The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XCII.

  HAMILTON K. FISKER AGAIN.

  Ten days had passed since the meeting narrated in the lastchapter,--ten days, during which Hetta's letter had been sent to herlover, but in which she had received no reply,--when two gentlemenmet each other in a certain room in Liverpool, who were seen togetherin the same room in the early part of this chronicle. These were ouryoung friend Paul Montague, and our not much older friend HamiltonK. Fisker. Melmotte had died on the 18th of July, and tidings of theevent had been at once sent by telegraph to San Francisco. Some weeksbefore this Montague had written to his partner, giving his accountof the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway Company,--describingits condition in England as he then believed it to be,--and urgingFisker to come over to London. On receipt of a message from hisAmerican correspondent he had gone down to Liverpool, and hadthere awaited Fisker's arrival, taking counsel with his friendMr. Ramsbottom. In the mean time Hetta's letter was lying at theBeargarden, Paul having written from his club and having omitted todesire that the answer should be sent to his lodgings. Just at thismoment things at the Beargarden were not well managed. They wereindeed so ill managed that Paul never received that letter,--whichwould have had for him charms greater than those of any letter everbefore written.

  "This is a terrible business," said Fisker, immediately on enteringthe room in which Montague was waiting him. "He was the last man I'dhave thought would be cut up in that way."

  "He was utterly ruined."

  "He wouldn't have been ruined,--and couldn't have thought so if he'dknown all he ought to have known. The South Central would have pulledhim through a'most anything if he'd have understood how to play it."

  "We don't think much of the South Central here now," said Paul.

  "Ah;--that's because you've never above half spirit enough for a bigthing. You nibble at it instead of swallowing it whole,--and then, ofcourse, folks see that you're only nibbling. I thought that Melmottewould have had spirit."

  "There is, I fear, no doubt that he had committed forgery. It was thedread of detection as to that which drove him to destroy himself."

  "I call it dam clumsy from beginning to end;--dam clumsy. I took himto be a different man, and I feel more than half ashamed of myselfbecause I trusted such a fellow. That chap Cohenlupe has got off witha lot of swag. Only think of Melmotte allowing Cohenlupe to get thebetter of him!"

  "I suppose the thing will be broken up now at San Francisco,"suggested Paul.

  "Bu'st up at Frisco! Not if I know it. Why should it be bu'st up?D'you think we're all going to smash there because a fool likeMelmotte blows his brains out in London?"

  "He took poison."

  "Or p'ison either. That's not just our way. I'll tell you what I'mgoing to do; and why I'm over here so uncommon sharp. These sharesare at a'most nothing now in London. I'll buy every share in themarket. I wired for as many as I dar'd, so as not to spoil our owngame, and I'll make a clean sweep of every one of them. Bu'st up! I'msorry for him because I thought him a biggish man;--but what he'sdone 'll just be the making of us over there. Will you get out of it,or will you come back to Frisco with me?"

  In answer to this Paul asserted most strenuously that he wouldnot return to San Francisco, and, perhaps too ingenuously, gavehis partner to understand that he was altogether sick of the greatrailway, and would under no circumstances have anything more todo with it. Fisker shrugged his shoulders, and was not displeasedat the proposed rupture. He was prepared to deal fairly,--nay,generously,--by his partner, having recognised the wisdom of thatgreat commercial rule which teaches us that honour should prevailamong associates of a certain class; but he had fully convincedhimself that Paul Montague was not a fit partner for Hamilton K.Fisker. Fisker was not only unscrupulous himself, but he had athorough contempt for scruples in others. According to his theory oflife, nine hundred and ninety-nine men were obscure because of theirscruples, whilst the thousandth man predominated and cropped up intothe splendour of commercial wealth because he was free from suchbondage. He had his own theories, too, as to commercial honesty. Thatwhich he had promised to do he would do, if it was within his power.He was anxious that his bond should be good, and his word equallyso. But the work of robbing mankind in gross by magnificently falserepresentations, was not only the duty, but also the delight and theambition of his life. How could a man so great endure a partnershipwith one so small as Paul Montague? "And now what about WinifridHurtle?" asked Fisker.

  "What makes you ask? She's in London."

  "Oh yes, I know she's in London, and Hurtle's at Frisco, swearingthat he'll come after her. He would, only he hasn't got the dollars."

  "He's not dead then?" muttered Paul.

  "Dead!--no, nor likely to die. She'll have a bad time of it with himyet."

  "But she divorced him."

  "She got a Kansas lawyer to say so, and he's got a Frisco lawyer tosay that there's nothing of the kind. She hasn't played her gamebadly neither, for she's had the handling of her own money, and hasput it so that he can't get hold of a dollar. Even if it suited otherways, you know, I wouldn't marry her myself till I saw my way clearerout of the wood."

  "I'm not thinking of marrying her,--if you mean that."

  "There was a talk about it in Frisco;--that's all. And I have heardHurtle say when he was a little farther gone than usual that she washere with you, and that he meant to drop in on you some of thesedays." To this Paul made no answer, thinking that he had now bothheard enough and said enough about Mrs. Hurtle.

  On the following day the two men, who were still partners, wenttogether to London, and Fisker immediately became immersed in thearrangement of Melmotte's affairs. He put himself into communicationwith Mr. Brehgert, went in and out of the offices in AbchurchLane and the rooms which had belonged to the Railway Company,cross-examined Croll, mastered the books of the Company as far asthey were to be mastered, and actually summoned both the Grendalls,father and son, up to London. Lord Alfred, and Miles with him, hadleft London a day or two before Melmotte's death,--having probablyperceived that there was no further occasion for their services. ToFisker's appeal Lord Alfred was proudly indifferent. Who was thisAmerican that he should call upon a director of the London Companyto appear? Does not every one know that a director of a company neednot direct unless he pleases? Lord Alfred, therefore, did not evencondescend to answer Fisker's letter;--but he advised his son to runup to town. "I should just go, because I'd taken a salary from thed---- Company," said the careful father, "but when there I wouldn'tsay a word." So Miles Grendall, obeying his parent, reappeared uponthe scene.

  But Fisker's attention was perhaps most usefully and most sedulouslypaid to Madame Melmotte and her daughter. Till Fisker arrived no onehad visited them in their solitude at Hampstead, except Croll, theclerk. Mr. Brehgert had abstained, thinking that a widow, who hadbecome a widow under such terrible circumstances, would prefer to bealone. Lord Nidderdale had made his adieux, and felt that he could dono more. It need hardly be said that Lord Alfred had too much goodtaste to interfere at such a time, although for some months he hadbeen domestically intimate with the poor woman, or that Sir Felixwould not be prompted by the father's death to renew his suit tothe daughter. But Fisker had not been two days in London beforehe went out to Hampstead, and was admitted to Madame Melmotte'spresence;--and he had not been there four days before he was awarethat in spite of all misfortunes, Marie Melmotte was still theundoubted possessor of a large fortune.

  In regard to Melmotte's effects generally the Crown had been inducedto abstain from interfering,--giving up the right to all the man'splate and chairs and tables which it had acquired by the finding ofthe coroner's verdict,--not from tenderness to Madame Melmotte, forwhom no great commiseration was felt, but on behalf of such creditorsas poor Mr. Longestaffe and his son. But Marie's money was quitedistinct from this. She had been right in her own belief as tothis property, and had been right, too, in refusing to sign thosepapers,--unless it may be that that refusal led to her father's act.Sh
e herself was sure that it was not so, because she had withdrawnher refusal, and had offered to sign the papers before her father'sdeath. What might have been the ultimate result had she done so whenhe first made the request, no one could now say. That the moneywould have gone there could be no doubt. The money was now hers,--afact which Fisker soon learned with that peculiar cleverness whichbelonged to him.

  Poor Madame Melmotte felt the visits of the American to be a reliefto her in her misery. The world makes great mistakes as to thatwhich is and is not beneficial to those whom Death has bereaved ofa companion. It may be, no doubt sometimes it is the case, thatgrief shall be so heavy, so absolutely crushing, as to make anyinterference with it an additional trouble, and this is felt also inacute bodily pain, and in periods of terrible mental suffering. Itmay also be, and, no doubt, often is the case, that the bereaved onechooses to affect such overbearing sorrow, and that friends abstain,because even such affectation has its own rights and privileges. ButMadame Melmotte was neither crushed by grief nor did she affect tobe so crushed. She had been numbed by the suddenness and by the aweof the catastrophe. The man who had been her merciless tyrant foryears, who had seemed to her to be a very incarnation of cruel power,had succumbed, and shown himself to be powerless against his ownmisfortunes. She was a woman of very few words, and had spoken almostnone on this occasion even to her own daughter; but when Fisker cameto her, and told her more than she had ever known before of herhusband's affairs, and spoke to her of her future life, and mixed forher a small glass of brandy-and-water warm, and told her that Friscowould be the fittest place for her future residence, she certainlydid not find him to be intrusive.

  And even Marie liked Fisker, though she had been wooed and almostwon both by a lord and a baronet, and had understood, if not much,at least more than her mother, of the life to which she had beenintroduced. There was something of real sorrow in her heart for herfather. She was prone to love,--though, perhaps, not prone to deepaffection. Melmotte had certainly been often cruel to her, but hehad also been very indulgent. And as she had never been speciallygrateful for the one, so neither had she ever specially resented theother. Tenderness, care, real solicitude for her well-being, shehad never known, and had come to regard the unevenness of her life,vacillating between knocks and knick-knacks, with a blow one day anda jewel the next, as the condition of things which was natural toher. When her father was dead she remembered for a while the jewelsand the knick-knacks, and forgot the knocks and blows. But shewas not beyond consolation, and she also found consolation in Mr.Fisker's visits.

  "I used to sign a paper every quarter," she said to Fisker, as theywere walking together one evening in the lanes round Hampstead.

  "You'll have to do the same now, only instead of giving the paper toany one you'll have to leave it in a banker's hands to draw the moneyfor yourself."

  "And can that be done over in California?"

  "Just the same as here. Your bankers will manage it all for youwithout the slightest trouble. For the matter of that I'll do it,if you'll trust me. There's only one thing against it all, MissMelmotte."

  "And what's that?"

  "After the sort of society you've been used to here, I don't know howyou'll get on among us Americans. We're a pretty rough lot, I guess.Though, perhaps, what you lose in the look of the fruit, you'll makeup in the flavour." This Fisker said in a somewhat plaintive tone,as though fearing that the manifest substantial advantages of Friscowould not suffice to atone for the loss of that fashion to which MissMelmotte had been used.

  "I hate swells," said Marie, flashing round upon him.

  "Do you now?"

  "Like poison. What's the use of 'em? They never mean a word that theysay,--and they don't say so many words either. They're never morethan half awake, and don't care the least about anybody. I hateLondon."

  "Do you now?"

  "Oh, don't I?"

  "I wonder whether you'd hate Frisco?"

  "I rather think it would be a jolly sort of place."

  "Very jolly I find it. And I wonder whether you'd hate--me?"

  "Mr. Fisker, that's nonsense. Why should I hate anybody?"

  "But you do. I've found out one or two that you don't love. If youdo come to Frisco, I hope you won't just hate me, you know." Then hetook her gently by the arm;--but she, whisking herself away rapidly,bade him behave himself. Then they returned to their lodgings, andMr. Fisker, before he went back to London, mixed a little warmbrandy-and-water for Madame Melmotte. I think that upon the wholeMadame Melmotte was more comfortable at Hampstead than she hadbeen either in Grosvenor Square or Bruton Street, although she wascertainly not a thing beautiful to look at in her widow's weeds.

  "I don't think much of you as a book-keeper, you know," Fisker saidto Miles Grendall in the now almost deserted Board-room of theSouth Central Pacific and Mexican Railway. Miles, remembering hisfather's advice, answered not a word, but merely looked with assumedamazement at the impertinent stranger who dared thus to censure hisperformances. Fisker had made three or four remarks previous tothis, and had appealed both to Paul Montague and to Croll, who werepresent. He had invited also the attendance of Sir Felix Carbury,Lord Nidderdale, and Mr. Longestaffe, who were all Directors;--butnone of them had come. Sir Felix had paid no attention to Fisker'sletter. Lord Nidderdale had written a short but characteristic reply."Dear Mr. Fisker,--I really don't know anything about it. Yours,Nidderdale." Mr. Longestaffe, with laborious zeal, had closelycovered four pages with his reasons for non-attendance, with whichthe reader shall not be troubled, and which it may be doubted whethereven Fisker perused to the end. "Upon my word," continued Fisker,"it's astonishing to me that Melmotte should have put up with thiskind of thing. I suppose you understand something of business, Mr.Croll?"

  "It vas not my department, Mr. Fisker," said the German.

  "Nor anybody else's either," said the domineering American. "Ofcourse it's on the cards, Mr. Grendall, that we shall have to put youinto a witness-box, because there are certain things we must get at."Miles was silent as the grave, but at once made up his mind that hewould pass his autumn at some pleasant but economical German retreat,and that his autumnal retirement should be commenced within a veryfew days;--or perhaps hours might suffice.

  But Fisker was not in earnest in his threat. In truth the greaterthe confusion in the London office, the better, he thought, were theprospects of the Company at San Francisco. Miles underwent purgatoryon this occasion for three or four hours, and when dismissed hadcertainly revealed none of Melmotte's secrets. He did, however, goto Germany, finding that a temporary absence from England would becomfortable to him in more respects than one,--and need not be heardof again in these pages.

  When Melmotte's affairs were ultimately wound up there was found tobe nearly enough of property to satisfy all his proved liabilities.Very many men started up with huge claims, asserting that they hadbeen robbed, and in the confusion it was hard to ascertain who hadbeen robbed, or who had simply been unsuccessful in their attempts torob others. Some, no doubt, as was the case with poor Mr. Brehgert,had speculated in dependence on Melmotte's sagacity, and had lostheavily without dishonesty. But of those who, like the Longestaffes,were able to prove direct debts, the condition at last was not verysad. Our excellent friend Dolly got his money early in the day, andwas able, under Mr. Squercum's guidance, to start himself on a newcareer. Having paid his debts, and with still a large balance at hisbankers', he assured his friend Nidderdale that he meant to turn overan entirely new leaf. "I shall just make Squercum allow me so much amonth, and I shall have all the bills and that kind of thing sent tohim, and he will do everything, and pull me up if I'm getting wrong.I like Squercum."

  "Won't he rob you, old fellow?" suggested Nidderdale.

  "Of course he will;--but he won't let any one else do it. One hasto be plucked, but it's everything to have it done on a system. Ifhe'll only let me have ten shillings out of every sovereign I thinkI can get along." Let us hope that Mr. Squercum was merciful, andthat Dolly
was enabled to live in accordance with his virtuousresolutions.

  But these things did not arrange themselves till late in thewinter,--long after Mr. Fisker's departure for California. That,however, was protracted till a day much later than he had anticipatedbefore he had become intimate with Madame Melmotte and Marie. MadameMelmotte's affairs occupied him for a while almost exclusively. Thefurniture and plate were of course sold for the creditors, but MadameMelmotte was allowed to take whatever she declared to be speciallyher own property;--and, though much was said about the jewels, noattempt was made to recover them. Marie advised Madame Melmotte togive them up, assuring the old woman that she should have whatevershe wanted for her maintenance. But it was not likely that Melmotte'swidow would willingly abandon any property, and she did not abandonher jewels. It was agreed between her and Fisker that they were tobe taken to New York. "You'll get as much there as in London, if youlike to part with them; and nobody 'll say anything about it there.You couldn't sell a locket or a chain here without all the worldtalking about it."

  In all these things Madame Melmotte put herself into Fisker's handswith the most absolute confidence,--and, indeed, with a confidencethat was justified by its results. It was not by robbing an old womanthat Fisker intended to make himself great. To Madame Melmotte'sthinking, Fisker was the finest gentleman she had ever met,--soinfinitely pleasanter in his manner than Lord Alfred even when LordAlfred had been most gracious, with so much more to say for himselfthan Miles Grendall, understanding her so much better than any manhad ever done,--especially when he supplied her with those small warmbeakers of sweet brandy-and-water. "I shall do whatever he tells me,"she said to Marie. "I'm sure I've nothing to keep me here in thiscountry."

  "I'm willing to go," said Marie. "I don't want to stay in London."

  "I suppose you'll take him if he asks you?"

  "I don't know anything about that," said Marie. "A man may be verywell without one's wanting to marry him. I don't think I'll marryanybody. What's the use? It's only money. Nobody cares for anythingelse. Fisker's all very well; but he only wants the money. Do youthink Fisker'd ask me to marry him if I hadn't got anything? Not he!He ain't slow enough for that."

  "I think he's a very nice young man," said Madame Melmotte.