CHAPTER XIII
Sir William, who had not been able to come downstairs for a month, maybe forgiven for unconsciously feeling that the occasion was one whichdemanded from his son-in-law a semblance of cordial welcome at any rate,if not of glad surprise. It is an extraordinarily difficult thing tolearn that we are not looking each of us at the same aspect of life asour neighbour, especially our neighbour of a different time of life fromourselves. We appeal to him as a matter of course, and say, "Look! seehow life appears to me to-day! see what existence is like in relation tomyself!" But unfortunately the neighbour, who is standing on the outsideof that particular circle, and not in its centre, does not see what wemean. Sir William had been shut up for a month in the room that heinhabited on the drawing-room floor of the house in Cosmo Place. He hadsimply not had mental energy to care about what was happening beyond thefour walls of that room. If he had been asked at that moment what theuniverse was, he would have said that it was a succession of days andnights in which the important things of life were the hours andcompositions of his meals, the probable hour of the doctor's visit, andthe steps to be made each day towards recovery and the resumption ofordinary habits.
Rachel had of course devoted herself to him. It was she who went up withhis breakfast, who read to him during the morning, who tried to remembereverything that happened out of doors to tell him on her return; it wasshe who had done many hundreds of patiences in the days when he was notwell enough to play at chess. He was hardly well enough now, but he hadset his heart upon the first day when he should come down and play chesswith Rendel as a sort of pivot in his miserable existence. And now themoment had come. How should he know that for all practical purposes hisson-in-law was a different being from the young man who had comeupstairs to see him the day before? For yesterday Rendel had come up andtalked to him about indifferent things, not telling him, lest he shouldbe excited, of the evil rumours that were filling the air, and had gonedownstairs again himself with a miserably unoccupied day in front ofhim--a day in which to remember and overcome the fact that, instead ofbeing in the arena of which the echoes reached him, he was doomed to bea spectator from afar, who could take no part in the fray. But so muchSir William had not known. How should we any of us know what the inwardcounterpart is to the outward manifestation? know that the person whocomes into the room may be, although appearing the same, different fromthe one who went out? He knew only that the Rendel of this morning hadsaid with a smile, "I am looking forward to the moment when you willcheckmate me again." And Sir William had a right to expect that, thatmoment having come, Rendel should feel the importance and pleasure of itas much as he did himself. But it was not the same Rendel who sat there,it was not the unoccupied spectator ready to join his leisure to that ofanother; it was a resolute combatant who had been suddenly called into afront post, and for whom the whole aspect of the world had changed. Itwas an absolute physical effort to Rendel, as the door opened and he sawSir William, to bring his mind back to the conditions of a few hoursbefore. The fact of any one coming in at that moment called him back toearth again, turned him violently about to face the commonplaceimportunities of existence. Sir William had probably not formulated tohimself what he had vaguely expected, but it certainly was not thepuzzled, half-questioning look, the indescribable air of being takenaback, altered at once by a quick impulse into something that tried notto look forbidding, and more strange and tell-tale than all the quickmovement by which Rendel drew a large sheet of blotting-paper over whathe was writing. Sir William's whole being was jarred, his rejoicing inthe small occasion of being on another stage towards recovery was gone;nobody cared, not one. Rachel was not in the house, and who else wasthere to care? Nobody: there never would be again. Could it be possiblethat for the rest of his life he was doomed to be in a world so arrangedthat his comings and goings were not the most important of all? He stoodstill a moment, then tried to speak in his usual voice.
"I am not in your way, am I, Rendel?"
Rendel also made a conscious effort as he replied, rising from his chairas he spoke--
"Oh no, Sir William, please come in. I have some writing to finish, ifyou don't mind."
"Pray go on," said Sir William; "I won't disturb you. I'll sit down hereand read the paper till you are ready"; and he sat down with his back tothe writing-table and the window, in the big chair which Rendel drewforward.
"Thank you," Sir William said. "I took the liberty of bringing in yourafternoon paper which was outside."
"Certainly," Rendel replied, too absorbed for the moment in the thinghis own attention was concentrated upon to realise the bearing of whatGore was saying. "Of course," and went back to his writing.
Gore leant back, idly turning over the pages of the _Mayfair Gazette_;then he started as his eye fell on the alarmist announcements. What wasthis? What incredible things were these that he saw? The letters wereswimming before him; he could only vaguely distinguish the blackcapitals and the headlines; the rest was a blur. All that stood outclearly was: "Cape to Cairo Railway in Danger," and then beneath it:"Sinister Rumours about the 'Equator, Ltd.'"
"Rendel!" he said, half starting up. Rendel turned round with a start,dragging his mind from the thing it was bent upon. "How awful this is!"said Sir William, holding up the paper with a shaking hand. Rendel beganto understand. But, that he should have to look up for one moment, forthe fraction of a second, from those words that he was transcribing!
"Yes, yes, it is terrible," he said, and bent over his writing again.Sir William tried to go on reading. What was this about Germany? Warwould mean the collapse of everything--private schemes as well as allothers.
"War! Do you think it can possibly mean war?" he said. "Can't Germany besquared?"
"War!" said Rendel without looking up. "Who can tell?" And again he feltthe supreme excitement of standing unseen at the right hand of the manwho was driving the ship through the storm. Sir William laid down thepaper on his knee and tried to think, but all he could do was to closehis eyes and keep perfectly still. Everything was vague ... and theworst of it--or was it the best of it?--was that nothing seemed tomatter.
At the same moment a brief colloquy was being exchanged outside the halldoor. Stamfordham's brougham had drawn up again, and Thacker, who wasstanding hanging about the hall with a secret intention of being on thespot if tremendous things were going to happen, had instantly rushedout.
"Is Mr. Rendel in?" said Lord Stamfordham hurriedly as Thacker stood atthe door of the brougham.
"Yes, my lord."
"Ask him to come and speak to me."
Thacker was shaken into unwonted excitement; he opened the door of thestudy quickly and went in. Sir William started violently. Any suddennoise in the present state of his nerves threw him completely off hisbalance.
"Can you come and speak to Lord Stamfordham, sir?"
Rendel sprang up; then with a sudden thought turned back and pulled downthe top of his writing-table, which shut with a spring, and rushed outwithout seeing that Sir William had begun raising himself laboriouslyfrom his chair as he said--
"Don't let me be in your way, Rendel."
"His lordship is not coming in, Sir William," said Thacker.
Sir William sank back into his chair. Thacker, after waiting an instantas though to see whether Gore had any orders for him, went quietly out,closing the door after him.
Rendel had madly caught up a hat as he passed, and flown down the steps,not seeing in his haste a burly personage who was coming along thepavement dressed in the ordinary garb of the English citizen, withnothing about him to show that his glowing right hand held thethunderbolts which he was going to hurl at the head of Gore. It isunnecessary to say that Robert Pateley knew Stamfordham's carriage wellby sight; and it was with pleasure and satisfaction that he found thatProvidence had brought him on to the pavement at Cosmo Place in time tosee one of the moves in the great game which the world was playing thatday. It was better on the whole that he should not accost Rendel. Therewas no need a
t that moment for Stamfordham to be aware of his presence,although, after all, there was no reason why he should not be. Butseeing Rendel standing speaking to Stamfordham at the door of thebrougham he conceived that he was probably coming in again directly, andmade up his mind to go in and see Gore at any rate if possible. He wentup the steps, therefore, and into the house, the front door being open.It happened neither Rendel nor Stamfordham saw him enter, the formerhaving his back turned and blocking the view of the latter. Thacker,with intense interest, was watching the development of affairs from thedining-room window, and did not see Pateley go in either.
"Have you done the thing?" said Stamfordham quickly.
"All but," Rendel said.
"Well, I want you to add this," said Stamfordham. "Get in and drive backwith me, will you? I have so little time."
Rendel jumped in, and the brougham moved past the window just as SirWilliam Gore, who had painfully pulled himself out of his chair, lookedout, petrified with surprise at the unexplained crisis that seemed tohave come upon the household. "Stamfordham!" he said to himself, "andFrank! What are the Imperialists hatching now, I wonder?" and hemechanically looked round him at Rendel's writing-table. It was,however, closed and forbidding, save for a little corner of white paperthat was sticking out under the revolving flap. By one of those strange,almost unconscious impulses which may suddenly overtake the best of usat times, Gore put out his hand and pulled out the paper. It was quiteloose and came away in his hand. What was it? He looked at it vaguely.Then gradually it became clear. A map?... yes, it was a rough map, witha thick line drawn from the top to the bottom down the middle of it;names to the right and the left. England? Germany? And what were thosewords written underneath? _What?_ Was that how Germany was going to be'squared?' And sheer excitement gave him strength to grasp more or lessthe meaning of what he saw. If Africa were going to be divided, ifGermany and England were agreeing to that division, it meant Peace.There was no doubt of it. But had the Imperialists suddenly gone on tothe side of peace? Had they snatched that trump card from theiradversaries and were they going to play it? Sir William stood gazing atthe paper. Then as he heard some one at the door of the room hesuddenly realised what he had done. He instinctively clutched the paperin the hand which held the _Mayfair Gazette_, the newspaper concealingit. As he turned and looked towards the door an unexpected sight greetedhis eyes--no other than Pateley, who, finding himself in the hallunheralded, had made up his mind to come into Rendel's study and therering the bell for some one who should bring word to Sir William Gore ofhis presence. But he was surprised to find Sir William downstairsinstead of in his room as he had expected. He paused for a moment,shocked at the change in Gore's appearance. He looked thin, listless,bent: his upright figure, his spring, his energy were gone. Pateley'sheart smote him for a moment. Would it be possible to call this feeble,suffering creature to account? Then his heart hardened again as hethought of his sisters.
"Pateley!" said Gore, advancing with the remains of his usual manner,but curiously shaken for the moment, as Pateley said to himself, out ofhis usual self-confidence.
The state of nervousness of the older man was painfully perceptible.Added to his general weakness, which made the mere fact of seeing someone unexpectedly a sudden shock to him, he had besides at that moment anadditional and very definite reason for uneasiness in the thing which heheld in his hand. He endeavoured, however, to pull himself together ashe shook hands with Pateley.
"I have not seen you for a long time," he said, pointing to a chair andsinking back into his own.
"No," Pateley replied. "I was very sorry to hear that you had been ill.You are looking rather bad still."
"And feeling so," Sir William said wearily. "The worst of influenza isthat one feels just as bad when one is supposed to be getting better aswhen one is supposed to be getting worse. It is a most annoying form ofcomplaint."
"So I have understood," said Pateley, "though I have not learnt it bypersonal experience."
"No, you don't look as though you suffered from weakness," said SirWilliam, with a faint smile and a consciousness that this was not aperson from whom it would be very easy to extract sympathy for his owncondition.
Pateley paused. He felt curiously uncomfortable and hesitating, asensation somewhat novel to him. Sir William leant back in his chair,trying to control the trembling of his hands, of which one held the_Mayfair Gazette_, the smaller paper still concealed underneath it.
"I see," Pateley said, "you are reading the evening paper. Not very goodreading, is it? Things look pretty bad."
"They do indeed," said Sir William.
"It looks uncommonly like war with Germany," Pateley said; "prices aretumbling down headlong on the Stock Exchange. I believe there is goingto be something very like a panic."
"Is there?" said Gore uneasily; "that's bad."
"Yes, it is very bad," Pateley went on. "I suppose you have heard thatthere are ugly rumours about the 'Equator.'"
"I saw something," Sir William said, forcing himself to speak. "What isit exactly that they say?"
"Well, the last thing they say," Pateley replied with a harder ring inhis voice, "is that it is not a gold mine at all."
"What?" said Sir William, grasping the arms of his chair.
"And that the whole thing, therefore, is going to pieces with everypenny invested in it."
"Is it--is it as bad as that?" said the other, tremulously. "No, no, itcan't be. Surely it can't be."
"Do you mean to say you don't know?" said Pateley.
"I know nothing," said Sir William. "I have heard nothing about it, upto this moment."
"One can't help wondering," said Pateley, "that a man in yourresponsible position towards it," the words struck Sir William like ablow, "should not have known, should not have inquired----"
"I have been ill, you know," Sir William said nervously, "I have notbeen able to look into or understand anything. I have not been out ofthe house yet. I could not go to the City or do any business."
"Yes, I see that," said Pateley, "and I am sorry to be obliged tothrust a business discussion upon you now----"
Sir William looked up at him quickly, anxiously.
"But the fact is, at this moment the business won't wait. If youremember, when the 'Equator' Company was first started, I, like manyothers, invested in it, having asked your opinion of it first, andhaving heard from you that you were going to be the Chairman of theBoard of Directors."
"I believed in it, you know," Sir William said, with eagerness; "I put alot of money into it myself."
"I know you did, yes," said Pateley, "but _you_ fortunately had a lot todo it with, and also a lot of money to keep out of it. Every one is notso happily situated. I blame myself, I need not say, acutely, as well asothers." And as Sir William looked at him sitting there in hisrelentless strength, he felt that there was small mercy to be expectedat his hands.
"I don't know," Sir William said, trying to speak with dignity, "that Iwas to blame. I believed in it, as others did."
"No doubt," Pateley said. "But I am afraid that will hardly be asatisfactory explanation for the shareholders. The shares at this momentare absolutely worthless."
"But what can I do?" said Sir William. "What would you have me do?"
"It seems to me there is a rather obvious thing to be done," saidPateley. "It is to help to make good the losses of the people who,through you, will be"--and he paused--"ruined."
"Ruined!" Sir William repeated, "No, no--it cannot be as bad as that. Itis terrible," he muttered to himself. "It is terrible."
"Yes, it is terrible," said Pateley, "and even something uglier."
"But," Sir William said miserably, "I don't know that I can be blamedfor it. Anderson, who is absolutely honest, reported on the thing, andbelieved in it to the extent of spending all he had in getting therights to work it."
"That is possible," Pateley said, "but Anderson was not the chairman ofthe company. You are."
"Worse luck," Sir William said bitter
ly.
"Yes, worse luck," Pateley said. "Your name up to now has been anhonourable one." Sir William started and looked at him again. "I amafraid," Pateley went on, "after this it may have," and he spoke as ifweighing his words, "a different reputation."
Sir William cleared his throat and spoke with an effort.
"Pateley," he said, "you won't let _that_ happen? You will make itclear...? You have influence in the Press----"
"I am afraid," Pateley said, "that my influence, such as it is, must onthis occasion be exerted the other way. Of course there is a good dealat stake for me here," he went on, in a matter of fact tone whichcarried more conviction than an outburst of emotion would have done. "Icare for my sisters, and I am afraid I can't sit down and seethem--swindled, or something very like it."
"Not, swindled!" said Gore angrily.
"Well," Pateley said, "that is really what it looks like to theoutsider, and that is what, as a matter of fact, it comes to."
"Heaven knows I would make it right if I could," said Sir William, "buthow can I?"
"Well, of course, on occasions of this kind," Pateley said, still in thesame everyday manner, as though judicially dealing with a fact which didnot specially concern him, "it is sometimes done by the simple processof the person responsible for the losses making them good--makingrestitution, in fact."
"I have told you," said Sir William, "that I'm afraid that isimpossible."
"Ah then, I am sorry," Pateley said, in the tone of one determining, asSir William dimly felt, on some course of action. "I thought somepossible course might have suggested itself to you."
"No, I can suggest nothing," Sir William said, leaning back in hischair, and feeling that neither mind nor body could respond at thatmoment to anything that called for fresh initiative.
"I thought that you might have other possibilities on the Stock Exchangeeven," said Pateley, "though I must say I don't see in what direction.There is bound to be a panic the moment war is declared."
There was a pause. Sir William lay back in his chair looking vaguely infront of him. Pateley sat waiting. Then Gore felt a strange flutter athis heart as the full bearing of Pateley's last sentence dawned uponhim.
"Supposing," he said, trying to speak steadily, "there were no war?"
"That is hardly worth discussing," said Pateley briefly, as he got up."War, I am afraid, is practically certain. Then do I understand, SirWilliam," he continued, "that you can do nothing to help me in thismatter? If so, I am sorry. I had hoped I might have spared you somediscomfort, but since you can do nothing----" He broke off and lookedquickly out of the window, then said in explanation, "It is only ahansom stopping next door; I thought it might be Rendel coming back. ButI was mistaken."
Sir William realised that every instant was precious.
"Pateley," he said, "look here. If you could wait a day or twolonger...."
"Do you mean," said Pateley, "that if I were to wait there would be achance of your being able to do something?"
"I don't know," said Sir William, "I am not sure, but there might be aturn in public affairs; the panic might be over, there might be a chanceof peace."
"If that is all," Pateley said quite definitely, "I am afraid thatprospect is not enough to build upon. I can't afford to wait on thatsecurity."
Sir William got up and spoke quickly with a visible effort.
"Look here, listen... I have a reason for thinking that is the waythings may be turning."
"A reason?" said Pateley, turning round upon him.
"Yes," said Sir William.
"What is it?" said Pateley.
Sir William felt his courage failing him in the desperate game he hadbegun to play. It was no good pausing now. He stood facing Pateley,holding a folded paper in his hand, no longer hidden by the newspaperwhich had slid from his grasp on to the ground. He looked at the paperin his hand mechanically. Mechanically Pateley's eye followed his. Theconviction suddenly came to him that Gore was not speaking at random.
"Sir William," he said, "time presses," and unconsciously they bothlooked towards the window into the street. At any moment Rendel mightdraw up again. "If you have any reason for what you are saying, tellme--if not, I must leave you to see what can be done."
"I have a reason," said Sir William, "the strongest, for believing thatthere will be peace."
Pateley looked at him. "Give me a proof?" he said, with the accent of aman who is wasting no words, no intentions.
Sir William's hand tightened over the paper. "If I gave you a proof," hesaid, "would you swear not to take any proceedings against the 'Equator'Company?"
"If you gave me a proof, yes--I would swear," said Pateley.
"And you will keep the things out of the papers," Sir William went onhurriedly, "till I have had time to see my way?"
"Yes," said Pateley again.
"And my name shall not appear in the matter?"
"No--no," Pateley said, in spite of himself breathlessly and hurriedly,more excited than he wished to show. Sir William paused and lookedtowards the window. "All right," said Pateley, "you have time. Quick!What is it?"
"There is going," Sir William said, "I am almost certain, to be anunderstanding, an agreement between England and Germany about thisbusiness in Africa."
"Impossible!" said Pateley.
"Yes," said Sir William, hardly audibly.
"Give me the proof," Pateley said, coming close to him and in hisexcitement making a movement as though to take the paper out of Gore'shand.
"Wait, wait!" Sir William said. "No, you mustn't do that!" and hestaggered and leant back against the chimneypiece. Pateley had no timeto waste in sympathy.
"Look here, if you don't give it to me, show me what it is."
"Yes, yes, I will show it you," Sir William said, "only you are not totake it, you are not to touch it."
Pateley signed assent, and Sir William unfolded the map of Africa andheld it up with a trembling hand.
"What!" said Pateley, at first hardly grasping what he saw. Then itsfull significance began to dawn upon him. "Africa--a partition of Africabetween Germany and England! Do you mean to say that is it?"
"Yes," Sir William said. "But for Heaven's sake don't touch it, don'ttake it out of my hand," he said again, nervously conscious that his ownstrength was ebbing at every moment, and that if the resolute, dominantfigure before him had chosen to seize on the paper, nothing could haveprevented his doing so.
"Well, at any rate, let me have a good look at it," Pateley said, "thecoast is still clear," and as he went to the window to give another lookout, he took something out of his breast pocket. "Now then," he said,turning back to Sir William, "hold it up in the light so that I can havea good look at it;" and as Sir William held it in the light of thewindow, Pateley, as quick as lightning, drew his tiny camera out of hispocket. There was a click, and the map of Africa had been photographed.Pateley unconsciously drew a quick breath of relief as he put themachine back. Sir William, as white as a sheet, dropped his hands indismay.
"Good Heavens! What have you done? Have you photographed it?"
"Yes," said Pateley, trying to control his own excitement, andrecovering his usual tone with an effort. "That's all, thank you. It ismuch the simplest form of illustration."
"Illustration! What are you going to do with it?" Sir William said,aghast.
"That depends," said Pateley. "I must see how and when I can use it tothe best advantage."
"You have sworn," Sir William said tremulously, "that you won't saywhere you got it from."
"Of course I won't," Pateley said, gradually returning to his usualburly heartiness. "Now, may I ask where _you_ got it from?"
"I got it out of there," Sir William said, pointing to the table. "Acorner of it was sticking out."
"Might I suggest that you should put it back again?" said Pateley.
"Good Heavens, yes!" said Gore. "I had forgotten." And he nervouslyfolded it up and dropped it through the slit of the table.
"Ha, that's safer,
" said Pateley, with a short laugh. "You should notlose your head over these things," and he gave a swift look down thestreet again. "Now I must go. I am going straight to the City, and I'lltell you what I shall do," and his manner became more emphatic as hewent on, as though answering some objection. "I'm going to buy up thewhole of the 'Equator' shares on the chance of a rise, and perhaps someCape to Cairo too, and then we'll see. Now, can't I do something for youtoo? Won't you buy something on the chance of a rise?"
Sir William had sunk into a chair. He shook his head.
"I am too tired to think," he said. "I don't know."
"Well, you leave it to me," Pateley said, "and I'll do something foryou--and if things go as we think, by next week you will be in aposition to make good the losses of all London two or three times over.I'll let you know what happens, and what I've been able to do."
"Thank you," Sir William said again feebly.
"The news will soon pick you up," said Pateley heartily, as he shook himby the hand. "No, don't get up; I can find my way out. Goodbye." And amoment later he passed the window, striding away towards Knightsbridge.
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