CHAPTER XI.
SENIOR AND JUNIOR.
Although not a whisper had been heard of it in ordinary commercialcircles, there was some foundation for the forecast which Von Baumserhad made as to the fate of the great house of Girdlestone. For sometime back matters had been going badly with the African traders. If theshrewd eyes of Major Tobias Clutterbuck were unable to detect anyindications of this state of affairs in the manner or conversation ofthe junior partner, the reason simply was that that gentleman wasentirely ignorant of the imminent danger which hung over his head. Asfar as he knew, the concern was as prosperous and as flourishing as ithad been at the time of the death of John Harston. The momentous secretwas locked in the breast of his grim old father, who bore it about withhim as the Spartan lad did the fox--without a quiver or groan toindicate the care which was gnawing at his heart. Placed face to facewith ruin, Girdlestone fought against it desperately, and, withal,coolly and warily, throwing away no chance and leaving no stoneunturned. Above all, he exerted himself--and exerted himselfsuccessfully--to prevent any rumour of the critical position of the firmfrom leaking out in the city. He knew well that should that once occurnothing could save him. As the wounded buffalo is gored to death by theherd, so the crippled man of business may give up all hope when once hisposition is known by his fellows. At present, although Von Baumser anda few other such Ishmaelites might have an inkling from sources of theirown as to how matters stood, the name of Girdlestone was still regardedby business men as the very synonym for commercial integrity andstability. If anything, there seemed to be more business in FenchurchStreet and more luxury at the residence at Eccleston Square than informer days. Only the stern-faced and silent senior partner knew howthin the veneer was which shone so deceptively upon the surface.
Many things had contributed towards this state of affairs. The firm hadbeen involved in a succession of misfortunes, some known to the world,and others known to no one save the elder Girdlestone. The former hadbeen accepted with such perfect stoicism and cheerfulness that theyrather increased than diminished the reputation of the concern; thelatter were the more crushing, and also the more difficult to bear.
Lines of fine vessels from Liverpool and from Hamburg were running tothe West Coast of Africa, and competition had cut down freightage to thelowest possible point. Where the Girdlestones had once held almost amonopoly there were now many in the field. Again, the negroes of thecoast were becoming educated and had a keen eye to business, so that theold profits were no longer obtainable. The days had gone by whenflint-lock guns and Manchester prints could be weighed in the balanceagainst ivory and gold dust.
While these general causes were at work a special misfortune hadbefallen the house of Girdlestone. Finding that their fleet of oldsailing vessels was too slow and clumsy to compete with more modernships, they had bought in two first-rate steamers. One was the_Providence_, a fine screw vessel of twelve hundred tons, and the otherwas the _Evening Star_, somewhat smaller in size, but both classed A1 atLloyd's. The former cost twenty-two thousand pounds, and the latterseventeen thousand. Now, Mr. Girdlestone had always had a weakness forpetty savings, and in this instance he determined not to insure his newvessels. If the crazy old tubs, for which he had paid fancy premiumsfor so many years with an eye to an ultimate profit, met with nodisaster, surely those new powerful clippers were safe. With theirtonnage and horse-power they appeared to him to be superior to all thedangers of the deep. It chanced, however, by that strange luck whichwould almost make one believe that matters nautical were at the mercy ofsome particularly malignant demon, that as the _Evening Star_ wassteaming up Channel in a dense fog on her return from her second voyage,she ran right into the _Providence_, which had started that very morningfrom Liverpool upon her third outward trip. The _Providence_ was almostcut in two, and sank within five minutes, taking down the captain andsix of the crew, while the _Evening Star_ was so much damaged about thebows that she put into Falmouth in a sinking condition. That day's workcost the African firm more than five and thirty thousand pounds.
Other mishaps had occurred to weaken the firm, apart from their tradewith the coast. The senior partner had engaged in speculation withoutthe knowledge of his son, and the result had been disastrous. One ofthe Cornish tin mines in which he had sunk a large amount of money, andwhich had hitherto yielded him a handsome return, became suddenlyexhausted, and the shares went down to zero. No firm could standagainst such a run of bad luck, and the African trading company reeledbefore it. John Girdlestone had not said a word yet of all this to hisson. As claims arose he settled them in the best manner he could, andpostponed the inevitable day when he should have to give a true accountof their financial position. He hoped against hope that the chapter ofaccidents or the arrival of some brilliant cargoes from the coast mightset the concern on its legs again.
From day to day he had been expecting news of one of his vessels.At last one morning he found a telegram awaiting him at the office.He tore it eagerly open, for it bore the Madeira mark. It was from hisagent, Jose Alveciras, and announced that the voyage from which he hadhoped so much had been a total failure. The cargo was hardly sufficientto defray the working expenses. As the merchant read it, his headdropped over the table and he groaned aloud. Another of the props whichupheld him from ruin had snapped beneath him.
There were three letters lying beside the telegram. He glanced throughthem, but there was no consolation in any of them. One was from a bankmanager, informing him that his account was somewhat overdrawn.Another from Lloyd's Insurance Agency, pointing out that the policies ontwo of his vessels would lapse unless paid within a certain date.The clouds were gathering very darkly over the African firm, yet the oldman bore up against misfortune with dauntless courage. He sat alone inhis little room, with his head sunk upon his breast, and his thatchedeye-brows drawn down over his keen grey eyes. It was clear to him thatthe time had come when he must enlighten his son as to the true state oftheir affairs. With his co-operation he might carry out a plan whichhad been maturing some months in his brain.
It was a hard task for the proud and austere merchant to be compelled toconfess to his son that he had speculated without his knowledge in thecapital of the company, and that a large part of that capital haddisappeared. These speculations in many instances had promised largereturns, and John Girdlestone had withdrawn money from safer concerns,and reinvested it in the hope of getting a higher rate of interest.He had done this with his eyes open to the risk, and knowing that hisson was of too practical and cautious a nature to embark in suchcommercial gambling, he had never consulted him upon the point, nor hadhe made any entry of the money so invested in the accounts of the firm.Hence Ezra was entirely ignorant of the danger which hung over them, andhis father saw that, in order to secure his energetic assistance in thestroke which he was contemplating, it was absolutely necessary that heshould know how critical their position was.
The old man had hardly come to this conclusion when he heard the sharpfootfall of his son in the outer office and the harsh tones of his voiceas he addressed the clerks. A moment or two later the green baize doorflew open, and the young man came in, throwing his hat and coat down onone of the chairs. It was evident that something had ruffled histemper.
"Good-morning," he said brusquely, nodding his head to his father.
"Good-morning, Ezra," the merchant answered meekly.
"What's the matter with you, father?" his son asked, looking at himkeenly. "You don't look yourself, and haven't for some time back."
"Business worries, my boy, business worries," John Girdlestone answeredwearily.
"It's the infernal atmosphere of this place," Ezra said impatiently."I feel it myself sometimes. I wonder you don't start a little countryseat with some grounds. Just enough to ask a fellow to shoot over, andwith a good billiard board, and every convenience of that sort.It would do for us to spend the time from Saturday to Monday, and allowus to get some fresh air into our lungs. There
are plenty of men whocan't afford it half as well, and yet have something of the sort.What's the use of having a good balance at your banker's, if you don'tlive better than your neighbours?"
"There is only one objection to it," the merchant said huskily, and witha forced laugh; "I have not got a good balance at the banker's."
"Pretty fair, pretty fair," his son said knowingly, picking up the longthin volume in which the finance of the firm was recorded and tapping itagainst the table.
"But the figures there are not quite correct, Ezra," his father said,still more huskily. "We have not got nearly so much as that."
"What!" roared the junior partner.
"Hush! For God's sake don't let the clerks hear you. We have not somuch as that. We have very little. In fact, Ezra, we have next tonothing in the bank. It is all gone."
For a moment the young man stood motionless, glaring at his father.The expression of incredulity which had appeared on his features fadedaway before the earnestness of the other, and was replaced by a look ofsuch malignant passion that it contorted his whole face.
"You fool!" he shrieked, springing forward with the book upraised asthough he would have struck the old merchant. "I see it now. You havebeen speculating on your own hook, you cursed ass! What have you donewith it?" He seized his father by the collar and shook him furiously inhis wrath.
"Keep your hands off me!" the senior partner cried, wrenching himselffree from his son's grasp. "I did my best with the money. How dare youaddress me so?"
"Did your best!" hissed Ezra, hurling the ledger down on the table witha crash. "What did you mean by speculating without my knowledge, andtelling me at the same time that I knew all that was done? Hadn't Iwarned you a thousand times of the danger of it? You are not to betrusted with money."
"Remember, Ezra," his father said with dignity, re-seating himself inthe chair from which he had risen, in order to free himself from hisson's clutches, "if I lost the money, I also made it. This was aflourishing concern before you were born. If the worst comes to theworst you are only where I started. But we are far from beingabsolutely ruined as yet."
"To think of it!" Ezra cried, flinging himself upon the office sofa, andburying his face in his hands. "To think of all I have said of ourmoney and our resources! What will Clutterbuck and the fellows at theclub say? How can I alter the ways of life that I have learned?"Then, suddenly clenching his hands, and turning upon his father he brokeout, "We must have it back, father; we _must_, by fair means or foul.You must do it, for it was you who lost it. What can we do? How longhave we to do it in? Is this known in the City? Oh, I shall be ashamedto show my face on 'Change." So he rambled on, half-maddened by thepictures of the future which rose up in his mind.
"Be calm, Ezra, be calm!" his father said imploringly. "We have manychances yet if we only make the best of them. There is no use lamentingthe past. I freely confess that I was wrong in using this money withoutyour knowledge, but I did it from the best of motives. We must put ourheads together now to retrieve our losses, and there are many ways inwhich that may be done. I want your clear common sense to help me inthe matter."
"Pity you didn't apply to that before," Ezra said sulkily.
"I have suffered for not doing so," the older man answered meekly."In considering how to rally under this grievous affliction which hascome upon us, we must remember that our credit is a great resource, andone upon which we have never drawn. That gives us a broad margin tohelp us while we are carrying out our plans for the future."
"What will our credit be worth when this matter leaks out?"
"But it can't leak out. No one suspects it for a moment. They mightimagine that we are suffering from some temporary depression of trade,but no one could possibly know the sad truth. For Heaven's sake don'tyou let it out!"
His son broke into an impatient oath.
A flush came into Girdlestone's sallow cheeks, and his eyes sparkledangrily.
"Be careful how you speak, Ezra. There are limits to what I will endurefrom you, though I make every allowance for your feelings at this suddencatastrophe, for which I acknowledge myself responsible."
The young man shrugged his shoulders, and drummed his heel against theground impatiently.
"I have more than one plan in my head," the merchant said, "by which ouraffairs may be re-established on their old footing. If we can once getsufficient money to satisfy our present creditors, and so tide over thisrun of bad luck, the current will set in the other way, and all will gowell. And, first of all, there is one question, my boy, which I shouldlike to ask you. What do you think of John Harston's daughter?"
"She's right enough," the young man answered brusquely.
"She's a good girl, Ezra--a thoroughly good girl, and a rich girl too,though her money is a small thing in my eyes compared to her virtue."
Young Girdlestone sneered. "Of course," he said impatiently. "Well, goon--what about her?"
"Just this, Ezra, that there is no girl in the world whom I should likebetter to receive as my daughter-in-law. Ah, you rogue! you could comeround her; you know you could." The old man poked his long bony fingerIn the direction of his son's ribs with grim playfulness.
"Oh, that's the idea, is it?" remarked the junior partner, with a veryunpleasant smile.
"Yes, that is one way out of our difficulties. She has forty thousandpounds, which would be more than enough to save the firm. At the sametime you would gain a charming wife."
"Yes, there are a good many girls about who might make charming wives,"his son remarked dubiously. "No matrimony for me yet awhile."
"But it is absolutely necessary," his father urged.
"A very fine necessity," Ezra broke in savagely. "I am to tie myself upfor life and you are to use all the money in rectifying your blunders.It's a very pretty division of labour, is that."
"The business is yours as well as mine. It is your interest to investthe money in it, for if it fails you are as completely ruined as Ishould be. You think you could win her if you tried?"
Ezra stroked his dark moustache complacently, and took a momentaryglance at his own bold handsome features in the mirror above thefire-place. "If we are reduced to such an expedient, I think I cananswer for the result," he said. "The girl's not a bad-looking one.But you said you had several plans. Let us hear some of the other ones.If the worst comes to the worst I might consent to that--on condition,of course, that I should have the whole management of the money."
"Quite so--quite so," his father said hurriedly. "That's a dear, goodlad. As you say, when all other things fail we can always fall backupon that. At present I intend to raise as much money as I can upon ourcredit, and invest it in such a manner as to bring in a large andimmediate profit."
"And how do you intend to do this?" his son asked doubtfully.
"I intend," said John Girdlestone, solemnly rising up and leaning hiselbow against the mantelpiece--"I intend to make a corner in diamonds."
The Firm of Girdlestone Page 11