IIAs soon as James saw Posy coming alone to him, he leapt triumphantly to the conclusion that her father had hauled down his flag. With a joyous exclamation he hastened to embrace her, but she turned a cool cheek to ardent lips."Father sent me to you, Jim.""I knew he'd climb down!""But he hasn't. Jim, dear, what do you mean by threatening father and—and Mr. Tomlin?"The eager smile faded out of his face. He remained silent, marshalling his wits."Have you received tips from Mr. Tomlin?""He's paid me for work done.""What sort of work?""Restoring old bits of stuff. What has that got to do with us?"She followed her thoughts, not his questions."And why is there all this hurry? Mr. Tomlin said just now that there was no time to waste.""He's right; there isn't!""But why?"Her voice was gently insistent. She laid her hand softly upon the sleeve of his coat, as if entreating him to trust her, as she trusted him."It's like this, Posy. I told you last night that I could deal with your father, that the right moment had come to deal with him. Now, give me a free hand!""Mr. Tomlin spoke, not very clearly, about your being able to ruin father and him. Father denies that!""Does he?"Posy grew nervous, the colour ebbed from her cheeks; into her eyes flitted a shadow of fear. Her sharp wits were at work adding and subtracting, fitting together this jig-saw puzzle.At this moment, her memory answered oddly to the strain imposed upon it. In this room, before thecoup de foudre, her father had spoken roughly to her, ordering her out of it with a peremptoriness apparently quite unjustifiable, because she was on an errand connected with his business. This tiny fact had rankled. James had asked her for a bottle of cleaning fluid.Suddenly, out of the pigeon-holes of her mind, tumbled the covers of the chairs which James wanted to clean. The very pattern of the exquisite needlework presented itself."Oh!" she exclaimed."What's the matter, dearest? This excitement has been too much for you. Do let me handle your father. Believe me, I can do it in our joint interest."She gazed at him queerly, a tiny, vertical line between her dark eyebrows."Has father done something dishonest?"The colour rushed back into her cheeks as she spoke, but her eyes remained upon his. When he made no reply, she continued:"Are you threatening to expose some fraud, a fraud connected with—chairs?""God! You are clever!" said James, unable to hide his admiration, or to believe that she had swooped upon the truth.She sighed."Then it is true."There was no interrogation in those four words."Well, yes; it is true." He hurried on, fearing that she might interrupt him. "I wanted to spare you knowledge of that. Fortune has placed in my hands a weapon. I am using it for both our sakes. Between our two selves, my dearest, I can admit to you that I should not really ruin your father. What an idea!""Then you are bluffing?""I am. I want you so desperately."He attempted to kiss her, but she repulsed him gently."If mother knew——""She need not know. Your father will climb down at the last moment. He knows, and Tomlin knows, that I can ruin both of them.""It's as bad as that?""Yes. He must surrender!""But if he shouldn't? Jim, dear, you said last night that you would take me as I am; and I loved you for saying that. Now, you want to bargain for me.""To bargain for you, darling; not for myself."She nodded, accepting his explanation, able to put herself in his place. Beholding the situation from his point of view, panoramically, she tried, in turn, to see the same situation from the point of view of her father. She exclaimed softly:"Gracious!"The expression upon her face puzzled James. Men, even the cleverest, can follow women's bodies easier than their thoughts."Try to be sensible about this," he murmured."It's so exciting. Don't you see that this is a test of father, a wonderful test!""Of what?""Of his love for me, of his love for mother.""Eh?""Don't be dense, Jim! Mother has accused father of not caring much for us; but, if he risks ruin for our sake, he does care.""Pooh! He's bluffing, too!""I am not certain of that. Anyway"—her face cleared; she beamed at him delightfully—"I should like you to make good, Jim, without horrid threats, without bluffing. Take me as I am, if you want me. You can earn a good living anywhere. I'm not afraid of a little poverty with you.""You don't know what poverty is, Posy. I do. I'm afraid of poverty for the woman I care about.""Do you mean that you refuse to take me as I am?"Bathos and pathos are twins. James passed, with an unconsidered bound, from climax to anticlimax. He said irritably:"Hang it all! I shall have to take your mother, too. Posy, we haven't time to argue this. Hunsaker will be here directly. Luck has thrust into my hands a tremendous lever; and I mean to use it.""Is that your last word?""Yes, it is. I'm fighting for you, fighting to a finish. And ever since the world began, women have had to look on at such a fight——""And take the winner?"She laughed derisively."I shall be the winner!""Come up and tell father so.""Right!""Mother and I will look on."IIIThey went upstairs in silence, to find Tomlin reading the paper, and Susan engaged in dusting the china."Where's father?" asked Posy."Busy with Mabel Dredge. I'll fetch him."Posy sat down. From her face it was impossible to divine what was passing through her brain. She folded her hands upon her lap and waited.Quinney appeared, followed by Susan. He glared at James, and then fixed his gaze upon Posy."Well, my girl?"She said demurely:"It's to be a fight to a finish for me.""Damn!" said Tomlin.Susan wandered to the window, staring aimlessly into the square. She heard Tomlin saying hoarsely:"Joe, you take my advice; let the girl have the man she wants. S'elp me, if one o' my daughters took a shine to him, she should have him! You're fairly downed, old man, and you know it. This Hunsaker will be here before we can turn round!""He is here," said Susan, turning from the window.CHAPTER XXIIITHE RESULTISusan was somewhat astonished at the effect of her announcement upon those present. She added, after a pause:"A middle-aged gentleman is with him.""Ho!" ejaculated Quinney. Evidently Hunsaker had brought the expert to Soho Square. He said sharply to James:"Go downstairs, and bring these gentlemen up here!"James glanced at Posy, and then at Quinney."You mean that, sir?""Of course I mean it! Scoot!"Tomlin's mottled countenance deepened in tint. He rose from his chair and approached Quinney. James moved slowly towards the door, but he heard Tomlin's hoarse whisper:"Better give in, Joe."Quinney answered loudly:"Never!""We can't face the music, if he squeals.""I can." He addressed the company generally, in a fierce voice: "You mark what I say—all of you. I'd sooner be ruined, lock, stock, and barrel, than give my daughter to that man!"He pointed at James, whose self-possession was beginning to fail him. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Do as I tell you. Ask Mr. Hunsaker and his friend, with my compliments, to come here!"James vanished silently, as Tomlin muttered:"I'll retire."Instantly Quinney interposed his small, sturdy figure between the big dealer and the door."No, you don't, Tom Tomlin! Shoulder to shoulder with me, old man, till the last shot is fired!""I wish I knew what it is all about," said Susan to Posy. In a louder voice she addressed her husband:"Maybe Posy and I had better leave you?""Please yourselves," said Quinney. His eyes were sparkling, and his short, red hair bristled with excitement and the lust of battle."As they are fighting for me," said Posy, "I'll stay."Susan observed in utter bewilderment:"I've looked on all my life, and I can do it a little longer."She turned to Posy, with the intention of asking for some sort of explanation; but Posy had gone up to her father."Daddy!"Quinney replied roughly:"Too late to say you're sorry now, my girl!""But I'm not sorry. I'm ever so glad. Whether you are right or wrong about Jim, it is everything—yes, everything—to me to know that you really meant what you said just now."She went back to her mother as Hunsaker's genial voice was heard coming up the stairs:"Yes, sir, a sanctuary; and not a thing in it for sale!"IIThe two visitors entered, followed by James. Tomlin gasped when he beheld Hunsaker's companion, a celebrity known to all the great dealers in two hemispheres. He was short, rather stout, and very quietly dressed, with a fine head set upon rounded shoulders. The face was heavy-featured and saturnine, the face of a man who had lived a strenuous life, a fighter and a conqueror. Hunsaker pronounced his name with pride:"Mr. Quinney, this is Mr. Dupont Jordan.""Glad to see you, Mr. Jordan," said Quinney. He waved his hand. "My wife and daughter."The famous collector bowed to the ladies, and nodded to Tomlin, who murmured obsequiously:"Mr. Jordan has honoured me with his patronage."Hunsaker's voice rose jovially above the murmurs:"Mr. Jordan is interested in my chairs. He wants to see 'em. What he doesn't know about Chippendale furniture you could put into a mustard-seed and hear it rattle.""Dear me!" said Susan. "That's a pity. The chairs are cased, I believe.""Not all of them," said James. "One chair is still unpacked."He stared boldly at Quinney, asking for a sign. Quinney rubbed his hands."Good," said he. "Go and fetch the chair, James.""Fetch it here, sir?""At once, my lad."Tomlin began to shake. Of all men in the world, Dupont Jordan was least to be desired at such a moment. Tomlin grew painfully moist and hot. James left the room, slightly slamming the door, a slam that sounded to Tomlin like the crack of doom. Hunsaker, meanwhile, had engaged the ladies in talk. Jordan stood beside Quinney, silent, but looking with interest at the incised lacquer screen. Quinney said to him quietly:"Is it true, Mr. Jordan, that you bought the Pevensey chairs from Lark and Bundy?""Quite true, Mr. Quinney. That is why I wish so particularly to see Mr. Hunsaker's set, which I understand are like mine."Quinney said in a loud tone: "I'm sorry."The tone rather than the words challenged attention. Hunsaker stopped talking, staring at Quinney."Sorry?" repeated Jordan."Sorry, sir, that so busy a man should have come here. The chairs are like the Pevensey chairs, but they are not authentic specimens. I told Mr. Hunsaker that we dealers was done sometimes.""Often," murmured Tomlin mournfully."Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Tomlin and I discovered that these chairs are not what they appear to be." He moved to his desk. "Here is your cheque, Mr. Hunsaker. I return it.""Suffering Moses!" exclaimed Hunsaker."I am sorry," said Quinney, "that Mr. Jordan should be disappointed, but his verdict, no doubt, will coincide with mine and Thomas Tomlin's.""Finest fakes I ever saw in all my life," murmured Tomlin.Hunsaker stared at his cheque, and then held out his hand to Quinney."By the Lord, sir, I'm proud to know you. You're the straight goods.""Give us time," said Tomlin, "and we'll find you a genuine set."The big fellow was almost, but not quite, at his ease. He admitted to himself that his former pupil had risen to heights above his master. Nevertheless, the victory was not yet assured. He continued grandiloquently:"We dealers are prepared to pay for our mistakes, but we don't want 'em made public."Hunsaker exclaimed with enthusiasm:"You can bet your boots, Mr. Tomlin, that this mistake won't be made public by me.""Nor by me," said Jordan. His heavy face had brightened, his keen glance rested pleasantly upon Quinney. He had been told that this odd little man never sold fakes except as such, and here was confirmation strong of the astounding statement. Tomlin he knew to be a plausible rogue, who was honest only in his dealings with men like himself, recognized experts. Lark and Bundy he knew also as gentlemen of the same kidney. Quinney soared above his experience of dealers—a unique specimen.These thoughts were diverted by the entrance of James, carrying the chair. He set it down with a flourish. He believed that Quinney had such faith in his powers as a faker of Chippendale furniture that he dared to invite the inspection of an expert. In a sense it was a proud moment for him, when he heard Quinney say:"Now, Mr. Jordan, will you kindly pass judgment on this chair?"Jordan adjusted his pince-nez, and bent over it. Quinney glanced at James."Stay you here, my lad."James smiled triumphantly, interpreting these words to mean surrender. He collapsed like a pricked bladder, when he heard Quinney say to Jordan:"Wonderful bit of fake work, Mr. Jordan, isn't it?""Half-and-half, I call it," observed Tomlin, noting the effect on James."Yes," said Jordan slowly. "This leg is genuine, I should say, and that isn't. Under a strong glass one would perceive the difference."He looked up to behold James quite unable to control his emotions. The lever in which he had trusted was elevating Posy's father to sublime heights. By a stroke of genius Quinney had challenged the attention of a millionaire collector, who might entrust so honest a man with commissions involving tens of thousands of pounds. His bluff had been called in Posy's presence, Posy who was staring at her father with wonder in her eyes. For one moment he was tempted to throw prudence to the winds, and proclaim the fraud. But—would he be believed now?"Is this young man ill?" asked Jordan."Oh no," said Quinney. "He's upset, that's what he is, and no wonder! I'll say this for him, he's a clever lad; and he always had his doubts about them chairs, didn't you, James?""Yes," replied the unhappy James, "but——""That'll do, my boy. Take away that chair. I feel ill when I look at it. Case it up. We'll send the lot back to Ireland this afternoon."James picked up the chair and retreated in disorder, outplayed at all points."The needlework is beautiful," said Jordan."Nothing more to be said," remarked Quinney genially.He chuckled, rubbing his hands together, glancing slyly at Posy and Susan. Jordan was tremendously impressed. Here was a little man, obviously without much education, who had achieved a distinctive position as a dealer in the world's greatest mart. And he was plucky enough to face a heavy monetary loss and a still heavier blow to hisamour propreas a connoisseur with—chucklings. Jordan loved a good loser.Hunsaker put into vivid words the thoughts passing through Jordan's mind:"Nothing more to be said!" he repeated. "I've something to say, and I want to get it off my chest quick. You're a dead square man, Mr. Quinney, and, by thunder, I'll make it my business that you don't lose by this. My friends are going to hear of you, sir. And some of 'em will weigh in downstairs with cheques as big as this." He waved the slip of paper excitedly. "I ain't sure that I ought to take this. I bought the chairs after careful examination. I wanted to buy them, and you were not over keen about selling. I remember that.""I couldn't let you have those chairs, Mr. Hunsaker. Tear up that cheque!""I'm hanged if I will! I want to take back to Hunsaker a souvenir of a great morning. Can't you let me have something else for this?"Then Quinney added the last touch."Yes, by Gum! I can. And I'll leave it to Mr. Jordan. You can have anything in this room you fancy at a price to be set on it by him."Hunsaker threw back his broad shoulders and laughed. There was a whiff of the New Mexico plains in his general air, a breezy freshness captivating to see. At that moment Quinney regretted nothing. He beheld an honest man, and was warmed to the core."Anything?" repeated Hunsaker. He glanced about him, and for one moment his eyes rested upon Posy."Anything," Quinney reaffirmed."I'll remember that, sir. Now, Mr. Jordan, do me the favour to select some object in this sanctuary for which you would pay eleven hundred pounds or more.""You insist?""I shall be under the greatest obligations to you and Mr. Quinney."Jordan walked to the cabinet. At his request Quinney opened it, displaying the beautiful interior."I would gladly give eleven hundred pounds for this," he said quietly."Will you accept that, Mr. Quinney?"Quinney chuckled, looking at Posy."Um! There are memories connected with that cabinet, Mr. Hunsaker, which make me willing to part with it. It's yours.""It's mine."Solemnly he handed the cheque back to Quinney, who as solemnly received it, laying it upon his desk. Jordan held out his hand."Good-day, Mr. Quinney. I hope to become one of your customers, and to send you some of my friends."Hunsaker turned to take leave of the ladies."I'm fixing up that dinner and play, Miss Posy, so it won't be good-bye.Au revoir?""Au revoir," said Posy.IIIQuinney accompanied them downstairs. When he returned to the sanctuary, Tomlin was the first to greet him."Joe," he said, "I've always wondered how a man without education could win your position in the trade. Now I know.""Honesty pays, Tom, sometimes. Which reminds me of that cheque I gave you. Hand it over, old man!"Tomlin did so reluctantly."Am I entitled to a com. on the sale of that lac cabinet?""As between man and man you are not, but when it comes to furnishin' the great and growin' town of Hunsaker with fancy bits, why you shan't be left out in the cold.""So long," said Tomlin. He saluted the ladies politely, pausing at the door to address Susan:"You hang on to Joe, ma'am. He'll make you Lady Quinney yet."Tomlin had heard of the prediction made long ago by the Queen of the Gipsies."Send up James Miggott," said Quinney.He was left alone with Susan and Posy. The girl broke the silence:"Father!""Wait! James is coming."The hardness had gone from his voice. Susan, far too dazed to realize what had taken place, but knowing vaguely that her husband seemed to have triumphed greatly, exclaimed joyously:"Ah, Joe, you're going to forgive them.""Forgive—him? I ain't settled with James yet.""He was only bluffing," faltered Posy. "He told me so.""Did he?" said her father.James entered. He had recovered his self-possession, and something of his native impudence. Quinney, it was true, had outwitted him, but the great fact remained—Posy loved him."Stand you there, my lad!"James remained near the door, thinking of Posy's three thousand pounds, which, unhappily, could not be touched till she was twenty-one. Men have, however, waited longer for less."So you was bluffing—hey?""Posy knew that I wouldn't injure you, sir.""And you thought I was bluffing, but I wasn't. I'd sooner go to gaol—yes, I would—than see you married to my daughter. And why? Because you're after things.""I want Posy.""I see no margin of profit for Posy if you want her, and nothing else.""Posy wants me.""No, you're wrong, my lad. Posy wants the man she thinks you to be, not the man you are."He approached Posy, looking her over, appraising her points."You ain't a judge of quality yet," he said to her. "This young feller is a fake. Don't shake your pretty head! He's not good enough for you, and that's why I forbid the banns. Your pore mother thinks it's a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence with me. Well, I know the value of money, because I've made it. Money can buy nearly everything and everybody. Money can buy you, Posy.""It can't.""It can buy you from him."He turned sharply, staring contemptuously at James, appraising him also as the young man stood before him, erect and defiant."James Miggott——""Sir?""You have stolen something which is mine. I'll buy it back at my own price.""You can't buy Posy from me?""Have you settled yet with Mabel Dredge?""What do you mean, sir?"His voice remained impudently firm, but into his eyes crept a furtive expression."It seems, my lad, that Mabel Dredge wants you, and you wanted her before Posy came back from school. Took all she had to give, too.""Oh!" exclaimed Posy.Quinney continued scathingly: "You were mean enough to break with her, when my girl appeared, but she didn't break with you. As a moral millionaire, James Miggott, you're—bust!"Susan saw James's face, evidence damning to any woman of intuitions. She cried aloud dolorously:"He stole the roses from her pore cheeks! Oh, the everlasting wickedness of some men!"Quinney smiled derisively."And, oh! the everlasting foolishness of some women! Mabel Dredge still wants him."James, floundering in quicksands, attempted to lie his way out of them."It isn't true.""Pah!" said Quinney. "You're nicely decorated, and there's a smooth buttery glaze to you, but your paste is rotten! Now, let's get to business. Posy and her mother think that I value things more than persons. Here"—he snatched up Hunsaker's cheque—"is athingworth eleven hundred pounds. I offer you this, James Miggott, and with it Mabel Dredge, who prefers flashy stuff. You must choose, and choose quick, between Mabel,plusthis cheque, and Posy in her go-to-meetin' clothes,plusher mother, who's right, by Gum, not to trust her alone with you."Personality can be irresistible. This little man, with all his disabilities, held these three persons spellbound under the magic of his voice and manner. Posy's bosom was heaving with emotion; Susan stared, open-eyed and open-mouthed, at the lover of Laburnum Row, her Joe, miraculously restored to her. James glared at his master, recognizing him as such, defiant still, but stricken dumb. Quinney chuckled."The cheque won't be on offer long, my lad. Better take it! Better take it! It's—endorsed."James hesitated, casting a furtive glance at Posy. She met his eyes bravely; and he knew that she saw him unmistakably as he was. Quinney flipped the cheque with his finger."Better take it—quick!"James took it, and fled.IVPosy fell weeping into a chair. It is significant, perhaps, that Susan for the moment disregarded her daughter. Joe seemed to fill her eyes and the room. She fluttered towards him, stretching out her hands, calling him by name."You are—wonderful!"The old phrase fell inevitably from her lips. He was acclaimed as the senior partner, rehabilitated. She did not entreat forgiveness, because she divined proudly that he would not wish his wife to humble herself.Quinney kissed her joyously.But Posy's bitter sobbing spoilt the sweetness of that kiss. Husband and wife remembered guiltily their child."Come you here, Posy," said Quinney. "Come to your old dad, my pretty!"She obeyed him, hiding her head upon his shoulder, feeling the pressure of his arms, and then hearing his voice:"I've paid more for you, Posy, than any thing I've got. And I shall hold tight on to you till Mr. Right comes along. You'll know him when you see him, missy, because of this nasty little experience with Mr. Wrong."He stroked her hair, caressed her cheek, touching her lovingly with the tips of his fingers. Posy looked up."You do love me, don't you?""By God," he answered, "I do."GARDEN CITY PRESS LTD., LETCHWORTH, ENGLAND.* * * * * * * *MURRAY'S 1/- NOVELS.LADDIE - - - By Gene Stratton-PorterMR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS - - - L. Allen HarkerTOWER OF IVORY - - - Gertrude AthertonLOOT - - - Horace A. VachellNOTWITHSTANDING - - - Mary CholmondeleyQUINNEYS' - - - Horace A. VachellFRECKLES - - - Gene Stratton-PorterSEPTIMUS - - - William J. LockeFLEMINGTON - - - Violet JacobAN IMPENDING SWORD - - - Horace A. VachellTHE COMPLEAT BACHELOR - - - Oliver OnionsTHE FLORENTINE FRAME - - - Elizabeth RobinsMISS ESPERANCE & MR. WYCHERLY - - - L. Allen Harker*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKQUINNEYS'***
II
As soon as James saw Posy coming alone to him, he leapt triumphantly to the conclusion that her father had hauled down his flag. With a joyous exclamation he hastened to embrace her, but she turned a cool cheek to ardent lips.
"Father sent me to you, Jim."
"I knew he'd climb down!"
"But he hasn't. Jim, dear, what do you mean by threatening father and—and Mr. Tomlin?"
The eager smile faded out of his face. He remained silent, marshalling his wits.
"Have you received tips from Mr. Tomlin?"
"He's paid me for work done."
"What sort of work?"
"Restoring old bits of stuff. What has that got to do with us?"
She followed her thoughts, not his questions.
"And why is there all this hurry? Mr. Tomlin said just now that there was no time to waste."
"He's right; there isn't!"
"But why?"
Her voice was gently insistent. She laid her hand softly upon the sleeve of his coat, as if entreating him to trust her, as she trusted him.
"It's like this, Posy. I told you last night that I could deal with your father, that the right moment had come to deal with him. Now, give me a free hand!"
"Mr. Tomlin spoke, not very clearly, about your being able to ruin father and him. Father denies that!"
"Does he?"
Posy grew nervous, the colour ebbed from her cheeks; into her eyes flitted a shadow of fear. Her sharp wits were at work adding and subtracting, fitting together this jig-saw puzzle.
At this moment, her memory answered oddly to the strain imposed upon it. In this room, before thecoup de foudre, her father had spoken roughly to her, ordering her out of it with a peremptoriness apparently quite unjustifiable, because she was on an errand connected with his business. This tiny fact had rankled. James had asked her for a bottle of cleaning fluid.
Suddenly, out of the pigeon-holes of her mind, tumbled the covers of the chairs which James wanted to clean. The very pattern of the exquisite needlework presented itself.
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
"What's the matter, dearest? This excitement has been too much for you. Do let me handle your father. Believe me, I can do it in our joint interest."
She gazed at him queerly, a tiny, vertical line between her dark eyebrows.
"Has father done something dishonest?"
The colour rushed back into her cheeks as she spoke, but her eyes remained upon his. When he made no reply, she continued:
"Are you threatening to expose some fraud, a fraud connected with—chairs?"
"God! You are clever!" said James, unable to hide his admiration, or to believe that she had swooped upon the truth.
She sighed.
"Then it is true."
There was no interrogation in those four words.
"Well, yes; it is true." He hurried on, fearing that she might interrupt him. "I wanted to spare you knowledge of that. Fortune has placed in my hands a weapon. I am using it for both our sakes. Between our two selves, my dearest, I can admit to you that I should not really ruin your father. What an idea!"
"Then you are bluffing?"
"I am. I want you so desperately."
He attempted to kiss her, but she repulsed him gently.
"If mother knew——"
"She need not know. Your father will climb down at the last moment. He knows, and Tomlin knows, that I can ruin both of them."
"It's as bad as that?"
"Yes. He must surrender!"
"But if he shouldn't? Jim, dear, you said last night that you would take me as I am; and I loved you for saying that. Now, you want to bargain for me."
"To bargain for you, darling; not for myself."
She nodded, accepting his explanation, able to put herself in his place. Beholding the situation from his point of view, panoramically, she tried, in turn, to see the same situation from the point of view of her father. She exclaimed softly:
"Gracious!"
The expression upon her face puzzled James. Men, even the cleverest, can follow women's bodies easier than their thoughts.
"Try to be sensible about this," he murmured.
"It's so exciting. Don't you see that this is a test of father, a wonderful test!"
"Of what?"
"Of his love for me, of his love for mother."
"Eh?"
"Don't be dense, Jim! Mother has accused father of not caring much for us; but, if he risks ruin for our sake, he does care."
"Pooh! He's bluffing, too!"
"I am not certain of that. Anyway"—her face cleared; she beamed at him delightfully—"I should like you to make good, Jim, without horrid threats, without bluffing. Take me as I am, if you want me. You can earn a good living anywhere. I'm not afraid of a little poverty with you."
"You don't know what poverty is, Posy. I do. I'm afraid of poverty for the woman I care about."
"Do you mean that you refuse to take me as I am?"
Bathos and pathos are twins. James passed, with an unconsidered bound, from climax to anticlimax. He said irritably:
"Hang it all! I shall have to take your mother, too. Posy, we haven't time to argue this. Hunsaker will be here directly. Luck has thrust into my hands a tremendous lever; and I mean to use it."
"Is that your last word?"
"Yes, it is. I'm fighting for you, fighting to a finish. And ever since the world began, women have had to look on at such a fight——"
"And take the winner?"
She laughed derisively.
"I shall be the winner!"
"Come up and tell father so."
"Right!"
"Mother and I will look on."
III
They went upstairs in silence, to find Tomlin reading the paper, and Susan engaged in dusting the china.
"Where's father?" asked Posy.
"Busy with Mabel Dredge. I'll fetch him."
Posy sat down. From her face it was impossible to divine what was passing through her brain. She folded her hands upon her lap and waited.
Quinney appeared, followed by Susan. He glared at James, and then fixed his gaze upon Posy.
"Well, my girl?"
She said demurely:
"It's to be a fight to a finish for me."
"Damn!" said Tomlin.
Susan wandered to the window, staring aimlessly into the square. She heard Tomlin saying hoarsely:
"Joe, you take my advice; let the girl have the man she wants. S'elp me, if one o' my daughters took a shine to him, she should have him! You're fairly downed, old man, and you know it. This Hunsaker will be here before we can turn round!"
"He is here," said Susan, turning from the window.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE RESULT
I
Susan was somewhat astonished at the effect of her announcement upon those present. She added, after a pause:
"A middle-aged gentleman is with him."
"Ho!" ejaculated Quinney. Evidently Hunsaker had brought the expert to Soho Square. He said sharply to James:
"Go downstairs, and bring these gentlemen up here!"
James glanced at Posy, and then at Quinney.
"You mean that, sir?"
"Of course I mean it! Scoot!"
Tomlin's mottled countenance deepened in tint. He rose from his chair and approached Quinney. James moved slowly towards the door, but he heard Tomlin's hoarse whisper:
"Better give in, Joe."
Quinney answered loudly:
"Never!"
"We can't face the music, if he squeals."
"I can." He addressed the company generally, in a fierce voice: "You mark what I say—all of you. I'd sooner be ruined, lock, stock, and barrel, than give my daughter to that man!"
He pointed at James, whose self-possession was beginning to fail him. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Do as I tell you. Ask Mr. Hunsaker and his friend, with my compliments, to come here!"
James vanished silently, as Tomlin muttered:
"I'll retire."
Instantly Quinney interposed his small, sturdy figure between the big dealer and the door.
"No, you don't, Tom Tomlin! Shoulder to shoulder with me, old man, till the last shot is fired!"
"I wish I knew what it is all about," said Susan to Posy. In a louder voice she addressed her husband:
"Maybe Posy and I had better leave you?"
"Please yourselves," said Quinney. His eyes were sparkling, and his short, red hair bristled with excitement and the lust of battle.
"As they are fighting for me," said Posy, "I'll stay."
Susan observed in utter bewilderment:
"I've looked on all my life, and I can do it a little longer."
She turned to Posy, with the intention of asking for some sort of explanation; but Posy had gone up to her father.
"Daddy!"
Quinney replied roughly:
"Too late to say you're sorry now, my girl!"
"But I'm not sorry. I'm ever so glad. Whether you are right or wrong about Jim, it is everything—yes, everything—to me to know that you really meant what you said just now."
She went back to her mother as Hunsaker's genial voice was heard coming up the stairs:
"Yes, sir, a sanctuary; and not a thing in it for sale!"
II
The two visitors entered, followed by James. Tomlin gasped when he beheld Hunsaker's companion, a celebrity known to all the great dealers in two hemispheres. He was short, rather stout, and very quietly dressed, with a fine head set upon rounded shoulders. The face was heavy-featured and saturnine, the face of a man who had lived a strenuous life, a fighter and a conqueror. Hunsaker pronounced his name with pride:
"Mr. Quinney, this is Mr. Dupont Jordan."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Jordan," said Quinney. He waved his hand. "My wife and daughter."
The famous collector bowed to the ladies, and nodded to Tomlin, who murmured obsequiously:
"Mr. Jordan has honoured me with his patronage."
Hunsaker's voice rose jovially above the murmurs:
"Mr. Jordan is interested in my chairs. He wants to see 'em. What he doesn't know about Chippendale furniture you could put into a mustard-seed and hear it rattle."
"Dear me!" said Susan. "That's a pity. The chairs are cased, I believe."
"Not all of them," said James. "One chair is still unpacked."
He stared boldly at Quinney, asking for a sign. Quinney rubbed his hands.
"Good," said he. "Go and fetch the chair, James."
"Fetch it here, sir?"
"At once, my lad."
Tomlin began to shake. Of all men in the world, Dupont Jordan was least to be desired at such a moment. Tomlin grew painfully moist and hot. James left the room, slightly slamming the door, a slam that sounded to Tomlin like the crack of doom. Hunsaker, meanwhile, had engaged the ladies in talk. Jordan stood beside Quinney, silent, but looking with interest at the incised lacquer screen. Quinney said to him quietly:
"Is it true, Mr. Jordan, that you bought the Pevensey chairs from Lark and Bundy?"
"Quite true, Mr. Quinney. That is why I wish so particularly to see Mr. Hunsaker's set, which I understand are like mine."
Quinney said in a loud tone: "I'm sorry."
The tone rather than the words challenged attention. Hunsaker stopped talking, staring at Quinney.
"Sorry?" repeated Jordan.
"Sorry, sir, that so busy a man should have come here. The chairs are like the Pevensey chairs, but they are not authentic specimens. I told Mr. Hunsaker that we dealers was done sometimes."
"Often," murmured Tomlin mournfully.
"Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Tomlin and I discovered that these chairs are not what they appear to be." He moved to his desk. "Here is your cheque, Mr. Hunsaker. I return it."
"Suffering Moses!" exclaimed Hunsaker.
"I am sorry," said Quinney, "that Mr. Jordan should be disappointed, but his verdict, no doubt, will coincide with mine and Thomas Tomlin's."
"Finest fakes I ever saw in all my life," murmured Tomlin.
Hunsaker stared at his cheque, and then held out his hand to Quinney.
"By the Lord, sir, I'm proud to know you. You're the straight goods."
"Give us time," said Tomlin, "and we'll find you a genuine set."
The big fellow was almost, but not quite, at his ease. He admitted to himself that his former pupil had risen to heights above his master. Nevertheless, the victory was not yet assured. He continued grandiloquently:
"We dealers are prepared to pay for our mistakes, but we don't want 'em made public."
Hunsaker exclaimed with enthusiasm:
"You can bet your boots, Mr. Tomlin, that this mistake won't be made public by me."
"Nor by me," said Jordan. His heavy face had brightened, his keen glance rested pleasantly upon Quinney. He had been told that this odd little man never sold fakes except as such, and here was confirmation strong of the astounding statement. Tomlin he knew to be a plausible rogue, who was honest only in his dealings with men like himself, recognized experts. Lark and Bundy he knew also as gentlemen of the same kidney. Quinney soared above his experience of dealers—a unique specimen.
These thoughts were diverted by the entrance of James, carrying the chair. He set it down with a flourish. He believed that Quinney had such faith in his powers as a faker of Chippendale furniture that he dared to invite the inspection of an expert. In a sense it was a proud moment for him, when he heard Quinney say:
"Now, Mr. Jordan, will you kindly pass judgment on this chair?"
Jordan adjusted his pince-nez, and bent over it. Quinney glanced at James.
"Stay you here, my lad."
James smiled triumphantly, interpreting these words to mean surrender. He collapsed like a pricked bladder, when he heard Quinney say to Jordan:
"Wonderful bit of fake work, Mr. Jordan, isn't it?"
"Half-and-half, I call it," observed Tomlin, noting the effect on James.
"Yes," said Jordan slowly. "This leg is genuine, I should say, and that isn't. Under a strong glass one would perceive the difference."
He looked up to behold James quite unable to control his emotions. The lever in which he had trusted was elevating Posy's father to sublime heights. By a stroke of genius Quinney had challenged the attention of a millionaire collector, who might entrust so honest a man with commissions involving tens of thousands of pounds. His bluff had been called in Posy's presence, Posy who was staring at her father with wonder in her eyes. For one moment he was tempted to throw prudence to the winds, and proclaim the fraud. But—would he be believed now?
"Is this young man ill?" asked Jordan.
"Oh no," said Quinney. "He's upset, that's what he is, and no wonder! I'll say this for him, he's a clever lad; and he always had his doubts about them chairs, didn't you, James?"
"Yes," replied the unhappy James, "but——"
"That'll do, my boy. Take away that chair. I feel ill when I look at it. Case it up. We'll send the lot back to Ireland this afternoon."
James picked up the chair and retreated in disorder, outplayed at all points.
"The needlework is beautiful," said Jordan.
"Nothing more to be said," remarked Quinney genially.
He chuckled, rubbing his hands together, glancing slyly at Posy and Susan. Jordan was tremendously impressed. Here was a little man, obviously without much education, who had achieved a distinctive position as a dealer in the world's greatest mart. And he was plucky enough to face a heavy monetary loss and a still heavier blow to hisamour propreas a connoisseur with—chucklings. Jordan loved a good loser.
Hunsaker put into vivid words the thoughts passing through Jordan's mind:
"Nothing more to be said!" he repeated. "I've something to say, and I want to get it off my chest quick. You're a dead square man, Mr. Quinney, and, by thunder, I'll make it my business that you don't lose by this. My friends are going to hear of you, sir. And some of 'em will weigh in downstairs with cheques as big as this." He waved the slip of paper excitedly. "I ain't sure that I ought to take this. I bought the chairs after careful examination. I wanted to buy them, and you were not over keen about selling. I remember that."
"I couldn't let you have those chairs, Mr. Hunsaker. Tear up that cheque!"
"I'm hanged if I will! I want to take back to Hunsaker a souvenir of a great morning. Can't you let me have something else for this?"
Then Quinney added the last touch.
"Yes, by Gum! I can. And I'll leave it to Mr. Jordan. You can have anything in this room you fancy at a price to be set on it by him."
Hunsaker threw back his broad shoulders and laughed. There was a whiff of the New Mexico plains in his general air, a breezy freshness captivating to see. At that moment Quinney regretted nothing. He beheld an honest man, and was warmed to the core.
"Anything?" repeated Hunsaker. He glanced about him, and for one moment his eyes rested upon Posy.
"Anything," Quinney reaffirmed.
"I'll remember that, sir. Now, Mr. Jordan, do me the favour to select some object in this sanctuary for which you would pay eleven hundred pounds or more."
"You insist?"
"I shall be under the greatest obligations to you and Mr. Quinney."
Jordan walked to the cabinet. At his request Quinney opened it, displaying the beautiful interior.
"I would gladly give eleven hundred pounds for this," he said quietly.
"Will you accept that, Mr. Quinney?"
Quinney chuckled, looking at Posy.
"Um! There are memories connected with that cabinet, Mr. Hunsaker, which make me willing to part with it. It's yours."
"It's mine."
Solemnly he handed the cheque back to Quinney, who as solemnly received it, laying it upon his desk. Jordan held out his hand.
"Good-day, Mr. Quinney. I hope to become one of your customers, and to send you some of my friends."
Hunsaker turned to take leave of the ladies.
"I'm fixing up that dinner and play, Miss Posy, so it won't be good-bye.Au revoir?"
"Au revoir," said Posy.
III
Quinney accompanied them downstairs. When he returned to the sanctuary, Tomlin was the first to greet him.
"Joe," he said, "I've always wondered how a man without education could win your position in the trade. Now I know."
"Honesty pays, Tom, sometimes. Which reminds me of that cheque I gave you. Hand it over, old man!"
Tomlin did so reluctantly.
"Am I entitled to a com. on the sale of that lac cabinet?"
"As between man and man you are not, but when it comes to furnishin' the great and growin' town of Hunsaker with fancy bits, why you shan't be left out in the cold."
"So long," said Tomlin. He saluted the ladies politely, pausing at the door to address Susan:
"You hang on to Joe, ma'am. He'll make you Lady Quinney yet."
Tomlin had heard of the prediction made long ago by the Queen of the Gipsies.
"Send up James Miggott," said Quinney.
He was left alone with Susan and Posy. The girl broke the silence:
"Father!"
"Wait! James is coming."
The hardness had gone from his voice. Susan, far too dazed to realize what had taken place, but knowing vaguely that her husband seemed to have triumphed greatly, exclaimed joyously:
"Ah, Joe, you're going to forgive them."
"Forgive—him? I ain't settled with James yet."
"He was only bluffing," faltered Posy. "He told me so."
"Did he?" said her father.
James entered. He had recovered his self-possession, and something of his native impudence. Quinney, it was true, had outwitted him, but the great fact remained—Posy loved him.
"Stand you there, my lad!"
James remained near the door, thinking of Posy's three thousand pounds, which, unhappily, could not be touched till she was twenty-one. Men have, however, waited longer for less.
"So you was bluffing—hey?"
"Posy knew that I wouldn't injure you, sir."
"And you thought I was bluffing, but I wasn't. I'd sooner go to gaol—yes, I would—than see you married to my daughter. And why? Because you're after things."
"I want Posy."
"I see no margin of profit for Posy if you want her, and nothing else."
"Posy wants me."
"No, you're wrong, my lad. Posy wants the man she thinks you to be, not the man you are."
He approached Posy, looking her over, appraising her points.
"You ain't a judge of quality yet," he said to her. "This young feller is a fake. Don't shake your pretty head! He's not good enough for you, and that's why I forbid the banns. Your pore mother thinks it's a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence with me. Well, I know the value of money, because I've made it. Money can buy nearly everything and everybody. Money can buy you, Posy."
"It can't."
"It can buy you from him."
He turned sharply, staring contemptuously at James, appraising him also as the young man stood before him, erect and defiant.
"James Miggott——"
"Sir?"
"You have stolen something which is mine. I'll buy it back at my own price."
"You can't buy Posy from me?"
"Have you settled yet with Mabel Dredge?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
His voice remained impudently firm, but into his eyes crept a furtive expression.
"It seems, my lad, that Mabel Dredge wants you, and you wanted her before Posy came back from school. Took all she had to give, too."
"Oh!" exclaimed Posy.
Quinney continued scathingly: "You were mean enough to break with her, when my girl appeared, but she didn't break with you. As a moral millionaire, James Miggott, you're—bust!"
Susan saw James's face, evidence damning to any woman of intuitions. She cried aloud dolorously:
"He stole the roses from her pore cheeks! Oh, the everlasting wickedness of some men!"
Quinney smiled derisively.
"And, oh! the everlasting foolishness of some women! Mabel Dredge still wants him."
James, floundering in quicksands, attempted to lie his way out of them.
"It isn't true."
"Pah!" said Quinney. "You're nicely decorated, and there's a smooth buttery glaze to you, but your paste is rotten! Now, let's get to business. Posy and her mother think that I value things more than persons. Here"—he snatched up Hunsaker's cheque—"is athingworth eleven hundred pounds. I offer you this, James Miggott, and with it Mabel Dredge, who prefers flashy stuff. You must choose, and choose quick, between Mabel,plusthis cheque, and Posy in her go-to-meetin' clothes,plusher mother, who's right, by Gum, not to trust her alone with you."
Personality can be irresistible. This little man, with all his disabilities, held these three persons spellbound under the magic of his voice and manner. Posy's bosom was heaving with emotion; Susan stared, open-eyed and open-mouthed, at the lover of Laburnum Row, her Joe, miraculously restored to her. James glared at his master, recognizing him as such, defiant still, but stricken dumb. Quinney chuckled.
"The cheque won't be on offer long, my lad. Better take it! Better take it! It's—endorsed."
James hesitated, casting a furtive glance at Posy. She met his eyes bravely; and he knew that she saw him unmistakably as he was. Quinney flipped the cheque with his finger.
"Better take it—quick!"
James took it, and fled.
IV
Posy fell weeping into a chair. It is significant, perhaps, that Susan for the moment disregarded her daughter. Joe seemed to fill her eyes and the room. She fluttered towards him, stretching out her hands, calling him by name.
"You are—wonderful!"
The old phrase fell inevitably from her lips. He was acclaimed as the senior partner, rehabilitated. She did not entreat forgiveness, because she divined proudly that he would not wish his wife to humble herself.
Quinney kissed her joyously.
But Posy's bitter sobbing spoilt the sweetness of that kiss. Husband and wife remembered guiltily their child.
"Come you here, Posy," said Quinney. "Come to your old dad, my pretty!"
She obeyed him, hiding her head upon his shoulder, feeling the pressure of his arms, and then hearing his voice:
"I've paid more for you, Posy, than any thing I've got. And I shall hold tight on to you till Mr. Right comes along. You'll know him when you see him, missy, because of this nasty little experience with Mr. Wrong."
He stroked her hair, caressed her cheek, touching her lovingly with the tips of his fingers. Posy looked up.
"You do love me, don't you?"
"By God," he answered, "I do."
GARDEN CITY PRESS LTD., LETCHWORTH, ENGLAND.
* * * * * * * *
MURRAY'S 1/- NOVELS.
LADDIE - - - By Gene Stratton-PorterMR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS - - - L. Allen HarkerTOWER OF IVORY - - - Gertrude AthertonLOOT - - - Horace A. VachellNOTWITHSTANDING - - - Mary CholmondeleyQUINNEYS' - - - Horace A. VachellFRECKLES - - - Gene Stratton-PorterSEPTIMUS - - - William J. LockeFLEMINGTON - - - Violet JacobAN IMPENDING SWORD - - - Horace A. VachellTHE COMPLEAT BACHELOR - - - Oliver OnionsTHE FLORENTINE FRAME - - - Elizabeth RobinsMISS ESPERANCE & MR. WYCHERLY - - - L. Allen Harker
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKQUINNEYS'***