Jacob's Ladder

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER VIII

  Miss Sybil Bultiwell showed that she had a very pretty taste in foodeven if her weaknesses in other directions were undiscoverable. Seatedat a table for two in Jacob's favourite corner at the Ritz grill-room,she ordered langouste with mayonnaise, a French chicken with salad, anartichoke, a vanilla ice, and some wonderful forced strawberries. Shedrank a cocktail and shared to a moderate extent the bottle of veryexcellent dry champagne which her companion insisted upon. Thealoofness of her general attitude was naturally modified a little, indeference to appearances, but at no time did she give Jacob theslightest hope of breaking down the barrier of icy reserve with whichshe had chosen to surround herself. He made one great effort aboutmidway through the meal.

  "Miss Bultiwell," he said, "when I visited once at the ManorHouse--the first time it was, I think--you were very kind to me."

  "I have forgotten the circumstance."

  "I have not. I never could. I remember that I arrived on a bicycle,very hot and somewhat--er--inappropriately dressed. Your father, whohad invited me over because at that time I was a useful businessconnection, took no particular pains to set me at my ease. I was veryuncomfortable. You were exceedingly kind to me that evening."

  "Was I?" she asked indifferently.

  Jacob took a sip of champagne and went on valiantly.

  "I had never met any one like you before. I have never met any onelike you since. Why should you treat me as though I were somethingentirely contemptible, because I refused to accept your father'sfraudulent balance sheet and put money into a ruined business?"

  Sybil's blue eyes, which, as he knew, alas! too well, were capable ofholding such sweet and tender lights, flashed upon him with a singlemoment's anger.

  "I had hoped," she said severely, "that you would have had the goodtaste to avoid this subject. Since you have opened it, however, let meremind you that I am a woman, and that feelings count for far morewith me than arguments. You may have been perfectly justified in whatyou did. At the same time, you were the immediate cause of the tragedysurrounding my father's death. For that I shall never forgive you."

  "It doesn't seem quite fair, does it?" he complained, with a strangelittle quiver of his underlip.

  "Women seldom are fair in their likes and dislikes," she pronounced."I hope you will not pursue the subject."

  "Is it permitted to ask you any questions with regard to your presentavocation?" he ventured, a few minutes later.

  "I have no objection to telling you what I am doing," she replied. "Iam taking a course of shorthand and typewriting at an office in FleetStreet."

  The horror of it chilled Jacob to the very soul. He had only thatmorning received a cheque from his brother for an unexpected bonus,which amounted to more than she would ever be able to earn in thewhole course of her life.

  "Is that absolutely necessary?" he asked.

  "We have two hundred a year between us, my mother and I," she answereddrily. "Perhaps you can understand that an extra two or three pounds aweek is desirable."

  "Damn!" Jacob muttered, under his breath.

  "I really don't see why you should be profane," she remonstrated.

  "It's too absurd, your going out to work," he insisted. "I hadbusiness connections in the old days with the house of Bultiwell, bywhich I profited. Why cannot I be allowed, out of the money I can'tever dream of spending, to settle--"

  "If you are going to be impertinent," she interrupted coolly, "I shallget up and go out."

  Jacob groaned and cast about in his mind for a less intimate topic ofconversation. The subject of theatre-going naturally presented itself.A momentary gleam of regret passed across her face as she answered hisquestions.

  "Yes, I remember telling you how fond I always was of first nights,"she admitted. "Nowadays, naturally, we do not go to the theatre atall. My mother and I live very quietly."

  Jacob cleared his throat.

  "If," he suggested, "a box at the theatre could be accepted on thesame terms as this luncheon--for your mother and you, I mean," he wenton hastily, "I am always having them given me. I'd keep out of theway. Or we might have a little dinner first. Your mother--"

  "Absolutely impossible!" she interrupted ruthlessly. "I really feelquite ashamed enough of myself, as it is. I know that I have not theslightest right to accept your very delicious luncheon."

  "You could pay for anything in the world I could give you, with asingle kind word," he ventured.

  She sighed as she drew on her gloves.

  "I have no feeling of kindness towards you, Mr. Pratt," she said, "andI hate hypocrisy. I thank you very much for your luncheon. You willforgive my shaking hands, won't you? It was scarcely in the bargain.And I must say good-by now. I am due back at the office at half-pasttwo."

  So Jacob derived very little real pleasure from this trip intoan imaginary Paradise, although many a time he went over theirconversation in his mind, trying to find the slenderest peg on whichhe could hang a few threads of hope. He rang up the city office andmade sure that Miss Bultiwell should be offered the most desirableplot of land left, at the most reasonable price, after which heinvited Dauncey, who was waiting impatiently for an interview, to takean easy-chair, and passed him his favourite box of cigars.

  "What is it, Dick?" he demanded. "Why bring thunderclouds into mysunny presence?"

  "Not quite so sunny as usual, is it?" Dauncey remarkedsympathetically. "How is Miss Bultiwell?"

  "She is taking a course of shorthand and typing," Jacob groaned.

  "That seems harmless enough. Why shouldn't she?"

  "Don't be a fool," Jacob answered crossly. "Do you realise that myincome is nearly fifty thousand a year, and she has to grind in amiserable office, in order to be able to earn two or three pounds aweek to provide her mother with small luxuries?"

  "From what I remember of Miss Bultiwell, I don't think it will do herany harm," Dauncey remarked doggedly.

  "You're an unfeeling brute," Jacob declared.

  Dauncey shrugged his shoulders.

  "Perhaps so," he agreed. "I don't suppose I should like her any betterif she came and ate out of your hand."

  "You must admit that she shows a fine, independent spirit," Jacobinsisted.

  "Bultiwell obstinacy, I call it!"

  Jacob knocked the ash from his cigar.

  "Dick," he asked quietly, "is there any sense in two men arguing abouta girl, when one is in love with her and the other isn't?"

  "None at all," Dauncey agreed.

  "Then shut up and tell me what horrible tragedy you've stumbled upon.You've something to say to me, haven't you?"

  Dauncey nodded.

  "It's about Montague and Littleham. I have discovered the fly in theointment. I thought those two would never be content with a reasonableland speculation."

  "Proceed," Jacob said encouragingly.

  "Most of the idiots who bought these plots of land," Daunceycontinued, "were content to know that the Cropstone Wood, Water andElectric Light Company was in existence and had commenced the work ofconnecting them up. Not one of them had the sense to find out whatthey were going to pay for their water and lighting."

  "Ah!"

  "I've just discovered," Dauncey continued, "that Dane Montague andLittleham have an option on the Water and Electric Light Company. Idon't suppose they said a word to you about that. You found the moneyto buy the land, all right, but they're going to make the bulk of theprofit out of the water and lighting. That young lawyer at Cropstonegave us a word of warning, you remember, the day we were over there."

  "So he did," Jacob murmured reflectively. "I was a mug."

  "Not only that," Dauncey reminded him, "but some of the people who'vebought the land are your friends, aren't they? What about MissBultiwell?"

  Jacob knitted his brows.

  "I don't fancy the company will be able to charge whatever they like,"he argued. "There are some restrictions--"

  "They've got an old charter which has another fourteen years to run,"Dauncey interrup
ted. "As they've made a loss ever since they've beenin business, there's nothing to prevent their recouping themselvesnow, on paper, by charging practically whatever they like. I warnedyou not to have anything to do with those fellows."

  "I was an ass," Jacob admitted.

  The critical note vanished from Dauncey's tone. He laid his hand uponhis friend's shoulder.

  "It wasn't your fault, Jacob," he said. "We shall prove that you werenever interested in the option and knew nothing about it. As for MissBultiwell, it won't hurt you if you have to take that bit of land offher hands."

  Jacob shook his friend's hand.

  "Thank you, Dick."

  "And I should tackle those fellows at once, if I were you," Daunceyadded. "No good letting the matter drag on. Ask them what they'regoing to charge. Say that one or two of the tenants have been makingenquiries."

  "I will."

  "It's a dirty business all round," Dauncey declared. "They made youadvance the whole of the money to buy the land, and they saved theirbit for the waterworks and lighting company. It's as plain as apikestaff why they didn't let you in on that. They knew perfectly wellthat you'd never be a party to such a low-down scheme as they had inview."

  Jacob swung round to his desk with an air of determination.

  "I'll tackle them within the next few days," he promised.