'Do you write for the papers, then?'
'For one of them.'
'How dreadful!' said Lady Willow, rising again, with an air of finality about her movement. It was evident that any dealings with this American girl were out of the question.
'Do sit down again, Lady Willow. We will take it that I am hopelessly ineligible, and so say no more about it; but I do want to have a talk with you.'
'But you will write something——'
'I shall not write a word about you or about anything you tell me. You see, your profession is as strange to me as mine is to you.'
'My profession? I have none.'
'Well, whatever you call it. I mean the way in which you make your money.'
Lady Willow sighed, and the tears came into her eyes.
'You little know, my child, to what straits one may come who is left unprovided for, and who has to do the best to keep up appearances.'
Jennie sprang up instantly and took the unresisting hand of the elder woman, smoothing it with her own caressingly.
'Why, of course I know,' she cried, with a little quaver in her voice; 'and there is nothing more terrible on earth than lack of money. If there was a single really civilized country in existence, it would make provision for its women. Every woman should be assured enough to live on, merely because she is a woman. If England had put aside as much for its women as it has spent in the last hundred years on foolish wars, or if America had made a fund of what its politicians have been allowed to steal, the women of both barbarous countries might have been provided with incomes that would at least keep them from the fear of want.'
Lady Willow seemed more alarmed than comforted by the vehemence of Miss Brewster. She said hesitatingly:
'I'm afraid you have some very strange ideas, my dear.'
'Perhaps; but I have one idea that isn't strange: it is that you are going to take charge of a lonesome, friendless girl for a few weeks at least—until the rich pork-packer's daughter from Chicago comes along, and she won't be here for a month or two yet. We won't say a word about terms; I'll pay you all that's left over from my hansom fares.'
'I shall be very happy to do what I can for you, my dear.'
Lady Willow had softened towards her fair client, and had now adopted a somewhat motherly tone with her, which Jennie evidently liked.
'I will try and be very little trouble to you, although I shall probably ask you ever so many questions. All I really want is merely to see the Zoo, hear the animals roar, and watch them being fed. I have no ambition to steal any of them.'
'Oh, that will be easily done,' said Lady Willow in surprise. 'We can get tickets from one of the Fellows of the Zoological Society which will admit us on Sunday, when there are but few people there.'
Jennie laughed merrily.
'I mean the social Zoo, Lady Willow; I have visited the other already. Please do not look so shocked at me, and don't be afraid; I really talk very nicely when I am in society, and I am sure you will not be in the least ashamed of me. You see, I haven't had a soul to speak with since I came to London, so I think I ought to be allowed a little latitude at first.'
Lady Willow so far relaxed her dignity as to smile, although a little dubiously; and Jennie joyfully proclaimed that their compact was sealed and that she was sure they would be great friends.
'Now you must tell me what I am to do,' she continued. 'I suppose dresses are the most important preliminaries when one is meditating a siege on society. Well, I've ordered ever so many, so that's all right. What's the next thing?'
'Yes, dress is important; but I think the first thing to do is to choose pleasant rooms somewhere. You can't stay at this hotel, you know; besides, it must be very expensive.'
'Yes, it is rather; but it is so handy and central.'
'It is not central for society.'
'Oh, isn't it? I was thinking of Westminster Abbey and Trafalgar Square, and that sort of thing. Besides, there'salwaysa nice hansom right at the door whenever one wants to go out.'
'Oh, but you mustn't ride in hansoms, you know!'
'Why? I thought the aristocracy—the very highest—rode in hansoms.'
'Some of them have private hansoms; but that's a very different thing.'
'And I heard somewhere that most of the hansoms in London are owned by the aristocracy. I am sure I rode in one belonging to the Marquis of Something—I forget his name. I don't suppose the Marquis himself drove it. Perhaps it was driven by his hired man; but the driver was such a nice young fellow, and he gave me a lot of information. He told me that the Marquis owned the hansom; for I asked him whose it was. I thought perhaps it belonged to the driver. I'll give up the hotel willingly, but I don't know about hansoms. I'm afraid to promise; for I feel sure I'll hail a hansom automatically the moment I go out alone. So we will postpone the hansom question until later. Now, where would you recommend me to stay while in London?'
'You could stop with me if you liked. I have not a large house; but there is room for one or two friends, and it is in a very good locality.'
'Oh, that will be delightful. I suppose the correct address on one's notepaper is everything, almost as good as a coat-of-arms—if they use coats-of-arms as letter-heads; and there is a difference between Drury and Park when they precede the word "Lane."'
The two ladies speedily came to an understanding that was satisfactory to each of them, and Lady Willow found, to the no small comforting of her dignity, that, although she came to the hotel in the attitude of one who, if it may be so expressed, sought a favour, the impetuous eagerness of the younger woman had so changed the situation that the elder lady now left with the gratifying self complacency of a generous person who has conferred a boon. Nor was her condescension without its reward, both material and intellectual, for not only did Jennie pay her way with some lavishness, but her immediate social success was flattering to Lady Willow as the introducer of a Transatlantic cousin so bright and vivacious.
So great an impression did Jennie make upon the more susceptible portion of the young men she met under Lady Willow's chaperonage, that even the rumour which got abroad, that she had no money, did not damp the devotion of all of them. Lord Frederick Bingham was quite as assiduous in his attentions as if she were the greatest heiress that ever crossed the ocean to exchange dubiously won gold for a title founded by some thief in the Middle Ages, thus bringing ancient and modern villainy into juxtaposition.
Lady Willow saw Lord Frederick's preference with pleasurable surprise. Although she did not altogether approve of the damsel in her care, she had become very fond of her; but she failed to see why Jennie was so much sought after, when other girls, almost as pretty and much more eligible, were neglected. She hinted delicately to the young woman one day that perhaps her visit to England would not be, after all, so futile.
'I don't think I understand you,' said Jennie.
'Well, my dear, with a little tact on your part, I'm not at all sure but Lord Frederick Bingham might propose.'
Jennie, who was putting on her gloves, paused and looked at Lady Willow, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, and a demure smile hovering about the corners of her mouth.
'Do you imagine, then, that I have come over here to ensnare some poor unprotected nobleman—with a display of tact? Oh dear me! As if tact had anything to do with it! Never, never, never, Lady Willow! I wouldn't marry an Englishman if he were the last man left on earth.'
'Many Englishmen are very nice, my dear,' protested Lady Willow gently, with a deep sigh, for she thought of her own husband, who, having been all his life an irreclaimable reprobate, had commanded her utmost affection while he lived, and was the object of her tenderest regret now that he had taken his departure from a world that had never appreciated his talents; although its influence was, in the estimation of the widow, entirely to blame for those shortcomings which Sir Debenham had been unable to conceal.
'And yet,' continued Jennie inconsequently, as she buttoned her glove, 'I do adore a title; I wonder why that is? I suppose no woman is ever at heart a republican, and if the United States is to be wrecked, it is the women who will do the wrecking, and start a monarchy. I have no doubt the men would let us proclaim an empire now if they imagined it would please us.'
'I thought you were all sovereigns over there already,' said Lady Willow.
'Oh, we are, but that's just the trouble. There is too much competition in the queen business; there are too many of us, and so we exchange our sovereignty for the lesser titles of duchesses and countesses and all that.
'"It is no trivial thing, I ween,To be a regular Royal Queen.No half and half affair, I mean,But a right down regular, regular regular regular Royal Queen."
I don't know that the words are right, but the sentiment is there. Oh dear me! I'm afraid I'm becoming quite English, you know.'
'I don't see many signs of it,' said Lady Willow, smiling in spite of herself as her voluble companion sang and danced about the room.
'Come, Lady Willow,' cried Jennie, 'get on your things; I am going to a City bank to cash a cheque, and I warn you that I will take a hansom. Lord Freddie agrees with me that a hansom is the jolliest kind of vehicle: please don't frown at me, Lady Willow—"jolliest" is Lord Freddie's word, not mine.'
'What I didn't like,' said Lady Willow, with as near an approach to severity as the kindly woman could assume, 'was your calling him Lord Freddie.'
'Oh, that's his phrase, too! He says everybody calls him Lord Freddie. But come along, and I'll call him Lord—Frederick—Bingham,' with a voice of awe and appropriate pauses between the words. 'He always seems so trivial compared with his name; he reminds me of a salesman at a remnant counter, and I don't wonder everybody calls him Lord Freddie. I'm afraid I'm a disappointed woman, Lady Willow. I suppose the men have retrograded since armour went out of fashion; they had to be big and strong then to carry so much hardware. Of course it makes a difference to a man whether his tailor cuts him a suit out of broadcloth or out of sheet iron. Yes, I begin to suspect that I've come to England several centuries too late.'
Lady Willow was too much shocked at these frivolous remarks to make any reply, so, attempting none, she went to her room to prepare for her trip to the City.
Leaving Lady Willow in the hansom, Jennie entered the bank and got the white notes, generally alluded to in fiction as 'crisp,' stuffing them with greater carelessness than their value warranted into her purse. She took from this receptacle of her wealth a bit of paper on which was written an address, and this she looked at for some moments before leaving the bank. On reaching the hansom, she handed up the slip of paper to the driver.
'Do you know where that is?' she asked.
'Yes, miss; it is just round the corner.'
'Well, drive to the opposite side of the street, and stop where I can see the door of No. 23.'
'Very good, miss.'
Arriving nearly opposite No. 23, the driver pulled up. Jennie looked across at the doorway where many hurrying men were entering and leaving. It was a large building evidently filled with offices; the girl drew a deep breath, but made no motion to leave the hansom.
'Have you business here, too?' asked Lady Willow, to whom the City was an unknown land, the rush and noise of which were unpleasantly bewildering.
'No,' said Jennie, with a doleful note in her voice, 'this is not business; it is pleasure. I want to sit here for a few minutes and think.'
'But, my dear child,' expostulated Lady Willow, 'you can't think in this babel; besides, the police will not allow the hansom to stand here unless one of us is shopping, or has business in an office.'
'Then, dear Lady Willow, do go shopping for ten minutes; I saw some lovely shops just down the street. Here are five pounds, and if you see anything that I ought to have, buy it for me. One must think now and then, you know. Our thoughts are like the letters we receive; we need to sort them out periodically, and discard those that we don't wish to keep. I want to rummage over my thoughts and see whether some of them are to be abandoned or not.'
When Lady Willow left her, Jennie sat with her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees gazing across at No. 23. The faces of none who went in or came out were familiar to her. Frequently glances were cast at her by passers-by, but she paid no heed to the crowd, nor to the fleeting admiration her pretty face aroused in many a flinty stockbroking breast, if, indeed, she was conscious of the attention she received. She awoke from her reverie when Lady Willow stepped into the hansom.
'What, back already?' she cried.
'I have been away for a quarter of an hour,' said the elder woman reproachfully. 'Besides, the money is all spent, and here are the parcels.'
'Money doesn't go far in the City, does it?' said Jennie.
'Why, what's the matter with you, my dear?' asked the elder woman; 'your voice sounds as if you had been crying.'
'Nonsense! What an idea! This street reminds me so of Broadway that I have become quite homesick, that's all. I think I'll go back to New York.'
'Have you met somebody from over there?'
'No, no. I've seen no one I knew.'
'Did you expect to?'
'Perhaps.'
'I didn't know you had any friends in the City.'
'I haven't. He's an enemy.'
'Really? An enemy who was once a friend?'
'Yes. Why do you ask so many questions?'
Lady Willow took the girl's hand, and said soothingly:
'I am sorry there was a misunderstanding.'
'So am I,' agreed Jennie.
When John Kenyon entered the office of his friend next morning, Wentworth said to him:
'Well, what luck with the Longworths?'
'No luck at all,' was the answer; 'the young man seemed to have forgotten all about our conversation on board the steamer, and the old gentleman takes no interest in the matter.'
Wentworth hemmed and tapped on the desk with the end of his lead pencil.
'I never counted much on that young fellow,' he said at last. 'What appeared to be his reason?'
'I don't know exactly. He didn't give any reason. He merely said that he would have nothing to do with it, after having got me to tell him what our option on the mine was.'
'Why did you tell him that?'
'Well, it seemed, after I had talked to him a little, that there was some hope of his going in with us. I told him point-blank that I didn't care to say at what figure we had the option unless he was going in with us. He said of course he couldn't consider the matter at all unless he knew to what he was committed; and so I told him.'
'And what excuse did he make for not joining us?'
'Oh, he merely said he thought he would have nothing to do with it.'
'Now, what do you imagine his object was in pumping you if he had no intention of taking an interest in the mine?'
'I'm sure I don't know. I do not understand that sort of man at all. In fact, I feel rather relieved he is going to have nothing to do with it. I distrust him.'
'That's all very well, John, you are prejudiced against him; but you know the name of Longworth would have a very great effect upon the minds of other City men. If we can get the Longworths into this, even for a small amount, I am certain that we shall have very little trouble in floating the company.'
'Well, all I can say is, my mission to the Longworths was a failure. Have you looked over the papers?'
'Oh yes, and that reminds me. The point on which the whole scheme turns is the availability of the mineral for the making of china, isn't it?'
'That is so.'
'Well, look at this letter; it came this morning.'
He tossed the letter over to Kenyon, who read it, and then asked:
'Who's Adam Brand? He doesn't know what he is talking about.'
'Ah, but the trouble is that he does. No man in England better, I should imagine. He is the manager and part owner of the big Scranton china works. I went to see Melville of that company yesterday. He could tell me nothing about the mineral, but kept the specimen I gave him, and told me he would show it to the manager when he came in. Brand is the manager of the works, and if anybody knows the value of the mineral, he ought to be the man.'
'Nevertheless,' said Kenyon, 'he is mistaken.'
'That is just the point of the whole matter—is he? The mineral is either valueless, as he says, or he is telling a deliberate lie for some particular purpose; and I can't see, for the life of me, why a stranger should not only tell a falsehood, but write it on paper. Now, John, what do you know about china manufacture?'
'I know very little indeed about it.'
'Very well, then, how can you put your knowledge against this man's, who is a practical manufacturer?'
Kenyon looked at Wentworth, who was evidently not feeling in the best of humours.
'Do you mean to say, George, that I do not know what I am talking about when I tell you that this mineral is valuable for a certain purpose?'
'Well, you have just admitted that you know nothing about the china trade.'
'Not "nothing," George—I know something about it; but what I do understand is the value of minerals. The reason I know anything at all about china manufacture is simply because I learned that this mineral is one of the most important components of china.'
'Then why did that man write such a letter?'
'I'm sure I don't know. As you saw the man, you can judge better than I whether he would tell a deliberate falsehood, or whether he was merely ignorant.'
'I didn't see Brand at all; I saw Melville. Melville was to submit this mineral to Brand, and let me know what he thought about it. Of course, everything depends upon the value of it in the china trade.'
'Of course.'
'Very well then, I took the only way that was open to me to find out what practical men say about it. If they say they will have nothing to do with it, then we might as well give up our mining scheme and send back our option to Mr. Von Brent.'
Kenyon read the letter again, and pondered deeply over it.
'You see, of course,' said George once more, 'everything hinges on that, don't you?'
'I certainly see that.'
'Then, what have you to say?'
'I have to say this—that I shall have to take a trip among the china works of Great Britain. I think it would be a good plan if you were to write to the different manufacturers in the United States and find out how much they use of it. There is no necessity for sending the mineral. They have to use that, and nothing else will do. Find out from them, if you can, how much of it they need, what price they will pay for pure material, and what they pay for the impure material they use now.'
'How do you know, John, that there are not a dozen mines with that material in them?'
'How do I know? Well, if you want to impugn my knowledge of mineralogy, I wish you would do so straight out. I either know my business or I do not. If you think I do not, then leave this matter entirely alone. I tell you that what I say about this mineral is true. What I say about its scarcity is true. There are no other mines with mineral so pure as this.'
'I am perfectly satisfied when you say that, but you must remember those who are going to put their money in this company will not be satisfied. They must have the facts and figures down before them, and they are not going to take either your word or mine as to the value of the mineral. Your proposal about seeing the different manufactories is good. I would act upon it at once, if I were you. We must have the opinions of practical men set forth clearly before we can make a move in the matter. Now, how much of this mineral have you got?'
'Only the few lumps I took with me in my portmanteau. The barrel full of it which we got at Burntpine has not arrived yet. I suppose it came by slow steamer and is probably on the ocean still.'
'Very good. Take what specimens you have, go to the North, and see those manufacturers. Get, in some way or another, whether from the principals or from the subordinates, the price they pay for it, and the cost of removing the adulteration from the stuff they employ now; because that is really the material we come into competition with. It is not with their first raw material, but with their material as cleared from the deleterious foreign substances, that we have to deal. Find out exactly what it costs to do this purifying, and then, when you get your facts and figures, I will arrange them for you in the best order. Meanwhile, as you suggest, I will learn what manufactories there are in the States. Nothing can be done except that until you come back, and, if I were you, I should leave at once.'
'I am quite ready. I don't want to lose any further time.'
So John Kenyon departed, and was soon on his way to the North, with a list of china manufactories in his note-book.
That afternoon Wentworth got the letters off by the American mail, and he felt that they were doing business as rapidly as could be expected. Next morning there was a letter for John Kenyon addressed to the care of Wentworth, and by a later mail there came a letter to Wentworth himself from John, who had reached his first district and had had an interview already with the manager of the works. He found the mineral was all he had expected, and they would be glad to take a certain quantity each year at a specified rate. This letter Wentworth filed away with a smile of satisfaction, and then he began again to wonder why Adam Brand, representing such a well-known manufactory, should have written a deliberate falsehood. Before he had time to fathom this mystery, the office-boy announced that a gentleman wished to see him, and handed Wentworth a card which bore the name of William Longworth. Wentworth arched his eyebrows as he looked at it.
'Ask the gentleman to step in, please,' he said; and the gentleman stepped in.
'How are you, Mr. Wentworth? I suppose you remember me, although I did not see much of you on board the steamer.'
'I remember you perfectly,' replied Wentworth. 'Won't you sit down?'
'Thank you. I did not know where to find Mr. Kenyon, and so, being aware that both of you were interested in this mica-mine, I called to see you with reference to it.'
'Indeed! I understood Mr. Kenyon to say that he had called upon you, and that you had decided to have nothing to do with it.'
'I hardly think he was justified in saying anything quite so definite. I got from him such particulars as he cared to give. He is not a very communicative man at the best, but he told me something about it, and I have been thinking over his proposal. I have now concluded to help you in this matter, if you care to have my aid. Perhaps, however, things have got to such a stage that you do not wish any assistance?'
'On the contrary, we have done very little. Mr. Kenyon is just now among the china manufactories in the North, finding out what demand there will be in England for this mineral.'
'Ah, I see. Have you had reports from him yet?'
'Nothing further than a letter this morning, which is very satisfactory.'
'There is no question, then, about the mineral being useful in the china trade?'
'No question whatever.'
'Well, I am glad of that. Now, Mr. Kenyon spoke to me on the steamer of going in share and share alike; that is, you taking a third, he taking a third, and I taking a third. We did not go very minutely into particulars, but I suppose we each share the expense in the same way—the preliminary expenses, I mean?'
'Yes,' said Wentworth; 'that would be the arrangement, I imagine.'
'Well, have you the authority to deal with me in the matter, or would it be better for me to wait until Kenyon comes back?'
'We can settle everything here and now.'
'Very good. Would you have any objection to my seeing the papers that relate to the mine? I should like to get the figures of the output as nearly as possible, and any other particulars you may have that would enable me to estimate the value of the property. Also I should like to see a copy of the option, or the original document by which you hold the mine.'
'Certainly; I shall be very pleased to give you all the information in my power.' Wentworth turned to his desk and wrote for a few moments, then blotted the paper he had been writing, and handed it to Longworth. 'You have no objection, before this is done, to signing this document, have you?'
Longworth adjusted his one eyeglass and looked at the paper, which read: 'I hereby agree to do my best to form a limited liability company for the purpose of taking over the Ottawa Mica-mine. I agree to pay my share of the expenses, and to accept one-third of the profits.'
'No, I don't object to sign this, though I think it should be a little more definite. I think it should state that the liability I incur is to be one-third of the whole preliminary expenses, the other two-thirds to be paid by Kenyon and yourself; and that, in return, I am to get one-third of the profits, the other two-thirds going to yourself and Kenyon. I think it should also state the amount of the capital of the new company; two hundred thousand pounds was suggested, if I remember rightly.'
'Very well,' answered Wentworth; 'I will rewrite that in accordance with your wishes.'
This he did, and Longworth, again adjusting his eyeglass, read it.
'Now,' he said, 'as we are so formal about the matter, perhaps it would be as well for you to give me a note which I can keep, setting forth these same particulars.'
'Undoubtedly,' said Wentworth, 'I shall do that. Probably it would be better for you to write the document to suit your own views, and I will sign it.'
'Oh no, not at all. Write whatever is embodied there, so that you will have one paper and I the other.'
This was done.
'Now then,' said Longworth, 'when does your option run out?'
Wentworth named the date.
'Who is the owner of the mine?'
'It is owned by the Austrian Mining Company, headquarters at Vienna, and the option is signed by a Mr. Von Brent, of Ottawa, who is manager of the mine and one of the owners.'
'You are perfectly certain that he has every right to sell the mine?'
'Yes; Mr. Kenyon's lawyer saw to that while he was in Ottawa.'
'And you are sure, also, that your option is a thoroughly legal instrument?'
'We are sure of that.'
'Has it been examined by a London solicitor?'
'It has been submitted to a Canadian lawyer. The bargain was made in Canada, and it will have to be carried out in Canada, under the laws of Canada.'
'Still, don't you think it would be just as well to get the opinion of an English lawyer on it?'
'I think that would be an unnecessary expense. However, if you wish to have that done, we will do it.'
'Yes; I think we shall need to have the opinion of a good lawyer upon it before we submit it to the stockholders.'
'Very well, I will have it done. Is there anyone whom you wish to give an opinion on it?'
'Oh, it is a matter of indifference to me; your own solicitor would do as well as anyone else. Perhaps, however, it will be better to have a legal adviser for the Mica Mining Company, Limited—we shall have to have one as we go on—and it might be as well to submit the document to whomever we are going to place in that position. It will not increase the legal expenses at all, or at least by only a very trifling amount. Have you anyone to suggest?'
'I have not thought about the matter,' said Wentworth.
'Suppose you let me look up a firm who will answer our purpose? My uncle is sure to know the right men, and that will be something towards my share of forming the company.'
'Very good,' said Wentworth; 'that will be satisfactory to me.'
'Now, there is a good deal to be done in the forming of a company, and it is going to take three men a good deal of time, besides some expense. What do you say to letting me look up offices?'
'Do you think it is necessary to have offices?'
'Oh, certainly. A great deal depends, in this sort of thing, on appearances. We shall need to get offices in a good locality.'
'To tell the truth, Mr. Longworth, Kenyon and I have not very much money, and we do not want to enter into any expense that is needless.'
'My dear sir, it is not needless. This business is one of those things into which, if you go boldly, you win; while if you go gingerly, on the economical plan, you lose everything. Of course, if there is to be a scarcity of cash, I shall have nothing to do with the scheme, because I know how these half-economically worked affairs turn out. I have seen too much of them. We are making a strike for sixty thousand pounds each. That is a sum worth risking something for, and, if you will believe me, you will not get it unless you venture something for it.'
'I suppose that is true.'
'Yes, it is very true. Of course I've had more experience in matters of this kind than either of you, and I know we shall have to get good offices, with a certain prosperous look about them. People are very much influenced by appearances. Now, if you like, I will see to getting the offices and to engaging a solicitor. Every step must be taken under legal advice, otherwise we may get into a very bad tangle and spend a great deal more money in the end.'
'Very well,' said Wentworth. 'Is there anything else you can suggest?'
'Not just at present; nothing need be done until Kenyon comes back, and then we can have a meeting to see what is the best way to proceed.'
Longworth then looked over the papers, took a note of some things mentioned in the option, and finally said:
'I wish you would get these papers copied for me, I suppose you have someone in the office who can do it?'
'Yes.'
'Then just have duplicates made of each of them. Good-morning, Mr. Wentworth.'
Wentworth mused for a few moments over the unexpected turn affairs had taken. He was very glad to get the assistance of Longworth; the name itself was a tower of strength in the City. Then, Kenyon's letter from the North was encouraging. Thinking of the letter brought the writer of it to his mind, so he took a telegraph-form from his desk, and wrote a message to the address given on the letter.
'Everything right. Longworth has joined us, and signed papers to assist in forming company.'
'There,' he said, as he sent the boy out with the message, 'that will cheer up old John when he gets it.'
When John Kenyon returned from the North and entered the office of his friend Wentworth, he found that gentleman and young Longworth talking in the outer room.
'There's a letter for you on my desk,' said Wentworth, after shaking hands with him. 'I'll be there in a minute.'
Kenyon entered the room and found the letter. Then he did a very unbusinesslike thing. He pressed the writing to his lips and placed the letter in his pocket-book. This act deserves mention because it is an unusual thing in the City. As a general rule, City men do not press business communications to their lips, and the letter John had received was entirely a business communication, relating only to the mine, and to William Longworth's proposed connection with it. He wondered whether he should write an answer to it or not.
He sat down at Wentworth's desk, and came upon an obstacle at the very beginning. He did not know how to address the young woman. Whether to say 'My dear Miss Longworth,' or 'My dear madam,' or whether to use the adjective 'dear' at all, was a puzzle to him; and over this he was meditating when Wentworth came bustling in.
'Well,' said the latter, as John tore into small pieces a sheet of notepaper and threw the bits into the waste-basket, 'how have you got on? Your letters were very short indeed, but rather to the point. You seem to have succeeded.'
'Yes, I have succeeded very well. I have got all the figures and prices and everything else that it is necessary to have. I succeeded with everybody except Brand, who wrote that letter to you. I cannot make him out at all. He would give me no information, and he managed to prevent everyone else in his works from giving me any. He pooh-poohed the scheme—in fact, wouldn't listen to it. He said it was not usual for men to give away information regarding their business, and in that, of course, he was perfectly justified; but when I tried to argue with him as to whether this mineral was used in his manufactory or not, he would not listen. I asked him what he used in place of it, but he would not tell. All in all, he is a most extraordinary man, and I confess I do not understand him.'
'Oh, it doesn't matter about him in the least. I was speaking with Longworth just now about that curious letter of his, and he agrees with me that it makes no difference. He says, what is quite true, that in every business you find some man with whom it is difficult to deal.'
'Yes, that is so; but, still, he either uses this substance or he does not. I can understand a man who says, "We have no need for that, because we use another material." But that is one of the things Brand does not say.'
'Well, it is not worth while talking about him. By the way, you have all your figures and notes with you, I suppose?'
'Yes, I have everything.'
'Very well. Leave them with me, and I will get them into some sort of shape. Longworth says we shall have to have everything printed relating to this—your statements and all.'
'That will cost a great deal of money, will it not?'
'Oh, not very much. It is necessary, it seems. We must have printed matter to give to those who make application for information. It would be impossible to explain personally to everybody who inquires, and to show them these documents.'
'Yes, I suppose so.'
'Longworth was just now speaking to me about offices he has seen, and he is anxious to secure them at once. He is attending to that matter.'
'Do you think we need an office? Why could not the business be transacted here; or perhaps a room might be had on this floor that would do perfectly well; then we should be close together, and able to communicate when necessary.'
'Longworth seems to think differently. He says you must impress the public, and so he is going in for fine offices.'
'Yes, but who is to pay for them?'
'Why, we must, of course—you and Longworth and myself.'
'Have you the money?'
'I have a certain amount. I think we shall have enough to see it through, and if not, we can easily get it, and settle up when we finish the business.'
'Well, you know I have no money to spare.'
'Oh, I know that well enough. Perhaps Longworth will see us through, for, as he says, this sort of thing can be spoilt by niggardliness. He has known, and so have I, many a business go to pieces because of false economy.'
'But it seems to me all this is needless expense. We only want to get a few moneyed men interested in our project, and if they are sensible men, they will look to the probability of getting a good dividend, not at fine offices.'
'Very well, John; you get the men, and I shall be satisfied. I am sure I am as anxious to do this cheaply as you are. If you think you can go out and interest a dozen or twenty-four men in the City, and persuade them to go in for our mine, I will cry "Halt!" on our part until you do it. Will you try that?'
Kenyon pondered for a few minutes, and then said: 'I suppose that would be rather a difficult thing to do.'
'Yes, that is the way it strikes me. I do not know to whom I could go. Longworth is a good man, and we have gone to him. Now it seems to me, having got his assistance, the least we can do, unless we are prepared to produce the men ourselves forthwith, is to act as he wishes.'
'Yes, I quite appreciate that, and I also grasp the fact that too close economy is not the best thing; but, on the other hand, George, how are we to perform our part with Longworth? His ideas of economy and yours may be vastly different. What is a mere trifle to him would bankrupt us!'
'I know that. Well, he is coming here this afternoon at three. Suppose you manage to be in then, and talk with him. Meanwhile, I will go over the papers and get them into tabulated form.'
'Very well; I shall be here at three o'clock.'
It will hardly be credited that a business man like John Kenyon spent most of the time between that hour and three o'clock trying to compose a business letter in answer to the business communication he had received that morning. Yet such was the astonishing fact, and it showed, perhaps more than anything else, how utterly unfit Mr. John Kenyon was to join in a commercial undertaking in a city of hard-headed people. At last, however, the letter was posted, and Kenyon hurried away to be in time for his three-o'clock appointment. He found Wentworth and young Mr. Longworth together, the latter looking more like a young man from the West End than a typical City business man. His monocle was in his eye, and it shone on Kenyon as he entered. It was evident something was troubling Wentworth, and it was equally evident that the something, whatever it was, was not troubling young Longworth.
'You are late, John,' was Wentworth's greeting.
'A little,' he answered. 'I was detained.'
There was silence for a few moments, and Wentworth appeared to be waiting for Longworth to speak. At last Longworth said:
'I have succeeded in getting very nice offices indeed, and I was telling Mr. Wentworth about them. You see, it is not very easy to engage offices in a good part of the City by the week. They do not care to let them in that way, because, while a weekly tenant is occupying them, somebody else, who wants them for a longer time, might have to be sent away.'
'Yes,' said Kenyon in a non-committal manner.
'Well, I have got just the offices we need, and have now set the men at putting gilt lettering on the windows. I have taken the offices in the name of "The Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited," which I shall have on the plate-glass windows in a very short time. Now, Mr. Wentworth here seems to think the offices rather expensive. I have told him before what my ideas are in the matter of expense. Perhaps, before anything more is said on the subject, we ought to go and look at the rooms.'
'How much are they a week?' asked Kenyon.
Young Mr. Longworth did not answer, because at that moment his monocle fell out of its place and had to be adjusted again; but Wentworth jerked out the two words, 'Thirty pounds.'
'Aweek?' cried John.
'Yes,' said Longworth, after having succeeded in replacing the round bit of glass—'yes; Mr. Wentworth seems to think that is rather high, but I defy him to get as fine offices in the City for anything less in price. It is merely ten pounds a week for each of us. However, before you can judge of their dearness or cheapness, you must see them. If you ask me, I think they are a bargain.'
'Very well,' said Kenyon. 'Have you the time, George?'
Wentworth, without answering, shoved the papers into his desk and closed it. The three young men went out together, and after a short walk came to large plate-glass windows, where a man on a ladder was chalking the words 'The Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited,' in a semicircle.
'You see,' said Longworth, 'this is one of the very best situations in the City. As I said before, I doubt if you could get anything like it for the price.'
They could not deny the excellence of the position, or that the plate-glass looked very imposing and the gilt letters exceedingly fine; but the cost of this running on perhaps for two or three months seemed to appal them.
'Come inside,' said young Longworth suavely; 'I am sure you will be pleased with the rooms we have. You see,' he said, entering and nodding to the carpenters who were at work there, 'this will be the front office, where the public is received. Here you have room for an accountant or two and your secretary. The back-room, which you see is also well lighted, is just the spot for our people to meet. We will get in a large long table here, and a number of chairs, and there we are—capital directors' room.'
'Does the thirty pounds a week include the furnishing of the place?' asked Kenyon.
'Oh, bless you, no! You surely couldn't expect that? We shall have to put in the furniture, of course.'
'And do you intend to put in desks and counter and everything of that sort here?'
'Of course. Beside that, we will get in a large safe. There is nothing like a ponderous safe, with the name of the company in gilt letters on it, for impressing the general public.'
'And how much is the furnishing of this place to cost?'
'Really, I don't know that. The men I have engaged will do it very reasonably. They have done work for me before. You don't get it done any cheaper by haggling about the price beforehand—I've found that out.'
'I do not see how we are to pay our share of all this,' said Kenyon.
'Nothing easier, my boy; I've arranged all that. I will pay them my third in cash when it is finished, and, they have agreed to wait three months for the remainder. By that time you will have sixty thousand pounds each, and a little bill like this will be nothing to you.'
Kenyon looked grave.
'It's a little like counting your chickens,' he said.
'Ah, they'll hatch all right,' laughed Longworth. And then his eyeglass dropped out.
It is never wise to despise an enemy, no matter how humble he may be. The mouse liberated the enmeshed lion. Jennie Brewster should have been thankful that circumstances, working in her favour, had rendered her account of the discoveries she made about the mines unnecessary. She was saved the bitterness of acknowledged defeat by the cable despatch that awaited her at Queenstown, telling her not to forward her information. The letter she received from the editor of theArguslater explained the cable message. TheArgushad obtained from a different source what purported to be an account of the reports on the mines, and this had been published. If Jennie's contribution corroborated this article, it was unnecessary; if it contradicted what had been already published, then, of course, it was equally unavailable, for theArguswas a paper that never stultified itself by acknowledging an error. So the editor sent his correspondent a short cable message to save the expense of a long and costly despatch that would have been useless when it reached theArgusoffice.
Instead, however, of being grateful to the stars that fought so well for her, Jennie became bitterly resentful against Fleming, and hardly less so against Miss Longworth. If it had not been for the meddling politician's interference, Wentworth would never have discovered who she was, and the whole train of humiliating events that followed would not have taken place. She would have parted with Wentworth on a friendly basis, at least. She was forced, reluctantly, to admit to herself that she liked Wentworth better than any young man she had ever before met; and now that there was little chance of seeing him again, her regret had become more and more poignant as time went on. He had told her all his hopes about the mica-mine before their unfortunate disaster, and had taken her into his confidence in a way, she felt sure, he had never done with any other woman. She saw the earnest look in his honest eyes whenever she closed her own, and this look haunted her day and night, alternating with the remembrance of that gaze of incredulous reproach with which he regarded her when he discovered her mission, which was even harder to bear than the recollection of his confidence and esteem.
And the sting of the situation lay in the fact that it had all been so useless and unnecessary. She had wounded her friend and humiliated herself all for nothing! The rapid changes that had taken place in the newspaper office since she left, had rendered her sacrifices futile, and while she had buoyed herself up on shipboard by holding that she was merely doing her duty to her employers, even that consolation had been made naught by the editor's letter.
Thus it ever is in that kaleidoscopic, gigantic and fascinating lottery, the modern press. The sensation for which an editor to-day would sell his soul, is to-morrow worthless. The greatest fool in the office will sometimes stumble stupidly upon the most important news of the day, while the cleverest reporter may be baffled in his constant fight against time, for the paper goes to press at a certain hour, and after that, effort is useless. The conductor of a great paper is like the driver of a Roman chariot; he needs a cool head and a strong arm, with a clear eye that peers into the future, and that pays little heed to the victims of the whirling scythe-blades at the hub. He may overturn a Government or be himself thrown, by an unexpected jolt, under the wheels. The fiery steeds never stop, and when one drops the reins, another grasps them, to be in turn lost and forgotten in the mad race, wherein never a glance is cast to the rear. The best brains in the country are called into requisition, squeezed, and flung aside. With a lavish but indiscriminating hand are thrown broadcast fame and dishonour, riches and disaster. Unbribable in the ordinary sense of the word, the press will, for the accumulation of the smallest coins of the realm, exaggerate a cholera scare and paralyze the business of a nation; then it will turn on a corrupt Government and rend it, although millions might be made by taking another course. It is the terror of scoundrels and the despair of honest men.
Jennie Brewster, in the midst of her unavailing regrets, clenched her little fist when she thought of Fleming. It is both customary and consoling to place the blame on other shoulders than our own. Human nature is such an erring quantity, that usually we can find a scapegoat among our fellow-beings, who can be made responsible for any misdeeds or failings which are so much a part of ourselves that they escape recognition. If Fleming had only attended his own business, as a man should, Wentworth would never have known that Jennie wrote for theArgus, and Jennie might have had a friend in London who would have added that spice of interest to her visit which usually accompanies the friendship of an agreeable young man for a girl so pretty and fascinating.
Fleming put up at the hotel that Jennie had at first selected, and now and then she met him in the extensive halls of the great building; but she invariably passed him with the dignity of an offended queen, although the unfortunate man always took off his hat, and once or twice paused as if about to speak with her.
On the last day of her stay at the hotel, she met Fleming oftener than ever before; but it did not occur to her that the unhappy politician was lying in wait for her, never being able to muster up enough courage to address her when his opportunity came. At last a note was brought up to the room she occupied, from Fleming, in which he said that he would like to have a few moments' conversation with her, and would wait for a reply.
'Tell him there is no reply,' said the girl to the messenger.
It is sometimes well to know the point of view, even of an enemy, but Jenny was too angry with him to think of that. However, a politician, to be successful, must not be easily rebuffed, and as a rule he is not.
Fleming, when he got the curt reply to his note, threw away his cigar, put on his hat, took the lift, passed through the long corridor, and knocked at Jennie's door.
The girl's amazement at seeing her enemy there was so great that the obvious act of shutting the door in his face did not occur to her until it was too late, and Fleming had carelessly placed his large foot in the way of its closing.
'How dare you come here, when I refused to see you?' she cried, with her eyes ablaze.
'Oh, I understood the messenger to say I might come,' replied the untruthful politician. 'You see, it's not a personal matter, but the very biggest sensation that ever went under the ocean on a cable, and I thought—Well, you know, I felt I had done you—quite unintentionally—a mean trick on board theCaloricand this was kind of to make up for it, don't you know.
'You can never repair what you have done.'
'Oh yes, I can, Jennie.'
'I shall be obliged to you if you remember that my name is Miss Brewster,' said the girl, drawing herself up; but Fleming noticed, with relief, that since he had mentioned the sensation she had made no motion to close the door, while the eagerness of the newspaper woman was gradually replacing the anger with which she had at first regarded him.
'All right, Miss Brewster. I meant no disrespect, you know; and, honestly, I would rather give you a big item than anybody else.'
'Oh, you're very honest—I know that.'
'Well, I am, you know, Jen—I mean Miss Brewster; although I tell you it don't pay in politics any more than in the newspaper business.'
'If you only came to speak like that of the newspapers, I don't care to listen to you.'
'Wait a minute. I don't blame you for being angry——'
'Thank you.'
'But, all the same, if you let this item get away, you'll be sorry. I'm giving you the straight tip. I could get more gold than you ever saw for giving this snap away, yet here you're treating me as if I were——'
'A New York politician. Why do you come to me with this valuable piece of information? Just because you have a great regard for me, I suppose?'
'That's right. That's it exactly.'
'I thought so. Very well. There is a parlour on this floor where we can talk without being interrupted. Come with me.'
Jennie closed the door and walked down the passage, followed by Fleming, who smiled with satisfaction at his own tact and shrewdness, as, indeed, he had every right to do.
In the deserted sitting-room was a writing-table, and Jennie sat down beside it, motioning Fleming to a chair opposite her.
'Now,' she said, drawing some paper towards her, and taking up a pen, 'what is this important bit of news?'
'Well, before we begin,' replied Fleming, 'I would like to tell you why I interfered on shipboard and let that Englishman know who you were.'
'Never mind that. Better let it rest.' There was a flash of anger in the girl's eye, but, in spite of it, Fleming continued. He was a persistent man.
'But it has some bearing on what I'm going to tell you. When I saw you on board theCaloric, my heart went down into my boots. I thought the game was up, and that you were after me. I was bound to find out whether theArgusknew anything of my trip or not, and whether it had put you on my track. Only five men in New York knew of my journey across, and as a good deal depended on secrecy, I had to find out in some way whether you were there for the purpose of—well, you know. So I spoke to the Englishman, and raised a hornets' nest about my ears; but I soon saw you had no suspicion of what I was engaged in, otherwise I would have had to telegraph to certain persons then in London, and scatter them.'
'Dear me! And what villainy were you concocting? Counterfeiting?'
'No; politics. Just as bad, I suppose you think. Now, do you know where Crupper is?'
'The Boss of New York? I heard before I left that he was at Carlsbad for his health.'
'He was there,' said Fleming mysteriously; 'but now——'
The politician solemnly pointed downwards with his forefinger.
'What! Dead?' cried Jennie, the ominous motion of Fleming's finger naturally suggesting what all good people believed to be the arch-thief's ultimate destination.
'No,' said Fleming, laughing; 'he's in this hotel.'
'Oh!'
'Yes, and Senator Smollet, leader of the Conscientious Party, is here too, although you don't meet them in the halls as often as you do me. These good men supposed to be political opponents, are lying low and saying nothing.'
'I see. And they've had a conference.'
'Exactly. Now, it's like this.' Fleming pulled a sheet of paper towards him, and drew on it an oval. 'That's New York. We'll call it a pumpkin-pie, if you like, the material of which it is composed being typical of the heads of its conscientious citizens. Or a pigeon-pie, perhaps, for the New Yorker is made to be plucked. Well, look here.' Fleming drew from a point in the centre several radiating lines. 'That's what Crupper and Smollet are doing in London. They're dividing the pie between the two parties.'
'That's very interesting, but how are they going to deliver the pieces?'
'Simple as shelling peas. You see, our great pull is the conscientious citizen—the voter who wants to vote right, and for a good man. If it weren't for the good men as candidates and the good men as voters, New York politics would be a pretty uncertain game. You see, the so-called respectable element in both parties is our only hope. Each believes in his party, thinks his crowd is better than the other fellow's, so all you have to do is to nominate an honest man to represent each party, and then that divides what they call the reputable vote, and we real politicians get our man in between the two. That's all there is in New York politics. Well, Senator Smollet threatened not to put up a good man on the conscientious ticket, and that would have turned the whole unbribable vote of both parties against us, so we had to make a deal with him, and throw in the next Presidential election. Crupper's no hog; he knows when he's had plenty, and New York's good enough for him. He don't care who gets the Presidency.'
'And this conference has been held?'
'That's right. It took place in this hotel.'
'The bargain was made, I suppose?'
'It was. The pie was divided.'
'And you didn't get a slice?'
'Oh, I beg your pardon, I did!'
'Then, why do you come to me and tell me all this—if it's true?'
Honest indignation shone in Fleming's face.
'Ifit's true? Of course it's true. Why do I come to you? Because I want to be friendly with you, that's why.'
Jennie, nibbling the end of her pen, looked thoughtfully across at him for a few moments, then slowly shook her head.
'If you get me to believe that, Mr. Fleming, I'll not cable a word. No, I must have an adequate motive, for I won't cable anything I don't believe to be absolutely true.'
'I assure you, Jennie——'
'Wait a moment. You say you are promised your share in the new deal, but it is not as big a slice as what you have now. It stands to reason that, if Crupper is to divide with Smollet's rascals, each of Crupper's rascals must content himself with a smaller piece. The greater the number of thieves, the smaller each portion of booty. You didn't see that when you left New York, and therefore you were afraid of publicity. You see it now, and you want a sensational article published, so that Senator Smollet will be forced to deny it, or further arouse the suspicions of the honest men in his party. In either case publicity will nullify the results of the deal, and you will hold the share you have. As you didn't know any of the regular London representatives of the New York papers, you couldn't trust them not to tell on you, and so you came to me. Now that I see a good substantial selfish motive for your action, I am ready to believe you.'
An expression of dismay at first overspread the countenance of the politician, but this gave way to a look of undisguised admiration as the girl went on.
'By Jove, Jennie!' he cried, bringing his fist down on the table when she had finished; 'you're wasted in the newspaper business; you ought to be a politician! Say, girl, if you marry me, I'll be President of the United States yet.'
'Oh no, you wouldn't,' said Jennie, quite unabashed by his handsome, if excited, proposal. 'No corrupt New York politician will ever be President of the United States. You have the great honest bulk of the people to deal with there, and I'm Democrat enough to believe in them when it comes to big issues, however much you may befog them in small; you can't fool all people for all time, Mr. Fleming, as a man who was not in little politics once said. Every now and then the awakened people will get up and smash you.'
Fleming laughed boisterously.
'That's just it,' he said. 'It's every now and then. If they did it every year I would have to quit politics. But will you send the particulars of this meeting to theArguswithout giving me away?'
'Yes, I recognise its importance. Now, I want you to give me every detail—the number of the room they met in, the exact hour, and all that. What I like to get in a report of a secret meeting is absolute accuracy in small matters, so that those who were there will know it is not guesswork. That always takes the backbone out of future denials. I'll mention your name——'
'Bless my soul, don't do that!'
'I must say you were present.'
'Why?'
'Why? Dear me! you can't be so stupid as not to see that, if your name is left out, suspicion will at once point to you as the divulger?'
'Yes I suppose that is so.'
'And this man is a ruler in one of the greatest cities in the world! Go on, Mr. Fleming; who else was there besides Crupper, Smollet, and yourself?'
The account—two columns and a half—was a bombshell in political New York the morning it appeared in theArgus. Senator Smollet cabled from Paris that there wasn't a word of truth in it, that he wasn't in London on the date mentioned, and had never seen Crupper there or elsewhere. Crupper cabled from Carlsbad that he was ill, and had not been out of bed for a month. He would sue theArgusfor libel, which, by the way, he never did. The reporters flocked to meet Fleming when his steamer came in, but of courseheknew nothing about it; he had been across the ocean solely on private business that had no connection with politics. He knew nothing of Crupper's whereabouts, but he knewonething, which was that Crupper was too honest and honourable a man to traffic with the enemy.
Notwithstanding all these denials, the report bore the marks of truth on its face, and everybody believed it, although many pretended not to. The division of the spoils aroused the greatest consternation and indignation among Crupper's own following, and a deputation went over to see the old man.
Meanwhile, theArgus, with much dignity of diction, explained that it stood for the best interests of the people, and in the people's cause was fearless. It defied all and sundry to bring libel suits if they wanted to; it was prepared to battle for the people's rights. And its circulation went up and up, its many web presses being taxed to their utmost in supplying the demand. Thus are the truly good rewarded.
A great newspaper is as lavishly generous as a despotic monarch, to those who serve it well, and the cheque which Jennie cashed when Lady Willow accompanied her to the City lined her purse with banknotes to a fulness that receptacle had never known before.
After a few weeks with Lady Willow, Jennie seemed to tire of the frivolities of society, and even of the sedate company of the good lady with whom she lived. She announced that she was going to Paris for a week or two, but, owing to uncertainty of address, her letters were not to be forwarded. She merely took a hand-bag, leaving the rest of her luggage with Lady Willow, who was thus sustained by the hope that her paying guest would soon return.
Jennie took a hansom to Charing Cross, but instead of departing on the Paris express, she hailed a four-wheeler, and, giving a West End address to the driver, entered the closed vehicle.
On the big plate-glass windows of the new rooms there soon appeared, in gilt letters with black edges, the words, 'Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited: London Offices.' But the workmen who were finishing the interior were not so quick as the painters and gilders. The new offices took a long time to prepare, and both Kenyon and Wentworth chafed at the delay, because Longworth said nothing could be done until the rooms were occupied.
'It is like this, Longworth,' said Wentworth to him: 'every moment is of value. Time is running on, and we have not for ever in which to form this company.'
'And you must remember,' replied young Mr. Longworth, gazing reproachfully at him through his glittering monocle, 'that I am equally interested in this project with you. It is just as much to my interest to save time as it is to yours. You must not worry about the matter, Mr. Wentworth; everything is all right. The men are doing a good job for us, and it will not be long before their work is completed. As I have told you time and again, a great deal depends on the appearance we present to the public. We have nearly the best offices in the City. The workmen have certainly taken longer than I expected they would, but, you see, they have a great deal of work on hand. When we get this started it will not take long. I, in the meanwhile, have not been idle. At least half a dozen moneyed men are ready to go in with us on this project. The moment the offices are finished we will have a meeting of the proposed shareholders. If they subscribe sufficiently large amounts—and I think they will—all the rest is a mere matter of detail which our solicitors will attend to. But if you imagine that you and Mr. Kenyon can manage everything better than I am doing, you are perfectly at liberty to go ahead. I am sure I have no desire to monopolize all the work. What haveyoudone, for instance? What has Mr. Kenyon done?'
'Kenyon, as I think you know, has got all the facts in reference to the demand for the mineral, and I have arranged them. We have had everything printed as you suggested, and the papers are ready. They were delivered at my office to-day.'
'Very well,' answered young Longworth; 'we are getting on. That is so much done which will not have to be done over again. Perhaps it will be as well to send me some of the printed matter, so that I can give it to the men I was speaking of. Meanwhile, don't worry about the offices; they will be ready in good time.'
Wentworth and Kenyon visited the new offices time and again, but still the work seemed to drag. At last Wentworth said very sharply to the foreman:
'Unless this is finished by next Monday, we will have nothing to do with it.'
The foreman seemed astonished.
'I understood from Mr. Longworth,' he said, 'from whom we take our instructions, that there was no particular hurry about this job.'
'Well, there is a particular hurry. We must be in here by the first of next week, and if you have not finished by that time, we shall have to come in with it unfinished.'
'In that case,' said the foreman, 'I will do the best I can. I think we can finish it this week.'
And finished it was accordingly.
When Kenyon entered his new offices, he found them rather oppressive for so modest a man as himself. Wentworth laughed at his doleful expression as he viewed the general grandeur of his surroundings.
'What bothers me,' said John, 'is knowing that all this has to be paid for.'
'Ah, yes,' answered Wentworth; 'but by the time the debts become due I hope we shall have plenty of money.'
'I must confess I do not understand Longworth in this matter. He seems to be doing nothing; at least, he has nothing to show for what he has done, and he does not appear to realize that time is an object with us; in fact, that our company-forming has really become a race against time.'
'Well, we shall see very shortly what he is going to do. I have sent a messenger for him to meet us here—he ought to be here now—and we must certainly push things. There is no time to lose.'
'Has he said anything to you—he talks more freely with you than he does to me—about what the next move is to be?'
'No; he has said nothing.'
'Well, don't you see the situation in which we stand? We are practically doing nothing—leaving everything in his hands. Now, if he should tell us some fine day that he can have nothing more to do with our project (and I believe he is quite capable of it), here we are with our time nearly spent, deeply in debt, and nothing done.'
'My dear John, what a brain you have for conjuring up awful possibilities! Trust me, Longworth won't act in the way you suggest. It would be dishonourable, and he is, so far as I know, an honourable man of business. I think you take a certain prejudice against a person, and then can see nothing good in anything he does. Longworth told me the other day that he had five or six people who are ready to go into this business with us, and if such is the case he has certainly done his share.'
'Yes, I admit that. Did he give you their names?'
'No, he did not.'
'The thing that troubles me is our own helplessness. We seem, in some way or other, to have been shoved into the background.'
'So far from that being the case,' said Wentworth, 'Longworth told me that, if anything suggested itself to us, we were to go ahead with it. He asked what you had done and what I had done, and I told him. He seemed quite anxious that we should do everything we could, as he is doing.'
'Well, but, don't you see, the situation is this: if we make a move at all, we may do something of which he does not approve. Haven't you noticed that whenever I suggest anything, or whenever you suggest anything, for that matter, he always has something counter to it? And I don't like the solicitors he has engaged for this business. They are what is known as "shady"; you know that as well as I do.'
'Bless me, John! then suggest something yourself if you have such dark suspicions of Longworth. I'm sure I'm willing to do anything you want done. Suggest something.'