in which, within a second, without anywarning or reason, a passing whim may have worked itself up into animperative law--something you must obey. "

The man smiled and nodded approvingly: "You've got me down fine, " hesaid. 

"I talk with a good deal of confidence, " she went on, with a cheerless, ruminative little laugh, "because it is my own organization that I amdescribing, too. The difference is that I was allowed to exploit mycapacity for mischief very early. I had my own way in my teens--my ownmoney, my own power--of course only of a certain sort, and in a verysmall place. But I know what I did with that power. I spread troubleand misery about me--always of course on a small scale. Then a group ofthings happened in a kind of climax--a very painful climax--and itshook the nonsense out of me. My brother and my father died--some othersobering things happened. .. And luckily I was still young enough to stopshort, and take stock of myself, and say that there were certain pathsI would never set foot on again--and stick to it. But with you--do yousee?--power only comes to you when you are a mature man. Experiences, nomatter how unpleasant they are, will not change you now. You will notbe moved by this occurrence or that to distrust yourself, or reconsideryour methods, or form new resolutions. Oh no! Power will be terriblein your hands, if people whom you can injure provoke you to cruelcourses----"

"Oh, dear--dear!" broke in Lady Cressage. "What a distressing Mrs. Gummidge-Cassandra you are, Celia! Pray stop it!"

"No--she's right enough, " said Thorpe, gravely. "That's the kind of manI am. "

He seemed so profoundly interested in the contemplation of this portraitwhich had been drawn of him, that the others respected his reflectivesilence. He sat for some moments, idly fingering a fork on the table, and staring at a blotch of vivid red projected through a decanter uponthe cloth. 

"It seems to me that's the only kind of man it's worth while to be, "he added at last, still speaking with thoughtful deliberation. "There'snothing else in the world so big as power--strength. If you have that, you can get everything else. But if you have it, and don't use it, thenit rusts and decays on your hands. It's like a thoroughbred horse. Youcan't keep it idle in the stable. If you don't exercise it, you loseit. "

He appeared to be commenting upon some illustration which had occurredto his own mind, but was not visible to his auditors. While theyregarded him, he was prompted to admit them to his confidence. 

"There was a case of it today, " he said, and then paused. 

"Precisely, " put in Miss Madden. "The fact that some Frenchwoman, ofwhom you had never heard before, was going to lose her marriage portioncaught your attention, and on the instant you presented her with$10, 000, an exercise of power which happens to be on the generousside--but still entirely unreasoning, and not deserving of anyintellectual respect. And here's the point: if it had happened thatsomebody else chanced to produce an opposite impression upon you, youwould have been capable of taking $50, 000 away from him with just aslight a heart. "

Thorpe's face beamed with repressed amusement. "As a matter of fact itwas that kind of case I was going to mention. I wasn't referring to thegirl and her marriage portion. A young man came to me today--came intomy room all cock-a-whoop, smiling to himself with the notion that he hadonly to name what he wanted, and I would give it to him--and----"

He stopped abruptly, with a confused little laugh. He had been upon thebrink of telling about Lord Plowden's discomfiture, and even now thestory itched upon his tongue. It cost him an effort to put the narrativeaside, the while he pondered the arguments which had suddenly rearedthemselves against publicity. When at last he spoke, it was with aglance of conscious magnanimity toward the lady who had consented to behis wife. 

"Never mind, " he said, lightly. "There wasn't much to it. The manannoyed me, somehow--and he didn't get what he came for--that's all. "

"But he was entitled to get it?" asked Celia Madden. Thorpe's lipspouted over a reply. "Well--no, " he said, with a kind of reluctance. "He got strictly what he was entitled to--precisely what I had promisedhim--and he wrung up his nose at that--and then I actually gave him15, 000 pounds he wasn't entitled to at all. "

"I hardly see what it proves, then, " Edith Cressage remarked, and thesubject was dropped. 

Some two hours later, Thorpe took his departure. It was not until hewas getting into the hansom which had been summoned, that it all atonce occurred to him that he had not for a moment been alone with hisbetrothed. Upon reflection, as the cab sped smoothly forward, thisseemed odd to him. He decided finally that there was probably somesocial rule about such things which he didn't understand. 

*****

In the drawing-room of the house in Grafton Street which he had quitted, the two ladies sat with faces averted from each other, in constrainedsilence. 

Edith Cressage rose at last, and took a few aimless steps, with herhands at her hair. "Well--I'm embarked--fairly under way!" she said, inclear-cut, almost provocative tones. 

"I don't at all know what to say, " her companion replied, slowly. "Ifancy that you exaggerate my disapproval. Perhaps it ought not even tobe called disapproval at all. It is only that I am puzzled--and a littlefrightened. "

"Oh, I am frightened too, " said the other, but with eagerness ratherthan trepidation in her voice. "That is why I did not give you thesignal to leave us alone. I couldn't quite get up the nerve for it. Butwould you believe it?--that is one of the charms of the thing. Thereis an excitement about it that exhilarates me. To get happiness throughterror--you can't understand that, can you?"

"I'm trying. I think I'm beginning to understand, " said Miss Madden, vaguely. 

"Did you ever set yourself to comprehending why Marie Stuart marriedBothwell?" asked Edith, looking down upon the other with illuminatingfixity. "You have it all--all there. Marie got tired of the smoothpeople, the usual people. There was the promise of adventure, and risk, and peril, and the grand emotions with the big, dark brute. "

"It isn't a happy story--this parallel that you pick out, " commentedCelia, absently. 

"Happy! Pah!" retorted Edith, with spirit. "Who knows if it wasn't theonly really happy thing in her life? The snobs and prigs all scoldher and preach sermons at her--they did it in her lifetime: they do itnow----" "Oh come, I'm neither a snob nor a prig, " put in Celia, lookingup in her turn, and tempering with a smile the energy of her tone--"Idon't blame her for her Bothwell; I don't criticize her. I never waseven able to mind about her killing Darnley. You see I take an extremelyliberal view. One might almost call it broad. But if I had been one ofher ladies--her bosom friends--say Catherine Seton--and she hadtalked with me about it--I think I should have confessed to someforebodings--some little misgivings. "

"And do you know what she would have said?" Edith's swift question, putwith a glowing face and a confident voice, had in it the ring of assuredtriumph. "She would have answered you: 'My dearest girl, all my life Ihave done what other people told me to do. In my childhood I wasgiven in marriage to a criminal idiot. In my premature widowhood Iwas governed by a committee of scoundrels of both sexes until anothercriminal idiot was imposed upon me as a second husband. My ownpersonality has never had the gleam of a chance. I have never yetdone any single thing because I wanted to do it. Between first mypolitician-mother and her band of tonsured swindlers, and then mycantankerous brother and his crew of snarling and sour-minded preachers, and all the court liars and parasites and spies that both sidessurrounded me with, I have lived an existence that isn't life at all. Ipurport to be a woman, but I have never been suffered to see a genuineman. And now here is one--or what I think to be one--and I'm given tounderstand that he is a pirate and a murderer and an unspeakable ruffiangenerally--but he takes my fancy, and he has beckoned to me to come tohim, and so you will kindly get me my hat and jacket and gloves. ' That'swhat she would have said to you, my dear. "

"And I"--said Celia, rising after a moment's pause, and putting her handupon Edith's arm--"I would have answered, 'Dearest lady, in whateverbefalls, I pray you never to forget that I am to the end your fond anddevoted and loyal servant. '"

CHAPTER XIX

AUGUST wore itself out in parched tedium, and a September began whichseemed even more unbearable in town, --and still Thorpe did not get awayfrom London. 

So far as the payment of an exorbitant rent in advance, and the receiptof innumerable letters from a restless and fussy steward whom he hadnot yet seen, went as evidence, he knew himself to be the tenant inpossession of a great shooting in Morayshire. He had several photographsof what was called the lodge, but looked like something between amansion and a baronial castle, on the mantel of the Board Room. Thereflection that this sumptuous residence had been his for a month, andthat it daily stood waiting for him, furnished and swept and provisionedfor his coming, did nothing to help the passing of time in the hot, fagged City. More than once he had said resolutely that, on the morrow, or at the worst the next day, he would go--but in the event he hadnot gone. In the last week of August he had proceeded to the length ofsending his niece and nephew Northward, and shutting up the house inOvington Square, and betaking himself to the Savoy Hotel. This hadappeared at the time to be almost equivalent to his getting awayhimself, --to be at least a first stage in the progress of his ownjourney. But at the hotel he had stuck fast, --and now, on the tenth ofSeptember, was no nearer the moors and the deer-forest than he had beena month before. 

A novel sense of loneliness, --of the fatuity of presentexistence, --weighed grievously upon him. The ladies of Grafton Streethad left town upon a comprehensive itinerary of visits which includedthe Malvern country, and a ducal castle in Shropshire, and a place inWestmoreland. There was nothing very definite about the date of theircoming to him in Scotland. The lady who had consented to marry him had, somehow, omitted to promise that she would write to him. An arrangementexisted, instead, by which she and his niece Julia were to correspond, and to fix between themselves the details of the visit to Morayshire. 

Thorpe hardly went to the point of annoyance with this arrangement. He was conscious of no deep impulse to write love-letters himself, andthere was nothing in the situation which made his failure to receivelove-letters seem unnatural. The absence of moonshine, at least duringthis preliminary season, had been quite taken for granted between them, and he did not complain even to himself. There was even a kind ofproud satisfaction for him in the thought that, though he had all butcompleted the purchase of the noble Pellesley estate for Edith Cressage, he had never yet kissed her. The reserve he imposed upon himself gavehim a certain aristocratic fineness in his own eyes. It was the means bywhich he could feel himself to be most nearly her equal. But he remainedvery lonely in London, none the less. 

It is true that a great deal of society was continually offered to him, and even thrust upon him. In the popular phrase, London was empty, but there seemed to be more people than ever who desired Mr. StormontThorpe' s presence at their dinner-tables, or their little theatre orcard or river parties. He clung sullenly to his rule of goingnowhere, but it was not so simple a matter to evade the civilities andimportunities of those who were stopping at the hotel, or who came thereto waylay him at the entrance, or to encounter him in the restaurant. Hecould not always refuse to sit down at tables when attractively-dressedand vivacious women made room for him, or to linger over cigars and winewith their husbands and escorts later on. 

An incessant and spirited court was paid to him by many different groupsof interested people who were rarely at the pains to dissemble theiraims. He formed a manner for the reception of these advances, compoundedof joviality, cynicism, and frank brutality, which nobody, to his faceat least, resented. If women winced under his mocking rudenesses ofspeech and smile, if men longed to kill him for the cold insolence ofhis refusal to let them inside his guard, they sedulously kept it fromhim. The consciousness that everybody was afraid of him, --that everybodywould kneel to him, and meekly take insult and ignominy from him, ifonly hope remained to them of getting something out of him, --hardenedlike a crust upon his mind. 

It was impossible to get a sense of companionship from people whocringed to him, and swallowed his affronts and cackled at his jokeswith equal docility. Sometimes he had a passing amusement in the roughpleasantries and cruelties which they drew from him. There were two orthree bright Jewish women, more gayly clever and impudent, perhaps, thanbeautiful, with whom he found it genuine fun to talk, and concerningwhom he was perpetually conceiving projects which could not have beendiscussed with their husbands, and as perpetually doing nothing totest their feasibility. But these diversions were in their essenceunsubstantial. There was not even the semblance of a real friendshipamong them, --and loneliness became an increasing burden. 

His sister at the old book-shop exasperated him nowadays to a degreewhich often provoked within him the resolution to have done with her. He had a score of projects for her betterment, each capable of as manyvariations and eager adaptations to suit her fancy, but to them all andsundry she opposed a barrier of stupidly passive negation. There wasnothing she wanted done for her. She would not exchange the work she hadbeen brought up in for a life of idleness. She did not want, and wouldnot know what to do with, a bigger shop than she had. An augmentation ofher capital would be of no use, because there was no room in the crowdedlittle shop for a larger stock than it contained. She was entirelysatisfied with the dingy home overhead, and declined to think even ofmoving elsewhere. Over and over again she met his propositions with asaying which he could recall having particularly hated on their father'slips, --"It's ill teaching an old dog new tricks. "

"You ought to have them taught you with a stick, " he had told herroundly, on the last occasion. 

She had merely shrugged her gaunt shoulders at him. "You think you canbully everybody and make them crawl to you, --but there's no good yourtrying it on with me, " she had told him, and he had pushed his way outof the shop almost stamping his feet. It was clear to him at that momentthat he would never darken her door again. 

Yet now, on this afternoon of the tenth, as he lounged with a cigar anda City paper in his apartment at the hotel after luncheon, wonderingwhether it were too hot to issue forth for a walk to the Park, theirrelevant idea of going round to see his sister kept coming into hismind. He seated himself and fastened his attention upon the paper, --butoff it slipped again to the old book-shop, and to that curious, cross-grained figure, its mistress. He abandoned himself to thinkingabout her--and discovered that a certain unique quality in herchallenged his admiration. She was the only absolutely disinterestedperson he knew--the only creature in the world, apparently, who did notdesire to make something out of him. She was not at all well-off, --wasindeed rather poor than otherwise, --and here was her only brother amillionaire, and in her dumb way she had a sisterly affection for him, and yet she could not be argued or cajoled into touching a penny of hismoney. Surely there could be no other woman like her. 

Thorpe realized that it was a distinction to have such a sister, --andbehind this thought rose obscurely the suggestion that there must bewonderful blood in a race which had produced such a daughter. And forthat matter, such a son too! He lifted his head, and looked abstractedlybefore him, as if he were gazing at some apotheosis of himself in amirror. 

He beheld all at once something concrete and personal, obtruded into theheart of his reverie, the sight of which dimly astounded him. For themoment, with opened lips he stared at it, --then slowly brought himselfto comprehend what had happened. An old man had by some oversight ofthe hotel servants been allowed to enter the room unannounced. He hadwandered in noiselessly, and had moved in a purblind fashion to thecentre of the apartment. The vagueness of the expression on his face andof his movements hinted at a vacant mind or too much drink, --but Thorpegave no thought to either hypothesis. The face itself--no--yes--it wasthe face of old Tavender. 

"In the name of God! What are you doing here?" Thorpe gasped at thisextraordinary apparition. Still staring, he began to push back his chairand put his weight upon his feet. 

"Well--Thorpe"--the other began, thrusting forward his head to lookthrough his spectacles--"so it is you, after all. I didn't know whetherI was going to find you or not. This place has got so many turns andtwists to it----"

"But good heavens!" interposed the bewildered Thorpe. He had risen tohis feet. He mechanically took the hand which the other had extended tohim. "What in hell"--he began, and broke off again. The aroma of alcoholon the air caught his sense, and his mind stopped at the perception thatTavender was more or less drunk. He strove to spur it forward, to compelit to encompass the meanings of this new crisis, but almost in vain. 

"Thought I'd look you up, " said the old man, buoyantly. "Nobody inLondon I'd rather see than you. How are you, anyway?"

"What did you come over for? When did you get here?" Thorpe put thequestions automatically. His self-control was returning to him; hiscapable brain pushed forward now under something like disciplineddirection. 

"Why I guess I owe it all to you, " replied Tavender. Traces of the oldQuaker effect which had been so characteristic of him still hung abouthis garb and mien, but there shone a new assurance on his benignant, rubicund face. Prosperity had visibly liberalized and enheartened him. He shook Thorpe's hand again. "Yes, sir--it must have been all throughyou!" he repeated. "I got my cable three weeks ago--'Hasten toLondon, urgent business, expenses and liberal fee guaranteed, RubberConsols'--that's what the cable said, that is, the first one and ofcourse you're the man that introduced me to those rubber people. And sodon't you see I owe it all to you?"

His insistence upon his obligation was suddenly almost tearful. Thorpethought hard as he replied: "Oh--that's all right. I'm very glad indeedto have helped you along. And so you came over for the Rubber Consolspeople, eh? Well--that's good. Seen 'em yet? You haven't told me whenyou landed. "

"Came up from Southampton this morning. My brother-in-law was downthere to meet me. We came up to London together. " "Your brother-in-law, "observed Thorpe, meditatively. Some shadowy, remote impression ofhaving forgotten something troubled his mind for an instant. "Is yourbrother-in-law in the rubber business?"

"Extraor'nary thing, " explained Tavender, beamingly, "he don't knowno more about the whole affair than the man 'n the moon. I asked himtoday--but he couldn't tell me anything about the business--what it wasI'd been sent for, or anything. "

"But he--he knew you'd been sent for, " Thorpe commented upon briefreflection. 

"Why, he sent the second cable himself----"

"What second cable?"

"Why it was the next day, --or maybe it was sent that same night, andnot delivered till morning, --I got another cable, this time from mybrother-in-law, telling me to cable him what ship I sailed on and when. So of course he knew all about it--but now he says he don't. He's acurious sort of fellow, anyway. "

"But how is he mixed up in it?" demanded Thorpe, impatiently. 

"Well, as nearly as I can figure it out, he works for one of the menthat's at the head of this rubber company. It appears that he happenedto show this man--he's a man of title, by the way--a letter I wrote tohim last spring, when I got back to Mexico--and so in that way this man, when he wanted me to come over, just told Gafferson to cable to me. "

"Gafferson, " Thorpe repeated, very slowly, and with almost an effectof listlessness. He was conscious of no surprise; it was as if hehad divined all along the sinister shadows of Lord Plowden and LordPlowden's gardener, lurking in the obscurity behind this egregious oldass of a Tavender. 

"He's a tremendous horticultural sharp, " said the other. "Probablyyou've heard tell of him. He's taken medals for new flowers and thingstill you can't rest. He's over at--what do you call it?--the RoyalAquarium, now, to see the Dahlia Show. I went over there with him, butit didn't seem to be my kind of a show, and so I left him there, andI'm to look in again for him at 5:30. I'm going down to his place in thecountry with him tonight, to meet his boss--the nobleman I spoke of. "

"That's nice, " Thorpe commented, slowly. "I envy anybody who can getinto the country these days. But how did you know I was here?" "Thewoman in the book-store told me--I went there the first thing. You mightbe sure I'd look you up. Nobody was ever a better friend than you'vebeen to me, Thorpe. And do you know what I want you to do? I want you tocome right bang out, now, and have a drink with me. "

"I was thinking of something of the sort myself, " the big man replied. "I'll get my hat, and be with you in a minute. "

In the next room he relinquished his countenance to a frown of fierceperplexity. More than a minute passed in this scowling preoccupation. Then his face lightened with the relief of an idea, and he steppedconfidently back into the parlour. 

"Come along, " he said, jovially. "We'll have a drink downstairs, andthen we'll drive up to Hanover Square and see if we can't find a friendof mine at his club. "

In the office below he stopped long enough to secure a considerableroll of bank-notes in exchange for a cheque. A little later, a hansomdeposited the couple at the door of the Asian Club, and Thorpe, in theouter hallway of this institution, clicked his teeth in satisfaction atthe news that General Kervick was on the premises. 

The General, having been found by a boy and brought down, extendedto his guests a hospitality which was none the less urbane for theevidences of surprise with which it was seasoned. He concealed soindifferently his inability to account for Tavender, that the anxiousThorpe grew annoyed with him, but happily Tavender's perceptions wereless subtle. He gazed about him in his dim-eyed way with childlikeinterest, and babbled cheerfully over his liquor. He had not beeninside a London club before, and his glimpse of the reading-room, where, isolated, purple-faced, retired old Empire-makers sat snorting in thesilence, their gouty feet propped up on foot-rests, their white browsscowling over the pages of French novels, particularly impressed him. Itwas a new and halcyon vision of the way to spend one's declining years. And the big smoking-room--where the leather cushions were so low andso soft, and the connection between the bells and the waiters was soefficient--that was even better. 

Thorpe presently made an excuse for taking Kervick apart. "I broughtthis old jackass here for a purpose, " he said in low, gravely mandatorytones. "He thinks he's got an appointment at 5:30 this afternoon--buthe's wrong. He hasn't. He's not going to have any appointment atall--for a long time yet. I want you to get him drunk, there where hesits, and then take him away with you, and get him drunker still, andthen take a train with him somewhere--any station but Charing Cross orthat line--and I don't care where you land with him--Scotland or Irelandor France--whatever you like. Here's some money for you--and you canwrite to me for more. I don't care what you say to him--make up any yarnyou like--only keep him pacified, and keep him away from London, anddon't let a living soul talk to him--till I give you the word. You'lllet me know where you are. I'll get away now--and mind, General, a gooddeal depends on the way you please me in this thing. "

The soldier's richly-florid face and intent, bulging blue eyes expressedvivid comprehension. He nodded with eloquence as he slipped the notesinto his trousers pocket. "Absolutely, " he murmured with martialbrevity, from under his white, tight moustache. 

With only a vague word or two of meaningless explanation to Tavender, Thorpe took his departure, and walked back to the hotel. From what hehad learned and surmised, it was not difficult to put the pieces ofthe puzzle together. This ridiculous old fool, he remembered now, hadreproached himself, when he was in England before, for his uncivilneglect of his brother-in-law. By some absurd chance, this damnedbrother-in-law happened to be Gafferson. It was clear enough that, whenhe returned to Mexico, Tavender had written to Gafferson, explainingthe unexpected pressure of business which had taken up all his time inEngland. Probably he had been idiot enough to relate what he of courseregarded as the most wonderful piece of good news--how the worthlessconcession he had been deluded into buying had been bought back fromhim. As likely as not he had even identified the concession, and givenThorpe's name as that of the man who had first impoverished and thenmysteriously enriched him. At all events, he had clearly mentioned thathe had a commission to report upon the Rubber Consols property, andhad said enough else to create the impression that there were criminalsecrets connected with its sale to the London Company. The rest waseasy. Gafferson, knowing Lord Plowden's relation to the Company, hadshown him Tavender's letter. Lord Plowden, meditating upon it, had seena way to be nasty--and had vindictively plunged into it. He had broughtTavender from Mexico to London, to use him as a weapon. All this was asobvious as the nose on one's face. 

But a weapon for what? Thorpe, as this question put itself in his mind, halted before a shop-window full of soft-hued silk fabrics, to muse uponan answer. The delicate tints and surfaces of what was before his eyesseemed somehow to connect themselves with the subject. Plowden himselfwas delicately-tinted and refined of texture. Vindictiveness was tooplain and coarse an emotion to sway such a complicated and polishedorganism. He reasoned it out, as he stood with lack-lustre gaze beforethe plate-glass front, aloof among a throng of eager and talkative womenwho pressed around him--that Plowden would not have spent his money ona mere impulse of mischief-making. He would be counting upon somethingmore tangible than revenge--something that could be counted and weighedand converted into a bank-balance. He smiled when he reached thisconclusion--greatly surprising and confusing a matronly lady intowhose correct face he chanced to be looking at the instant--and turningslowly, continued his walk. 

At the office of the hotel, he much regretted not having driven instead, for he learned that Semple had twice telephoned from the City for him. It was late in the afternoon--he noted with satisfaction that theclock showed it to be already past the hour of the Tavender-Gaffersonappointment, --but he had Semple's office called up, upon the chance thatsomeone might be there. The clerk had not consumed more than ten minutesin the preliminaries of finding out that no one was there--Thorpemeanwhile passing savage comments to the other clerks about the Britishofficial conception of the telephone as an instrument of discipline andhumiliation--when Semple himself appeared in the doorway. 

The Broker gave an exclamation of relief at seeing Thorpe, and then, apparently indifferent to the display of excitement he was exhibiting, drew him aside. 

"Come somewhere where we can talk, " he whispered nervously. 

Thorpe had never seen the little Scotchman in such a flurry. "We'll goup to my rooms, " he said, and led the way to the lift. 

Upstairs, Semple bolted the door of the sitting-room behind them, andsatisfied himself that there was no one in the adjoining bedroom. Then, unburdening himself with another sigh, he tossed aside his hat, andlooked keenly up at the big man. "There's the devil to pay, " he saidbriefly. 

Thorpe had a fleeting pride in the lethargic, composed front he was ableto present. "All right, " he said with forced placidity. "If he's got tobe paid, we'll pay him. " He continued to smile a little. 

"It's nah joke, " the other hastened to warn him. "I have it from twodifferent quarters. An application has been made to the Stock ExchangeCommittee, this afternoon, to intervene and stop our business, on theground of fraud. It comes verra straight to me. "

Thorpe regarded his Broker contemplatively. The news fitted withprecision into what he had previously known; it was rendered altogetherharmless by the precautions he had already taken. "Well, keep your hairon, " he said, quietly. "If there were fifty applications, they wouldn'tmatter the worth of that soda-water cork. Won't you have a drink?"

Semple, upon reflection, said he would. The unmoved equipoise of the bigman visibly reassured him. He sipped at his bubbling tumbler and smackedhis thin lips. "Man, I've had an awful fright, " he said at last, in thetone of one whose ease of mind is returning. 

"I gave you credit for more nerve, " observed the other, eyeing him innot unkindly fashion over his glass. "You've been so plumb full of sandall the while--I didn't think you'd weaken now. Why, we're within twodays of home, now--and for you to get rattled at this late hour--youought to be ashamed of yourself. "

The Scotchman looked into the bottom of his glass, as he turned itthoughtfully round. "I'm relieved to see the way you take it, " he said, after a pause. With increased hesitation he went dryly on: "I've neverenquired minutely into the circumstances of the flotation. It has notseemed to be my business to do so, and upon advice I may say that theCommittee would not hold that such was my business. My position is quiteclear, upon that point. "

"Oh, perfectly, " Thorpe assented. "It couldn't possibly be any of yourbusiness--either then, or now. " He gave a significant touch of emphasisto these last two words. 

"Precisely, " said Semple, with a glance of swift comprehension. "Youmust not think I am asking any intrusive questions. If you tell methat--that there is no ground for uneasiness--I am verra pleased indeedto accept the assurance. That is ample information for my purposes. "

"You can take it from me, " Thorpe told him. He picked up a red book froma side table, and turned over its pages with his thick thumb. "Thisis what Rule 59 says, " he went on: "'NO APPLICATION WHICH HAS FOR ITSOBJECT TO ANNUL ANY BARGAIN IN THE STOCK EXCHANGE SHALL BE ENTERTAINEDBY THE COMMITTEE, UNLESS UPON A SPECIFIC ALLEGATION OF FRAUD OR WILFULMISREPRESENTATION. ' Shall be entertained, d'ye see? They can't evenconsider anything of the sort, because it says 'specific, ' and I tellyou plainly that anything 'specific' is entirely out of the question. "

The Broker lifted his sandy brows in momentary apprehension. "If itturns upon the precise definition of a word, " he remarked, doubtingly. 

"Ah, yes, --but it doesn't, " Thorpe reassured him. "See here--I'll tellyou something. You're not asking any questions. That's as it should be. And I'm not forcing information upon you which you don't need in yourbusiness. That's as it should be, too. But in between these two, there'sa certain margin of facts that there's no harm in your knowing. A schemeto blackmail me is on foot. It's rather a fool-scheme, if you ask me, but it might have been a nuisance if it had been sprung on us unawares. It happened, however, that I twigged this scheme about two hours ago. Itwas the damnedest bit of luck you ever heard of----"

"You don't have luck, " put in Semple, appreciatively. "Other men haveluck. You have something else--I don't give it a name. "

Thorpe smiled upon him, and went on. "I twigged it, anyway. I went out, and I drove the biggest kind of spike through that fool-scheme--plumbthrough its heart. Tomorrow a certain man will come to me--oh, I couldalmost tell you the kind of neck-tie he'll wear--and he'll put up hisbluff to me, and I'll hear him out--and then--then I'll let the floordrop out from under him. "

"Aye!" said Semple, with relish. 

"Stay and dine with me tonight, " Thorpe impulsively suggested, "andwe'll go to some Music Hall afterward. There's a knock-about pantomimeoutfit at the Canterbury--Martinetti I think the name is--that's damnedgood. You get plenty of laugh, and no tiresome blab to listen to. Theolder I get, the more I think of people that keep their mouths shut. "

"Aye, " observed Semple again. 

CHAPTER XX

IN the Board Room, next day, Thorpe awaited the coming of Lord Plowdenwith the serene confidence of a prophet who not only knows that heis inspired, but has had an illicit glimpse into the workings of themachinery of events. 

He sat motionless at his desk, like a big spider for who time hasno meaning. Before him lay two newspapers, folded so as to exposeparagraphs heavily indicated by blue pencil-marks. They were notfinancial journals, and for that reason it was improbable that he wouldhave seen these paragraphs, if the Secretary of the Company had notmarked them, and brought them to him. That official had been vastly morefluttered by them than he found it possible to be. In slightly-varyinglanguage, these two items embedded in so-called money articles reportedthe rumour that a charge of fraud had arisen in connection with theRubber Consols corner, and that sensational disclosures were believed tobe impending. 

Thorpe looked with a dulled, abstracted eye at these papers, lyingon the desk, and especially at the blue pencil-lines upon them, as hepondered many things. Their statement, thus scattered broadcast to thepublic, seemed at once to introduce a new element into the situation, and to leave it unchanged. That influence of some sort had been exertedto get this story into these papers, it did not occur to him for aninstant to doubt. To his view, all things that were put into paperswere put there for a purpose--it would express his notion more clearly, perhaps, to say for a price. Of the methods of Fleet Street, he wasprofoundly ignorant, but his impressions of them were all cynical. Uponreflection, however, it seemed unlikely to him that Lord Plowden hadsecured the insertion of these rumours. So far as Thorpe could fathomthat nobleman's game, its aims would not be served by prematurepublicity of this kind. 

Gradually, the outlines of a more probable combination took shape inhis thoughts. There were left in the grip of the "corner" now onlytwo victims, --Rostocker and Aronson. They owed this invidiousdifferentiation to a number of causes: they had been the chief sellersof stock, being between them responsible for the delivery of 8, 500Rubber Consols shares, which they could not get; they were men of largerfortune than the other "shorts, " and therefore could with safety besqueezed longest; what was fortunate for him under the circumstances, they were the two men against whom Thorpe's personal grudge seemed ableto maintain itself most easily. 

For these reasons, they had already been mulcted in differences to theextent of, in round numbers, 165, 000 pounds. On the morrow, the twelfthof September, it was Thorpe's plan to allow them to buy in the sharesthey needed, at 22 or 23 pounds per share--which would take from themnearly 200, 000 pounds more. He had satisfied himself that they could, and would if necessary, pay this enormous ransom for their final escapefrom the "corner. " Partly because it was not so certain that they couldpay more, partly because he was satiated with spoils and tired of thestrain of the business, he had decided to permit this escape. 

He realized now, however, that they on their side had planned to escapewithout paying any final ransom at all. 

That was clearly the meaning of these paragraphs, and of therepresentations which had yesterday been made to the Stock ExchangeCommittee. He had additional knowledge today of the character of theserepresentations. Nothing definite had been alleged, but some of themembers of the Committee had been informally notified, so Semple hadthis morning learned, that a specific charge of fraud, supportedby unanswerable proof, was to be brought against the Rubber Consolsmanagement on the morrow. Thorpe reasoned out now, step by step, whatthat meant. Lord Plowden had sought out Rostocker and Aronson, andhad told them that he had it in his power ignominiously to break the"corner. " He could hardly have told them the exact nature of his power, because until he should have seen Tavender he did not himself know whatit was. But he had given them to understand that he could prove fraud, and they, scenting in this the chance of saving 200, 000 pounds, andseeing that time was so terribly short, had hastened to the Committeemenwith this vague declaration that, on the morrow, they could prove--theydid not precisely know what. Yes--plainly enough--that was what hadhappened. And it would be these two Jew "wreckers, " eager to investtheir speculative notification to the Committee with as much of anair of formality as possible, who had caused the allusions to it to bepublished in these papers. 

Thorpe's lustreless eye suddenly twinkled with mirth as he reached thisconclusion; his heavy face brightened into a grin of delight. A visionof Lord Plowden's absurd predicament rose vividly before him, and hechuckled aloud at it. 

It seemed only the most natural thing in the world that, at thisinstant, a clerk should open the door and nod with meaning to themaster. The visitor whom he had warned the people in the outer officehe expected, had arrived. Thorpe was still laughing to himself when LordPlowden entered. 

"Hallo! How d'ye do!" he called out to him from where he sat at hisdesk. 

The hilarity of the manner into which he had been betrayed, upon theinstant surprised and rather confused him. He had not been altogetherclear as to how he should receive Plowden, but certainly a warmjoviality had not occurred to him as appropriate. 

The nobleman was even more taken aback. He stared momentarily at thebig man's beaming mask, and then, with nervous awkwardness, executed aseries of changes in his own facial expression and demeanour. He flushedred, opened his lips to say "Ah!" and then twisted them into a doubtingand seemingly painful smile. He looked with very bright-eyed intentnessat Thorpe, as he advanced, and somewhat spasmodically put out his hand. 

It occurred to Thorpe not to see this hand. "How are you!" he repeatedin a more mechanical voice, and withdrew his smile. Lord Plowdenfidgeted on his feet for a brief, embarrassed interval before the desk, and then dropped into a chair at its side. With a deliberate effort atnonchalance, he crossed his legs, and caressed the ankle on his kneewith a careless hand. "Anything new?" he asked. 

Thorpe lolled back in his arm-chair. "I'm going to be able to get awayin a few days' time, " he said, indifferently. "I expect to finally windup the business on the Stock Exchange tomorrow. "

"Ah--yes, " commented Plowden, vacantly. He seemed to be searching afterthoughts which had wandered astray. "Yes--of course. "

"Yes--of course, " Thorpe said after him, with a latent touch ofsignificance. 

The other looked up quickly, then glanced away again. "It's all going asyou expected, is it?" he asked. 

"Better than I expected, " Thorpe told him, energetically. "Much betterthan anybody expected. "

"Hah!" said Plowden. After a moment's reflection he went onhesitatingly: "I didn't know. I saw something in one of the papers thismorning, --one of the money articles, --which spoke as if there were somedoubt about the result. That's why I called. "

"Well--it's damned good of you to come round, and show such a friendlyinterest. " Thorpe's voice seemed candid enough, but there was anenigmatic something in his glance which aroused the other's distrust. 

"I'm afraid you don't take very much stock in the 'friendly interest, '"he said, with a constrained little laugh. 

"I'm not taking stock in anything new just now, " replied Thorpe, lendinghimself lazily to the other's metaphor. "I'm loaded up to the gunnelsalready. "

A minute of rather oppressive silence ensued. Then Plowden ventured uponan opening. "All the same, it WAS with an idea of, --perhaps being of useto you, --that I came here, " he affirmed. "In what way?" Thorpe put thequery almost listlessly. 

Lord Plowden turned his hands and let his dark eyes sparkle in a gestureof amiable uncertainty. "That depended upon what was needed. I got theimpression that you were in trouble--the paper spoke as if there wereno doubt of it--and I imagined that quite probably you would be glad totalk with me about it. "

"Quite right, " said Thorpe. "So I should. "

This comprehensive assurance seemed not, however, to facilitateconversation. The nobleman looked at the pattern of the sock on theankle he was nursing, and knitted his brows in perplexity. "What if theCommittee of the Stock Exchange decide to interfere?" he asked at last. 

"Oh, that would knock me sky-high, " Thorpe admitted. 

"Approximately, how much may one take 'sky-high' to mean?"

Thorpe appeared to calculate. "Almost anything up to a quarter of amillion, " he answered. 

"Hah!" said Lord Plowden again. "Well--I understand--I'm given tounderstand--that very likely that is what the Committee will decide. "

"Does it say that in the papers?" asked Thorpe. He essayed an effect ofconcern. "Where did you see that?"

"I didn't see it, " the other explained. "It--it came to me. "

"God!" said Thorpe. "That'll be awful! But are you really in earnest? Isthat what you hear? And does it come at all straight?"

Lord Plowden nodded portentously. "Absolutely straight, " he said, withgravity. 

Thorpe, after a momentary stare of what looked like bewilderment, was seen to clutch at a straw. "But what was it you were saying?" hedemanded, with eagerness. "You talked about help--a minute ago. Did youmean it? Have you got a plan? Is there something that you can do?"

Plowden weighed his words. "It would be necessary to have a verycomplete understanding, " he remarked. 

"Whatever you like, " exclaimed the other. 

"Pardon me--it would have to be a good deal more definite than that, "Plowden declared. "A 'burnt child'--you know. "

The big man tapped musingly with his finger-nails on the desk. "We won'tquarrel about that, " he said. "But what I'd like to know first, --youneedn't give anything away that you don't want to, --but what's yourplan? You say that they've got me in a hole, and that you can get meout. " "In effect--yes. "

"But how do you know that I can't get myself out? What do you know aboutthe whole thing anyway? Supposing I tell you that I laugh at it--thatthere's no more ground for raising the suspicion of fraud than there isfor--for suspecting that you've got wings and can fly. "

"I--I don't think you'll tell me that, " said Plowden, placidly. 

"Well then, supposing I don't tell you that, " the other resumed, argumentatively. "Supposing I say instead that it can't be proved. Ifthe Committee doesn't have proof NOW, --within twenty-one or twenty-twohours, --they can't do anything at all. Tomorrow is settling day. Allalong, I've said I would wind up the thing tomorrow. The market-pricehas been made for me by the jobbers yesterday and today. I'm all readyto end the whole business tomorrow--close it all out. And after that'sdone, what do I care about the Stock Exchange Committee? They caninvestigate and be damned! What could they do to me?"

"I think a man can always be arrested and indicted, and sent to penalservitude, " said Lord Plowden, with a certain solemnity of tone. "Thereare even well-known instances of extradition. "

Thorpe buried his chin deep in his collar, and regarded his companionwith a fixed gaze, in which the latter detected signs of trepidation. "But about the Committee--and tomorrow, " he said slowly. "What do yousay about that? How can they act in that lightning fashion? And even ifproofs could be got, how do you suppose they are to be got on the dropof the hat, at a minute's notice?"

"The case is of sufficient importance to warrant a special meetingtomorrow morning, " the other rejoined. "One hour's notice, posted in theHouse, is sufficient, I believe. Any three members of the Committee cancall such a meeting, and I understand that seven make a quorum. You willsee that a meeting could be held at noon tomorrow, and within half anhour could make you a ruined man. "

"I don't know--would you call it quite ruined?" commented Thorpe. "Ishould still have a few sovereigns to go on with. "

"A criminal prosecution would be practically inevitable--after such adisclosure, " Plowden reminded him, with augmented severity of tone. 

"Don't mix the two things up, " the other urged. There seemed to thelistener to be supplication in the voice. "It's the action of theCommittee that you said you could influence. That's what we were talkingabout. You say there will be a special meeting at noon tomorrow----

"I said there could be one, " Plowden corrected him. 

"All right. There CAN be one. And do you say that there can beproof, --proof against me of fraud, --produced at that meeting?"

"Yes--I say that, " the nobleman affirmed, quietly. 

"And further still--do you say that it rests with you whether that proofshall be produced or not?"

Lord Plowden looked into the impassive, deep-eyed gaze which coveredhim, and looked away from it again. "I haven't put it in just thatform, " he said, hesitatingly. "But in essentials--yes, that may be takenas true. "

"And what is your figure? How much do you want for holding this proofof yours back, and letting me finish scooping the money of your Hebrewfriends Aronson and Rostocker?"

The peer raised his head, and shot a keenly enquiring glance at theother. "Are they my friends?" he asked, with challenging insolence. 

"I'm bound to assume that you have been dealing with them, just as youare dealing with me. " Thorpe explained his meaning dispassionately, asif the transaction were entirely commonplace. "You tell them that you'rein a position to produce proof against me, and ask them what they'llgive for it. Then naturally enough you come to me, and ask what I'll bewilling to pay to have the proof suppressed. I quite understand that Imust bid against these men--and of course I take it for granted that, since you know their figure, you've arranged in your mind what mine isto be. I quite understand, too, that I am to pay more than they haveoffered. That is on account of 'friendly interest. '"

"Since you allude to it, " Lord Plowden observed, with a certain calmloftiness of tone, "there is no harm in saying that you WILL paysomething on that old score. Once you thrust the promise of somethinglike a hundred thousand pounds positively upon me. You insisted on mybelieving it, and I did so, like a fool. I came to you to redeem thepromise, and you laughed in my face. Very well. It is my turn now. Ihold the whip-hand, and I should be an ass not to remember things. Ishall want that entire one hundred thousand pounds from you, and fiftythousand added to it 'on account of the 'friendly interest, ' as you sointelligently expressed it. "

Thorpe's chin burrowed still deeper upon his breast. "It's an outrage, "he said with feeling. Then he added, in tones of dejected resignation:"When will you want it?"

"At the moment when the payments of Rostocker and Aronson are made toyou, or to your bankers or agents, " Lord Plowden replied, with preparedfacility. He had evidently given much thought to this part of theproceedings. "And of course I shall expect you to draw up now anagreement to that effect. I happen to have a stamped paper with me thistime. And if you don't mind, we will have it properly witnessed--thistime. "

Thorpe looked at him with a disconcertingly leaden stare, the while hethought over what had been proposed. "That's right enough, " he announcedat last, "but I shall expect you to do some writing too. Since we'redealing on this basis, there must be no doubt about the guarantee thatyou will perform your part of the contract. "

"The performance itself, since payment is conditional upon it--" beganPlowden, but the other interrupted him. 

"No, I want something better than that. Here--give me your stampedpaper. " He took the bluish sheet, and, without hesitation, wrote severallines rapidly. "Here--this is my promise, " he said, "to pay you 150, 000pounds, upon your satisfactory performance of a certain undertaking tobe separately nominated in a document called 'A, ' which we will jointlydraw up and agree to and sign, and deposit wherever you like--forsafe keeping. Now, if you'll sit here, and write out for me a similarthing--that in consideration of my promise of 150, 000 pounds, youcovenant to perform the undertaking to be nominated in the document'A'--and so on. "

Lord Plowden treated as a matter of course the ready and business-likesuggestion of the other. Taking his place at the desk in turn, he wroteout what had been suggested. Thorpe touched a bell, and the clerk whocame in perfunctorily attested the signatures upon both papers. Eachprincipal folded and pocketed the pledge of the other. 

"Now, " said Thorpe, when he had seated himself again at the desk, "weare all right so far as protection against each other goes. If you don'tmind, I will draw up a suggestion of what the separate document 'A'should set forth. If you don't like it, you can write one. "

He took more time to this task, frowning laboriously over the freshsheet of foolscap, and screening from observation with his hand what hewas writing. Finally, the task seemed finished to his mind. He took upthe paper, glanced through it once more, and handed it in silence to theother. 

In silence also, and with an expression of arrested attention, LordPlowden read these lines:

"The undertaking referred to in the two documents of even date, signedrespectively by Lord Plowden and Stormont Thorpe, is to the effectthat at some hour between eleven A. M. And three P. M. Of September 12th, instant, Lord Plowden shall produce before a special meeting of theCommittee of the Stock Exchange, the person of one Jerome P. Tavender, to explain to said Committee his share in the blackmailing scheme ofwhich Lord Plowden, over his own signature, has furnished documentaryevidence. "

The nobleman continued to look down at the paper, after the power tohold it without shaking had left his hand. There came into his face, mingling with and vitiating its rich natural hues of health, a kind ofgrey shadow. It was as if clay was revealing itself beneath faded paint. He did not lift his eyes. 

Thorpe had been prepared to hail this consummation of his trick withboisterous and scornful mirth. Even while the victim was deciphering thefatal paper, he had restrained with impatience the desire to burstout into bitter laughter. But now there was something in the aspect ofPlowden's collapse which seemed to forbid triumphant derision. He wastaking his blow so like a gentleman, --ashen-pale and quivering, butclinging to a high-bred dignity of silence, --that the impulse to exhibitequally good manners possessed Thorpe upon the instant. 

"Well--you see how little business you've got, setting yourself to buckagainst a grown-up man. "

He offered the observation in the tone of the school-teacher, affectedlyphilosophical but secretly jubilant, who harangues a defeated andhumiliated urchin upon his folly. 

"Oh, chuck it!" growled Lord Plowden, staring still at the calamitouspaper. 

Thorpe accepted in good part the intimation that silence was after allmost decorous. He put his feet up on the corner of the desk, and tippingback his chair, surveyed the discomfited Viscount impassively. Heforbore even to smile. 

"So this swine of a Tavender came straight to you!" Lord Plowden hadfound words at last. As he spoke, he lifted his face, and made a show oflooking the other in the eye. 

"Oh, there are a hundred things in your own game, even, that you haven'tan inkling of, " Thorpe told him, lightly. "I've been watching every moveyou've made, seeing further ahead in your own game than you did. Why, itwas too easy! It was like playing draughts with a girl. I knew you wouldcome today, for example. I told the people out there that I expectedyou. "

"Yes-s, " said the other, with rueful bewilderment. "You seem to havebeen rather on the spot--I confess. "

"On the spot? All over the place!" Thorpe lifted himself slightly in hischair, and put more animation into his voice. 

"It's the mistake you people make!" he declared oracularly. "You thinkthat a man can come into the City without a penny, and form greatcombinations and carry through a great scheme, and wage a fight with thesmartest set of scoundrels on the London Stock Exchange and beat 'em, and make for himself a big fortune--and still be a fool! You imaginethat a man like that can be played with, and hoodwinked by amateurs likeyourself. It's too ridiculous!"

The perception that apparently Thorpe bore little or no malice had begunto spread through Plowden's consciousness. It was almost more surprisingto him than the revelation of his failure had been. He accustomedhimself to the thought gradually, and as he did so the courage creptback into his glance. He breathed more easily. 

"You are right!" he admitted. It cost him nothing to give a maximum offervid conviction to the tone of his words. The big brute's pride in hisown brains and power was still his weakest point. "You are right! I didplay the fool. And it was all the more stupid, because I was the firstman in London to recognize the immense forces in you. I said to you atthe very outset, 'You are going to go far. You are going to be a greatman. ' You remember that, don't you?"

Thorpe nodded. "Yes--I remember it. "

The nobleman, upon reflection, drew a little silver box from his pocket, and extracted a match. "Do you mind?" he asked, and scarcely waiting fora token of reply, struck a flame upon the sole of his shoe, and appliedit to the sheet of foolscap he still held in his hand. The two menwatched it curl and blacken after it had been tossed in the grate, without a word. 

This incident had the effect of recalling to Thorpe the essentials ofthe situation. He had allowed the talk to drift to a point where itbecame almost affable. He sat upright with a sudden determination, andput his feet firmly on the floor, and knitted his brows in austerity. 

"It was not only a dirty trick that you tried to play me, " he said, inan altered, harsh tone, "but it was a fool-trick. That drunken old bumof a Tavender writes some lunatic nonsense or other to Gafferson, andhe's a worse idiot even than Tavender is, and on the strength of whatone of these clowns thinks he surmises the other clown means, you go andspend your money, --money I gave you, by the way, --in bringing Tavenderover here. You do this on the double chance, we'll say, of using himagainst me for revenge and profit combined, or of peddling him to me fora still bigger profit. You see it's all at my fingers' ends. "

Lord Plowden nodded an unqualified assent. 

"Well then--Tavender arrives. What do you do? Are you at the wharf tomeet him? Have you said to yourself: 'I've set out to fight one of thesmartest and strongest men in England, and I've got to keep every atomof wits about me, and strain every nerve to the utmost, and watch everypoint of the game as a tiger watches a snake'? Not a bit of it! Yousnooze in bed, and you send Gafferson--Gafferson!--the mud-head of theearth! to meet your Tavender, and loaf about with him in London, andbring him down by a slow train to your place in the evening. My God!You've only got two clear days left to do the whole thing in--andyou don't even come up to town to get ready for them! You sendGafferson--and he goes off to see a flower-show--Mother of Moses! thinkof it! a FLOWER-show!--and your Tavender aud I are left to take a strolltogether, and talk over old times and arrange about new times, and soon, to our hearts' content. Really, it's too easy! You make me tired!"

The nobleman offered a wan, appealing shadow of a smile. "I confess to acertain degree of weariness myself, " he said, humbly. 

Thorpe looked at him in his old apathetic, leaden fashion for a little. "I may tell you that if you HAD got hold of Tavender, " he decided totell him, "he shouldn't have been of the faintest use to you. I knowwhat it was that he wrote to Gafferson, --I couldn't understand it whenhe first told me, but afterwards I saw through it, --and it was merely amaudlin misapprehension of his. He'd got three or four things all mixedup together. You've never met your friend Tavender, I believe? You'denjoy him at Hadlow House. He smells of rum a hundred yards off. Whatlittle brain he's got left is soaked in it. The first time I was evercamping with him, I had to lick him for drinking the methylated spiritswe were using with our tin stove. Oh, you'd have liked him!"

"Evidently, " said Lord Plowden, upon reflection, "it was all a mostunfortunate and--ah--most deplorable mistake. " With inspiration, he madebold to add: "The most amazing thing, though--to my mind--is that youdon't seem--what shall I say?--particularly enraged with me about it. "

"Yes--that surprises me, too, " Thorpe meditatively admitted. "I wasentitled to kill you--crush you to jelly. Any other man I would. Butyou, --I don't know, --I do funny things with you. "

"I wish you would give me a drink, now--as one of them, " Plowdenventured to suggest, with uneasy pleasantry. 

Thorpe smiled a little as he rose, and heavily moved across the room. He set out upon the big official table in the middle, that mockinglypretentious reminder of a Board which never met, a decanter and twoglasses and some recumbent, round-bottomed bottles. He handed one ofthese last to Plowden, as the latter strolled toward the table. 

"You know how to open these, don't you?" he said, languidly. "Somehow Inever could manage it. "

The nobleman submissively took the bottle, and picked with awkwardnessat its wire and cork, and all at once achieved a premature and notover-successful explosion. He wiped his dripping cuff in silence, whenthe tumblers were supplied. 

"Well--here's better luck to you next time, " Thorpe said, lifting hisglass. The audacious irony of his words filled Plowden with an instantpurpose. 

"What on earth did you round on me in that way for, Thorpe--when I washere last?" He put the question with bravery enough, but at sight of theother's unresponsive face grew suddenly timorous aud explanatory. "Noman was ever more astounded in the world than I was. To this day I'm asunable to account for it as a babe unborn. What conceivable thing had Idone to you?"

Thorpe slowly thought of something that had not occurred to him before, and seized upon it with a certain satisfaction. 

"That day that you took me shooting, " he said, with the tone of onefinally exposing a long-nursed grievance, "you stayed in bed for hoursafter you knew I was up and waiting for you--and when we went out, youhad a servant to carry a chair for you, but I--by God!--I had to standup. "

"Heavens above!" ejaculated Plowden, in unfeigned amazement. 

"These are little things--mere trifles, " continued Thorpe, dogmatically, "but with men of my temper and make-up those are just the things thataggravate and rankle and hurt. Maybe it's foolish, but that's the kindof man I am. You ought to have had the intelligence to see that--and notlet these stupid little things happen to annoy me. Why just think whatyou did. I was going to do God knows what for you--make your fortune andeverything else, --and you didn't show consideration enough for me to getout of bed at a decent hour--much less see to it that I had a chair ifyou were going to have one. "

"Upon my word, I can't tell how ashamed and sorry I am, " Lord Plowdenassured him, with fervent contrition in his voice. 

"Well, those are the things to guard against, " said Thorpe, approachinga dismissal of the subject. "People who show consideration for me;people who take pains to do the little pleasant things for me, and seethat I'm not annoyed and worried by trifles--they're the people thatI, on my side, do the big things for. I can be the best friend in theworld, but only to those who show that they care for me, and do whatthey know I'll like. I don't want toadies about me, but I do want peoplewho feel bound to me, and are as keen about me and my feelings andinterests as they are about their own. "

"It is delightfully feudal--all this, " commented the nobleman, smilinglyaddressing the remark to nobody in particular. Then he looked at Thorpe. "Let me be one of them--one of the people you speak of, " he said, withdirectness. 

Thorpe returned his look with the good-natured beginnings of a grin. "But what would you be good for?" he queried, in a bantering tone. "People I have about me have to be of some use. They require to haveheads on their shoulders. Why--just think what you've done. I don't meanso much about your letting Tavender slip through your fingers--althoughthat was about the worst I ever heard of. But here in this room, atthat desk there, you allowed me to bounce you into writing and signinga paper which you ought to have had your hand cut off rather than write, much less sign. You come here trying to work the most difficult anddangerous kind of a bluff, --knowing all the while that the witness youdepended entirely upon had disappeared, you hadn't the remotest ideawhere, --and you actually let me lead you into giving me your signatureto your own declaration that you are blackmailing me! Thinking it allover--you know--I can't see that you would be of much help to me in theCity. "

Lord Plowden joined perforce in the laughter with which the big manenjoyed his own pleasantry. His mirth had some superficial signs ofshamefacedness, but it was hopeful underneath. "The City!" he echoed, with meaning. "That's the curse of it. What do I know about the City?What business have I in the City? As you said, I'm the amateur. A strongman like you can make me seem any kind of a ridiculous fool he likes, with the turn of his hand. I see that right enough. But what am I to do?I have to make a shot at something. I'm so rotten poor!"

Thorpe had retired again behind the barrier of dull-eyed abstraction. Heseemed not to have heard this appealing explanation. 

The other preserved silence in turn, and even made a pretence of lookingat some pamphlets on the table, as a token of his boundless deference tothe master's mood. 

"I don't know. I'll see, " the big man muttered at last, doubtfully. 

Lord Plowden felt warranted in taking an optimistic view of these vaguewords. "It's awfully good of you"--he began, lamely, and then paused. "I wonder, "--he took up a new thought with a more solicitous tone, --"Iwonder if you would mind returning to me that idiotic paper I signed. "

Thorpe shook his head. "Not just now, at any rate, " he said, stillmusingly. With his head bowed, he took a few restless steps. 

"But you are going to--to help me!" the other remarked, with an air ofconfidence. He had taken up his hat, in response to the tacit warning ofhis companion's manner. 

Thorpe looked at him curiously, and hesitated over his answer. It was asurprising and almost unaccountable conclusion for the interview tohave reached. He was in some vague way ashamed of himself, but he wasexplicitly and contemptuously ashamed for Plowden, and the impulse tosay so was strong within him. This handsome young gentleman of titleought not to be escaping with this restored buoyancy of mien, and thiscomplacency of spirit. He had deserved to be punished with a heavy hand, and here he was blithely making certain of new benefits instead. 

"I don't know--I'll see, " Thorpe moodily repeated--and there was no moreto be said. 

CHAPTER XXI

IN the noon hour of the following day was enacted the brief final scenein the drama of the "Rubber Consols corner. "

For long weeks, Mr. Stormont Thorpe had given much thought to thisapproaching climax of his great adventure--looking forward to it bothas the crowning event of his life, and as the dawn of a new existence insome novel, enchanted world. It was to bring his triumph, and even more, his release. It was at once to crown him as a hero and chieftain amongCity men, and transfigure him into a being for whom all City things werean abomination. In his waking hours, the conflict between these aims didnot specially force itself upon his attention: he mused upon, and spunfancies about, either one indifferently, and they seemed not at allirreconcilable. But his dreams were full of warfare, --wearily saturatedwith strife, and endless endeavour to do things which could not bedone, and panic-stricken terrors before the shadow of shapelesscalamities, --until he dreaded to go to sleep. Then he discovered thatan extra two glasses of whiskey-and-water would solve that particulardifficulty, and send him into prompt, leaden slumber--but the earlymornings remained as torturing as ever. In the twilight he awokeoppressed and sick at heart with gloom--and then dozed at intervalsthrough fantastic new ordeals of anguish and shame and fear, till it wasdecently possible to get up. 

Then, indeed, the big cold sponge on his head and spine scattered thesefoolish troubles like chaff, and restored to him his citizenship amongthe realities. He dressed with returning equanimity, and was almostcheerful by the time he thrust his razor into the hot water. Yetincreasingly he was conscious of the wear and strain of it all, andincreasingly the date, September twelfth, loomed before him with aportentous individuality of its own. 

This day grew to mean so much more to him than had all the other daysof the dead years together that he woke in the darkness of its openinghours, and did not get satisfactorily to sleep again. His vigil, however, was for the once free from grief. He drowsily awaited themorning in vague mental comfort; he had recurring haphazard indolentglimpses of a protecting fact standing guard just outside the portalsof consciousness--the fact that the great day was here. He rose early, breakfasted well, and walked by the Embankment to the City, where atten he had a few words with Semple, and afterward caused himself to bedenied to ordinary callers. He paced up and down the Board Room for thebetter part of the ensuing two hours, luxuriating in the general senseof satisfaction in the proximity of the climax, rather than pretendingto himself that he was thinking out its details. He had provided in hisplans of the day for a visit from Messrs. Rostocker and Aronson, whichshould constitute the dramatic finale of the "corner, " and he lookedforward to this meeting with a certain eagerness of expectation. Yeteven here he thought broadly of the scene as a whole, and asked himselfno questions about words and phrases. It seemed to be taken for grantedin his mind that the scene itself would be theatrically impressive, evenspectacular. 

In the event, this long-awaited culmination proved to be disappointinglyflat and commonplace. It was over before Thorpe had said anyconsiderable proportion of the things he saw afterward that he hadintended to say. The two men came as he had expected they would--andthey bought their way out of the tragic "corner" at precisely the pricehe had nominated in his mind. But hardly anything else went as he haddimly prefigured it. 

Mr. Rostocker was a yellow-haired man, and Mr. Aronson was as dark as aMoor, and no physical resemblance of features or form suggested itselfto the comparing eye, yet Thorpe even now, when they stood brusquelysilent before him, with their carefully-brushed hats pulled down overtheir eyes, stuck to it in his own mind that it was hard to tell themapart. To the end, there was something impersonal in his feeling towardthem. They, for their part, coldly abstained from exhibiting a sign offeeling about him, good, bad, or indifferent. 

It was the man with the fair hair and little curly flaxen beard whospoke: "How do you do! I understand that we can buy eight thousand fivehundred Rubber Consols from you at 'twenty-three. '"

"No--twenty-five, " replied Thorpe. 

The dark man spoke: "The jobbers' price is twenty-three. "

"To carry over--yes, " Thorpe answered. "But to buy it is twenty-five. "

The two sons of the race which invented mental arithmetic exchanged analert glance, and looked at the floor for an engrossed instant. 

"I don't mind telling you, " Thorpe interposed upon their silence, "I puton that extra two pounds because you got up that story about applying tothe Stock Exchange Committee on a charge of fraud. "

"We didn't get up any story, " said Rostocker, curtly. 

"You tried to plant it on us, " Aronson declared. 

"One of your own Directors put it about. I thought it was a fake at thetime. "

This view of the episode took Thorpe by surprise. As it seemed, inpassing, to involve a compliment to his own strategic powers, heaccepted it without comment. "Well--it is twenty-five, anyway, " he toldthem, with firmness. 

"Twenty-four, " suggested Aronson, after another momentary pause. 

"Not a shilling less than twenty-five, " Thorpe insisted, with quietdoggedness. 

"We can always pay our creditors and let you whistle, " Rostockerreminded him, laconically. 

"You can do anything you like, " was the reply, "except buy RubberConsols under twenty-five. It doesn't matter a fig to me whether you gobankrupt or not. It would suit me as well to have you two 'hammered' asto take your money. " Upon the spur of a sudden thought he drew out hiswatch. "In just two minutes' time to a tick, the price will be thirty. "

"Let's be 'hammered' then!" said Aronson to his companion, withsimulated impulsiveness. 

Rostocker was the older and stronger man, and when at last he spoke itwas with the decision of one in authority. "It is your game, " hesaid, with grave imperturbability. "Eight thousand five hundred attwenty-five. Will you deliver at the Credit Lyonnais in half an hour?"

Thorpe nodded, impassively. Then a roving idea of genial impertinencebrought a gleam to his eye. "If you should happen to want more RubberConsols at any time, " he said, with a tentative chuckle, "I couldprobably let you have them at a reduced price. "

The two received the pleasantry without a smile, but to Thorpe'sastonishment one of them seemed to discern something in it besidebanter. It was Rostocker who said: "Perhaps we may make a deal withyou, " and apparently meant it. 

They went out at this, ignoring ceremony upon their exit as stolidly asthey had done upon their entrance, and a moment later Thorpe called inthe Secretary, and despatched a messenger to bring Semple from CapelCourt. The formalities of this final transfer of shares had beendictated to the former, and he had gone off on the business, before theBroker arrived. 

Thorpe stood waiting near the door, and held out his hand with adramatically significant gesture when the little Scotchman entered. "Puther there!" he exclaimed heartily, with an exuberant reversion to theslang of remote transatlantic bonhomie. 

"Yeh've done it, then!" said Semple, his sharp face softening withpleasure at the news. "Yeh've pulled it off at twenty-three!"

The other's big countenance yielded itself to a boyish grin. "Twenty-FIVE!" he said, and laughed aloud. "After you left this morning, it kind o' occurred to me that I'd raise it a couple of pounds. I foundI was madder about those pieces in the newspapers than I thought I was, and so I took an extra seventeen thousand pounds on that account. "

"God above!" Semple ejaculated, with a satisfaction through which signsof an earlier fright were visible. "It was touch-and-go if you didn'tlose it all by doing that! You risked everything, man!"

Thorpe ponderously shrugged his shoulders. "Well--I did it, anyhow, andit came off, " was his comment. Then, straightening himself, he drew along, long breath, and beamed down at the little man. "Think of it! God!It's actually all over! And NOW perhaps we won't have a drink! Hell!Let's send out for some champagne!" His finger was hovering over thebell, when the Broker's dissuading voice arrested it. "No, no!" Sempleurged. "I wouldn't touch it. It's no fit drink for the daytime--and it'sa scandal in an office. Your clerks will aye blab it about hither andyon, and nothing harms a man's reputation more in the City. "

"Oh, to hell with the City!" cried Thorpe, joyously. "I'm never going toset foot in it again. Think of that! I mean it!"

None the less, he abandoned the idea of sending out for wine, andcontented himself with the resources of the cabinet instead. After somefriendly pressure, Semple consented to join him in a brandy-and-soda, though he continued to protest between sips that at such an hour it wasan indecent practice. 

"It's the ruin of many a strong man, " he moralized, looking ratherpointedly at Thorpe over his glass. "It's the principal danger thatbesets the verra successful man. He's too busily occupied to takeexercise, and he's too anxious and worried to get his proper sleep--buthe can always drink! In one sense, I'm not sorry to think that you'releaving the City. "

"Oh, it never hurts me, " Thorpe said, indifferently accepting thedirection of the homily. "I'm as strong as an ox. But all the same, Ishall be better in every way for getting out of this hole. Thank God, Ican get off to Scotland tomorrow. But I say, Semple, what's the matterwith your visiting me at my place there? I'll give you the greatestshooting and fishing you ever heard of. "

The Broker was thinking of something else. "What is to be the preciseposition of the Company, in the immediate future?" he asked. 

"Company? What Company?"

Semple smiled grimly. "Have you already forgotten that there is such athing?" he queried, with irony. "Why, man, this Company that paid forthis verra fine Board-table, " he explained, with his knuckles on its redbaize centre. 

Thorpe laughed amusedly. "I paid for that out of my own pocket, " hesaid. "For that matter everything about the Company has come out of mypocket----"

"Or gone into it, " suggested the other, and they chuckled together. 

"But no--you're right, " Thorpe declared. "Some thing ought to be settledabout the Company, I suppose. Of course I wash my hands of it--but wouldanybody else want to go on with it? You see its annual working expenses, merely for the office and the Board, foot up nearly 3, 000 pounds. I'vepaid these for this year, but naturally I won't do it again. And wouldit be worth anybody else's while to do it? Yours, for example?"

"Have you had any explanations with the other Directors?" the Brokerasked, thoughtfully. 

"Explanations--no, " Thorpe told him. "But that's all right. The Marquishas been taken care of, and so has Plowden. They're game to agree toanything. And let's see--Kervick is entirely my man. That leaves Watkinand Davidson--and they don't matter. They're mere guinea-pigs. A fewhundreds apiece would shut them up, if you thought it was worth while togive them anything at all. "

"And about the property, --the rubber plantation, --that the Companywas formed to acquire and develop. I suppose there really is such aplantation?"

"Oh, yes, it's all there right enough, " Thorpe said, briefly. 

"It's no good, though, is it?" the Broker asked, with affabledirectness. 

"Between ourselves, it isn't worth a damn, " the other blithely assuredhim. 

The Scotchman mused with bent brows. "There ought still to be money init, " he said, with an air of conviction. 

"By the way, " it occurred to Thorpe to mention, "here's something Ididn't understand. I told Rostocker here, just as a cheeky kind of joke, that after he and Aronson had got their eight thousand five hundred, ifthey thought they'd like still more shares, I'd let 'em have 'em at abargain--and he seemed to take it seriously. He did for a fact. Saidperhaps he could make a deal with me. "

"Hm-m!" said Semple, reflectively. "I'll see if he says anything tome. Very likely he's spotted some way of taking the thing over, andreorganizing it, and giving it another run over the course. I'll thinkit out. And now I must be off. Aren't you lunching?"

"No--I'll have the boy bring in some sandwiches, " Thorpe decided. "Iwant my next meal west of Temple Bar when I get round to it. I've souredon the City for keeps. "

"I wouldn't say that it had been so bad to you, either, " Semplesmilingly suggested, as he turned to the door. 

Thorpe grinned in satisfied comment. "Hurry back as soon as you'vefinally settled with Rostocker and the other fellow, " he called afterhim, and began pacing the floor again. 

It was nearly four o'clock when these two men, again together in theBoard Room, and having finished the inspection of some papers on thedesk, sat upright and looked at each other in tacit recognition thatfinal words were to be spoken. 

"Well, Semple, " Thorpe began, after that significant little pause, "Iwant to say that I'm damned glad you've done so well for yourself inthis affair. You've been as straight as a die to me, --I owe it as muchto you as I do to myself, --and if you don't think you've got enough evennow, I want you to say so. "

He had spoken in tones of sincere liking, and the other answered him inkind. "I have more than I ever dreamed of making in a lifetime when Icame to London, " he declared. "If my father were alive, and heard metell him that in one year, out of a single transaction, I had clearedover sixty-five thousand pounds, he'd be fit to doubt the existence of aSupreme Being. I'm obliged to you for your good words, Thorpe. It's notonly been profitable to work with you, but it has been a great educationand a great pleasure as well. "

Thorpe nodded his appreciation. "I'm going to ask a favour of you, " hesaid. "I want to leave the general run of my investments and interestshere in your hands, to keep track of I don't want to speculate at all, in the ordinary meaning of the word. Even after I bury a pot of money innon-productive real estate, I shall have an income of 50, 000 pounds atthe very least, and perhaps twice as much. There's no fun in gamblingwhen you've got such a bank as that behind you. But if there are good, wise changes to be made in investments, or if things turn up in the wayof chances that I ought to know about, I want to feel that you're on thespot watching things and doing things in my interest. And as it won'tbe regular broker's work, I shall want to pay you a stated sum--whateveryou think is right. "

"That will arrange itself easily enough, " said Semple. "I shall havethe greatest pleasure in caring for whatever you put in my hands. And Ithink I can promise that it will be none the worse for the keeping. "

"I don't need any assurance on that score, " Thorpe declared, cordially. "You're the one sterling, honest man I've known in the City. "

It was the Broker's turn to make a little acknowledging bow. His eyesgleamed frank satisfaction at being so well understood. "I think Isee the way that more money can be made out of the Company, " he said, abruptly changing the subject. "I've had but a few words with Rostockerabout it--but it's clear to me that he has a plan. He will be coming toyou with a proposition. "

"Well, he won't find me, then, " interposed Thorpe, with a comfortablesmile. "I leave all that to you. "

"I suspect that his plan, " continued Semple, "is to make a sub-rosaoffer of a few shillings for the majority of the shares, andreconstitute the Board, and then form another Company to buy theproperty and good-will of the old one at a handsome price. Now if thatwould be a good thing for him to do, it would be a good thing for meto do. I shall go over it all carefully, in detail, this evening. And Isuppose, if I see my way clear before me, than I may rely upon your goodfeeling in the matter. I would do all the work and assume all the risk, and, let us say, divide any profits equally--you in turn giving me afree hand with all your shares, and your influence with the Directors. "

"I'll do better still, " Thorpe told him, upon brief reflection. "Reconstitute the Board and make Lord Plowden Chairman, --I don't imaginethe Marquis would have the nerve to go on with it, --and I'll make a freegift of my shares to you two--half and half. You'll find him all rightto work with, --if you can only get him up in the morning, --and I've kindo' promised him something of the sort. Does that suit you?" Semple'scountenance was thoughtful rather than enthusiastic. "I'm more skepticalabout Lords than you are, " he observed, "but if he's amenable, andunderstands that his part is to do what I tell him to do, I've no doubtwe shall hit it off together. "

"Oh, absolutely!" said Thorpe, with confidence. "I'll see to it that hebehaves like a lamb. You're to have an absolutely free hand. You're todo what you like, --wind the Company up, or sell it out, or rig it upunder a new name and catch a new set of gudgeons with it, --whatever youdamned please. When I trust a man, I trust him. "

The two friends, their faces brightened and their voices mellowed bythis serene consciousness of their mutual trust in each other's loyaltyand integrity, dwelt no further upon these halcyon beginnings of afresh plan for plundering the public. They spoke instead on personaltopics--of the possibility of Semple's coming to Scotland during theautumn, and of the chance of Thorpe's wintering abroad. All at onceThorpe found himself disclosing the fact of his forthcoming marriage, though he did not mention the name of the lady's father, and underthe gracious stress of this announcement they drank again, and clinkedglasses fervently. When Semple at last took his leave, they shook handswith the deep-eyed earnestness of comrades who have been through battleand faced death together. 

It was not until Thorpe stood alone that the full realizing sense ofwhat the day meant seemed to come to him. Fruition was finally complete:the last winnowing of the great harvest had been added to the pile. Positively nothing remained for him but to enter and enjoy!

He found it curiously difficult to grasp the thought in its entirety. Hestood the master of unlimited leisure for the rest of his life, and ofpower to enrich that life with everything that money could buy, --butthere was an odd inability to feel about it as he knew he ought to feel. 

Somehow, for some unaccountable reason, an absurd depression hoveredabout over his mind, darkening it with formless shadows. It was as if hewere sorry that the work was all finished--that there was nothing morefor him to do. But that was too foolish, and he tried to thrust it fromhim. He said with angry decision to himself that he had never liked thework; that it had all been unpleasant and grinding drudgery, tolerableonly as a means to an end; that now this end had been reached, he wantednever to lay eyes on the City again. 

Let him dwell instead upon the things he did want to lay eyes upon. Sometravel no doubt he would like, but not too much; certainly no more thanhis wife would cheerfully accept as a minimum. He desired rather to restamong his own possessions. To be lord of the manor at Pellesley Court, with his own retinue of servants and dependents and tenants, his ownthousands of rich acres, his own splendid old timber, his own fat stockand fleet horses and abundant covers and prize kennels--THAT was whatmost truly appealed to him. It was not at all certain that he wouldhunt; break-neck adventure in the saddle scarcely attracted him. Butthere was no reason in the world why he should not breed racing horses, and create for himself a distinguished and even lofty position on theTurf. He had never cared much about races or racing folk himself, butwhen the Prince and Lord Rosebery and people like that went in forwinning the Derby, there clearly must be something fascinating in it. 

Then Parliament, of course; he did not waver at all from his old ifvague conception of a seat in Parliament as a natural part of the outfitof a powerful country magnate. And in a hundred other ways men shouldthink of him as powerful, and look up to him. He would go to churchevery Sunday, and sit in the big Squire's pew. He would be a magistrateas a matter of course, and he would make himself felt on the CountyCouncil. He would astonish the county by his charities, and in bad yearsby the munificence of his reductions in rents. Perhaps if there were aparticularly bad harvest, he would decline all over his estate to exactany rent whatever. Fancy what a noble sensation that would make! A Dukecould do no more. 

It was very clear to him now that he desired to have children of hisown, --say two at least, a son and a daughter, or perhaps a son andtwo daughters: two little girls would be company for each other. As heprefigured these new beings, the son was to exist chiefly for purposesof distinction and the dignity of heirship, and the paternal relationswith him would be always somewhat formal, and, though affectionate, unexpansive. But the little girls--they would put their arms round theirfather's neck, and walk out with him to see the pigs and the dogs, andbe the darlings of his heart. He would be an old man by the time theygrew up. 

A beatific vision of himself took form in his mind--of himself growinggrey and pleasurably tired, surrounded by opulence and the demonstrativerespect of everybody, smiling with virtuous content as he strolled alongbetween his two daughters, miracles of beauty and tenderness, holdingeach by a hand. 

The entrance of a clerk broke abruptly upon this daydream. He had atelegram in his hand, and Thorpe, rousing himself with an effort, took the liver-coloured envelope, and looked blankly at it. Some weirdapprehension seized upon him, as if he belonged to the peasant classwhich instinctively yokes telegrams and calamities together. He deferredto this feeling enough to nod dismissal to the clerk, and then, when hewas again alone, slowly opened the message, and read it:

"Newcastle-on-Tyne, September 12. Our friend died at Edinboro thismorning. See you at hotel this evening. --Kervick. "

What Thorpe felt at first was that his two daughters had shrunk from himwith swift, terrible aversion: they vanished, along with every phase ofthe bright vision, under a pall of unearthly blackness. He stood in thecentre of a chill solitude, staring stupidly at the coarse, soft paper. 

The premonition, then, had justified itself! Something had told him thatthe telegram was an evil thing. A vaguely superstitious consciousnessof being in the presence of Fate laid hold upon him. His great day oftriumph had its blood-stain. A victim had been needful--and to thatend poor simple, silly old Tavender was a dead man. Thorpe could seehim, --an embarrassing cadaver eyed by strangers who did not know what todo with it, --fatuous even in death. 

A sudden rage at Kervick flamed up. He clearly had played thefool--clumsily over-plying the simpleton with drink till he had killedhim. The shadow of murder indubitably hung over the thing. And then--thecrass witlessness of telegraphing! Already, doubtless, the police ofEdinborough were talking over the wires with Scotland Yard. A referenceto a death in Edinborough, in a telegram from Newcastle--it wasincredible that this should escape the eye of the authorities. Anyminute might bring a detective through that door there--following intothe Board Room with his implacable scent the clue of blood. Thorpe'sfancy pictured this detective as a momentarily actual presence--tall, lean, cold-eyed, mysteriously calm and fatally wise, the omniscientterror of the magazine short-stories. 

He turned faint and sick under a spasm of fright. The menace of enquirybecame something more than a threat: he felt it, like the grip of aconstable upon his arm. Everything would be mercilessly unravelled. Thetelegram of the idiot Kervick would bring the police down upon him likea pack of beagles. The beliefs and surmises of the idiot Gafferson wouldfurnish them with the key to everything. He would have his letter fromTavender to show to the detectives--and the Government's smart lawyerswould ferret out the rest. The death of Tavender--they could hardly makehim responsible for that; but it was the dramatic feature of this deathwhich would inspire them all to dig up everything about the fraud. Itwas this same sensational added element of the death, too, which wouldcount with a jury. They were always gross, sentimental fools, thesejuries. They would mix up the death and the deal in Rubber Consols, and in their fat-headed confusion would say "Penal Servitude--fourteenyears. " Or no, it was the Judge who fixed that. But the Judges werefools, too; they were too conceited, too puffed up with vanity, totake the trouble to understand. He groaned aloud in a nightmare ofhelplessness. 

The sound of his own voice, moaning in his ears, had a magical effectupon him. He lifted his head, gazed about him, and then flushed deeply. His nerveless cowardice had all at once become unbelievable to himself. With a shamed frown he straightened himself, and stood thus for a longminute, engrossed in the definite task of chasing these phantoms fromhis mind. Once a manly front was displayed to them, they slunk away withmiraculous facility. He poured out some brandy, and sipped it neat, andlaughed scornfully, defiantly, aloud. 

He had over half a million--with power and force and courage enough todo with it what he liked. He had fought luck undauntedly, unwearyingly, during all those years when his hands were empty. Was he to trembleand turn tail now, when his hands were full, when he was armoured andweaponed at every point? He was amazed and hurt, and still more enraged, at that fit of girlish weakness which had possessed him. He couldhave beaten himself with stripes for it. But it could never happenagain--never, never!

He told himself that with proud, resolute reiteration, as he got his hatand stick, and put in his pockets one or two papers from the desk, andthen glanced about the Board Room for what was, most likely, the lasttime. Here he had won his great victory over Fate, here he had put hisenemies under his feet, and if innocent simpletons had wandered into thecompany of these foes, it mattered not a whit to him that they also hadbeen crushed. Figuratively, he turned his back upon them now; he leftthem, slain and trampled, in the Board Room behind him. They no longerconcerned him. 

Figuratively, too, as he walked with firmness to the door, he steppedover the body of old Tavender, upon the threshold, and bestowed uponit a downward mental glance, and passed on. By the time he reached thestreet, the memory of Tavender had become the merest shred of a myth. Ashe strode on, it seemed to him that his daughters came again, andtook his hands, and moved lovingly beside him--lovingly and still moreadmiringly than before. 

CHAPTER XXII

BY the autumn of the following year, a certain small proportion of thepeople inhabiting the district in Hertfordshire which set its clocksby the dial over the stable-tower of Pellesley Court had accustomedthemselves to give the place its new name of High Thorpe. These werefor the most part the folk of peculiarly facile wits and ready powersof adaptation, like pushing small tradesmen, and the upper servants incounty houses. An indolent and hazy compromise upon Pellesley Thorpe haddrifted into use by perhaps a larger number. To the puzzled conservatismof the abiding huge majority nearest to the soil--the round-backed, lumpish men who tie strings round their corduroys under the knee, andthe strong, cow-faced women who look at passers-by on the road fromthe doors of dark little cottages, over radiant patches of blossominggarden--it seemed safest to drop family names altogether, and call itmerely the Court. 

It stood proudly upon what was rather a notable elevation for those flatparts--a massive mansion of simple form, built of a grey stone whichseemed at a distance almost white against the deep background of yewsand Italian pines behind it. For many miles seaward this pale frontwas a landmark. From the terrace-walk at its base, one beheld a greatexpanse of soft green country, sloping gently away for a long distance, then stretching out upon a level which on misty days was interminable. In bright weather, the remote, low-lying horizon had a defining line ofbrownish-blue--and this stood for what was left of a primitive forest, containing trees much older than the Norman name it bore. It was aforest which at some time, no doubt, had extended without a break tillit merged into that of Epping--leagues away to the south. The modernclearance and tillage, however, which separated it now from Epping hadserved as a curiously effective barrier--more baffling than the Romansand Angles in their turn had found the original wildwood. No strangerseemed ever to find his way into that broad, minutely-cultivated fertileplain which High Thorpe looked down upon. No railway had pushed itscheapening course across it. Silent, embowered old country roads andlanes netted its expanse with hedgerows; red points of tiled roofs, distinguishable here and there in clusters among the darker greens oforchards, identified the scattered hamlets--all named in Domesday Book, all seemingly unchanged since. A grey square church-tower emerging fromthe rooks' nests; an ordered mass of foliage sheltering the distantgables and chimneys of some isolated house; the dim perception onoccasion that a rustic waggon was in motion on some highway, crawlingpatiently like an insect--of this placid, inductive nature were all theadded proofs of human occupation that the landscape offered. 

Mr. Stormont Thorpe, on an afternoon of early October, yawned in theface of this landscape--and then idly wondered a little at the moodwhich had impelled him to do so. At the outset of his proprietorship hehad bound himself, as by a point of honour, to regard this as the finestview from any gentleman's house in England. During the first few monthshis fidelity had been taxed a good deal, but these temptations andstruggles lay now all happily behind him. He had satisfactorilyassimilated the spirit of the vista, and blended it with his own. Itsinertia, when one came to comprehend it, was undeniably magnificent, and long ago he had perceived within himself the growth of an answeringrepose, a responsive lethargy, which in its full development wasalso going to be very fine. Practically all the land this side of theimpalpable line where trees and houses began to fade into the backgroundbelonged to him; there were whole villages nestling half-concealedunder its shrubberies which were his property. As an investment, thesepossessions were extremely unremunerative. Indeed, if one added the costof the improvements which ought to be made, to the expenditure alreadylaid out in renovations, it was questionable if for the next twentyyears they would not represent a deficit on the income-sheet. But, nowthat he had laid hold of the local character, it pleased him that itshould be so. He would not for the world have his gentle, woolly-minded, unprofitable cottagers transformed into "hustlers"; it would woundhis eye to see the smoke of any commercial chimney, the smudge ofany dividend-paying factory, staining the pure tints of the sylvanlandscape. He had truly learned to love it. 

Yet now, as he strolled on the terrace with his first after-luncheoncigar, he unaccountably yawned at the thing he loved. Upon reflection, he had gone to bed rather earlier the previous evening than usual. He had not been drinking out of the ordinary; his liver seemed rightenough. He was not conscious of being either tired or drowsy. He lookedagain at the view with some fixity, and said to himself convincinglythat nothing else in England could compare with it. It was the finestthing there was anywhere. Then he surprised himself in the middle ofanother yawn--and halted abruptly. It occurred to him that he wanted totravel. 

Since his home-coming to this splendid new home in the previous January, at the conclusion of a honeymoon spent in Algiers and Egypt, he had notbeen out of England. There had been a considerable sojourn in London, itis true, at what was described to him as the height of the Season, butlooking back upon it, he could not think of it as a diversion. It hadbeen a restless, over-worked, mystifying experience, full of dinnersto people whom he had never seen before, and laborious encounters withother people whom he did not particularly want to see again. Therehad been no physical comfort in it for him, and little more mentalsatisfaction, for Londoners, or rather people in London, seemed all tobe making an invidious distinction in their minds between him and hiswife. The fact that she continued to be called Lady Cressage was notof itself important to him. But in the incessant going about inLondon, their names were called out together so often that his ear grewsensitive and sore to the touch of the footmen's reverberations. Themeaning differentiation which the voices of the servants insistedupon, seemed inevitably reflected in the glance and manner of theirmistresses. More than anything else, that made him hate London, andbarred the doors of his mind to all thoughts of buying a town-house. 

His newly-made wife, it is true, had not cared much for London, either, and had agreed to his decision against a town-house almostwith animation. The occasion of their return from the hot bustle of themetropolis to these cool home shades--in particular the minute in which, at a bend in the winding carriage-way down below, they had silentlyregarded together the spectacle uplifted before them, with the big, welcoming house, and the servants on the terrace--had a place of its ownin his memory. Edith had pressed his arm, as they sat side by side inthe landau, on the instant compulsion of a feeling they had in common. He had never, before or since, had quite the same assurance that sheshared an emotion with him. 

He was very far, however, from finding fault with his wife. It was inthe nature of the life he chose to lead that he should see a greatdeal of her, and think a great deal about her, and she bore both testsadmirably. If there was a fault to be found, it was with himself forhis inability to altogether understand her. She played the part she hadundertaken to play with abundant skill and discretion and grace, andeven with an air of nice good-fellowship which had some of the aspectsof affection. He was vaguely annoyed with himself for having insightenough to perceive that it was a part she was playing, and yet lackingthe added shrewdness to divine what her own personal attitude to herrole was like. He had noticed sometimes the way good women looked attheir husbands when the latter were talking over their heads--with theeager, intent, non-comprehending admiration of an affectionate dog. Thiswas a look which he could not imagine himself discovering in his wife'seves. It was not conceivable to him that he should talk over her head. Her glance not only revealed an ample understanding of all he said, butsuggested unused reserves of comprehension which he might not fathom. Itwas as if, intellectually no less than socially, she possessed a titleand he remained an undistinguished plebeian. 

He made no grievance, however, even in his own thoughts, of eitherinequality. She had been charmingly frank and fair about the question ofthe names, when it first arose. The usage had latterly come to be, sheexplained, for a widow bearing even a courtesy title derived from herlate husband, to retain it on marrying again. It was always the easiestcourse to fall in with usage, but if he had any feelings on the subject, and preferred to have her insist on being called Mrs. Thorpe, she wouldmeet his wishes with entire willingness. It had seemed to him, as toher, that it was wisest to allow usage to settle the matter. Some monthsafter their marriage there appeared in the papers what purported to bean authoritative announcement that the Queen objected to the practiceamong ladies who married a second time, of retaining titles acquired bythe earlier marriages, and that the lists of precedency at BuckinghamPalace would henceforth take this into account. Lady Cressage showedthis to her husband, and talked again with candour on the subject. Shesaid she had always rather regretted the decision they originally cameto, and even now could wish that it might be altered, but that to effecta change in the face of this newspaper paragraph would seem servile--andin this as in most other things he agreed with her. As she said, theywanted nothing of Buckingham Palace. 

She wanted equally little, it seemed, of the society which theneighbouring district might afford. There was a meagre routine of formalcalls kept in languid operation, Thorpe knew, but it was so much in thebackground that he never came in contact with it. His own notions ofthe part he ought to take in County affairs had undergone a silent andunnoted, yet almost sweeping, change. What little he saw of the gentryand strong local men with whom he would have to work, quietly underminedand dismantled all his ambitions in that direction. They were not hissort; their standards for the measurement of things were unintelligibleto him. He did not doubt that, if he set himself about it, he couldimpose his dominion upon them, any more than he doubted that, if hemastered the Chinese language, he could lift himself to be a Mandarin, but the one would be as unnatural and unattractive an enterprise asthe other. He came to be upon nodding terms with most of the"carriage-people" round about; some few he exchanged meaningless wordswith upon occasion, and understood that his wife also talked with, whenit was unavoidable, but there his relationship to the County ended, and he was well pleased that it should be so. It gave him a deepsatisfaction to see that his wife seemed also well pleased. 

He used the word "seemed" in his inmost musings, for it was never quitecertain what really did please and displease her. It was always puzzlingto him to reconcile her undoubted intellectual activity with thepractical emptiness of the existence she professed to enjoy. In onedirection, she had indeed a genuine outlet for her energies, which hecould understand her regarding in the light of an occupation. She wascrazier about flowers and plants than anybody he had ever heard of, and it had delighted him to make over to her, labelled jocosely as thebouquet-fund, a sum of money which, it seemed to him, might have paidfor the hanging-gardens of Babylon. It yielded in time--emerging slowlybut steadily from a prodigious litter of cement and bricks and mortarand putty, under the hands of innumerable masons, carpenters, glaziers, plumbers, and nondescript subordinates, all of whom talked unwearyinglyabout nothing at all, and suffered no man to perform any part of hisallotted task without suspending their own labours to watch him--animposing long line of new greenhouses, more than twenty in number. Themail-bag was filled meanwhile with nurserymen's catalogues, and the cartmade incessant journeys to and from Punsey station, bringing back vaststraw-enwrapped baskets and bundles and boxes beyond counting, thearrival and unpacking of which was with Edith the event of the day. About the reality of her engrossed interest in all the stages ofprogress by which these greenhouses became crowded museums of theunusual and abnormal in plant-life, it was impossible to have anysuspicion. And even after they were filled to overflowing, Thorpe notedwith joy that this interest seemed in no wise to flag. She spent hoursevery day under the glass, exchanging comments and theories with hergardeners, and even pulling things about with her own hands, and otherhours she devoted almost as regularly to supervising the wholesalealterations that had been begun in the gardens outside. There were tobe new paths, new walls with a southern exposure, new potting sheds, newforcing pits, new everything--and in the evenings she often worked lateover the maps and plans she drew for all this. Thorpe's mind found itdifficult to grasp the idea that a lady of such notable qualities couldbe entirely satisfied by a career among seeds and bulbs and composts, but at least time brought no evidences of a decline in her horticulturalzeal. Who knew? Perhaps it might go on indefinitely. 

As for himself, he had got on very well without any special inclinationor hobby. He had not done any of the great things that a year ago ithad seemed to him he would forthwith do--but his mind was serenelyundisturbed by regrets. He did not even remember with any distinctnesswhat these things were that he had been going to do. The routine oflife--as arranged and borne along by the wise and tactful experts whowore the livery of High Thorpe--was abundantly sufficient in itself. Heslept well now in the morning hours, and though he remained still, bycomparison, an early riser, the bath and the shaving and slow dressingunder the hands of a valet consumed comfortably a good deal of time. Throughout the day he was under the almost constant observation ofpeople who were calling him "master" in their minds, and watching to seehow, in the smallest details of deportment, a "master" carried himself, and the consciousness of this alone amounted to a kind of vocation. Thehouse itself made demands upon him nearly as definite as those of theservants. It was a house of huge rooms, high ceilings, and grandiosefireplaces and stairways, which had seemed to him like a royal palacewhen he first beheld it, and still produced upon him an effect ofundigestible largeness and strangeness. It was as a whole not so old asthe agents had represented it, by some centuries, but it adapted itselfas little to his preconceived notions of domesticity as if it had beenbuilt by Druids. The task of seeming to be at home in it had as manysides to it as there were minutes in the day--and oddly enough, Thorpefound in their study and observance a congenial occupation. Whether hewas reading in the library--where there was an admirable collection ofbooks of worth--or walking over the home-farms, or driving in his smartstanhope with the coachman behind, or sitting in formal costume anddignity opposite his beautiful wife at the dinner-table, the sense ofwhat was expected of him was there, steadying and restraining, like anatmospheric pressure. 

Thus far they had had few visitors, and had accepted no invitations tojoin house-parties elsewhere. They agreed without speaking about it thatit was more their form to entertain than to be entertained, and certainpeople were coming to them later in the month. These were quite whollyof Edith's set and selection, for Thorpe had no friends or acquaintancesoutside her circle for whose presence he had any desire--and among theseprospective guests were a Duke and a Duchess. Once, such a fact wouldhave excited Thorpe's imagination. He regarded it now as somethingappropriate under the circumstances, and gave it little further thought. His placid, satisfied life was not dependent upon the stir of guestscoming and going, even though they were the great of the earth. He walked on his spacious terrace after luncheon--a tall, portly, well-groomed figure of a man, of relaxed, easy aspect, with his bigcigar, and his panama hat, and his loose clothes of choice fabrics andexquisite tailoring--and said to himself that it was the finest viewin England--and then, to his own surprise, caught himself in the act ofyawning. 

From under the silk curtains and awning of a window-doorway at the endof the terrace, his wife issued and came toward him. Her head was bare, and she had the grace and fresh beauty of a young girl in her simplelight gown of some summery figured stuff. 

"What do you say to going off somewhere--tomorrow if youlike--travelling abroad?" he called out, as she approached him. Theidea, only a moment old in his mind, had grown to great proportions. "How can we?" she asked, upon the briefest thought. "THEY are coming atthe end of the week. This is Monday, and they arrive on the 12th--that'sthis Saturday. "

"So soon as that!" he exclaimed. "I thought it was later. H-m! I don'tknow--I think perhaps I'll go up to London this evening. I'm by way offeeling restless all at once. Will you come up with me?"

She shook her head. "I can't think of anything in London that would betolerable. "

He gave a vague little laugh. "I shall probably hate it myself when Iget there, " he speculated. "There isn't anybody I want to see--thereisn't anything I want to do. I don' t know--perhaps it might liven meup. "

Her face took on a look of enquiring gravity. "Are you getting tired ofit, then?" She put the question gently, almost cautiously. 

He reflected a little. "Why--no, " he answered, as if reasoning tohimself. "Of course I'm not. This is what I've always wanted. It's myidea of life to a 't. ' Only--I suppose everything needs a break in itnow and then--if only for the comfort of getting back into the old rutagain. "

"The rut--yes, " she commented, musingly. "Apparently there's always arut. "

Thorpe gave her the mystified yet uncomplaining glance she knew so wellin his eyes. For once, the impulse to throw hidden things up into hisrange of view prevailed with her. 

"Do you know, " she said, with a confused half-smile at the novelty ofher mood for elucidation, "I fancied a rut was the one thing there couldbe no question about with you. I had the notion that you were incapableof ruts--and conventional grooves. I thought you--as Carlyle puts it--Ithought you were a man who had swallowed all the formulas. "

Thorpe looked down at his stomach doubtfully. "I see what you mean, " hesaid at last, but in a tone without any note of conviction. 

"I doubt it, " she told him, with light readiness--"for I don't seemyself what I mean. I forget indeed what it was I said. And so you thinkyou'll go up to town tonight?"

A sudden comprehension of what was slipping away from his grasp arousedhim. "No--no, " he urged her, "don't forget what it was you said! I wishyou'd talk more with me about that. It was what I wanted to hear. Younever tell me what you're really thinking about. " She received thereproach with a mildly incredulous smile in her eyes. "Yes--I know--whowas it used to scold me about that? Oh"--she seemed suddenly reminded ofsomething--"I was forgetting to mention it. I have a letter from CeliaMadden. She is back in England; she is coming to us Saturday, too. "

He put out his lips a trifle. "That's all right, " he objected, "but whathas it got to do with what we were talking about?"

"Talking about?" she queried, with a momentarily blank countenance. "Oh, she used to bully me about my deceit, and treachery, and similar crimes. But I shall be immensely glad to see her. I always fight with her, but Ithink I like her better than any other woman alive. "

"I like her too, " Thorpe was impelled to say, with a kind of solemnity. "She reminds me of some of the happiest hours in my life. "

His wife, after a brief glance into his face, laughed pleasantly, ifwith a trace of flippancy. "You say nice things, " she observed, slightlyinclining her head. "But now that Celia is coming, it would be as wellto have another man. It's such dreadfully short notice, though. "

"I daresay your father could come, all right, " Thorpe suggested. "I'drather have him than almost anyone else. Would you mind asking him--orshall I?"

An abrupt silence marked this introduction of a subject upon which thecouple had differed openly. Thorpe, through processes unaccountable tohimself, had passed from a vivid dislike of General Kervick to a habitof mind in which he thoroughly enjoyed having him about. The Generalhad been twice to High Thorpe, and on each occasion had so prolongedhis stay that, in retrospect, the period of his absence seemedinconsiderable. The master now, thinking upon it in this minute ofsilence, was conscious of having missed him greatly. He would not havebeen bored to the extremity of threatening to go to London, if Kervickhad been here. The General was a gentleman, and yet had the flexibleadaptability of a retainer; he had been trained in discipline, and henceknew how to defer without becoming fulsome or familiar; he was a man ofthe world and knew an unlimited number of racy stories, and even if herepeated some of them unduly, they were better than no stories at all. And then, there was his matchless, unfailing patience in playing chessor backgammon or draughts or bezique, whatever he perceived that themaster desired. 

"If you really wish it, " Edith said at last, coldly. 

"But that's what I don't understand, " Thorpe urged upon her with somevigour. "If I like him, I don't see why his own daughter----"

"Oh, need we discuss it?" she broke in, impatiently. "If I'm anunnatural child, why then I am one, and may it not be allowed to passat that?" A stormy kind of smile played upon her beautifully-cut lipsas she added: "Surely one's filial emotions are things to be taken forgranted--relieved from the necessity of explanation. "

Thorpe grinned faintly at the hint of pleasantry, but he did notrelinquish his point. "Well--unless you really veto the thing--I thinkI'd like to tell him to come, " he said, with composed obstinacy. Uponan afterthought he added: "There's no reason why he shouldn't meet theDuke, is there?"

"No specific reason, " she returned, with calm coolness of tone andmanner. "And certainly I do not see myself in the part of Madame Veto. "

"All right then--I'll send him a wire, " said Thorpe. His victory madehim uneasy, yet he saw no way of abandoning it with decorum. 

As the two, standing in a silence full of tacit constraint, lookedaimlessly away from the terrace, they saw at the same instant a vehiclewith a single horse coming rather briskly up the driveway, some hundredsof yards below. It was recognizable at once as the local trap fromPunsey station, and as usual it was driven by a boy from the village. Seated beside this lad was a burly, red-bearded man in respectableclothes, who, to judge from the tin-box and travelling-bags fastened onbehind, seemed coming to High Thorpe to stay. 

"Who on earth is that?" asked Thorpe, wonderingly. The man was obviouslyof the lower class, yet there seemed something about him which invitedrecognition. 

"Presumably it's the new head-gardener, " she replied with brevity. 

Her accent recalled to Thorpe the fact that there had been somethingdisagreeable in their conversation, and the thought of it was unpleasantto him. "Why, I didn't know you had a new man coming, " he said, turningto her with an overture of smiling interest. 

"Yes, " she answered, and then, as if weighing the proffered propitiationand rejecting it, turned slowly and went into the house. 

The trap apparently ended its course at some back entrance: he did notsee it again. He strolled indoors, after a little, and told his man topack a bag for London, and order the stanhope to take him to the train. 

CHAPTER XXIII

IN the early morning, long before any of the hotel people had madethemselves heard moving about, Thorpe got up. 

It was a long time since he had liked himself and his surroundings solittle. The bed seemed all right to the eye, and even to the touch, buthe had slept very badly in it, none the less. The room was luxuriouslyfurnished, as was the entire suite, but it was all strange anduncomfortable to his senses. The operation of shaving and dressing insolitude produced an oppression of loneliness. He regretted not havingbrought his man with him for this reason, and then, upon meditation, forother reasons. A person of his position ought always to have a servantwith him. The hotel people must have been surprised at his travellingunattended--and the people at High Thorpe must also have thought itstrange. It flashed across his mind that no doubt his wife had most ofall thought it strange. How would she explain to herself his sudden, precipitate journey to London alone? Might she not quite naturallyput an unpleasant construction upon it? It was bad enough to have toremember that they had parted in something like a tiff; he found it muchworse to be fancying the suspicions with which she would be turning overhis mysterious absence in her mind. 

He went downstairs as speedily as possible and, discovering no overtsigns of breakfast in the vicinity of the restaurant, passed out andmade his way to the Embankment. This had been a favourite walk of hisin the old days--but he considered it now with an unsympathetic eye. Itseemed a dry and haggard and desolate-looking place by comparison withhis former impressions of it. The morning was grey-skied, but full of ahard quality of light, which brought out to the uncompromising uttermostthe dilapidated squalor of the Surrey side. The water was low, andfrom the mud and ooze of the ugly opposite shore, or perhaps from thediscoloured stream itself, there proceeded a smell which offended hisunaccustomed nostril. A fitful, gusty wind was blowing from the east, and ever and again it gathered dust in eddying swoops from the roadway, and flung it in his face. 

He walked on toward the City, without any conscious purpose, and withno very definite reflections. It occurred to him that if his wife didimpute to him some unworthy motive in stealing off to London, andmade herself unhappy in doing so--that would at least provide thecompensation of showing that she cared. The thought, however, uponexamination, contained very meagre elements of solace. He could not inthe least be sure about any of the workings of her mind. There might bemore or less annoyance mixed up this morning with the secret thoughtsshe had concerning him--or she might not be bothering her head about himat all. This latter contingency had never presented itself so frankly tohim before. He looked hard at it, and saw more semblances of probabilityabout it than he liked. It might very well be that she was not thinkingabout him one way or the other. 

A depressing consciousness that practically nobody need think about himpervaded his soul. Who cared what he said or did or felt? The City hadforgotten his very existence. In the West End, only here and there someperson might chance to remember his name as that of some rich bounderwho had married Lady Cressage. Nowhere else in England, save one dullstrip of agricultural blankness in a backward home county, was therea human being who knew anything whatever about him. And this was hiscareer! It was for this that he had planned that memorable campaign, andwaged that amazing series of fortnightly battles, never missing victory, never failing at any point of the complicated strategy, and crowning itall with a culminating triumph which had been the wonder and admirationof the whole financial world! A few score of menials or interestedinferiors bowed to him; he drove some good horses, and was attentivelywaited upon, and had a never-failing abundance of good things to eat anddrink aud smoke. Hardly anything more than that, when you came to thinkof it--and the passing usufruct of all these things could be enjoyed byany fool who had a ten-pound note in his pocket!

What gross trick had the fates played on him? He had achieved power--andwhere was that power? What had he done with it? What COULD he do withit? He had an excess of wealth, it was true, but in what way could itcommand an excess of enjoyment? The very phrase was a paradox, as hedimly perceived. There existed only a narrow margin of advantage infavour of the rich man. He could eat and drink a little more and alittle better than the poor man; he could have better clothes, and lieabed later in the morning, and take life easier all round--but onlywithin hard and fast bounds. There was an ascertained limit beyond whichthe millionaire could no more stuff himself with food and wine thancould the beggar. It might be pleasant to take an added hour or two inbed in the morning, but to lie in bed all day would be an infliction. Soit ran indefinitely--this thin selvedge of advantage which moneycould buy--with deprivation on the one side, and surfeit on the other. Candidly, was it not true that more happiness lay in winning the way outof deprivation, than in inventing safeguards against satiety? Thepoor man succeeding in making himself rich--at numerous stages of theoperation there might be made a moral snap-shot of the truly happy man. But not after he had reached the top. Then disintegration began at once. The contrast between what he supposed he could do, and what he finds itpossible to do, is too vast to be accepted with equanimity. 

It must be said that after breakfast--a meal which he found in anItalian restaurant of no great cleanliness or opulence of pretension, and ate with an almost novel relish--Thorpe took somewhat less gloomyviews of his position. He still walked eastward, wandering intowarehouse and shipping quarters skirting the river, hitherto quiteunknown to him, and pursuing in an idle, inconsequent fashion hismeditations. He established in his mind the proposition that since anexcess of enjoyment was impossible--since one could not derive a greatblock of happiness from the satisfaction of the ordinary appetites, butat the most could only gather a little from each--the desirable thingwas to multiply as much as might be those tastes and whims and fancieswhich passed for appetites, and thus expand the area of possiblegratification. 

This seemed very logical indeed, but it did not apply itself to hisindividual needs with much facility. What did he want to do that he hadnot done? It was difficult for him to say. Perhaps it was chandlers'signs and windows about him, and the indefinable seafaring preoccupationsuggested by the high-walled, narrow streets, which raised the questionof a yacht in his mind. Did he want a yacht? He could recall having oncedwelt with great fondness upon such a project: doubtless it would stillbe full of attractions for him. He liked the water, and the waterliked him--and he was better able now than formerly to understand howluxurious existence can be made in modern private ships. He decided thathe would have a yacht--and then perceived that the decision brought noexhilaration. He was no happier than before. He could decide that hewould have anything he chose to name--and it would in no whit lightenhis mood. The yacht might be as grand as High Thorpe, and relatively asspacious and well ordered, but would he not grow as tired of the one ashe had of the other?

He stopped short at this blunt self-expression of something he had neveradmitted to himself. Was he indeed tired of High Thorpe? He had assuredhis wife to the contrary yesterday. He reiterated the assurance to hisown mind now. It was instead that he was tired of himself. He carrieda weariness about with him, which looked at everything with apatheticeyes, and cared for nothing. Some nameless paralysis had settled uponhis capacity for amusement and enjoyment, and atrophied it. He hadhad the power to expand his life to the farthest boundaries of richexperience and sensation, and he had deliberately shrunk into a sort ofherbaceous nonentity, whom nobody knew or cared about. He might have hadLondon at his beck and call, and yet of all that the metropolis mightmean to a millionaire, he had been able to think of nothing better thanthat it should send old Kervick to him, to help beguile his boredom withdominoes and mess-room stories! Pah! He was disgusted with himself. 

Striking out a new course, with the Monument as his guide, he presentlycame into a part of the City which had a certain familiarity for him. He walked up St. Swithin's Lane, looking at the strange forms of foreignfruit exposed at the shop-doors, and finding in them some fleetingrecurrence of the hint that travel was what he needed. Then he stopped, to look through the railings and open gateway at an enclosure on theleft, and the substantial, heavily-respectable group of early Victorianbuildings beyond. Some well-dressed men were standing talking in one ofthe porches. The stiff yellowish-stucco pilasters of this entrance, andthe tall uniformed figure of the porter in the shadow, came into thepicture as he observed it; they gave forth a suggestion of satisfiedsmugness--of orderly but altogether unillumined routine. Nothing couldbe more commonplace to the eye. 

Yet to his imagination, eighteen months before, what mysterious marvelsof power had lurked hidden behind those conventional portals! Withinthose doors, in some inner chamber, sat men whose task it was to directthe movements of the greatest force the world had ever known. They andtheir cousins in Paris and Frankfort, or wherever they lived, betweenthem wielded a vaster authority than all the Parliaments of the earth. They could change a government, or crush the aspirations of a wholepeople, or decide a question of peace or war, by the silent dictum oftheir little family council. He remembered now how he had stood on thissame spot, and stared with fascinated gaze at this quadrangle of dullhouses, and pondered upon what it must feel like to be a Rothschild--andthat was only a little over a year ago!

There was no sense of fascination whatever in his present gaze. He foundhimself regarding instead, with a kind of detached curiosity, thelittle knot of men in frock-coats and silk-hats who stood talking in thedoorway. It was barely ten o'clock, yet clearly business was proceedingwithin. One of these persons whom he beheld might be a Rothschild, foraught he knew; at any rate, it was presumable that some of them wereon the premises. He had heard it said that the very head of the houselistened to quotations from the tape while he ate his luncheon, andinterrupted his conversations with the most important of non-commercialcallers, to make or refuse bargains in shares offered by brokers whocame in. What impulse lay behind this extraordinary devotion to labour?Toward what conceivable goal could it be striving?

To work hard and risk great things for the possession of a fortune, inorder to enjoy it afterward--he could understand how that attractedmen. But to possess already the biggest of human fortunes, and stillwork--that baffled him. He wished he knew some of those men in there, especially if they belonged to the place. It would be wonderfullyinteresting to get at the inner point of view of New Court. 

A little later, in Colin Semple's office, he sat down to await thecoming of that gentleman. "Then he doesn't get here so early nowadays?"he suggested to the head-clerk who, with instant recognition andexaggerated deference, had ushered him into this furthermost privateroom. It pleased him to assume that prosperity had relaxed theScotchman's vigilance. 

"Oh yes, sir, " the clerk replied. "A bit earlier if anything, as a rule. But I think he is stopping at his solicitors on his way to the City. Ihope you are very well, sir. "

"Yes--I'm very fit--thanks, " Thorpe said, listlessly, and the other lefthim. 

Mr. Semple, when at last he arrived, bustled into the room withunaffected gratification at the news he had heard without. "Well, well, Thorpe man!" he cried, and shook hands cordially. "This is fine! IfI'd only known you were in town! Why wouldn't you have told me you werecoming? I'd never have kept you waiting. "

Thorpe laughed wearily. "I hardly knew I was in town myself. I only ranup last night. I thought it would amuse me to have a look round--butthings seem as dull as ditchwater. "

"Oh no, " said Semple, "the autumn is opening verra well indeed. Thereare more new companies, and a better public subscription all round, thanfor any first week of October I remember. Westralians appear bad onthe face of things, it's true--but don't believe all you hear of them. There's more than the suspicion of a 'rig' there. Besides, you haven't apenny in them. "

"I wasn't thinking of that, " Thorpe told him, with comprehensivevagueness. "Well, I suppose you're still coining money, " he observed, after a pause. 

"Keeping along--keeping along, " the broker replied, cheerfully. "I cannacomplain. " Thorpe looked at him with a meditative frown. "Well, what areyou going to do with it, after you've got it?" he demanded, almost withsharpness. 

The Scotchman, after a surprised instant, smiled. "Oh, I'll just keep myhands on it, " he assured him, lightly. 

"That isn't what I mean, " Thorpe said, groping after what he didmean, with sullen tenacity, among his thoughts. His large, heavy faceexhibited a depressed gravity which attracted the other's attention. 

"What's the matter?" Semple asked quickly. "Has anything gone wrong withyou?"

Thorpe slowly shook his head. "What better off do you think you'll bewith six figures than you are with five?" he pursued, with dogmaticinsistence. 

Semple shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to have grown much brighterand gayer of mood in this past twelvemonth. Apparently he was somewhatstouter, and certainly there was a mellowed softening of his sharpglance and shrewd smile. It was evident that his friend's mood somewhatnonplussed him, but his good-humour was unflagging. 

"It's the way we're taught at school, " he hazarded, genially. "In allthe arithmetics six beats five, and seven beats six. "

"They're wrong, " Thorpe declared, and then consented to laugh in agrudging, dogged way at his friend's facial confession of puzzlement. "What I mean is--what's the good of piling up money, while you can'tpile up the enjoyments it will buy? What will a million give you, thatthe fifth of it, or the tenth of it, won't give you just as well?"

"Aye, " said Semple, with a gleam of comprehension in his glance. "Soyou've come to that frame of mind, have you? Why does a man go on andshoot five hundred pheasants, when he can eat only one?"

"Oh, if you like the mere making of money, I've nothing more to say, "Thorpe responded, with a touch of resentment. "I've always thought ofyou as a man like myself, who wanted to make his pile and then enjoyhimself. "

The Scotchman laughed joyously. "Enjoy myself! Like you!" he cried. "Man, you're as doleful as a mute at a laird's funeral! What's come overyou? I know what it is. You go and take a course of German waters----"

"Oh, that be damned!" Thorpe objected, gloomily. "I tell you I'm allright. Only--only--God! I've a great notion to go and get drunk. "

Colin Semple viewed his companion with a more sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry you're so hipped, " he said, in gentle tones. "It can't bemore than some passing whimsy. You're in no real trouble, are you?--nofamily trouble?"

Thorpe shook his head. "The whole thing is rot!" he affirmed, enigmatically. 

"What whole thing?" The broker perched on the edge of his desk, and withpatient philosophy took him up. "Do you mean eighty thousand a year isrot? That depends upon the man who has it. "

"I know that well enough, " broke in the other, heavily. "That's what I'mkicking about. I'm no good!"

Semple, looking attentively down upon him, pursed his lips inreflection. "That's not the case, " he observed with argumentativecalmness. "You're a great deal of good. I'm not so sure that what you'vebeen trying to do is any good, though. Come!--I read you like largeprint. You've set out to live the life of a rich country squire--and ithasn't come off. It couldn't come off! I never believed it would. Youhaven't the taste for it inbred in your bones. You haven't the thousandlittle habits and interests that they take in with their mother's milk, and that make such a life possible. When you look at a hedge, you don'tthink of it as something to worry live animals out of. When you see oneof your labourers, you don't care who his father was, or which dairymaidhis uncle ought to have married, if he had wanted to get a certaincottage. You don't want to know the name of everybody whose roof you cansee; much less could you remember them, and talk about them, and listento gossip about them, year after year. It isn't a passion in your bloodto ride to hounds, and to shoot, and all that. It doesn't come to youby tradition--and you haven't the vacancy of mind which might be asubstitute for tradition. What are you doing in the country, then? Justeating too much, and sitting about, and getting fat and stupid. If youwant the truth, there it is for you. "

Thorpe, putting out his lips judicially, inclined upon reflection to theview that this was the truth. "That's all right, as far as it goes, " heassented, with hesitation. "But what the hell else is there?"

The little Scotchman had grown too interested in his diagnosis to dropit in an incomplete state. "A year ago, " he went on, "you had won yourvictories like a veritable Napoleon. You had everything in your ownhands; Napoleon himself was not more the master of what he saw abouthim than you were. And then what did you do? You voluntarily retiredyourself to your Elba. It wasn't that you were beaten and driven thereby others; you went of your own accord. Have you ever thought, Thorpe, of this? Napoleon was the greatest man of his age--one of the greatestmen of all ages--not only in war but in a hundred other ways. He spentthe last six years of his life at St. Helena--in excellent health andwith companions that he talked freely to--and in all the extraordinarilycopious reports of his conversations there, we don't get a singlesentence worth repeating. If you read it, you'll see he talked like adull, ordinary body. The greatness had entirely evaporated from him, themoment he was put on an island where he had nothing to do. "

"Yes-s, " said Thorpe, thoughtfully. He accepted the application withoutany qualms about the splendour of the comparison it rested upon. He haddone the great things, just as Semple said, and there was no room forfalse modesty about them in his mind. "The trouble is, " he began, "thatI did what I had always thought I wanted to do most. I was quite certainin my mind that that was what I wanted. And if we say now that I waswrong--if we admit that that wasn't what I really wanted--why then, Godknows what it is I DO want. I'll be hanged if I do!"

"Come back to the City, " Semple told him. "That's where you belong. "

"No--no!" Thorpe spoke with emphasis. "That's where you're all off. Idon't belong in the City at all. I hate the whole outfit. What the devilamusement would it be to me to take other men's money away from them?I'd be wanting all the while to give it back to them. And certainly Iwouldn't get any fun out of their taking my money away from me. Besides, it doesn't entertain me. I've no taste at all for it. I never look at afinancial paper now. I could no more interest myself in all that stuffagain than I could fly. That's the hell of it--to be interested inanything. "

"Go in for politics, " the other suggested, with less warmth. 

"Yes, I know, " Thorpe commented, with a lingering tone. "Perhaps I oughtto think more about that. By the way, what's Plowden doing? I've lostall track of him. "

"Abroad somewhere, I fancy, " Semple replied. His manner exhibited aprofound indifference. "When his mother died he came into something--Idon't know how much. I don't think I've seen him since--and that musthave been six months and more ago. "

"Yes. I heard about it at the time, " the other said. "It must be aboutthat. His sister and brother--the young Plowdens--they're coming to usat the end of the week, I believe. You didn't hit it off particularlywith Plowden, eh?"

Semple emitted a contemptuous little laugh. "I did not quarrel withhim--if you mean that, " he said, "but even to please you, Thorpe, Icouldn't bring myself to put my back into the job of making money forhim. He was treated fairly--even generously, d'ye mind. I should think, all told, he had some thirty thousand pounds for his shares, and that'sa hundred times as much as I had a pleasure in seeing him get. Each mancan wear his own parasites, but it's a task for him to stand anotherman's. I shook your Lord Plowden off, when the chance came. "

"THAT'S all right, " Thorpe assured him, easily. "I never told you thathe was any good. I merely felt like giving him a leg up--because reallyat the start he was of use to me. I did owe him something. .. . It was athis house that I met my wife. "

"Aye, " said Semple, with dispassionate brevity. 

CHAPTER XXIV

WHEN he had parted with Semple, at a corner where the busy broker, whohad walked out with him, obviously fidgeted to get away, Thorpe couldthink of no one else in the City whom he desired to see. A call uponhis bankers would, he knew, be made an occasion of extremely pleasantcourtesy by those affable people, but upon reflection it seemed scarcelyworth the trouble. 

He was in a mood for indolent sauntering, and he made the long stretchof the Holborn thoroughfare in a leisurely fashion, turning off whenthe whim seized him into odd courts and alley-ways to see what they werelike. After luncheon, he continued his ramble, passing at last fromSt. Giles, through avenues which had not existed in the London of hisboyhood, to the neighbourhood of the Dials. Here also the landmarksseemed all changed, but there was still enough ostentatious squalor anddisorder to identify the district. He observed it and its inhabitantswith a certain new curiosity. A notable alteration for the better hadcome over his spirits. It might be the champagne at luncheon, or itmight be the mere operation of a frank talk with Semple, that haddissipated his gloom. At all events it was gone--and he strolled alongin quite placid contentment, taking in the panorama of London's moreintimate life with the interest of a Londoner who has obtained a freshcountry eye. 

He who had seen most of the world, and not cared much about thespectacle, found himself now consciously enjoying observation as he hadnot supposed it possible to do. He surrendered himself to the experiencewith a novel sense of having found something worth while--and found it, moreover, under his very nose. In some dull, meaningless fashion he hadalways known this part of London, and been familiar with its externalaspects. Now suddenly he perceived that the power had come to him ofseeing it all in a different way. The objects he beheld, inanimateand otherwise, had specific new meanings for him. His mind was stirredpleasurably by the things they said to him. 

He looked at all the contents of the windows as he passed; at thebarrows of the costers and hawkers crowding up the side-streets; atthe coarse-haired, bare-headed girls and women standing about in theirshawls and big white aprons; at the weakling babies in their arms orabout the thick, clumsy folds of their stained skirts; at the grimy, shuffling figures of their men-folk, against the accustomed backgroundof the public-house corner, with its half-open door, and its fly-blowntheatre-bills in the windows; at the drivers of the vans and carts, sleepily overlooking the huge horses, gigantic to the near view as somesurvival from the age of mammoths, which pushed gingerly, ploddingly, their tufted feet over the greasy stones; at foul interiors wherethrough the blackness one discerned bent old hags picking over refuse;at the faces which, as he passed, made some special human appeal tohim--faces blurred with drink, faces pallid with under-feeding, faces worn into masks by the tension of trouble, faces sweetened byresignation, faces aglow with devil-may-care glee. .. He looked, as itwere, into the pulsing heart of something which had scarcely seemedalive to him before. 

Eventually, he found himself halting at the door of his sister'sbook-shop. A new boy stood guard over the stock exposed on the shelf andstands outside, and he looked stonily at the great man; it was evidentthat he was as far from suspecting his greatness as his relationship. It pleased Thorpe for a little to take up one book after another, andpretend to read from it, and force the boy to watch him hard. He hadalmost the temptation to covertly slip a volume into his pocket, andsee what the lad would do. It was remarkable, he reflected withsatisfaction--this new capacity within him to find drama in trifles. 

There floated into his mind the recollection of some absurd squabble hehad had with his sister about the sign overhead. He stepped back afew paces and looked up at it. There were the old words--"Thorpe, Bookseller"--right enough, but they seemed to stand forth with anovel prominence. Upon a second glance, he saw that the board had beenrepainted. At this he laughed aloud. The details of the episode cameback to him now. For some reason, or no reason at all--he could not nowimagine what on earth could have prompted him--he had last spring causedhis sister to be informed of his wish that her own name, Dabney, shouldbe substituted for that of Thorpe on her sign. It was to Julia that hehad confided this mission, and it was Julia who, in a round-aboutway, had disclosed to him presently her mother's deep resolution to donothing of the sort. He laughed again at the added defiance that thisrefurbishing of the old sign expressed, and still was grinning broadlyas he entered the shop and pushed his way along to the rear. 

She stood beside her desk as she seemed to have stood ever since hecould remember her--tall, placid, dull-eyed, self-sufficient, exhalingas it were a kind of stubborn yet competent listlessness. Her long, mannish countenance expressed an undoubted interest in his presence, when she recognized him, but he had no clear perception whether it waspleased or otherwise. In their infrequent latter-day encounters he haddropped the habit of kissing her, and there was certainly no hint inher manner of expecting, much less inviting, its renewal now--but upona sudden impulse he drew her to him with an arm flung round her gauntwaist, smacked his lips with effusion upon her cheek. 

Her surprise, as she withdrew herself somewhat forcefully from hisembrace, was plain enough. "Well!" she exclaimed vaguely, and thenlooked at him. "You're getting fatter. "

"No I'm not, " he rejoined, with the earnestness belonging to animportant topic. "People think I am--but it's merely the looseness ofthese clothes. There's really no difference since I was here last. "

The glance they exchanged was so full of the tacit comment that thislast visit was a long time ago, that Thorpe put it into words. "Let'ssee--that was just before Christmas, wasn't it?" he said. 

"Something like that, " she responded. "You were going to get marriedin a week or two, I remember, and THAT was in January, wasn't it? I wastaking stock, I know. "

He nodded in turn. The thought that his only sister recalled hismarriage merely as a date, like a royal anniversary or a bank-holiday, and held herself implacably aloof from all contact with his domesticlife, annoyed him afresh. "You're an awful goat, not to come near us, "he felt impelled, in brotherly frankness, to tell her. 

She put out her lips, and wagged her head a little, in a gesture whichit flashed across him his own mirror might often have recorded. "Ithought that was all settled and done with long ago, " she said, moodily. 

"Oh, I won't worry you with it, Lou, " he observed, with reassuringkindness of tone. "I never felt so much like being nice to you in mylife. "

She seemed surprised at this, too, and regarded him with a heavy newfixity of gaze. No verbal comment, apparently, occurred to her. 

"Julia and Alfred all right?" he queried, cheerfully. 

"I daresay, " she made brief answer. 

"But they write to you, don't they?"

"SHE does--sometimes. They seem to be doing themselves very well, fromwhat she says. "

"She'd write oftener, if you'd answer her letters, " he told her, intones of confidential reproach. 

"Oh, I don't write letters unless I've got something to say, " sheanswered, as if the explanation were ample. 

The young people were domiciled for the time being at Dusseldorf, where Alfred had thought he would most like to begin his Continentalstudent-career, and where Julia, upon the more or less colourablepretext of learning the language, might enjoy the mingled freedom andoccupation of a home of her own. They had taken a house for the summerand autumn, and would do the same in Dresden or Munich, later on, forthe winter. 

"What I would really have liked, " Thorpe confided to his sister now, "was to have had them both live with me. They would have been as welcomeas the day is long. I could see, of course, in Alfred's case, that ifhe's set on being an artist, he ought to study abroad. Even the bestEnglish artists, he says, do that at the beginning. So it was all rightfor him to go. But Julia--it was different with her--I was rather keenabout her staying. My wife was just as keen as I was. She took thegreatest fancy to Julia from the very start--and so far as I couldsee, Julia liked her all right. In fact, I thought Julia would want tostay--but somehow she didn't. "

"She always spoke very highly of your wife, " Mrs. Dabney affirmed withjudicial fairness. "I think she does like her very much. "

"Well then what did she want to hyke off to live among those Dutchmenfor, when one of the best houses in England was open to her?" Thorpedemanded. 

"You mustn't ask me, " her mother responded. Her tone seemed to carrythe suggestion that by silence she could best protect her daughter'sinterests. 

"I don't believe you know any more about it than I do, " was hisimpulsive comment. 

"I daresay not, " she replied, with indifference. "Probably she didn'tfancy living in so big a house--although heaven knows her ideas are bigenough about most things. "

"Did she say so?" Thorpe asked abruptly. 

The widow shook her head with dispassionate candour. "She didn'tsay anything to me about it, one way or the other. I formed my ownimpressions--that's all. It's a free country. Everybody can form theirimpressions. "

"I wish you'd tell me what you really think, " Thorpe urged her, mildlypersuasive. "You know how fond I am of Julia, and how little I want todo her an injustice. "

"Oh, she wouldn't feel THAT way, " Louisa observed, vaguely. "If you askme plain, I think it was dull for her. "

"Well, " said Thorpe, upon reflection, "I shouldn't be surprised if itwas. I hadn't thought of that. But still--why she and my wife could becompany for each other. "

"You talk as if life was merely a long railway journey, " she told him, in an unexpected flight of metaphor. "Two women cooped up in a lonesomecountry house may be a little less lonely than one of them by herselfwould be--but not much. It's none of my business--but how your wife musthate it!"

He laughed easily. "Ah, that's where you're wrong, " he said. "Shedoesn't care about anything but gardening. That's her hobby. She's crazyabout it. We've laid out more in new greenhouses alone, not countingthe plants, than would rebuild this building. I'm not sure the heatingapparatus wouldn't come to that, alone. And then the plants! What doyou think of six and eight guineas for a single root? Those are theamaryllises--and if you come to orchids, you can pay hundreds if youlike. Well, that's her passion. That's what she really loves. "

"That's what she seizes upon to keep her from just dying of loneliness, "Louisa retorted, obstinately, and at a sign of dissent from her brothershe went on. "Oh, I know what I'm talking about. I have three or fourcustomers--ladies in the country, and one of them is a lady of title, too--and they order gardening books and other books through me, and whenthey get up to town, once a year or so, they come here and they talk tome about it. And there isn't one of them that at the bottom of her heartdoesn't hate it. They'd rather dodge busses at Charing Cross corner allday long, than raise flowers as big as cheeses, if they had their ownway. But they don't have their own way, and they must have something tooccupy themselves with--and they take to gardening. I daresay I'd evendo it myself if I had to live in the country, which thank God I don't!"

"That's because you don't know anything about the country, " he told her, but the retort, even while it justified itself, had a hollow sound inhis own ears. "All you know outside of London is Margate. "

"I went to Yarmouth and Lowestoft this summer, " she informed him, crushingly. 

Somehow he lacked the heart to laugh. "I know what you mean, Lou, " hesaid, with an affectionate attempt at placation. "I suppose there's agood deal in what you say. It is dull, out there at my place, if youhave too much of it. Perhaps that's a good hint about my wife. It neveroccurred to me, but it may be so. But the deuce of it is, what else isthere to do? We tried a house in London, during the Season----"

"Yes, I saw in the papers you were here, " she said impassively, incomment upon his embarrassed pause. 

"I didn't look you up, because I didn't think you wanted much to seeme"--he explained with a certain awkwardness--"but bye-gones are allbye-gones. We took a town house, but we didn't like it. It was oneendless procession of stupid and tiresome calls and dinners and parties;we got awfully sick of it, and swore we wouldn't try it again. Wellthere you are, don't you see? It's stupid in Hertfordshire, and it'sstupid here. Of course one can travel abroad, but that's no goodfor more than a few months. Of course it would be different if I hadsomething to do. I tell you God's truth, Lou--sometimes I feel as if Iwas really happier when I was a poor man. I know it's all rot--I reallywasn't--but sometimes it SEEMS as if I was. "

She contemplated him with a leaden kind of gaze. "Didn't it ever occurto you to do some good with your money?" she said, with slow bluntness. Then, as if fearing a possible misconception, she added more rapidly: "Idon't mean among your own family. We're a clannish people, we Thorpes;we'd always help our own flesh and blood, even if we kicked them whilewe were doing it--but I mean outside, in the world at large. "

"What have I got to do with the world at large? I didn't make it; I'mnot responsible for it. " He muttered the phrases lightly enough, but acertain fatuity in them seemed to attract his attention when he heardtheir sound. "I've given between five and six thousand pounds to Londonhospitals within the present year, " he added, straightening himself. "Iwonder you didn't see it. It was in all the papers. "

"Hospitals!"

It was impossible to exaggerate the scorn which her voice imported intothe word. He looked at her with unfeigned surprise, and then took in theimpression that she was upon a subject which exceptionally interestedher. Certainly the display of something approaching animation in herglance and manner was abnormal. 

"I said 'do some GOOD with your money, '" she reminded him, still with avibration of feeling in her tone. "You must live in the country, ifyou think London hospitals are deserving objects. They couldn't foolLondoners on that point, not if they had got the Prince to go on hishands and knees. And you give a few big cheques to them, " she went on, meditatively, "and you never ask how they're managed, or what rings arerunning them for their own benefit, or how your money is spent--and youthink you've done a noble, philanthropic thing! Oh no--I wasn't talkingabout humbug charity. I was talking about doing some genuine good in theworld. "

He put his leg over the high stool, and pushed his hat back with asmile. "All right, " he said, genially. "What do you propose?"

"I don't propose anything, " she told him, after a moment's hesitation. "You must work that out for yourself. What might seem important tome might not interest you at all--and if you weren't interested youwouldn't do anything. But this I do say to you, Joel--and I've said itto myself every day for this last year or more, and had you in mind allthe time, too--if I had made a great fortune, and I sat about inpurple and fine linen doing nothing but amuse myself in idleness andselfishness, letting my riches accumulate and multiply themselveswithout being of use to anybody, I should be ASHAMED to look myfellow-creatures in the face! You were born here. You know what Londonslums are like. You know what Clare Market was like--it's bad enoughstill--and what the Seven Dials and Drury Lane and a dozen other placesround here are like to this day. That's only within a stone's throw. Have you seen Charles Booth's figures about the London poor? Of courseyou haven't--and it doesn't matter. You KNOW what they are like. But youdon't care. The misery and ignorance and filth and hopelessness of twoor three hundred thousand people doesn't interest you. You sit upon yourmoney-bags and smile. If you want the truth, I'm ashamed to have you fora brother!"

"Well, I'm damned!" was Thorpe's delayed and puzzled comment upon thisoutburst. He looked long at his sister, in blank astonishment. "Sincewhen have you been taken this way?" he asked at last, mechanicallyjocular. 

"That's all right, " she declared with defensive inconsequence. "It's theway I feel. It's the way I've felt from the beginning. "

He was plainly surprised out of his equanimity by this unlooked-fordemonstration on his sister's part. He got off the stool and walkedabout in the little cleared space round the desk. When he spoke, it wasto utter something which he could trace to no mental process of which hehad been conscious. 

"How do you know that that isn't what I've felt too--from thebeginning?" he demanded of her, almost with truculence. "You say I siton my money-bags and smile--you abuse me with doing no good with mymoney--how do you know I haven't been studying the subject all thiswhile, and making my plans, and getting ready to act? You never didbelieve in me!"

She sniffed at him. "I don't believe in you now, at all events, " shesaid, bluntly. 

He assumed the expression of a misunderstood man. "Why, this veryday"--he began, and again was aware that thoughts were comingup, ready-shaped to his tongue, which were quite strangers to hisbrain--"this whole day I've been going inch by inch over the very groundyou mention; I've been on foot since morning, seeing all the corners andalleys of that whole district for myself, watching the people and thethings they buy and the way they live--and thinking out my plans fordoing something. I don't claim any credit for it. It seems to me no morethan what a man in my position ought to do. But I own that to come in, actually tired out from a tramp like that, and get blown-up by one'sown sister for selfishness and heartlessness and miserliness and all therest of it--I must say, that's a bit rum. "

Louisa did not wince under this reproach as she might have been expectedto do, nor was there any perceptible amelioration in the heavy frownwith which she continued to regard him. But her words, uttered aftersome consideration, came in a tone of voice which revealed a desire toavoid offense. "It won't matter to you, your getting blown-up by me, ifyou're really occupying your mind with that sort of thing. You're tooused to it for that. "

He would have liked a less cautious acceptance of his assurances thanthis--but after all, one did not look to Louisa for enthusiasms. Thedepth of feeling she had disclosed on this subject of London's poorstill astonished him, but principally now because of its unlikelysource. If she had been notoriously of an altruistic and free-handeddisposition, he could have understood it. But she had been always thehard, dry, unemotional one; by comparison with her, he felt himselfto be a volatile and even sentimental person. If she had such viewsas these, it became clear to him that his own views were even muchadvanced. 

"It's a tremendous subject, " he said, with loose largeness of manner. "Only a man who works hard at it can realize how complicated it is. Theonly way is to start with the understanding that something is goingto be done. No matter how many difficulties there are in the way, SOMETHING'S GOING TO BE DONE! If a strong man starts out with that, whythen he can fight his way through, and push the difficulties aside orbend them to suit his purpose, and accomplish something. "

Mrs. Dabney, listening to this, found nothing in it to quarrel with--yetsomehow remained, if not skeptical, then passively unconvinced. "Whatare your plans?" she asked him. 

"Oh, it's too soon to formulate anything, " he told her, with preparedreadiness. "It isn't a thing to rush into in a hurry, with half bakedtheories and limited information. Great results, permanent results, arenever obtained that way. "

"I hope it isn't any Peabody model-dwelling thing. "

"Oh, nothing like it in the least, " he assured her, and made a mentalnote to find out what it was she had referred to. 

"The Lord-Rowton houses are better, they say, " she went on, "but itseems to me that the real thing is that there shouldn't be all thisimmense number of people with only fourpence or fivepence in theirpocket. That's where the real mischief lies. "

He nodded comprehendingly, but hesitated over further words. Thensomething occurred to him. "Look here!" he said. "If you're as keenabout all this, are you game to give up this footling old shop, anddevote your time to carrying out my plans, when I've licked 'em intoshape?"

She began shaking her head, but then something seemed also to occur toher. "It'll be time enough to settle that when we get to it, won't it?"she observed. 

"No--you've got to promise me now, " he told her. 

"Well that I won't!" she answered, roundly. 

"You'd see the whole--the whole scheme come to nothing, would you?"--hescolded at her--"rather than abate a jot of your confounded mulishness. "

"Aha!" she commented, with a certain alertness of perception shiningthrough the stolidity of her mien. "I knew you were humbugging! Ifyou'd meant what you said, you wouldn't talk about its coming to nothingbecause I won't do this or that. I ought to have known better. I'malways a goose when I believe what you tell me. "

A certain abstract justice in her reproach impressed him. "No you'renot, Lou, " he replied, coaxingly. "I really mean it all--every word ofit--and more. It only occurred to me that it would all go better, if youhelped. Can't you understand how I should feel that?"

She seemed in a grudging way to accept anew his professions ofsincerity, but she resisted all attempts to extract any promise. "Idon't believe in crossing a bridge till I get to it, " she declared, when, on the point of his departure, he last raised the question, and ithad to be left at that. He took with him some small books she had tiedin a parcel, and told him to read. She had spoken so confidently oftheir illuminating value, that he found himself quite committed to theirperusal--and almost to their endorsement. He had thought during the dayof running down to Newmarket, for the Cesarewitch was to be run on themorrow, and someone had told him that that was worth seeing. By the timehe reached his hotel, however, an entirely new project had possessed hismind. He packed his bag, and took the next train for home. 

CHAPTER XXV

"I DIDN'T ask your father, after all, " was one of the things thatThorpe said to his wife next day. He had the manner of one announcinga concession, albeit in an affable spirit, and she received the remarkwith a scant, silent nod. 

Two days later he recurred to the subject. They were again upon theterrace, where he had been lounging in an easy-chair most of the day, with the books his sister had bid him read on a table beside him. He hadglanced through some of them in a desultory fashion, cutting pages atrandom here and there, but for the most part he had looked straightbefore him at the broad landscape, mellowing now into soft browns andyellows under the mild, vague October sun. He had not thought much ofthe books, but he had a certain new sense of enjoyment in the fruitsof this placid, abstracted rumination which perhaps they had helped toinduce. 

"About your father, " he said now, as his wife, who had come out to speakwith him on some other matter, was turning to go away again: "I'm afraidI annoyed you the other day by what I said. "

"I have no recollection of it, " she told him, with tranquil politeness, over her shoulder. 

He found himself all at once keenly desirous of a conversation on thistopic. "But I want you to recollect, " he said, as he rose to hisfeet. There was a suggestion of urgency in his tone which arrested herattention. She moved slowly toward the chair, and after a little perchedherself upon one of its big arms, and looked up at him where he leantagainst the parapet. 

"I've thought of it a good deal, " he went on, in halting explanation. His purpose seemed clearer to him than were the right phrases in whichto define it. "I persisted in saying that I'd do something you didn'twant me to do--something that was a good deal more your affair thanmine--and I've blamed myself for it. That isn't at all what I want todo. "

Her face as well as her silence showed her to be at a loss foran appropriate comment. She was plainly surprised, and seeminglyembarrassed as well. "I'm sure you always wish to be nice, " she said atlast. The words and tone were alike gracious, but he detected in themsomewhere a perfunctory note. 

"Oh--nice!" he echoed, in a sudden stress of impatience with the word. "Damn being 'nice'! Anybody can be 'nice. ' I'm thinking of something tenthousand times bigger than being 'nice. '"

"I withdraw the word immediately--unreservedly, " she put in, with asmile in which he read that genial mockery he knew so well. 

"You laugh at me--whenever I try to talk seriously, " he objected. 

"I laugh?" she queried, with an upward glance of demurely simulatedamazement. "Impossible! I assure you I've forgotten how. "

"Ah, now we get to it!" he broke out, with energy. "You're reallyfeeling about it just as I am. You're not satisfied with what we'redoing--with the life we're leading--any more than I am. I see that, plain enough, now. I didn't dream of it before. Somehow I got the ideathat you were enjoying it immensely--the greenhouses and gardens and allthat sort of thing. And do you know who it was that put me right--thattold me you hated it?"

"Oh, don't let us talk of him!" Edith exclaimed, swiftly. 

Thorpe laughed. "You're wrong. It wasn't your father. I didn't see him. No--it was my sister. She's never seen you, but all the same she knewenough to give me points. She told me I was a fool to suppose you werehappy here. "

"How clever of her!" A certain bantering smile accompanied the words, but on the instant it faded away. She went on with a musing gravity. "I'm sorry I don't get to know your sister. She seems an extremely realsort of person. I can understand that she might be difficult to livewith--I daresay all genuine characters are--but she's very real. Although, apparently, conversation isn't her strong point, still I enjoytalking with her. "

"How do you mean?" Thorpe asked, knitting his brows in puzzlement. 

"Oh, I often go to her shop--or did when I was in town. I went almostimmediately after our--our return to England. I was half afraidshe would recognize me--the portraits in the papers, you know--butapparently she didn't. And it's splendid--the way she says absolutelynothing more than it's necessary to say. And her candour! If she thinksbooks are bad she says so. Fancy that!"

He still frowned uneasily as he looked down at her. "You never mentionedto me that you had gone there, " he told her, as if in reproach. 

"Ah, it was complicated, " Edith explained. "She objects to knowing me--Ithink secretly I respect her a great deal for that--and therefore thereis something clandestine about my getting to know her--and I could notbe sure how it would impress you, and really it seemed simplest not tomention it. "

"It isn't that alone, " he declared, grave-faced still, but with a softervoice. "Do you remember what I said the other day? It would make all thedifference in the world to me, if--if you were really--actually my otherhalf!"

The phrase which he had caught at seemed, as it fell upon the air, toimpregnate it with some benumbing quality. The husband and wife lookeddumbly, almost vacantly at one another, for what appeared a long time. 

"I mean"--all at once Thorpe found tongue, and even a sort of fluency ashe progressed--"I mean, if you shared things really with me! Oh, I'mnot complaining; you mustn't think that. The agreement we made at thestart--you've kept your part of it perfectly. You've done better thanthat: you've kept still about the fact that it made you unhappy. "

"Oh no, " she interposed, gently. "It is not the fact that it has made meunhappy. "

"Well--discontented, then, " he resumed, without pause. "Here we are. Wedo the thing we want to do--we make the kind of home for ourselvesthat we've agreed we would like--and then it turns out that somehow itdoesn't come up to expectations. You get tired of it. I suppose, if thetruth were known, I'm by way of being tired of it too. Well, if you lookat it, that fact is the most important thing in the world for both ofus. It's the one thing that we ought to be most anxious to discuss, andexamine frankly in all its bearings--in order to see if we can't betterit--but that's precisely the thing that doesn't get talked about betweenus. You would never have told me that you were unhappy----"

"You use the word again, " she reminded him, a wan smile softening herprotest. 

Thorpe stood up, and took a slow step toward the chair. He held herglance with his own, as he stood then, his head bent, gravely regardingher. 

"Do you tell me that you are happy?" he asked, with sober directness. 

She fluttered her hands in a little restrained gesture of comment. "Youconsider only the extremes, " she told him. "Between black and whitethere are so many colours and shades and half-tones! The whole spectrum, in fact. Hardly anybody, I should think, gets over the edge into thetrue black or the true white. There are always tints, modifications. People are always inside the colour-scheme, so to speak. The worst thatcan be said of me is that I may be in the blues--in the light-blues--butit is fair to remember that they photograph white. "

Though there was an impulse within him to resent this as trifling, he resisted it, and judicially considered her allegory. "That is tosay"--he began hesitatingly. 

"To the observer I am happy. To myself I am not unhappy. "

"Why won't you tell me, Edith, just where you are?"

The sound of her name was somewhat unfamiliar to their discourse. Theintonation which his voice gave to it now caused her to look up quickly. 

"If I could tell myself, " she answered him, after an instant's thought, "pray believe that I would tell you. "

The way seemed for the moment blocked before him, and he sighed heavily. "I want to get nearer to you, " he said, with gloom, "and I don't!"

It occurred to her to remark: "You take exception to my phraseology whenI say you always try to be 'nice, ' but I'm sure you know what I mean. "She offered him this assurance with a tentative smile, into which hegazed moodily. 

"You didn't think I was 'nice' when you consented to marry me, " he wassuddenly inspired to say. "I can't imagine your applying that word to methen in your mind. God knows what it was you did say to yourself aboutme, but you never said I was 'nice. ' That was the last word that wouldhave fitted me then--and now it's the only one you can think of. "The hint that somehow he had stumbled upon a clue to the mysteriesenveloping him rose to prominence in his mind as he spoke. The year hadwrought a baffling difference in him. He lacked something now that thenhe had possessed, but he was powerless to define it. 

He seated himself again in the chair, and put his hand through her armto keep her where she lightly rested beside him. "Will you tell me, " hesaid, with a kind of sombre gentleness, "what the word is that you wouldhave used then? I know you wouldn't--couldn't--have called me 'nice. 'What would you have called me?"

She paused in silence for a little, then slipped from the chair andstood erect, still leaving her wrist within the restraining curve of hisfingers. "I suppose, " she said, musingly--"I suppose I should have said'powerful' or 'strong. '" Then she released her arm, and in turn moved tothe parapet. 

"And I am weak now--I am 'nice, '" he reflected, mechanically. 

In the profile he saw, as she looked away at the vast distant horizon, there was something pensive, even sad. She did not speak at once, and ashe gazed at her more narrowly it seemed as if her lips were quivering. A new sense of her great beauty came to him--and with it a hint thatfor the instant at least her guard was down. He sprang to his feet, andstood beside her. 

"You ARE going to be open with me--Edith!" he pleaded, softly. 

She turned from him a little, as if to hide the signs of her agitation. "Oh, what is there to say?" she demanded, in a tone which was almost awail. "It is not your fault. I'm not blaming you. "

"WHAT is not my fault?" he persisted with patient gentleness. 

Suddenly she confronted him. There were the traces of tears uponher lashes, and serenity had fled from her face. "It is a mistake--ablunder, " she began, hurriedly. "I take it all upon my own shoulders. I was the one who did it. I should have had more judgment--more goodsense!"

"You are not telling me, are you, " he asked with gravity, "that you aresorry you married me?"

"Is either of us glad?" she retorted, breathlessly. "What is there to beglad about? You are bored to death--you confess it. And I--well, it isnot what I thought it would be. I deceived myself. I do not reproachyou. "

"No, you keep saying that, " he observed, with gloomy slowness ofutterance. "But what is it you reproach yourself with, then? We might aswell have it out. "

"Yes, " she assented, with a swift reversion to calm. Her eyes met hiswith a glance which had in it an implacable frankness. "I married oneman because he would be able to make me a Duchess. I married anotherbecause he had eighty thousand a year. That is the kind of beast I am. There is bad blood in me. You know my father; that is quite enough. I amhis daughter; that explains everything. "

The exaggeration of her tone and words produced a curious effectupon him. He stared at her for a little, perceiving slowly that a newpersonage was being revealed to him. The mask of delicately-balancedcynicism, of amiably polite indifference, had been lifted; there was awoman of flesh and blood beneath it, after all--a woman to whom he couldtalk on terms of intimacy. 

"Rubbish!" he said, and his big face lightened into a genial, paternalsmile. "You didn't marry me for my money at all! What nonsense! I simplycame along and carried you off. You couldn't help yourself. It wouldhave been the same if I hadn't had sixpence. "

To his sharp scrutiny there seemed to flicker in her eyes a kind ofanswering gleam. Then she hastily averted her glance, and in this actiontoo there was a warrant for his mounting confidence. 

"The trouble has been, " he declared, "that I've been too much afraid ofyou. I've thought that you were made of so much finer stuff than I am, that you mustn't be touched. That was all a mistake. I see it rightenough now. You ARE finer than I am--God knows there's no dispute aboutthat--but that's no reason why I should have hung up signs of 'Handsoff!' all around you, and been frightened by them myself. I had thecheek to capture you and carry you off--and I ought to have had thepluck to make you love me afterward, and keep it up. And that's what I'mgoing to do!"

To this declaration she offered no immediate reply, but continued togaze with a vaguely meditative air upon the expanse of landscape spreadbelow them. He threw a hasty glance over the windows behind him, andthen with assurance passed his arm round her waist. He could not saythat there was any responsive yielding to his embrace, but he did affirmto himself with new conviction, as he looked down upon the fair smallhead at his shoulder, with its lovely pale-brown hair drawn softlyover the temples, and its glimpse of the matchless profile inclinedbeneath--that it was all right. 

He waited for a long time, with a joyous patience, for her to speak. Themere fact that she stood beneath his engirdling arm, and gave no thoughtto the potential servants'-eyes behind them, was enough for presenthappiness. He regarded the illimitable picture commanded from histerrace with refreshed eyes; it was once again the finest view inEngland--and something much more than that beside. 

At last, abruptly, she laughed aloud--a silvery, amused little laughunder her breath. "How comedy and tragedy tread forever on each other'sheels!" she remarked. Her tone was philosophically gay, but uponreflection he did not wholly like her words. 

"There wasn't any tragedy, " he said, "and there isn't any comedy. "

She laughed again. "Oh, don't say that this doesn't appeal to your senseof humour!" she urged, with mock fervour. 

Thorpe sighed in such unaffected depression at this, that she seemedtouched by his mood. Without stirring from his hold, she lifted herface. "Don't think I'm hateful, " she bade him, and her eyes were verykind. "There's more truth in what you've been saying than even youimagine. It really wasn't the money--or I mean it might easily have beenthe same if there had been no money. But how shall I explain it? I amattracted by a big, bold, strong pirate, let us say, but as soon ashe has carried me off--that is the phrase for it--then he straightwayrenounces crime and becomes a law-abiding, peaceful citizen. Mybuccaneer transforms himself, under my very eyes, into an alderman! Doyou say there is no comedy in that--and tragedy too?"

"Oh, put it that way and it's all right, " he declared, after a moment'sconsideration. "I've got as much fun in me as anybody else, " he wenton, "only your jokes have a way of raising blisters on me, somehow. But that's all done with now. That's because I didn't know you--wasfrightened of you. But I aint scared any more. Everything is different!"

With a certain graciousness of lingering movement, she withdrew herselffrom his clasp, and faced him with a doubtful smile. "Ah, don't be toosure, " she murmured. 

"Everything is different!" he repeated, with confident emphasis. "Don'tyou see yourself it is?"

"You say it is, " she replied, hesitatingly, "but that alone doesn't makeit so. The assertion that life isn't empty doesn't fill it. "

"Ah, but NOW you will talk with me about all that, " he broke intriumphantly. "We've been standing off with one another. We've beenof no help to each other. But we'll change that, now. We'll talk overeverything together. We'll make up our minds exactly what we want to do, and then I'll tuck you under my arm and we'll set out and do it. "

She smiled with kindly tolerance for his new-born enthusiasm. "Don'tcount on me for too much wisdom or invention, " she warned him. "Ifthings are to be done, you are still the one who will have to do them. But undoubtedly you are at your best when you are doing things. Thisreally has been no sort of life for you, here. "

He gathered her arm into his. "Come and show me your greenhouses, " hesaid, and began walking toward the end of the terrace. "It'll turnout to have been all right for me, this year that I've spent here, " hecontinued, as they strolled along. There was a delightful consciousnessof new intimacy conveyed by the very touch of her arm, which filled histone with buoyancy. "I've been learning all sorts of tricks here, andgetting myself into your ways of life. It's all been good training. Inevery way I'm a better man than I was. "

They had descended from the terrace to a garden path, and approachednow a long glass structure, through the panes of which masses of softcolour--whites, yellows, pinks, mauves, and strange dull reds--weredimly perceptible. 

"The chrysanthemums are not up to much this year, " Edith observed, as they drew near to the door of this house. "Collins did them verybadly--as he did most other things. But next year it will be verydifferent. Gafferson is the best chrysanthemum man in England. That ishe in there now, I think. "

Thorpe stopped short, and stared at her, the while the suggestionsstirred by the sound of this name slowly shaped themselves. 

"Gafferson?" he asked her, with a blank countenance. 

"My new head-gardener, " she explained. "He was at Hadlow, and after poorold Lady Plowden died--why, surely you remember him there. You spokeabout him--you'd known him somewhere--in the West Indies, wasn't it?"

He looked into vacancy with the aspect of one stupefied. "Did I?" hemumbled automatically. 

Then, with sudden decision, he swung round on the gravel. "I've got akind of headache coming on, " he said. "If you don't mind, we won't goinside among the flowers. "

CHAPTER XXVI

THORPE walked along, in the remoter out-of-the-way parts of the greatgardens, as the first shadows of evening began to dull the daylight. For a long time he moved aimlessly about, sick at heart and benumbed ofmind, in the stupid oppression of a bad dream. 

There ran through all his confused thoughts the exasperatingconsciousness that it was nonsense to be frightened, or even disturbed;that, in truth, nothing whatever had happened. But he could not lay holdof it to any comforting purpose. Some perverse force within him insistedon raising new phantoms in his path, and directing his reluctant gazeto their unpleasant shapes. Forgotten terrors pushed themselves upon hisrecollection. It was as if he stood again in the Board Room, with thetelegram telling of old Tavender's death in his hands, waiting to hearthe knock of Scotland Yard upon the door. 

The coming of Gafferson took on a kind of supernatural aspect, whenThorpe recalled its circumstances. His own curious mental ferment, whichhad made this present week a period apart in his life, had begun in thevery hour of this man's approach to the house. His memory reconstructeda vivid picture of that approach--of the old ramshackle village trap, and the boy and the bags and the yellow tin trunk, and that decent, red-bearded, plebeian figure, so commonplace and yet so elusivelysuggestive of something out of the ordinary. It seemed to him nowthat he had at the time discerned a certain fateful quality in theapparition. And he and his wife had actually been talking of old Kervickat the moment! It was their disagreement over him which had preventedher explaining about the new head-gardener. There was an effect of theuncanny in all this. 

And what did Gafferson want? How much did he know? The idea that perhapsold Kervick had found him out, and patched up with him a scheme ofblackmail, occurred to him, and in the unreal atmosphere of his mood, became a thing of substance. With blackmail, however, one could alwaysdeal; it was almost a relief to see the complication assume that guise. But if Gafferson was intent upon revenge and exposure instead? With sucha slug-like, patient, tenacious fool, was that not more likely?

Reasonable arguments presented themselves to his mind ever and again:his wife had known of Gafferson's work, and thought highly of it, andhad been in a position to learn of his leaving Hadlow. What more naturalthan that she should hasten to employ him? And what was it, after all, that Gafferson could possibly know or prove? His brother-in-law had goneoff, and got too drunk to live, and had died. What in the name of allthat was sensible had this to do with Thorpe? Why should it evenbe supposed that Gafferson associated Thorpe with any phase of thebusiness? And if he had any notion of a hostile movement, why should hehave delayed action so long? Why indeed!

Reassurance did not come to him, but at last an impulse to definiteaction turned his footsteps toward the cluster of greenhouses in thedeepening shadow of the mansion. He would find Gafferson, and probe thisbusiness to the uttermost. If there was discoverable in the man's manneror glance the least evidence of a malevolent intention--he would knowwhat to do. Ah, what was it that he would do? He could not say, beyondthat it would be bad for Gafferson. He instinctively clenched thefists in the pockets of his jacket as he quickened his pace. Inside thecongeries of glazed houses he was somewhat at sea. It was still lightenough to make one's way about in the passages between the stagings, buthe had no idea of the general plan of the buildings, and it seemed tohim that he frequently got back to places he had traversed before. Therewere two or three subordinate gardeners in or about the houses, butupon reflection he forbore to question them. He tried to assume anidly indifferent air as he sauntered past, nodding almost imperceptibleacknowledgment of the forefingers they jerked upward in salutation. 

He came at last upon a locked door, the key of which had been removed. The fact vaguely surprised him, and he looked with awakened interestthrough the panes of this door. The air inside seemed slightlythickened--and then his eye caught the flicker of a flame, straightahead. It was nothing but the fumigation of a house; the burning spiritsin the lamp underneath the brazier were filling the structure withvapours fatal to all insect life. In two or three hours the men wouldcome and open the doors and windows and ventilate the place. Theoperation was quite familiar to him; it had indeed interested him morewhen he first saw it done than had anything else connected with thegreenhouses. 

His abstracted gaze happened to take note of the fact that the door-keywas hanging on a nail overhead, and then suddenly this seemed to berelated to something else in his thoughts--some obscure impressionor memory which evaded him. Continuing to look at the key, a certainrecollection all at once assumed great definiteness in his mind: it cameto him that the labels on this patent fumigator they were using warnedpeople against exposing themselves to its fumes more than was absolutelynecessary. That meant, of course, that their full force would kill ahuman being. It was very interesting. He looked through the glass again, but could not see that the air was any thicker. The lamp still burnedbrightly. 

He turned away, and beheld a man, in an old cap and apron, at thefurther end of the palm-house he was in, doing something to a plant. Thorpe noted the fact that he felt no surprise in seeing that it wasGafferson. Somehow the sight of the key, and of the poison-spreadingflame inside the locked door, seemed to have prepared him for thespectacle of Gafferson close at hand. He moved forward slowly toward thehead-gardener, and luminous plans rose in his mind, ready-made ateach step. He could strangle this annoying fool, or smother him, intonon-resisting insensibility, and then put him inside that death-house, and let it be supposed that he had been asphyxiated by accident. The menwhen they came back would find him there. But ah! they would know thatthey had not left him there; they would have seen him outside, no doubt, after the fire had been lighted. Well, the key could be left in theunlocked door. Then it could be supposed that he had rashly entered, andbeen overcome by the vapours. He approached the man silently, his brainarranging the details of the deed with calm celerity. 

Then some objections to the plan rose up before him: they dealt almostexclusively with the social nuisance the thing would entail. There wasto be a house-party, with that Duke and Duchess in it, of whom hiswife talked so much, and it would be a miserable kind of bore to havea suffocated gardener forced upon them as a principal topic ofconversation. Of course, too, it would more or less throw the wholehousehold into confusion. And its effect upon his wife!--the progressof his thoughts was checked abruptly by this suggestion. A vision of theshock such a catastrophe might involve to her--or at the best, of thegross unpleasantness she would find in it--flashed over his mind, andthen yielded to a softening, radiant consciousness of how much thismeant to him. It seemed to efface everything else upon the instant. Aprofoundly tender desire for her happiness was in complete possession. Already the notion of doing anything to wound or grieve her appearedincredible to him. 

"Well, Gafferson, " he heard himself saying, in one of the more reservedtones of his patriarchal manner. He had halted close to the inattentiveman, and stood looking down upon him. His glance was at once tolerantand watchful. 

Gafferson slowly rose from his slouching posture, surveyed the otherwhile his faculties in leisurely fashion worked out the problem ofrecognition, aud then raised his finger to his cap-brim. "Good-evening, sir, " he said. 

This gesture of deference was eloquently convincing. Thorpe, after aninstant's alert scrutiny, smiled upon him. "I was glad to hear that youhad come to us, " he said with benevolent affability. "We shall expectgreat things of a man of your reputation. "

"It'll be a fair comfort, sir, " the other replied, "to be in a placewhere what one does is appreciated. What use is it to succeed inhybridizing a Hippeastrum procera with a Pancratium Amancaes, afterover six hundred attempts in ten years, and then spend three yearsa-hand-nursing the seedlings, and then your master won't take enoughinterest in the thing to pay your fare up to London to the exhibitionwith 'em? That's what 'ud break any man's heart. "

"Quite true, " Thorpe assented, with patrician kindliness. "You need fearnothing of that sort here, Gafferson. We give you a free hand. Whateveryou want, you have only to let us know. And you can't do things too wellto please us. " "Thank you, sir, " said Gafferson, and really, as Thorpethought about it, the interview seemed at an end. 

The master turned upon his heel, with a brief, oblique nod over hisshoulder, and made his way out into the open air. Here, as he walked, he drew a succession of long consolatory breaths. It was almost as ifhe had emerged from the lethal presence of the fumigator itself. He tookthe largest cigar from his case, lighted it, and sighed smoke-laden newrelief as he strolled back toward the terrace. 

But a few minutes before he had been struggling helplessly in the coilsof an evil nightmare. These terrors seemed infinitely far behind himnow. He gave an indifferent parting glance backward at them, as onemight over his after-breakfast cigar at the confused alarms of an earlyawakening hours before. There was nothing worth remembering--only theshapeless and foolish burden of a bad dream. 

The assurance rose within him that he was not to have any more suchtrouble. With a singular clearness of mental vision he perceived thatthe part of him which brought bad dreams had been sloughed off, like aserpent's skin. There had been two Thorpes, and one of them--the Thorpewho had always been willing to profit by knavery, and at last in asplendid coup as a master thief had stolen nearly a million, and wouldhave shrunk not at all from adding murder to the rest, to protect thatplunder--this vicious Thorpe had gone away altogether. There was nolonger a place for him in life; he would never be seen again bymortal eye. .. . There remained only the good Thorpe, the pleasant, well-intentioned opulent gentleman; the excellent citizen; thebeneficent master, to whom, even Gafferson like the others, touched arespectful forelock. 

It passed in the procession of his reverie as a kind of triumph ofvirtue that the good Thorpe retained the fortune which the bad Thorpehad stolen. It was in all senses a fortunate fact, because now it wouldbe put to worthy uses. Considering that he had but dimly driftedabout heretofore on the outskirts of the altruistic impulse, it wassurprisingly plain to him now that he intended to be a philanthropist. Even as he mentioned the word to himself, the possibilities suggestedby it expanded in his thoughts. His old dormant, formless lust for powerstirred again in his pulses. What other phase of power carried with itsuch rewards, such gratitudes, such humble subservience on all sidesas far as the eye could reach--as that exercised by the intelligentlymunificent philanthropist?

Intelligence! that was the note of it all. Many rich people dabbled atthe giving of money, but they did it so stupidly, in such a slip-shodfashion, that they got no credit for it. Even millionaires more or lessin public life, great newspaper-owners, great brewer-peers, and thelike, men who should know how to do things well, gave huge sums in bulkfor public charities, such as the housing of the poor, and yet contrivedsomehow to let the kudos that should have been theirs evaporate. Hewould make no such mistake as that. 

It was easy enough to see wherein they erred. They gave superciliously, handing down their alms from a top lofty altitude of Tory superiority, and the Radicals down below sniffed or growled even while theygrudgingly took these gifts--that was all nonsense. These aristocraticor tuft-hunting philanthropists were the veriest duffers. They laid outmillions of pounds in the vain attempt to secure what might easilybe had for mere thousands, if they went sensibly to work. Their vastbenefactions yielded them at the most bare thanks, or more often nothanks at all, because they lacked the wit to lay aside certain littletrivial but annoying pretensions, and waive a few empty prejudices. They went on, year after year, tossing their fortunes into a sink ofcontemptuous ingratitude, wondering feebly why they were not beloved inreturn. It was because they were fools. They could not, or they wouldnot, understand the people they sought to manipulate. 

What could not a man of real brain, of real breadth and energy and forceof character, do in London with two hundred thousand pounds? Why, hecould make himself master of the town! He could break into fragments thepolitical ascendency of the snob, "semi-detached" villa classes, in halfthe Parliamentary divisions they now controlled. He could reversethe partisan complexion of the Metropolitan delegation, and lead toWestminster a party of his own, a solid phalanx of disciplined men, standing for the implacable Democracy of reawakened London. With such abacking, he could coerce ministries at will, and remake the politics ofEngland. The role of Great Oliver himself was not too hopelessly beyondthe scope of such a vision. 

Thorpe threw his cigar-end aside, and then noted that it was almostdark. He strode up to the terrace two steps at a time, and swung alongits length with a vigour and exhilaration of movement he had not known, it seemed to him, for years. He felt the excitement of a new incentivebubbling in his veins. 

"Her Ladyship is in her sitting-room, sir, " a domestic replied to hisenquiry in the hall. The title arrested his attention from somefresh point of view, and he pondered it, as he made his way along thecorridor, and knocked at a door. At the sound of a voice he pushed openthe door, and went in. 

Lady Cressage, looking up, noted, with aroused interest, a marked changein his carriage. He stood aggressively erect, his big shoulders squared, and his head held high. On his massive face there was the smile, at oncebuoyant and contained, of a strong man satisfied with himself. 

Something impelled her to rise, and to put a certain wistfulness ofenquiry into her answering smile. 

"Your headache is better then?" she asked him. 

He looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed lightly. "Oh--yes, " heanswered. Advancing, he caught her suddenly, almost vehemently, in hisarms, aud covered the face that was perforce upturned with kisses. Whenshe was released from this overwhelming embrace, and stood pantingand flushed, regarding him with narrowed, intent eyes, in whichmystification was mellowed by the gleam of not-displeased curiosity, hepreferred a request which completed her bewilderment. 

"Mrs. Thorpe, " he began, with significant deliberation, but smiling withhis eyes to show the tenderness underlying his words--"would you mind ifwe didn't dress for dinner this evening, and if we dined in the littlebreakfast-room--or here, for that matter--instead of the big place?"

"Why, not at all, if you wish it, " she answered readily enough, butviewing him still with a puzzled glance. 

"I'm full of new ideas, " he explained, impulsively impatient of thenecessity to arrange a sequence among his thoughts. "I see great thingsahead. It's all come to me in a minute, but I couldn't see it clearer ifI'd thought it out for a year. Perhaps I was thinking of it all the timeand didn't know it. But anyhow, I see my way straight ahead. You don'tknow what it means to me to have something to do. It makes another manof me, just to think about it. Another man?--yes, twenty men! It's athing that can be done, and by God! I'm going to do it!"

She beheld in his face, as she scrutinized it, a stormy glow of theman's native, coarse, imperious virility, reasserting itself throughthe mask of torpor which this vacuous year had superimposed. The largefeatures were somehow grown larger still; they dominated the countenanceas rough bold headlands dominate a shore. It was the visage of aconqueror--of a man gathering within himself, to expend upon hisfellows, the appetites, energies, insensibilities, audacities of a beastof prey. Her glance fluttered a little, and almost quailed, before thefrank barbarism of power in the look he bent upon her. Then it came toher that something more was to be read in this look; there was in it areservation of magnanimity, of protection, of entreating invitation, forher special self. He might tear down with his claws, and pull to piecesand devour others; but his mate he would shelter and defend and lovewith all his strength. An involuntary trembling thrill ran throughher--and then she smiled up at him. 

"What is it you're going to do?" she asked him, mechanically. Her mindroved far afield. 

"Rule England!" he told her with gravity. 

For the moment there seemed to her nothing positively incongruous inthe statement. To look at him, as he loomed before her, uplifted by hisrefreshed and soaring self-confidence, it appeared not easy to say whatwould be impossible to him. 

She laughed, after a fleeting pause, with a plainer note ofgood-fellowship than he had ever heard in her voice before. "Delightful, " she said gayly. "But I'm not sure that I quite understandthe--the precise connection of morning-dress and dinner in a small roomwith the project. " He nodded pleased comprehension of the spirit inwhich she took him. "Just a whim, " he explained. "The things I've gotin mind don't fit at all with ceremony, and that big barn of a room, andmen standing about. What I want more than anything else is a quiet snuglittle evening with you alone, where I can talk to you and--and we canbe together by ourselves. You'd like it, wouldn't you?"

She hesitated, and there was a novel confession of embarrassment in hermantling colour and down-spread lashes. It had always to his eyes been, from the moment he first beheld it, the most beautiful face in theworld--exquisitely matchless in its form and delicacy of line and sereneyet sensitive grace. But he had not seen in it before, or guessed thatthere could come to it, this crowning added loveliness of feminineconfusion. 

"You would like it, wouldn't you?" he repeated in a lower, morestrenuous tone. 

She lifted her eyes slowly, and looked, not into his, but over hisshoulder, as in a reverie, half meditation, half languorous dreaming. She swayed rather than stepped toward him. 

"I think, " she answered, in a musing murmur, --"I think I shalllike--everything. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THORPE found the Duke of Glastonbury a much more interesting personto watch and to talk with, both during the dinner Saturday evening andlater, than he had anticipated. 

He was young, and slight of frame, and not at all imposing in stature, but he bore himself with a certain shy courtliness of carriage which hada distinction of its own. His face, with its little black moustacheand large dark eyes, was fine upon examination, but in some elusivelyforeign way. There lingered a foreign note, too, in the way he talked. His speech was English enough to the ear, it was true, but it was theconsidered English of a book, and its phrases had a deftness which washardly native. He looked, if not a sad young man, then one consciousalways of sufficient reasons for sadness, but one came, after a time, tosee that the mood beneath was not melancholy. It had even its sprightlyside, which shone out irregularly in his glance and talk, from a sobermean of amiable weariness. 

Thorpe knew his extraordinary story--that of a poor tutor, earning hisliving in ignorance of the fact that he had a birthright of any sort, who had been miraculously translated into the heir, not only to anancient title but to vast collateral wealth. He had been born and rearedin France, and it was there that the heralds of this stupendous changein his affairs had found him out. There was a good deal more to thestory, including numerous unsavoury legends about people now many yearsdead, and it was impossible to observe the young Duke and not seem toperceive signs that he was still nervously conscious of these legends. The story of his wife--a serene, grey-eyed, rather silent young person, with a pale face of some beauty, and with much purity and intellect--wasstrange enough to match. She also had earned her own living, as aprivate secretary or type-writing girl, or something of the sort, andher husband had deliberately chosen her after he had come into histitle. One might study her very closely, however, and catch no hint thatthese facts in any degree disconcerted her. 

Thorpe studied her a good deal, in a furtive way, with a curiosity bornof his knowledge that the Duke had preferred her, when he might havemarried his widowed cousin, who was now Thorpe's own wife. How he hadcome to know this, he could never have told. He had breathed it in, somehow, with the gossip-laden atmosphere of that one London season ofhis. It was patent enough, too, that his wife--his Edith--had not onlyliked this ducal youngster very much, but still entertained toward hima considerable affection. She had never dissembled this feeling, and itvisibly informed her glance and manner now, at her own table, when sheturned to speak with him, where he sat at her right hand. Thorpe hadnever dreamed of thinking ill of his wife's friendship, even when herindifference to what he thought had been most taken for granted. Nowthat this was all changed, and the amazing new glory of a lover hadenveloped him, he had a distinct delight in watching the myriad charmingphases of her kind manner, half-sisterly, half-motherly, toward thegrave-faced young man. It was all a part of the delicious change whichthese past few days had wrought in her, this warm and supple softness ofmien, of eye and smile and voice. 

But how the Duke, if really he had had a chance to marry Edith, couldhave taken the type-writer instead, baffled speculation. Thorpe gavemore attention to this problem, during dinner, than he did to theconversation of the table. His exchange of sporadic remarks with theyoung Duchess beside him was indeed an openly perfunctory affair, whichleft him abundant leisure to contemplate her profile in silence, whileshe turned to listen to the general talk, of which Miss Madden and theHon. Winifred Plowden bore the chief burden. The talk of these ladiesinterested him but indifferently, though the frequent laughter suggestedthat it was amusing. He looked from his wife to the Duchess and backagain, in ever-recurring surprise that the coronet had been carriedpast Edith. And once he looked a long time at his wife and the Duke, andformulated the theory that she must have refused him. No doubt that waswhy she had been sympathetically fond of him ever since, and was beingso nice to him now. Yes--clearly that was it. He felt upon this that healso liked the Duke very much. 

It was by no means so apparent that the Duke liked him. Both he and hisDuchess, indeed, were scrupulously and even deferentially polite, butthere was a painstaking effect about it, which, seemingly, they lackedthe art altogether to conceal. It seemed to Thorpe that the other guestsunconsciously took their cue from this august couple, and all exposedsomewhat the effort their civility to him involved. At another time thesuspicion of this would have stung him. He had only to glance across thetable to where his wife sat now, and it was all right. What otherpeople thought of him--how other people liked or disliked him--was of noearthly importance. Whenever he chose to exert himself, he could compelfrom them the behaviour that he desired. It was their dull inabilityto read character which prompted them to regard him as merely a richoutsider who had married Edith Cressage. He viewed with a comfortabletolerance this infirmity of theirs. When the time came, if he wanted todo so, he could awaken them to their delusion as by forked lightning andthe burst of thunder. 

The whim came to him, and expanded swiftly into a determination, tocontrive some intimate talk forthwith with the Duke. The young manseemed both clever and sensible, and in a way impressionable as well. Thorpe thought that he would probably have some interesting things tosay, but still more he thought of him as a likely listener. It would bethe easier to detach him from the company, since the occasion was oneof studied informality. The Duke did not go about in society, in theordinary sense of the word, and he would not have come to High Thorpe tomeet a large party. He was here as a kinsman and friend of his hostessfor a quiet week; and the few other guests fitted readily enough intothe picture of a family gathering. The spirit of domesticity had indeedso obviously descended upon the little group in the drawing-room, anhour or so after dinner, that Thorpe felt it quite the natural thing toput his arm through that of the Duke and lead him off to his personalsmoking-room. He even published his intention by audibly bidding theHon. Balder Plowden to remain with the ladies. 

When the two had seated themselves in soft, low easy-chairs, and thehost had noted with pleasure that his guest had no effeminate qualms inthe matter of large rich cigars, a brief silence ensued. 

"I am very anxious to get your views on a certain subject, " Thorpe wasinspired to begin, bluntly pushing preliminaries aside. "If a man offortune wishes to do genuine good with his money, here in England, howshould he best go about it?"

The Duke looked up at his questioner, with a sudden flash of surprise onhis dark, mobile face. He hesitated a moment, and smiled a little. "Youask of me the sum of human wisdom, " he said. "It is the hardest of allproblems; no one solves it. "

Thorpe nodded his big head comprehendingly. "That's all the more reasonwhy it ought to be solved, " he declared, with slow emphasis. 

The other expressed by look and tone an augmented consciousness of theunexpected. "I did not know, " he remarked cautiously, "that this was amatter in which you were specially concerned. It pleases me very much tohear it. Even if the solution does not come, it is well to have as manyas possible turning the problem over in their minds. "

"Oh, but I'm going to solve it!" Thorpe told him, with round confidence. 

The Duke pulled contemplatively at his cigar for a little. "Do not thinkme a cynic, " he began at last. "You are a man of affairs; you have madeyour own way; you should be even more free from illusions than I am. If you tell me that these good things can be done, I am the last oneto dispute you. But I have seen near at hand experiments of exceptionalimportance, on a very grand scale, and the result does not encourage me. I come to doubt indeed if money has any such power in these affairsas we think it has--for that matter, if it has any power at all. The shifting of money can always disorganize what is going on at themoment--change it about and alter it in many ways--but its effect isonly temporary. As soon as the pressure is released, the human atomsrearrange themselves as they were before, and the old conditions return. I think the only force which really makes any permanent difference ischaracter--and yet about even that I am not sure. The best man I haveever known--and in many respects the ablest--devoted untold energy andlabour, and much money, too, to the service of a few thousand people inSomerset, on land of his own, upon a theory wonderfully elaborated andworked out. Perhaps you have heard of Emanuel Torr and his colony, hisSystem?"

Thorpe shook his head. 

"He had worked tremendously for years at it. He fell ill and wentaway--and in a day all the results of his labours and outlay were flaton the ground. The property is mine now, and it is farmed and managedagain in the ordinary way, and really the people there seem alreadyto have forgotten that they had a prophet among them. The marvelouscharacter of the man--you look in vain for any sign of an impress thatit left upon them. I never go there. I cannot bear those people. I havesometimes the feeling that if it were feasible I should like to oppressthem in some way--to hurt them. "

"Oh! 'the people' are hogs, right enough, " Thorpe commented genially, "but they ARE 'the people, ' and they're the only tools we've got to workwith to make the world go round. "

"But if you leave the world alone, " objected the Duke, "it goes roundof itself. And if you don't leave it alone, it goes round just thesame, without any reference whatever to your exertions. Some few men arealways cleverer or noisier or more restless than the others, andtheir activity produces certain deviations and peculiarities in theirgeneration. The record of these--generally a very faulty and foolishrecord--we call history. We say of these movements in the past that someof them were good and some were bad. Our sons very likely will differtotally from us about which were good and which were bad; quitepossibly, in turn, their sons may agree with us. I do not see that itmatters. We cannot treat anything as final--except that the world goesround. We appear out of the darkness at one edge of it; we are carriedacross and pitched off into the darkness at the other edge of it. We arecertain about nothing else. "

"Except that some of us have to pay for our ride, and others don't, " putin Thorpe. The tone in which he spoke made his meaning so clear that hisGrace sat up. 

"Ah, you think we do not pay?" he queried, his countenance brighteningwith the animation of debate. "My dear sir, we pay more than anyoneelse. Our fares are graduated, just as our death-duties are. No doubtthere are some idle and stupid, thick-skinned rich fellows, who escapethe ticket-collector. But for each of them there are a thousand idlepoor fellows who do the same. You, for example, are a man of largewealth. I, for my sins, carry upon my back the burden of a prodigiousfortune. Could we not go out now, and walk down the road to your nearestvillage, and find in the pub, there a dozen day-labourers happier thanwe are? Why--it is Saturday night. Then I will not say a dozen, butas many as the tap will hold. It is not the beer alone that makes themhappy. Do not think that. It is the ability to rest untroubled, the sense that till Monday they have no more responsibility than atree-toad. Does the coming of Sunday make that difference to you or tome? When night comes, does it mean to us that we are to sleep off intooblivion all we have done that day, and begin life afresh next morning?No-o! We are the tired people; the load is never lifted from our backs. Ah, do we not pay indeed!"

"Oh-ho!" ejaculated Thorpe. He had been listening with growingastonishment to the other's confession. He was still surprised as hespoke, but a note of satisfaction mounted into his voice as he went on. "You are unhappy, too! You are a young man, in excellent health; youhave the wife you want; you understand good tobacco; you have a son. That is a great deal--but my God! think what else you've got. You're theDuke of Glastonbury--one of the oldest titles in England. You're one ofthe richest men in the country--the richest in the old peerage, at anyrate, I'm told. And YOU'RE not happy!"

The other smiled. "Ah, the terms and forms survive, " he said, with akind of pedagogic affability, "after the substance has disappeared. The nobleman, the prince, was a great person in the times when hemonopolized wealth. It enabled him to monopolize almost everythingelse that was pleasant or superb. He had the arts and the books and themusicians and the silks and velvets, and the bath-tubs--everything thatmade existence gorgeous--all to himself. He had war to amuse himselfwith, and the seven deadly sins. The barriers are down now. Everythingwhich used to be exclusively the nobleman's is now within everybody'sreach, including the sins. And it is not only that others have levelledup to him; they have levelled him down. He cannot dress now moreexpensively than other people. Gambling used to be recognized as one ofhis normal relaxations, but now, the higher his rank, the more sharplyhe is scolded for it. Naturally he does not know what to do withhimself. As an institution, he descends from a period when the onlyimaginable use for wealth was to be magnificent with it. But now in thisbusiness age, where the recognized use of wealth is to make morewealth, he is so much out of place that he has even forgotten how tobe magnificent. There are some illustrated articles in one of themagazines, giving photographs of the great historic country-houses ofEngland. You should see the pictures of the interiors. The furniture anddecorations are precisely what a Brixton dressmaker would buy, if shesuddenly came into some money. "

"All the same, " Thorpe stuck to his point, "you are not happy. "

The Duke frowned faintly, as if at the other's persistency. Then heshrugged his shoulders and answered in a lighter tone. "It hardlyamounts to that, I think. I confess that there are alleviations tomy lot. In the opinion of the world I am one of its most fortunatecitizens--and it is not for me to say that the world is altogetherwrong. The chief point is--I don't know if you will quite followme--there are limits to what position and fortune can give a man. And soeasily they may deprive him of pleasures which poorer men enjoy! I maybe wrong, but it seems impossible to me that any rich man who has acresof gardens and vineries and glass can get up the same affection forit all that the cottager will have for his little flower-plot, that hetends with his own hands. One seems outside the realities of life--amere spectator at the show. "

"Ah, but why not DO things?" Thorpe demanded of him. "Why merely stand, as you say, and look on?"

The other leant his head back again. "Pray what do you recommend?" heasked almost listlessly. 

"Why--politics, for example. "

The Duke nodded, with an air of according to the suggestion a certainrespect. "Unhappily I am too much of a foreigner, " he commented. "I knowEnglishmen and their affairs too imperfectly. Sometime--perhaps. "

"And philanthropic work--you don't care about that, " pursued the other. 

"Oh--we go not so far as that, " said his Grace, with a deprecatory waveof the hands. "My wife finds many interests in it, only she would notlike to have you call it philanthropical. She is London-born, and itis a great pleasure to her to be of assistance to poorer young women inLondon, who have so little done for them by the community, and can doso little for themselves. I am much less skeptical about that particularwork, I may tell you, than about philanthropy in general. In fact, I amquite clear that it is doing good. At least it is doing a kindness, andthat is a pleasant occupation. We are really not so idle as one mightthink. We work at it a good deal, my wife and I. "

"So am I London-born, " Thorpe remarked, with a certain irrelevancy. After a moment's pause he turned a sharply enquiring glance upon hisguest. "This thing that you're doing in London--does it give you any'pull' there?" "Pull?" repeated the other helplessly. 

"If there was something you wanted the people of London to do, wouldthey do it for you because of what you've been doing for them--or fortheir girls?"

The Duke looked puzzled for a moment. "But it isn't conceivable that Ishould want London to do anything--unless it might be to consume its ownsmoke, " he observed. 

"Quite so!" said Thorpe, rising bulkily to his feet, but signifying by agesture that his companion was to remain seated. He puffed at his cigartill its tip gleamed angrily through the smoke about him, and moved afew steps with his hands in his pockets. "That is what I wanted to getat. Now I'm London-born, I've got the town in my blood. The Thorpes havebeen booksellers there for generations. The old name is over the oldshop still. I think I know what Londoners are like; I ought to. It's mybelief that they don't want gifts. They'll take 'em, but it isn't whatthey want. They're a trading people--one of the oldest in the world. Commercial traditions, the merchant's pride--these are bred in theirbones. They don't want something for nothing. They like an honestbargain--fair on both sides. 'You help me and I'll help you. ' And it'sthe only way you can do anything worth doing. "

"Well, " said the Duke, passively. 

Thorpe halted, and still with the cigar between his teeth, looked downat him. 

"I can go into London, and study out the things that are to bedone--that need to be done--and divide these into two parts, those thatbelong to private enterprise and those that ought to be done publicly. And I can say to Londoners--not in so many words, mind you, but in a waythe sharper ones will understand: 'Here, you fellows. I'll begin doingout of my own pocket one set of these things, and you in turn must putyourselves at my back, and stand by me, and put me in a position whereI can make the Government do this other set of things. ' That will appealto them. A poor man couldn't lead them any distance, because he couldalways be killed by the cry that he was filling his pockets. They willbelieve in a man whose ambition is to win an earldom and five thousanda year out of politics, but they will stone to death the man who merelytries to get a few hundreds a year out of it for his wife and children. And a man like you can't do anything in London, because they can't seethat there's anything you want in return--and besides, in their hearts, they don't like your class. Don't forget it! This is the city thatchopped off the king's head!"

"Ah, but this is also the city, " retorted the other, with placidpleasure in his argument, "which decked itself in banners and ribbons towelcome back the son of that same king. And if you think of it, he wasrather a quaint thing in sons, too. "

"It was the women did that, " Thorpe affirmed with readiness. "They gettheir own way once in a while, when the men are tired out, and they havetheir little spell of nonsense and monkey-shines, but it never lastslong. Charles II. Doesn't matter at all--but take my word for it, hisfather matters a great deal. There was a Thorpe among the judges whovoted to behead him. I am descended in a straight line from him. "

His Grace shrugged his slight shoulders again. "It happens that myancestors had extremely large facilities for doing unpleasant things, and, God knows, they did them--but I don't quite see what that goes toprove, now. "

"No, you don't grasp the idea, " said Thorpe, resignedly. After amoment's pause he took the cigar from his lips, and straightened himself"All the same, " he declared roundly, "I am going to do the trick. Londonhas been waiting for an organizer--a leader--for a hundred years. Theright kind of a man, going the right way to work, can stand London onits head, as surely as I can burn this cigar. And I'm going to have atry at it. "

"It is very interesting, " remarked the Duke, with vagueness. "But--arethe ladies waiting for us? And if so, aren't we keeping them upunconscionably?"

As if in comment upon his words, there was the sound of a faint rap atthe door. Then it opened, and through the dense blue haze of the roomthey saw some shadowed forms softly indistinct save where the light fromthe ceiling outside shone down upon a group of coiffured heads. Anoise of mingled coughing and laughter specifically completed theintroduction. 

"Oh, I'm--it's unendurable in there, " spoke the voice of the hostess. "We WERE coming in to smoke with you, " she called out through the cloud, "since you wouldn't stop with us. "

"Come along!" answered Thorpe, cheerily. He strode to the end of theroom and raised a window. From the same corner he turned on some addedlights. 

Under this more effective illumination, the lady of the house advanced, with Miss Madden and the Hon. Winifred close behind her. "Frank has goneto bed, " she explained to the Duke, who had risen. Then she turned toher husband a bright-eyed glance: "You don't mind--our coming?" sheasked. 

"Mind!" he called out, with robust impressiveness. "Mind!" As if tocomplete the expression of his meaning, he threw his arm looselyabout her, where she stood, and brought her to his side. They remainedstanding thus, before the fireplace, after the others were all seated. 

"Mr. Thorpe has been outlining to me the most wonderful plans, " said theDuke, looking from one face to another, with a reserved smile. "Itseems that philanthropy fails unless it is combined with very advancedpolitics. It is a new idea to me--but he certainly states it withvigour. Do you understand it, Edith?"

"Oh, perfectly, " replied the wife, smilingly. "I am his first convert. Behold in me the original disciple. "

"The worst of that is, " commented Thorpe, with radiant joviality, "shewould subscribe to any other new doctrine of mine just as readily. " Hetightened the arm encircling her by a perceptible trifle. "Wouldn't you, sweetheart?" he demanded. 

She seemed in nowise embarrassed by these overt endearments. There was indeed the dimmest suggestion in her face and voice of aresponsive mood. "Really, " she began, with a soft glance, half-deprecation, half-pride, bent upon the others, and with thoughtfuldeliberation, --"really the important thing is that he should pursue someobject--have in view something that he is determined to master. Withoutthat, he is not contented--not at his best. He should have been asoldier. He has a passion for battle in his blood. And now that he seessomething he is eager to do--I am very glad. It makes it none the lessacceptable that good is to come from it. "

"I still maintain, " said Miss Madden, interpolating her words throughthe task of lighting a cigarette, and contriving for them an effect ofdrollery which appealed to Thorpe most of all--"I shall always insist, just the same, that crime was his true vocation. "