"What extraordinary bad taste," Letitia remarked, "to cadge from him at dinner time!"
"If your father weren't within hearing," Mrs. Honeywell retorted, "I'd let you know what I think of you as a hostess! Why are we all so frightened of your father, Letitia? Look at him now. He is the most picturesque and kindly object you can imagine, yet I find myself always choosing my phrases, and slipping into a sort of pre-Victorian English, when I fancy that he is listening."
"I see him more from the family point of view, I suppose," Letitia observed, "and yet, in a way, he is rather a wonderful person. For instance, I have never seen him hurry, I have never seen him angry, in the ordinary sense of the word; in fact he has the most amazing complacency I ever knew. Of course, Aunt Caroline," she went on, turning to the Duchess a few moments later, "if you want to stay with the men, pray do so. If not, you might take into account the fact that I have been trying to catch your eye for the last three minutes."
Thain drew up nearer to his host after the women had withdrawn, and found himself next Sir Robert, who talked railways with eloquence and some understanding. Lord Charles was frankly bored, and bestowed his whole attention upon the port. The Marquis discussed a recent land bill with his brother-in-law, but in a very few moments gave the signal to rise. He attached himself at once to David Thain.
"You play bridge?" he asked.
"Never if I can avoid it," was the frank reply.
"Then you and I will entertain one another," his host suggested.
The Marquis's idea of entertainment was to install his guest in a comfortable chair in a small den at the back of the house, which he kept for his absolutely private use, and to broach the subject which had led to David's welcome at Grosvenor Square.
"Let me ask you," he began, "have you seen anything more of this man Vont?"
"Nothing."
The Marquis looked ruminatively at the cedar spill with which he had just lit his cigarette.
"I am almost certain," he said, "that I saw him on the platform at Raynham—the nearest station to Mandeleys—yesterday. He seemed marvellously little altered."
"He has probably taken up his abode down there, then," David observed.
The Marquis's face darkened. He brushed the subject aside.
"There is a matter concerning which I wish to speak to you, Mr. Thain," he said. "You are one of the fortunate ones of the earth, who have attained, by your own efforts, I believe, an immense prosperity."
David listened in silence, watching the ash at the end of his cigar.
"Your money, my son-in-law, Sir Robert, tells me," the Marquis continued, "has been made in brilliant and sagacious speculation. There have no doubt been others who have followed in your footsteps, and, in a humbler way, have shared your success."
David had developed a rare gift of silence. He smoked steadily, and his expression was remarkably stolid.
"I find myself in need of a sum," the Marquis proceeded, with the air of a man introducing a business proposition, "of two hundred and twenty thousand pounds—there or thereabouts."
There was a momentary gleam of interest in David's eyes, gone, however, almost as soon as it had appeared. For the first time he made a remark.
"Over a million dollars, eh?"
The Marquis inclined his head.
"My position," he continued, "naturally precludes me from making use of any of the ordinary methods by means of which men amass wealth. I have at various times, however, made small but not entirely unsuccessful speculations—upon the Stock Exchange. The position in which I now find myself demands something upon a larger scale."
"What capital," David Thain enquired, "can you handle?"
The Marquis stroked his chin thoughtfully. He was aware of a pocketbook a shade fuller than usual, of three overdrawn banking accounts, and his recent interview with his lawyers.
"Capital," he repeated. "Ah! I suppose capital is necessary."
"In any gambling transaction, you always have to take into account the possibility," David reminded him, "that you might lose."
"Precisely," the Marquis assented, selecting another cigarette, "but that is not the class of speculation I am looking for. I am anxious to discover an enterprise, either by means of my own insight into such matters, which is not inconsiderable, or the good offices of a friend, in which the chances of loss do not exist."
David was a little staggered. He contemplated his host curiously.
"Such speculations," he said at last, "are difficult to find."
"Not to a man of your ability, I am sure, Mr. Thain," the Marquis asserted.
"Do I gather that you wish for my advice?"
The Marquis inclined his head.
"That," he intimated, "was my object."
David smoked steadily, and his host contemplated him with a certain artistic satisfaction. He had been something of a sculptor in his youth, and he saw possibilities in the shape and pose of the great financier.
"The long and short of it is," David said at last, "that you want to make a million dollars, without any trouble, and without any chance of loss. There are a good many others, Marquis."
"But they have not all the privilege," was the graceful rejoinder, "of knowing personally a Goliath of finance. You will pardon the allegory. I take it from this morning's Daily Express."
"In my career," David continued, after a moment's pause, "you would perhaps be surprised to hear that I have done very little speculating. I have made great purchases of railways, and land through which railways must run, because I knew my job and because I had insight. The time for that is past now. To make money rapidly one must, as you yourself have already decided, speculate. I can tell you of a speculation in which I have myself indulged, but I do not for a moment pretend that it is a certainty. It was good enough for me to put in two million dollars, and if what I believe happens, my two millions will be forty millions. But there is no certainty."
The Marquis fidgeted in his chair.
"By what means," he asked tentatively, "could I interest myself in this undertaking?"
"By the purchase of shares," was the prompt reply.
The Marquis considered the point. The matter of purchasing anything presented fundamental difficulties to him!
"Tell me about these shares?" he invited. "What is the nature of the undertaking?"
"Oil."
The Marquis grew a little more sanguine. There was an element of fantasy about oil shares. Perhaps they could be bought on paper.
"Large fortunes have been made in oil," he said. "Personally, I am a believer in oil. Where are the wells?"
"In Arizona."
"An excellent locality," the Marquis continued approvingly. "What is the present price of the shares?"
"They are dollar shares," David replied, "and their present price is par. You may find them quoted in some financial papers, but as practically the entire holding is in my possession, the market for them is limited."
"Precisely," the Marquis murmured. "To come to business, Mr. Thain, are you disposed to part with any?"
David appeared to consider the matter.
"Well, I don't know," he said, "I've made something like twenty million dollars out of my railways, and I have about reached that point when speculations cease to attract."
The Marquis held on to the sides of his chair and struggled against the feeling almost of reverence which he feared might be reflected in his countenance.
"A very desirable sum of money, Mr. Thain," he conceded.
"It's enough for me," David acknowledged. "There are two million shares in the Pluto Oil Company, practically the whole of which stand in my name. If the calculations which the most experienced oil men in the States have worked out materialise, those shares will be worth ten million dollars in four months' time. Let me see," he went on, "two hundred and thirty thousand pounds is, roughly speaking, one million, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. You can have two hundred thousand of my shares, if you like, at a dollar."
&nb
sp; "This is exceedingly kind of you," the Marquis declared. "Let me see," he reflected, "two hundred thousand dollars would be—"
"A matter of forty thousand pounds."
"I see!" the Marquis ruminated. "Forty thousand pounds!"
"You are not, I am sure, a business man," his guest continued, "so you will pardon my reminding you that you can easily obtain an advance from your bankers upon the title deeds of property, or a short mortgage would produce the amount."
"A mortgage," the Marquis repeated, as though the idea were a new one to him. "Ah, yes! I must confess, though, that I have the strongest possible objection to mortgages, if they can in any way be dispensed with."
"I suppose that is how you large English landowners generally feel," David remarked tolerantly. "If you would prefer it, I will take your note of hand for the amount of the shares, payable, say, in three months' time."
The Marquis upset the box of cigarettes which he was handling. He was not as a rule a clumsy person, but he felt strongly the need of some extraneous incident. He stood on the hearthrug whilst the servant whom he summoned collected the cigarettes and replaced them in the box. As soon as the door was closed, he turned to his guest.
"Your offer, Mr. Thain," he said, "is a most kindly one. It simplifies the whole matter exceedingly."
"You had better make the usual enquiries concerning the property," the latter advised. "I am afraid you will find it a little difficult over on this side to get exact information, but if you have any friends who understand oil prospecting—"
The Marquis held out his hand.
"It is not an occasion upon which a further opinion is necessary," he declared. "I approve of the locality of the property, and the fact that you yourself are largely interested is sufficient for me."
"Then any time you like to meet me at your lawyer's," David suggested, "I'll hand over the shares and you can sign a note of hand for the amount."
The Marquis considered the matter for a moment, thoughtfully. There was something about the idea of letting Mr. Wadham see him sign a promissory note for forty thousand pounds which occurred to him as somewhat precarious.
"Perhaps you have legal connections of your own here," he ventured. "To tell you the truth, I have been obliged to speak my mind in a very plain manner to my own solicitors. I consider that they mismanaged the Vont case most shamefully. I would really prefer to keep away from them for a time."
David nodded.
"I have a letter to some lawyers, at my rooms," he said. "I will send you their address, and we can make an appointment to meet at their office."
The Marquis assented gravely. He considered that the matter was now better dismissed from further discussion.
"I have no doubt," he said, "that my sister would like to talk to you for a time. Shall we join the ladies?"
David threw away his cigar and professed his readiness. They crossed the hall and entered the drawing-room. There was one table of bridge, and Letitia was seated with her sister on a divan near the window. The former sighed as she watched the entrance of the two men.
"Do look at father, Meg," she whispered. "I am perfectly certain he has been borrowing money."
Margaret shrugged her shoulders.
"What if he has, my dear!" she rejoined. "These people can afford to pay for their entertainment. I think it's rather clever of him."
Letitia groaned.
"You have such ignoble ideas, Meg," she said reprovingly. "Now I know I shall have to make myself agreeable to Mr. Thain, and I either like him or dislike him immensely. I haven't the least idea which."
"I shouldn't be surprised," her sister whispered, as Thain approached, "if he didn't help you presently to make up your mind."
CHAPTER VII
Marcia Hannaway called upon her publisher during the course of the following day. She found the ready entrée of a privileged client—with scarcely a moment's delay she was ushered into the presence of James Borden, the person who for some years now had occupied the second place in her thoughts and life.
"Anything happened, Marcia?" he enquired, after their quiet but familiar greeting. "You look as though you were bringing Fate with you."
She made herself comfortable in the easy-chair which he had drawn up to the fire. Outside, an unexpectedly cold wind made the sense of warmth doubly pleasant. She unfastened her simple furs and smiled at him a little dolefully.
"Just this," she replied, handing him a letter.
He spread it out, adjusted his eyeglasses and read it deliberately:
94, GROSVENOR SQUARE, Thursday.
My dear Marcia:
I have made enquiries with reference to the non-payment of your allowance for the last two quarters, and now enclose cheque for the amount, drawn by my agent in Norfolk and payable to yourself. I think I can promise you that no further irregularities shall occur.
I look forward to seeing you to-morrow afternoon, and I must tell you of a financial operation I am now conducting, which, if successful, may enable me to pay off the mortgages which render the Norfolk estates so unremunerative.
I trust that you are well, dear. I have ordered Carlton White's to send in a few flowers, which I hope will arrive safely.
Yours,
REGINALD.
James Borden read the letter carefully, glanced at the small coronet at the top of the paper, and folded it up.
"I'm sorry, Marcia," he said simply.
She made a little grimace.
"My dear man," she confessed, "so am I. After all, though, I am not sure that the money makes all the difference. You see, if he really were too poor—or rather if his lawyers couldn't raise the money to send to me—I fancy that I should feel just the same."
The publisher turned his chair round towards the fire. He was a man of barely middle age, although his black hair was besprinkled with grey and growing a little thin at the temples. His features were good, but his face was a little thin, and his clothes were scarcely as tidy, or the appointments of his office so comfortable as his name and position in the publishing world might have warranted. Marcia, who had been looking at him while he read, leaned forward and brushed the cigarette ash from his coat sleeve.
"Such an untidy man!" she declared, straightening his tie. "I am not at all sure that you deserve to have lady clients calling upon you. Were you late last night?"
"A little," he confessed.
"That means about one or two, I suppose," she went on reprovingly.
"I dined at the club and stayed on," he told her. "There was nothing else to do except work, and I was a little tired of that."
"Any fresh stuff in—interesting stuff, I mean?"
He shook his head.
"Three more Russian novels," he replied, "all in French and want translating, of course. The only one I have read is terribly grim and sordid. I dare say it would sell. I am going to read the other two before I decide anything. Then perhaps you'll help me."
"Of course I will," she promised. "I do wish, though, James, you wouldn't stay at the club so late. How many whiskies and sodas?"
"I didn't count," he confessed.
She sighed.
"I know what that means! James, why aren't you a little more human? You get heaps of invitations to nice houses. Much better go out and make some women friends. You ought to marry, you know."
"I am quite ready to when you will marry me," he retorted.
"But, my dear man, I am bespoke," she reminded him. "You know that quite well. I couldn't possibly think of marrying anybody."
"What are you going to do with that money?" he demanded.
"I think I shall keep it," she decided. "Not to do so would hurt him terribly."
"And keeping it hurts me damnably!" he muttered.
She shook her head at him.
"We've had this over so often, haven't we? I cannot leave Reginald as long as he wants me, relies upon me as much as he does now."
"Why not?" was the almost rough demand. "He has had the best of your life.
"
"And he has given me a great deal of his," she retorted. "For nineteen years I have been his very dear friend. During all that time he has never broken a promise to me, never told a falsehood, never said a single word which could grate or hurt. If he has sometimes seemed a little aloof, it is because he really believes himself to be a great person. He believes in himself immensely, you know, James—in the privileges and sanctity of his descent. It seems so strange in this world, where we others see other things. If I only dared, I would write a novel about it."
"But you don't care for him any more?"
"Care for him?" she repeated. "How could I ever stop caring for him! He was my first lover, and has been my only one."
"Let me ask you a question," James Borden demanded suddenly. "Don't you ever feel any grudge against him? He took you away from a very respectable position in life. He ruined all sorts of possibilities. He was fifteen or twenty years older than you were, and he knew the world. You pleased him, and he deliberately entrapped your affections. Be honest, now. Don't you sometimes hate him for it?"
"Never," she answered without hesitation. "I was, as you say, most respectably placed—a teacher at a village school—and I might have married a young farmer, or bailiff's son, or, with great luck, a struggling young doctor, and lived a remarkably rural life, but, as you have observed, in great respectability. My dear James, I should have hated it. I was, I think, nineteen years old when Reginald, in a most courtly fashion, suggested that I should come to London with him, and I have exactly the same feelings to-day about my acceptance of his proposal as I had then."
"You are a puzzle," he declared. "You wouldn't be, of course, only you're such a—such a good woman."
"Of course I am, James," she laughed. "I am good, inasmuch as I am faithful to any tie I may make. I am kind, or try to be, to all my fellow creatures, and I should hate to do a mean thing. The only difference between me and other women is that I prefer to choose what tie I should consider sacred. I claimed the liberty to do that, and I exercised it. As to my right to do so, I have never had the faintest possible shadow of hesitation."
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