diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:32:06 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:32:06 -0700 |
| commit | 9260c383913465759dd279365e51e1c02138a669 (patch) | |
| tree | 077621358a94cda001b21f6c6341ec5936e70600 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-0.txt | 3840 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 68787 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-8.txt | 3839 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 68491 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 72780 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713-h/8713-h.htm | 4633 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713.txt | 3839 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8713.zip | bin | 0 -> 68471 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8713-h.htm.2021-01-26 | 4632 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/mnmns10.txt | 3843 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/mnmns10.zip | bin | 0 -> 67720 bytes |
14 files changed, 24642 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8713-0.txt b/8713-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ceafb02 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3840 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8713] +Posting Date: July 27, 2009 +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + + + + + +A MAN OF MEANS + +A SERIES OF SIX STORIES + + +By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +From the _Pictorial Review_, May-October 1916 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +First of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +May 1916] + + +When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main +chance receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely +large order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to +predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, +he asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do +they merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald +and unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem +depends the important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge +a fraudulent jam disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would +resent. + +This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian +Fineberg, of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke +knocked at his door; and such was its difficulty that only at the +nineteenth knock did Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + +“Come in--that dashed woodpecker out there!” he shouted, for it was his +habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior +members of his staff. + +The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a +provincial seed-merchant's office--which, strangely enough, he chanced +to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He was a +young man; and when you had said that of him you had said everything. +There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, except the +fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two and his +name was Roland Bleke. + +“Please, sir, it's about my salary.” + +Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British +square at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a +squadron of cuirassiers. + +“Salary?” he cried. “What about it? What's the matter with it? You get +it, don't you?” + +“Yes, sir, but----” + +“Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?” + +“It's too much.” + +Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could +have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard +one of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched +himself. + +“Say that again,” he said. + +“If you could see your way to reduce it, sir----” + +It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was +endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that +idea. + +“Why do you want it reduced?” + +“Please, sir, I'm going to be married.” + +“What the deuce do you mean?” + +“When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and +forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds----” + +Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + +“My boy,” he said genially, “I quite understand. But I can do you better +than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. From now +on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. You're an +excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit when I find +it. Close the door after you.” + +And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed +problem. + +The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may +be briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had +lodged at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter +at the local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic +pets, consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of +sixty, Mrs. Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life +was devoted to cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers +Frank and Percy, gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged +in the mysterious occupation known as “lookin' about for somethin',” + and, lastly, Muriel. + +For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke +a mere automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for +neatly-laid breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. +Gradually, however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use +sufficiently to enable him to look at her when she came into the room, +he discovered that she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the +North by a mass of auburn hair and to the South by small and shapely +feet. She also possessed what, we are informed--we are children in these +matters ourselves--is known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met +Roland's one evening, as he chumped his chop, and before he knew what he +was doing he had remarked that it had been a fine day. + +From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed. +Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not +bring himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy +conversation about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he +felt bound to say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found +it more and more difficult each evening to hit on something bright, +until finally, from sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + +If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then. +It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast +machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the +room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science. +Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of +Mr. Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado, +of Brothers Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow +simultaneously half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making +bread-pellets and throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the +Coppin cat, which had wandered in on the chance of fish. + +Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came +the word “bans,” and smote him like a blast of East wind. + +It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from +that moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a +reduction of salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was +extraordinarily happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to +be engaged is an intoxicating experience, and at first life was one +long golden glow to Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always +nourished a desire to be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his +engagement satisfied that desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers +Frank and Percy cough knowingly when he came in. It was pleasant to walk +abroad with a girl like Muriel in the capacity of the accepted wooer. +Above all, it was pleasant to sit holding Muriel's hand and watching the +ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert Potter to hide his mortification. +Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works round the corner, and hitherto +Roland had always felt something of a worm in his presence. Albert was +so infernally strong and silent and efficient. He could dissect a car +and put it together again. He could drive through the thickest traffic. +He could sit silent in company without having his silence attributed to +shyness or imbecility. But--he could not get engaged to Muriel Coppin. +That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, the dasher, the young man +of affairs. It was all very well being able to tell a spark-plug from a +commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in an affair of the +heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper place, third at +the pole. + +Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would +never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to +creep more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic +descended upon Roland Bleke. + +All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An invitation +to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. He was one +of those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of planning out any +definite step. He could do things on the spur of the moment, but plans +made him lose his nerve. + +By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in +agonized tones: “Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me +out of this frightful marriage business.” + +If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the +attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made +it clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to them. +It would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style to +which they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they went +with Muriel as a sort of bonus. + + * * * * * + +The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was +a general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known that +he had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. Fineberg +on the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin removed his +saucer of tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a sardine from +the corner of his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an undertone. Albert +Potter, who was present, glowered silently. + +Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his +rejoicing heart would permit. + +“I'm afraid I've bad news.” + +Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. +Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + +“He won't give you your raise?” + +Roland sighed. + +“He's reduced me.” + +“Reduced you!” + +“Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a +hundred and ten.” + +The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed +to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank +and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their +fountain pens. + +Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel +Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed +upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + +“I suppose,” said Roland, “we couldn't get married on a hundred and +ten?” + +“No,” said Percy. + +“No,” said Frank. + +“No,” said Albert Potter. + +They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + +“Then,” said Roland regretfully, “I'm afraid we must wait.” + +It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said she +thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had asked, +was quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between sobs, moaned +that it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely devouring +bread and jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. And, to end a +painful scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and went up-stairs +to his own quarters. + +There was a telegram on the mantel. + +“Some fellows,” he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, “wouldn't +have been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given +themselves away. They would----” + +The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + +For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been +written in Hindustani. + +It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the +promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder +of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of +this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in +due course. + + * * * * * + +Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he +could recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these +open-handed gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him +back to a morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's +eldest son Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money +from his father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of +cardboard, at the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly +from a vague desire to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally +because it struck him as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed +over the ten shillings; and there, as far as he had known, the matter +had ended. + +And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the +shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + +Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five +hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + +For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five +hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + +His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling +fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the +telegram to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think +the whole matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. +After all, he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a secret. He +would receive the check in due course, as stated, and he would bicycle +over to the neighboring town of Lexingham and start a bank-account with +it. Nobody would know, and life would go on as before. + +He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + + * * * * * + +It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep +at eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. +Coppin was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. +Coppin was there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had +apparently kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy +stood at his bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. +Coppin thrust a newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + +These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and +the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep +from it was this head-line: + + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES + +And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + + POOR CLERK WINS £40,000 + +His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of +the faithful Gelatine. + +Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day +followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere +except just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when +conscience could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to +think of anything or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to +remove him from Bury St. Edwards on any terms. + +It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted +telepathically to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their +behavior at this juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the +police force. Perhaps it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an eye +on what they already considered their own private gold-mine that made +them so adhesive. Certainly there was no hour of the day when one or the +other was not in Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their vigilance +even extended to the night hours, and once, when Roland, having tossed +sleeplessly on his bed, got up at two in the morning, with the wild idea +of stealing out of the house and walking to London, a door opened as he +reached the top of the stairs, and a voice asked him what he thought he +was doing. The statement that he was walking in his sleep was accepted, +but coldly. + +It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary strategy +eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, with his +ticket to London in his pocket and the express already entering the +station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, who appeared +from nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a speech that lasted +until the tail-lights of the train had vanished and Brothers Frank and +Percy arrived, panting. + +A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this +last episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing +himself described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim +addition that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to +a fresh dash for liberty. + +Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the +exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a +certain amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the +things which made the present a source of misery to him was the fact +that he was expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober +young man with a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained from +infancy to a decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted itself +to the possession of large means; and the open-handed role forced upon +him by the family appalled him. + +When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to +Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had +reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he might +surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, a man +of his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere gauds +and trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand for a +silk petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and Percy +took theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst blow by +insisting on a hired motor-car. + +Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert +Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one +way of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave +the paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good +deal of discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better +to go round corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these +expeditions, Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, his +torments were subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the only +way in which he could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony was to +increase the speed to sixty miles an hour. + +It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of +Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the loop +in his aeroplane. + +It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and +see M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures +which never grow _blasé_ at the sight of a fellow human taking a +sporting chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild +animal exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew +him like a magnet. + +“The blighter goes up,” he explained, as he conducted the party into the +arena, “and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. I've +seen pictures of it.” + +It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the +ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would +take up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have +been no rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail +themselves of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small +man with a chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture cards +and smoking a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + +Albert Potter was scornful. + +“Lot of rabbits,” he said. “Where's their pluck? And I suppose they call +themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a five-pound +note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the laugh of us.” + +It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful +tenderness from Muriel. “You're so brave, Mr. Potter,” she said. + +Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or +whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but +Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to +his rival. + +Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and waved +the note aside. + +“I take no favors,” he said with dignity. + +There was a pause. + +“Why don't you do it.” said Albert, nastily. “Five pounds is nothing to +you.” + +“Why should I?” + +“Ah! Why should you?” + +It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It +stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an +unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + +In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had +apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + +“All right, then, I will,” he said suddenly. + +“Easy enough to talk,” said Albert. + +Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. +Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + +Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh +hour. + +“Don't let him,” she cried. + +But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the sort +of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + +For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was +experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type +of person when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an +acquaintance of theirs. + +“What are you talking about?” he said. “There's no danger. At least, not +much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. What do +you want to go interfering for?” + +Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little +longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud was +a foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + +He took Muriel's hand. + +“Good-by,” he said. + +He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It +struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle--and, worse, +delaying the start of the proceedings. + +“What's it all about?” he demanded. “You go on as if we were never going +to see you again.” + +“You never know.” + +“It's as safe as being in bed.” + +“But still, in case we never meet again----” + +“Oh, well,” said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + + * * * * * + +The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along +the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, +till the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + +“Now,” said Brother Frank. “Now watch. Now he's going to loop the loop.” + +But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew +smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + +“What the dickens?” + +Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the +sky--something that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an aeroplane +traveling rapidly into the sunset. + +Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +Second of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, June 1916] + + +Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the +rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey +Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the +full. His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; +and his wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it +difficult to get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + +“There's a column in to-day's _Financial Argus_,” she said, “of which +you really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat +Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that +you knew it when you floated the company.” + +“They will have their little joke.” + +“But you had the usual mining-expert's report.” + +“Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at +the time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended +rather on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a +matter of fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in +South America somewhere. Awful climate--snakes, mosquitoes, revolutions, +fever.” + +Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + +“Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out +there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in +within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next +number but one. What are you going to do about it?” + +Mr. Windlebird yawned. + +“Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The +Napoleon of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty +thousand pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we sail +for the Argentine. I've got the tickets.” + +“You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. +It's a flea-bite.” + +“On paper--in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it +is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, hard +lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite from a +hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So--St. Helena +for Napoleon.” + +Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a +Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more accurate +title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the head of his +class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was delightfully +simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco Trust, founded by +Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those profits which the +glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. Geoffrey would appease +the excited shareholders by giving them Preference Shares (interest +guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction Company, hastily floated to meet +the emergency. When the interest became due, it would, as likely as not, +be paid out of the capital just subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines +Exploitation Association, the little deficiency in the latter being +replaced in its turn, when absolutely necessary and not a moment before, +by the transfer of some portion of the capital just raised for yet +another company. And so on, ad infinitum. There were moments when it +seemed to Mr. Windlebird that he had solved the problem of Perpetual +Promotion. + +The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's +is when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands +ready money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened +now, and it had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + +He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled that +the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had handled +millions--on paper, it was true, but still millions--and here he was +knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + +“Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?” persisted Mrs. +Windlebird. “Have you tried every one?” + +“Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight--the probables, the possibles, the +highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the minstrel's +wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this time. +Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of twenty +thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from the +clouds.” + +As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees beyond +the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth turf, not +twenty yards from where he was seated. + + * * * * * + +Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress +rather resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in +which he has spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling more +wretched than he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. He had +a splitting headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes smarted. +He was hungry. He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, who had +hopped out and was now busy tinkering the engine, a gay Provencal air +upon his lips, as he had rarely hated any one, even Muriel Coppin's +brother Frank. + +So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. +Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on +the turf before him. + +“Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?” + +Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial +stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, +keen student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his +photograph in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk +from house to tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of +the more salient points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird +heard that Roland had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up +and took notice. + +“Lead me to him,” he said simply. + +Roland sneezed. + +“Doe accident, thag you,” he replied miserably. “Somethig's gone wrong +with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck.” + +M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose +to his feet, and bowed. + +“Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, +_mon ami_,” he said radiantly to Roland, “all now O. K. We go on.” + +“No,” said Roland decidedly. + +“No? What you mean--no?” + +A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The +eminent bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he +felt like a brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little +aeroplane rides which bordered upon the princely. + +“But you say--take me to France with you----” + +“I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well.” + +“But it's all wrong.” M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. +“You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. +It is here.” He slapped his breast pocket. “But the other two hundred +pounds which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in +France, where is that, my friend?” + +“I will give you two hundred and fifty,” said Roland earnestly, “to +leave me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly +machine again.” + +A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous +Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to +Roland. + +“Ah, now you talk. Now you say something,” he cried in his impetuous +way. “Embrace me. You are all right.” + +Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane +disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + +“You're not well, you know,” said Mr. Windlebird. + +“I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night--that French ass +lost his bearings--and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a hotel?” + +“Hotel? Nonsense.” Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice which +at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders as +if by magic. “You're coming right into my house and up to bed this +instant.” + +It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at his +toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name of his +good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle out of +bed and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which he had +learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in something +approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest business brains of +the age. + +To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance +about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The +kindness of the Windlebirds--and there seemed to be nothing that they +were not ready to do for him--distressed him beyond measure. To have a +really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over +his bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost +horrible. Such condescension was too much. + +Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling replaced +by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, simple, kindly +couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained only gratitude. +He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was not long before +he had told them the history of his career, skipping the earlier years +and beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + +“It makes you feel funny,” he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic +ear, “suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem +hardly able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it.” + +Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + +“The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little +experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you +would allow me to recommend some sound investment----” + +Roland glowed with gratitude. + +“There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money +into anything. It's like this.” + +He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel +Coppin. Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his conscience +had begun to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had not acted +well toward Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she didn't +care a bit about him and was in love with Albert, the silent mechanic, +but there was just the chance that she was mourning over his loss; and, +anyhow, his conscience was sore. + +“I'd like to give her something,” he said. “How much do you think?” + +Mr. Windlebird perpended. + +“I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with--say, +a thousand pounds--not a check, you understand, but one thousand golden +sovereigns that he can show her--roll about on the table in front of her +eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money in the raw +has on people.” + +“I'd rather make it two thousand,” said Roland. He had never really +loved Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; +but he wanted to retreat with honor. + +“Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know +how old Harrison is going to carry all that money.” + +As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it +over, after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the +conclusion that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it +would be good for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + +Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel +jumped at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland +next morning that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird +redoubled. + +“And now,” said Mr. Windlebird genially, “we can talk about that money +of yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something +which, without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless +returns a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you want is +something sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a kick to +it, something which can't go down and may go soaring like a rocket.” + +Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit another +cigar. + +“Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips--But +I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. +Put your money--” he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, “put every +penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs.” + +He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just +imparted to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the +philosopher's stone. + +“Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird,” said Roland gratefully. “I will.” + +The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + +“Not so fast, young man,” laughed Mr. Windlebird. “Getting into Wildcat +Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you +propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty +thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy Wildcat +Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed.” + +Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to +invest thirty thousand pounds--or pence--in Wildcat Reefs, the market +would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked with +laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke--except to the unfortunate +few who still held any of the shares. + +“The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But I +think--I say I think--I can manage it for you.” + +“You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird.” + +“Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be +doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time.” He +filled his glass. “This--” he paused to sip--“this pal of mine has a +large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the money +into something else, in which he is more personally interested.” Mr. +Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn current +account at the bank. “In which he is more personally interested,” he +repeated dreamily. “But of course you couldn't unload thirty pounds' +worth of Wildcats in the public market.” + +“I quite see that,” assented Roland. + +“It might, however, be done by private negotiation,” he said. “I +must act very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand +to-night, and I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I +can do.” + + * * * * * + +He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland +did not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, +Mr. Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him twenty +thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + +“There, my boy,” he said. + +“It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird.” + +“My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am.” + +Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + +It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the +pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the +beautiful garden, the pleasant company--all these things combined to +make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + +He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly +on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to +show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and +tired. + +A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only +crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. +Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the city, +but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, +and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even +this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, +who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an errand, had +promised to bring one back with him. He might appear at any moment now. + +The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. +She was looking terribly troubled. + +It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been +unusually silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. +Windlebird's room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and +agitated. Could they have had some bad news? + +“Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you.” + +Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + +“You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he +would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it to +you.” + +“Break it to me!” + +“My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine +called Wildcat Reefs.” + +“Yes. Thirty thousand pounds.” + +“As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!” + +She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + +“Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, +they may be absolutely worthless.” + +Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + +“Wor-worthless!” he stammered. + +Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + +“You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice +that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He +is in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of +you, Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been the +innocent instrument of your trouble.” + + * * * * * + +Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were +precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth +seemed to melt under him. + +“We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to +the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must +make good your losses. We must buy back those shares.” + +A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + +“But----” he began. + +“There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a +minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds +for the shares, you said? Well”--she held out a pink slip of paper to +him--“this will make everything all right.” + +Roland looked at the check. + +“But--but this is signed by you,” he said. + +“Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it would +mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with every +movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might ruin +the plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling out +stock doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, +to give me time to realize on the securities in which my money is +invested.” + +Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had +been his host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. +But chivalry forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of +self-sacrifice warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had +never had any fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it +that for all practical purposes it might never have been his. + +With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when +exhibited on the stage by the hero of the number two company of “The +Price of Honor,” which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a +few months before, he tore the check into little pieces. + +“I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird,” he said. “I can't tell you how +deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I +bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, +and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me +here, it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and +generous of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a +little money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, +anyway, so--so it's all right.” + +“Mr. Bleke, I implore you.” + +Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of +escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no other +way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he perceived +Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + +“Johnson said he was going into the town,” said Roland apologetically, +“so I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch +scores.” + +If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was +strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her +face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the +chair which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. +She lay back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + +Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to +the conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and +Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in competition +with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + +Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as +he did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + +Out of the explosion emerged the word “WILD-CATS”. + +“Why!” he exclaimed. “There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page +here!” + +“Yes?” Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her +eyes were still closed. + +Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES + +Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic exuberance, +what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + + The “special commissioner” sent out by The _Financial Argus_ to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine--with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public--has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The _Financial Argus_ has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. + +The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The +very atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable +of thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand +pounds. + +“Oh, Mrs. Windlebird,” he cried, “It's all right after all.” + +Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + +“It's all right for every one,” screamed Roland joyfully. “Why, if I've +made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted. +It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the +biggest thing of his life.” + +He thought for a moment. + +“The chap I'm sorry for,” he said meditatively, “is Mr. Windlebird's +pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his +shares to me.” + +A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear +it. He was reading the cricket news. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +July 1916] + + +It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you +sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke +with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment +Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen +in; and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not +altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before, +and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had +become afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical +supper-party again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must +possess dash; and Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a +little short of dash. + +The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. +While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was +“old Gerry” whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on +its course. After a glance at old Gerry--a chinless child of about +nineteen--Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a young +man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one of +those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited +one which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the +better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter. + +The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a +more serious view of the situation. + +“Sidney, you make me tired,” she said severely. “If I had thought you +didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with +you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to +come and sit by me. I want to talk to him.” + +That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + +“I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke,” + she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. “I've heard +such a lot about you.” + +What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred +thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + +“In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't have +come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as a +general rule. They bore me stiff.” + +Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. +Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but +there were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment--a thoughtful +student of character--a girl who understood that a man might sit at a +supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man of parts. + +“I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken--but that's me all over. All +my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one +she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one she +tells them straight out, too.'” + +“And a very admirable trait,” said Roland, enthusiastically. + +Miss Verepoint sighed. “P'raps it is,” she said pensively, “but I'm +afraid it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like +it: they think girls should be seen and not heard.” + +Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + +“But what's the good of worrying,” went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave +but hollow laugh. “Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has +got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is +bound to come some day.” + +The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to +indicate that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less +than sixty years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous +nature was up in arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to +help this victim of managerial unfairness. “You don't mind my going on +about my troubles, do you?” asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. “One so +seldom meets anybody really sympathetic.” + +Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + +“I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon,” she said. + +“Oh, rather!” said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more +polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + +“Of course, I know what a busy man you are----” + +“No, no!” + +“Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in.” + +Roland bleated gratefully. + +“I'll write down the address for you,” said Miss Verepoint, suddenly +businesslike. + + * * * * * + +Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor +Theater, Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence +fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not--the +next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking +lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with +“yes's” and “no's” were always so thoroughly confused that he never knew +even whose suggestion it was. + +The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, +is not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. +Roland was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was +carried through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that +he had never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the offices +of Mr. Montague with the intention of making an offer for the lease for, +say, six months; and that wizard, in the space of less than an hour, had +not only induced him to sign mysterious documents which made him sole +proprietor of the house, but had left him with the feeling that he had +done an extremely acute stroke of business. Mr. Montague had dabbled in +many professions in his time, from street peddling upward, but what he +was really best at was hypnotism. + +Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was +withdrawn, rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby +to hold by a strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, +Roland was to some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by +Miss Verepoint. She said it was much better to buy a theater than to +rent it, because then you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, +but Roland had a dim feeling that there was a flaw somewhere in the +reasoning; and it was from this point that a shadow may be said to have +fallen upon the brightness of the venture. + +He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the +Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the +metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles +was “The Mugs' Graveyard”--a title which had been bestowed upon it not +without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, +whose principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant +supply of the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of +the Higher Drama which flowed practically without cessation from the +restless pen of the insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater +had passed from hand to hand with the agility of a gold watch in a +gathering of race-course thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man who +found himself, by some accident, in possession of the Windsor Theater, +was to pass it on to somebody else. The only really permanent tenant it +ever had was the representative of the Official Receiver. + +Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the theater, +but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama lay in +the fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was hidden. +Cabmen shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were asked to +take a fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the Australian +bush was child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on its trail and +finish up at the point where they had started. + +It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted +Mr. Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical +advantages of the theater were enormous. It was further from a +fire-station than any other building of the same insurance value in +London, even without having regard to the mystery which enveloped its +whereabouts. Often after a good dinner he would lean comfortably back +in his chair and see in the smoke of his cigar a vision of the Windsor +Theater blazing merrily, while distracted firemen galloped madly all +over London, vainly endeavoring to get some one to direct them to the +scene of the conflagration. So Mr. Montague bought the theater for a +mere song, and prepared to get busy. + +Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with +which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows +insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the +fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. +Nothing would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay +their salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix +were so strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly +disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal--a thing +which had never happened to him before. + +And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race +was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland +for twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more +than he himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit +mitigated the slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring +to Roland the insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting +to rather more than seventy thousand pounds on a building so notoriously +valueless as the Windsor Theater had been an achievement of which Mr. +Montague was justly proud, and it seemed sad to him that so much earnest +endeavor should be thrown away. + + * * * * * + +Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain +her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined +her policy. + +“What we must put up at that theater,” she announced, “is a revue. +A revue,” repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little +calculations on the back of the menu, “we could run for about fifteen +hundred a week--or, say, two thousand.” + +Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same as +paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + +“I know two boys who could write us a topping revue,” said Miss +Verepoint. “They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in +love with me--both of them. We'd better get in touch with them at once.” + +To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister +about the sound of that word “touch,” but he said nothing. + +“Why, there they are--lunching over there!” cried Miss Verepoint, +pointing to a neighboring table. “Now, isn't that lucky?” + +To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to +Miss Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their +table. + +The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss +Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown +lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland +thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, +but a closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine +distinctions were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. +Bromham Rhodes ran his friend so close that it was practically a dead +heat. They were both fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the +fact that what revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant +assimilation of food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite +in London; but, on the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + +“Well, dear old thing!” said Bromham Rhodes. + +“Well, old child!” said R. P. de Parys. + +Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair +appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + +Miss Verepoint struck the business note. “Now you stop, boys,” she said. +“Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I want you +two lads to write a revue for me.” + +“Delighted!” said Bromham Rhodes; “but----” + +“There is the trifling point to be raised first----” said R. P. de +Parys. + +“Where is the money coming from?” said Bromham Rhodes. + +“My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money,” said Miss Verepoint, +with dignity. “He has taken the Windsor Theater.” + +The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, +increased with a jerk. “Has he? By Jove!” they cried. “We must get +together and talk this over.” + +It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he +never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de +Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical +London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think of +doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. The +amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during the +course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at lunch +would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, as +likely as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order to +thrash the question thoroughly out. + + * * * * * + +The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the +actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable +difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It +seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England +or America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere +with Miss Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the principal +role. It was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss Verepoint was an +expert in theatrical matters, he scarcely felt entitled to question her +views. + +It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The +passage of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a +certain extent moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from +a passionate devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for +her, into a sort of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason +for proposing was that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of +events. Her air towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She now +called him “Roly-poly” in public--a proceeding which left him with mixed +feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as everybody +knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of the +theatrical profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had +begun to feel a little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss +Verepoint. Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the +revue in which she was to appear; they were constantly seen together at +restaurants; people looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He had +to ask himself: was he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The answer was +in the negative. He took a cab to her flat and proposed before he could +repent of his decision. + +She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad +or sorry. “But I don't want to get married,” she went on, “until I have +justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have +made a success in this revue.” + +Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + +The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes +to whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these--a scrubby but +confident lot--were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from +nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired scenic +artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great cloud of +chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even Bromham Rhodes +and R. P. de Parys--those human pythons--showed signs of activity. They +cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered him into the +Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him extracts from +a brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed him, was the first +act. + +It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right +to be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and R. +P. de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every responsible +manager in London. As “Oh! What a Life!” it had failed to satisfy the +directors of the Empire. Re-christened “Wow-Wow!” it had been rejected +by the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider it, even under +the name of “Hullo, Cellar-Flap!” It was now called, “Pass Along, +Please!” and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + +Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he +was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking +effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking +effects. As far as he could gather, the main difference between these +things was that real revue was something which had been stolen from some +previous English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect was +something which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of +these, he was given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the +public wanted. + +Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was +properly supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but +even the authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. +They explained that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, +that they had actually started it about ten years ago when they were +careless lads. Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart +topical hits of the early years of the century; but that, they said, +would be all right. They could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; it +was simply a matter of deleting allusions to pro-Boers and substituting +lines about Marconi shares and mangel-wurzels. “It'll be all right,” + they assured Roland; “this is real revue.” + +In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, +“Here is the beginning of the end.” This point came with Roland at the +commencement of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized +the terrible nature of the production for which he had made himself +responsible. Moreover, it was rehearsals which gave him his first clear +insight into the character of Miss Verepoint. + +Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, as +he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case to +be made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the +background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight +about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of “Pass +Along, Please!” but such as there were she reached out for and +grabbed away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and +muttering, like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland +included. + + * * * * * + +Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, +panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage +with this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic +his instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual +dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides--everything +that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the +revue was a success, she would marry him--and revues, he knew, were +always successes. At that very moment there were six “best revues in +London,” running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that +in a few weeks there would be seven. + +He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by +himself for a day or two in a place where there were no papers with +advertisements of revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy +Verepoint. That night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in +happier days, he had once spent a Summer holiday--a peaceful, primitive +place where the inhabitants could not have told real revue from a +corking effect. + +Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his quivering +nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London happier, but a +little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of farewell, he had not +communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, and experience had +made him aware that she was a lady who demanded an adequate amount of +attention. + +That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in +upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, +when somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he +uttered a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + +Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial +gaze of Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor +Theater. + +Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, +congratulatory. + +“You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the +first month--by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of +commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought +it, to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and +staring me in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't +grudge it to you--you deserve it my boy! You're a nut!” + +“I really don't know what you mean.” + +“Quite right, my boy!” chuckled Mr. Montague. “You're quite right to +keep it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the +least said soonest mended.” + +He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + +Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note of +Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered with +what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was beating +fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a wholesome +respect for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his favorite +chair. There were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys, who +had made themselves completely at home with a couple of his cigars and +whisky from the oldest bin. + +“So here you are at last!” said Miss Verepoint, querulously. “The valet +told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on +earth have you been to, running away like this, without a word?” + +“I only went----” + +“Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you +going to do about it?” + +“We thought we'd better come along and talk it over,” said R. P. de +Parys. + +“Talk what over?” said Roland: “the revue?” + +“Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!” snapped Miss +Verepoint. “It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. +What do you suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course.” + +“What about the theater?” + +Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. “Don't you ever read the +papers?” + +“I haven't seen a paper since I went away.” + +“Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently,” + said Miss Verepoint. “The theater's been burned down--that's what's +happened.” + +“Burned down?” + +“Burned down!” repeated Roland. + +“That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left copies +of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire to two +other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main thoroughfares +and the fire-brigade got them under control at once. I suppose they +couldn't find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the ground and what we +want to know is what are you going to do about it?” + +Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply +at once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction +on his silence. + +“Poor old Roly!” he said. “It's quite broken him up. The best thing we +can do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of +lunch.” + +“Well,” said Miss Verepoint, “what are you going to do--rebuild the +Windsor or try and get another theater?” + + * * * * * + +The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take +time, but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this +time of the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater at +a moment's notice. + +To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor +Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct +intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome +second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, could +now be postponed indefinitely. + +“Of course,” said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, “our contract with you +makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date--but I +dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?” + +“Sure!” said Rhodes. “Something nominal, say a further five hundred on +account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better +to rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?” + +“I do,” agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. “You see, Roly, our revue has +been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it +for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the +Windsor would be your best course.” + +There was a pause. + +“What do you think, Roly-poly?” asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no +sign. + +“Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take +another theater, or do anything else to oblige,” he said, cheerfully. +“Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn.” + +It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful +silence fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de +Parys woke with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and +Bromham Rhodes forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. +Miss Verepoint was the first to break the silence. + +“Do you mean to say,” she gasped, “that you didn't insure the place?” + +Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had +put the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + +“Why didn't you?” Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + +“Because it did not appear to me to be necessary.” + +Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had +done all the insuring that was necessary--and a bit over. + +Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. “What +about the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this +time?” she demanded. + +“I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely +my fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I +can manage that, I think.” + +Miss Verepoint rose. “And what about me? What about me, that's what I +want to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you +without your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly +well mistaken.” + +Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and +resignation. He even contrived to sigh. + +“Very well, then,” said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this +behavior as his final pronouncement on the situation. “Then everything's +jolly well off.” + +She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like +porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and +took out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among +the fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at +such pains to secure from so many companies. + +“And so,” he said softly to himself, “am I.” + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +Fourth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, August 1916] + + +It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the +other end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far +as his preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been +attributing the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered +from one himself. + +He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this +particular bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation +on the question of what on earth he was to do with two hundred and fifty +thousand pounds, to which figure his fortune had now risen. + +The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always +been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds +a year, he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this +direction; but now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was +crying out for assistance. + +Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his eyes +had been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of +'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend “Men Who Speak +to Girls,” and he had gathered that the accompanying article was a +denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other +hand, she was obviously in distress. + +Another sniff decided him. + +“I say, you know,” he said. + +The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had +that air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good +thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was +delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's +heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + +“Pardon me,” he went on, “but you appear to be in trouble. Is there +anything I can do for you?” + +She looked at him again--a keen look which seemed to get into Roland's +soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied by the +inspection, she spoke. + +“No, I don't think there is,” she said. “Unless you happen to be the +proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress +for it.” + +“I don't understand.” + +“Well, that's all any one could do for me--give me back my work or give +me something else of the same sort.” + +“Oh, have you lost your job?” + +“I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, +and I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, but +I was here first, and there are heaps of other benches.” + +“No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able--what +I mean is--think of something. Tell me all about it.” + +There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand +pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel +almost masterful. + +“Why should I?” + +“Why shouldn't you?” + +“There's something in that,” said the girl reflectively. “After all, +you might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been +discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's +Page.” + +“By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak----'?” + +The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment +vanished instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a becoming +pink, you know! + +“You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever +really read 'Squibs.'” + +“Read it!” cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. “I should jolly +well think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after +an article like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a +failure?” + +“Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because +they couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about +it.” + +“Who's Mr. Petheram?” + +“Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's really +everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next week. +When I started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got +whittled down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and myself. It +was like the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by one, till +I was the only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is doing the +whole paper now.” + +“How is it that he can't get anything better to do?” Roland said. + +“He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, +but they thought he was too old.” + +Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder +with a fatherly manner. + +“Oh, he's old, is he?” + +“Twenty-four.” + +There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung +Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent +Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the only +man worth looking rapt about. + +He rose. + +“Would you mind giving me your address?” he said. + +“Why?” + +“In order,” said Roland carefully, “that I may offer you your former +employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it.” + +After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have +his moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled +her over completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, +open-mouthed. Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, “I +wonder how much this is going to cost.” + +“You're going to buy 'Squibs!'” + +Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + +“I am.” + +She gulped. + +“Well, I think you're wonderful.” + +So did Roland. + +“Where will a letter find you?” he asked. + +“My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford +Street.” + +“Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in +due course.” + +He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when +there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + +“I--I just wanted to thank you,” she said. + +“Not at all,” said Roland. “Not at all.” + +He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was +Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put +Petheram in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. +Laughable. + +A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, +informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the +offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted +state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + +Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just +escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. +There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of +'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, +in which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed +him to wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere +box. Roland was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + +The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + +Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost +painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before +him was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of +taking his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a +red face and a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was +surprized to see Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at +the closing door, and kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down +several inches of discolored plaster. + +“Take a seat,” he said, when he had finished this performance. “What can +I do for you?” + +Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were +less easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was +that Mr. Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him +for a prospective advertiser. + +“I want to buy the paper,” said Roland. He was aware that this was an +abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to +buy the paper, so why not say so? + +Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + +“Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has +sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you +try?” + +“I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know.” + +Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to +be carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him +blankly. + +“Why?” he asked. + +“Oh, I don't know,” said Roland. He felt the interview was going all +wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have +had. + +“Honestly?” said Mr. Petheram. “You aren't pulling my leg?” + +Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, +and finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly +honest. + +“Don't you be an ass,” he said. “You don't know what you're letting +yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you +know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to +for life.” + +“Why?” + +“We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors--not +the present ones--thought it would give the thing a boom if they had +a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. +Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from +proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried +to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he +would only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the +time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. +That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed.” + +A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking +of Bessie March. + +“I know all about that,” he said. + +“And you still want to buy the thing?” + +“Yes.” + +“But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own +paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you +landed. Why are you doing it?” + +“Oh, just for fun.” + +“Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go +ahead.” + +He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on +the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + +“You know,” he said, “there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. +If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. +We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming +the paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, +what I don't know about editing--but perhaps you had got somebody else +in your mind?” + +“No, no,” said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an +office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled +him. + +“Very well, then,” resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap +of papers to give more room for his feet. “Take it that I continue as +editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been +doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't +want to spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would +sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a +broken-down wreck who might swoon from starvation?” + +“But one moment,” said Roland. “Are you sure that the present +proprietors will want to sell?” + +“Want to sell,” cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. “Why, if they know +you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them without +the paper as--as--well, I can't think of anything that has such a poor +chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry on +your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now.” + +He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a +note-book. + +“There's just one other thing,” said Roland. “I have been a regular +reader of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in +which the Woman's Page----” + +“You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do +better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before +you change your mind or wake up.” + +Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland +began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering +cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. +Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that +he was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into +the business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at +every pore. + +Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was +under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a weekly +journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase +of a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. +Nobody could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was willing, even +anxious, to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the +Woman's Page, now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he +wanted Roland to concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital +for ingenious advertising schemes. + +“How would it be,” he asked one morning--he always began his remarks +with, “How would it be?”--“if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly in +white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across +his chest?” + +Roland thought it would certainly not be. + +“Good sound advertising stunt,” urged Mr. Petheram. “You don't like it? +All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of +men dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' See +what I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! Wah! +Wah! Buy it! Buy it!' It would make people talk.” + +Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest +apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus +sprinting down the Strand shouting “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!” with +reference to his personal property appalled him. + +He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as +he generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of +romance which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had +faded entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue +to captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the +exclusive property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish any +delusion that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a +mild liking for him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an +indisputable claim. Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate +devotee toward a high priest. One morning, entering the office +unexpectedly, Roland found her kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; +and from that moment his interest in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to +zero. It amazed him that he could ever have been idiot enough to have +allowed himself to be entangled in this insane venture for the sake +of an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with a snub-nose and a poor +complexion. + +What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good +cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to +the, on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter +the fact that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked buoyantly +about turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. + +The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any +crisis, came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and +went to Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, +he contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + +He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London +in time for dinner. + +Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his +bright weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room near +Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody +seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven 'Squibs' +completely from his mind for the time being. + +The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the +coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + +“What's this?” he asked. + +“The lady, sare,” said the waiter vaguely. + +Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped +him. There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant +was a favorite with artistes who were permitted to “look in” at their +theaters as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly +self-conscious, yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited +tribute. He tore open the envelope. + +The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. +Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + +“'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it,” it ran. All the mellowing effects +of a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. +He paid his bill and left the place. + +A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable +sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow +him to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between two +of the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + +“Is there a doctor in the house?” + +There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the box. +A man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + +“My wife has fainted,” continued the speaker. “She has just discovered +that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'” + +The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an +English audience in the presence of the unusual. + +Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their +leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + +As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had +sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was +headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a +good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in her +time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had +ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a suit +of white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. His +top-hat, at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a +pantomime, flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, +which, tho the weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore +the device “One penny weekly”. + +The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into +a taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His +head was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through +the window of the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong +exhortations of the vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. +This he did with a sovereign, and the cab drove off. + +He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it +occurred to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the +first page. The middle column was devoted to a really capitally written +account of the proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest +of six men who, it was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the +disturbance of the peace by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu +warriors, shouting in unison the words “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'” + + * * * * * + +Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the +hound Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could +scarcely have surpassed. + +It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His +Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct +this belief fell on deaf ears. + +“Have I seen the advertisements?” he cried, echoing his editor's first +question. “I've seen nothing else.” + +“There!” said Mr. Petheram proudly. + +“It can't go on.” + +“Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we +send them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the +Revue boom started and actors were expected to do six different parts in +seven minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about +the Strand, ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a +special staff flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat and +drink to them to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel +ten years younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those +Zulus used to have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society +Contortionists. The Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried +like children when we took them on. + +“By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? +The fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're +coining money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we +should turn the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on +two wheels. Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? +Then you haven't seen our new Scandal Page--'We Just Want to Know, You +Know.' It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. +Everybody reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I +wanted to ask you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort +of thing now.” + +Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking +Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful +production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + +“This is awful,” he moaned. “We shall have a hundred libel actions.” + +“Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't +know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. +A more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute +modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of +course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it +goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I +have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute limpid +truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb.” + +Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, +started as if he had removed it from a snake. + +“But this is bound to mean a libel action!” he cried. + +“Not a bit of it,” said Mr. Petheram comfortably. “You don't know Percy. +I won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he doesn't +rush into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough.” + + * * * * * + +But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his +scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of +defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a +scene of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins +of Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was +reading an illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his +surroundings. + +“He's gorn,” he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + +“What do you mean?” Roland snapped at him. “Who's gone and where did he +go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise and +stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves.” + +Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and +answered. + +“Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there +was a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I +went in, and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the +furniture all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad +been putting 'im froo it proper,” concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + +Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his +illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + +It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of +astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of +Jimmy's story. + +She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken +editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes +and a set jaw. + +“Aubrey,” she said--it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name was +Aubrey--“is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and sitting up +and taking nourishment.” + +“That's good.” + +“In a spoon only.” + +“Ah!” said Roland. + +“The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it was +that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can prove +nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again this +week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand +them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild.” + +Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he +appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and +he addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc +than anything else on earth, firmly. + +“Miss March,” he said, “I realize that this is a crisis, and that we +must all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything +in reason--but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects +of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if we repeat +the process I do not care to think.” + +“You are afraid?” + +“Yes,” said Roland simply. + +Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a +worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely +better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon +of a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it +is better that people should say of you, “There he goes!” than that they +should say, “How peaceful he looks”. + +Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to +Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into +the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of +the departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. +Thanks to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in +hand to enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, +however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he +could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal +Page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence +as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the Scandal +Page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy would, +he felt, be with her the work of a moment. + + * * * * * + +Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at +the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring its +whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + +His brow grew damp. What sort of people--except book-makers--did things +you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody. + +He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. +A kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. +How long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The +paragraph was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of +some large deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not +understand a word of it, but it gave him an idea. + +[*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + +Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. +Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be +no possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about +the manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had +used during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + +Within five minutes he had compiled the following + + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? + +After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour +he had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might have +been proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt that +he could go to Mr. Pook, and say, “Percy, on your honor as a British +book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?” And Mr. +Pook would be compelled to reply, “You have not.” + +Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's +blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly +hostile to Mr. Pook. + + * * * * * + +A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It +had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's +point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, +signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to +the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him +with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client +disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, +Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, they +could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + +Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual +pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived +a loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales +could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as soon as a +swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing +out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but Roland's methods of +doing business were always rapid. + +“This chap,” he said, “this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll he +give?” + +“That,” began one of the Harrisons ponderously, “would, of course, +largely depend----” + +“I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the present +staff, an even five thousand. How's that?” + +“Five thousand is a large----” + +“Take it or leave it.” + +“My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our +client might consent to the sum you mention.” + +“Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who +is your client?” + +Mr. Harrison coughed. + +“His name,” he said, “will be familiar to you. He is the eminent +financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird.” + + + + + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +Fifth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +September 1916] + + +The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the +Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the +tango out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, +for the national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and +fifteen recognized steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, “Hullo, +Caoutchouc,” had been produced with success. And the pioneer of the +dance, the peerless Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it +nightly at the music-hall where she had first broken loose. + +The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. +Of all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Maraquita +had made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes +called a fine woman. + +She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International +forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + +There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the +three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative +decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a +salmon-colored whirlwind. + +That was the bit that hit Roland. + +Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and +applauding wildly. + +One night an attendant came to his box. + +“Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita +wishes to speak to you.” + +He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not +appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was +generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got +it--quick. + +They were alone. + +With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to +the conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any +less beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of +the dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had +undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, diffident +nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was +the rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Maraquita +droop. + +For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on +his without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this +leading question: + +“You love me, _hein_?” + +Roland nodded feebly. + +“When men make love to me, I send them away--so.” + +She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost +cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The +woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + +“But not you.” + +“Not me?” + +“No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you +in the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I +say to myself, 'What a man!'” + +“Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird,” + mumbled Roland. + +“I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you.” + +“Thanks awfully,” bleated Roland. + +“You would do anything for my sake, _hein_? I knew you were that kind +of man directly I see you. No,” she added, as Roland writhed uneasily +in his chair, “do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the +Great Day.” + +What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He +could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + +“And now,” said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, “you +come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They +will be glad and proud to meet you.” + + * * * * * + +After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to +the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The +former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and +hairy. + +The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous +figure. He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected +him of carrying lethal weapons. + +Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoya +sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert could +evidently squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the +company was good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + +Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's +benefit, Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those +present were marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, stood +the very flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their native land +by the Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth +the Infamy of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked effect on the +company. Some scowled, others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito +did both. Before supper, to which they presently sat down, was over, +however, Roland knew a good deal about Paranoya and its history. The +conversation conducted by Maraquita--to a ceaseless _bouche pleine_ +accompaniment from her friends--bore exclusively upon the subject. + +Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries under +the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of Alejandro the +Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the Infamy +of 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the +abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. + +Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the +caoutchouc, was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alejandro +the Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end +had been untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. +Paranoya, Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The +army was disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order +of things. + +A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely +to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + +At the mention of the word “funds,” Roland, who had become thoroughly +bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. +He had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for +a subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. +Especially by Bombito. + +He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + +She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he gathered +that it somehow had reference to himself. + +As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and extended +their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that Maraquita +had been proposing his health. + +“They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'” kindly translated the +Peerless One. “You must excuse,” said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy +of patriots surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. “They are so +grateful to the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it +not that I have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal +standard floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that will be +soon, very soon,” she went on. “With you on our side we can not fail.” + +What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor +under the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on +behalf of a deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + +Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + +“I have told them,” she said, “that you love me, that you are willing +to risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the +rich Senor Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, +comrades. To the Savior of Paranoya!” + +Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic +enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary +speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, +well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, he +put the question to Maraquita. + +She said, “Poof! The cost? La, la!” Which was all very well, but hardly +satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get +out of her. + + * * * * * + +The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind +of dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + +Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details +connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. +She now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which +she presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing +the restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking +everything for her sake. + +In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the +thing should be done--well, or not at all. There would be so much for +rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the +expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much +to be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a +little when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya +amounted to twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt +it thoroughly at a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious +course, to Roland's way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of +the question and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. + +It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, +that she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution +would be disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. +Unless, she pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, looting, +and so on, the revolution would not achieve a popular success. True, the +beloved Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a throne +that was insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty +turn. By all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but not at the +risk of making the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was an emotional +country, and liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them. + +It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the +revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a +little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to +the financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That +his person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not +foreseen. + +The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the +arrival of the deputation. + +It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner +cigar. + +It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, +stout, and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue +hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native of +Paranoya. + +For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he +had not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited +resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He +poised himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they +should try to kiss him on the cheek. + +“Mr. Bleke?” said the long man. + +His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the +table, and looked at it wistfully. + +“Long live the monarchy,” said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the +course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally +went well. + +On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the +contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped themselves +to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + +“Death to the monarchy,” corrected the long man coldly. “And,” he added +with a wealth of meaning in his voice, “to all who meddle in the affairs +of our beloved country and seek to do it harm.” + +“I don't know what you mean,” said Roland. + +“Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be +well advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the +malcontents who would do my beloved land an injury.” + +The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit +of taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity +be a devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him +to realize that there were those who objected to his restoration to +the throne. Till now he had looked on the enemy as something in the +abstract. It had not struck him that the people for whose correction +he was buying all these rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a +lively distaste for having their blood shed. + +“Senor Bleke,” resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions +whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, “you are a +man of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, +this scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there +is still time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your +blood be upon your own head.” + +“My blood!” gasped Roland. + +The speaker bowed. + +“That is all,” he said. “We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor +Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of +yours, you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the +road, and you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is +it, but much the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account the +policeman on the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We wish +you a good night.” + +The deputation withdrew. + +Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said +“Poof!” It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in a +difficult situation if she could get out of the habit of saying “Poof!” + +“It is nothing,” she said. + +“No?” said Roland. + +“We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money +to the Cause, and then where are they, _hein_?” + +It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. +He said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + +“You are not weakening, Roland?” she said. “You would not betray us +now?” + +“Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still----. +What I mean is----” + +Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + +“Take care,” she cried. “With me it is nothing, for I know that your +heart is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect +that your resolve was failing--ah! If Bombito----” + +Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + +“For goodness' sake,” he said hastily, “don't go saying anything to +Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you +can rely on me, and all that. That's all right.” + +Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass--they were lunching at +the time--and put it to her lips. + +“To the Savior of Paranoya!” she said. + +“Beware!” whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + +He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, dark, +hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted +air which waiters cultivate. + +Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + +That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight +of the word “Beware” scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had +apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + +“Sir?” said the competent valet. (“Competent valets are in attendance at +each of these flats.”--_Advt._) + +“Has any one been here since I left?” + +“Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, sir. +I showed him into your room.” + +The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland +dragged himself out of bed. + +“Hullo?” + +“Is that Senor Bleke?” + +“Yes. What is it?” + +“Beware!” + +Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of +nerve, but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister +persecution. Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent +of withdrawing his support from the royalist movement, what then? +Bombito. If ever there was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. +And all because a perfectly respectful admiration for the caoutchouc +had led him to occupy a stage-box several nights in succession at the +theater where the peerless Maraquita tied herself into knots. + + * * * * * + +There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their +next meeting. + +“We have been in communication with Him,” she whispered. “He will +receive you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya.” + +“Eh? Who will?” + +“Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are to +go to him at once.” + +“Where?” + +“At his own house. He will receive you in person.” + +Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing +of late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of +meeting face to face a genuine--if exiled--monarch. The thought did flit +through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's office +if they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + +The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. +Roland rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the prosaic +in the action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + +There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were +ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a +luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts +running in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got an +uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to see +the dentist. + +Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + +“His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke.” + +Roland followed him with tottering knees. + +His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a +genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle +and a little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous +stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + +“Sit down, Mr. Bleke,” said His Majesty, as the door closed. “I have +been wanting to see you for some time.” + +Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a +long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + +King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, +who shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked +thoughtfully for a while. + +“You know, Mr. Bleke,” he said at last, “this must stop. It really must. +I mean your devoted efforts on my behalf.” + +Roland gaped at him. + +“You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. +Your youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair +from a spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to +gain commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before +we part, that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this +movement to restore me to the throne. + +“I don't understand--er--your majesty.” + +“I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. +You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a +reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise +very pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know +Paranoya? Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort +of life a King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure +you that a coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, the +climate of the country is abominable. I always had a cold in the head. +Secondly, there is a small but energetic section of the populace whose +sole recreation it seems to be to use their monarch as a target for +bombs. They are not very good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, ten +explodes, and even an occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the +target. + +“Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave +it. I was educated in England--I am a Magdalene College man--and I have +the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My present life +suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. For both our +sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon this scheme of +yours.” + + * * * * * + +Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence +long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial monarch +had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his situation came +home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound to displease +somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly impulsive when they +were vexed. + +For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the +instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the +body, he called at her house. + +She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There +were the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + +He looked unhappily round the crowd. + +Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + +“To the revolution,” he said mechanically. + +There was a silence--it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he +had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift +from the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with some +apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + +But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward +and slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came to +light that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + +“My old chap,” he said. “I would have a speech with you.” + +He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + +“The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say +'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently.” + +He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken +gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly +there came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was +nervous. + +“After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you +ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, +perhaps. The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in +Paranoya. Upset. Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have +been--what do you say?--put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more +ministry. New ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is +the cry. So deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent +merchants and that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be +President. See? No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor +Bleke. What about it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So +no need for your kind assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No +more royalist revolution.” + +The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an +interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not fond +of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would kill +the poor girl. + +“But Maraquita----?” + +“That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, +stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, +whither thou goes will I follow. No?” + +“But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?” + +“Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?” + +“Have you been married to her all the time?” + +“Why, certainly, good, dear boy.” + +The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind +for meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found +Bombito's hand. + +“By Jove,” he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, “I knew you +were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. +Have a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and tell +me all about it.” + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + +Final Story of the Series [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +October 1916] + + +“What do you mean--you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why +can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish.” + +Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House +of Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the +Gilded Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, +irritation. If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood +disliked, it was any interference with arrangements already made. + +“The man,” he continued, “is not unsightly. The man is not conspicuously +vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man pronounces his +aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, moreover, is worth +rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I repeat, you are +childish!” + +“Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father,” said Lady Eva. +“It's not that at all.” + +“I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is.” + +“Well, do you think I could be happy with him?” + +Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a +very happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches +of her family. + +“We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of happiness. +Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Gerry, whose only +visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is the four hundred +a year which he draws as a member for a constituency which has every +intention of throwing him out at the next election.” + +Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of +her family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern +Cornwall. + +“Young O'Rion is not to be thought of,” said Lord Evenwood firmly. “Not +for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all +wrong. Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred +responsibility not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your +word one day to enter upon the most solemn contract known to--ah--the +civilized world, and break it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is +not fair to me. You know that all I live for is to see you comfortably +settled. If I could myself do anything for you, the matter would be +different. But these abominable land-taxes and Blowick--especially +Blowick--no, no, it's out of the question. You will be very sorry if you +do anything foolish. I can assure you that Roland Blekes are not to be +found--ah--on every bush. Men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays.” + +“Especially,” said Lady Kimbuck, “into a family like ours. What with +Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather +and the circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in +'85----” + +“Thank you, Sophia,” interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. “It is +unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate +reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her +word to Mr. Bleke.” + +Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of +the utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one +firm of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, +and the family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while +Cupidity fought its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood +family had at various times and in various ways stimulated the +circulation of the evening papers. Most of them were living down +something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's habit, when thwarted in her +lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and announce that she was not +to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book. Abject +surrender followed on the instant. + +At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and +rose. + +“It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or +you will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining +years with literary work, but----” + +Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + +Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + +“There, run along now,” she said. “I daresay you've got a headache or +something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. +Go down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say +goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient.” + +Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that Lady +Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to +bed with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview +which he so dreaded. + +Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion +that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary +insanity. They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel +for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the +highest flights of love. It was only later that the reaction came and he +realized that he was nothing of the sort. + +At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of +whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so +much as Lady Eva Blyton. + +Other women--notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the +destinies of Paranoya--had frightened him by their individuality. Lady +Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of +aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever +of what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of +an earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the +society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were +beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly +called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + +All along, from the very moment when--to his unbounded astonishment--she +had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he +never realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. +He was filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had +taken him to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the +notice of Lady Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap +at her invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; +but for that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady +Kimbuck had convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got +him somehow, whether he had accepted or refused. + +What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been +no need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in +his breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the sense to +realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he might have +a quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. Their lives +could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with a fondness +for the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, picture-palaces, +and Association football. Merely to think of Association football in +connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct +clear. He ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some +inaccessible goddess. + +A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + +“I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.--er--Roland,” she said, +holding out her hand. “Do excuse me. I've got such a headache.” + +“Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry.” + +If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that +moment, it was himself. + +“Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?” asked Lady Eva languidly. + +“Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot.” + +The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. +He was the biggest ass in Christendom. + +“Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?” + +“Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no.” There it was again, that awful phrase. He +was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking him a +perfect lunatic. “I don't play golf.” + +They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that +her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her +that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of +sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him +to babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his +quite respectable biceps? No. + +“Never mind,” she said, kindly. “I daresay we shall think of something +to amuse you.” + +She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible +instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from +the emotion through which he had been passing. + +“Good night.” + +“Good night.” + +Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at +least. + +A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had +left him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul +escaped him. + +“I can't do it!” + +He sprang to his feet. + +“I won't do it.” + +A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + +“I think you are quite right, sir--if I may make the remark.” + +Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first place, +he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the second, he +had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment before, he +had been. + +But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the +cat-like faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly--a fact which +had won for him, in the course of a long career in the service of the +best families, the flattering position of star witness in a number of +England's raciest divorce-cases. + +Mr. Teal, the butler--for it was no less a celebrity who had broken in +on Roland's reverie--was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly cast of +countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many butlers +possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn to him +during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had been +uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, stricken +by interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human thing in +the place. + +He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. +He could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, +he had the right to freeze Teal with a look. + +He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very +forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner +were soothing. + +“Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room,” went on the +butler, “I thought for a moment that you were addressing me.” + +This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him +that Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the +point. + +“What do you mean--you think I am quite right?” he said. “You don't know +what I was thinking about.” + +Teal smiled indulgently. + +“On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just +come to the decision--in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one--that your +engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are quite +right, sir. It won't do.” + +Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly well +aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady +Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's magnetism that +he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own +business. “Teal, you forget yourself!” would have covered the situation. +Roland, however, was physically incapable of saying “Teal, you forget +yourself!” The bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand +talking to the snake, but he is incapable of ending the conversation. +Roland was conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who +could tell butlers that they forgot themselves. But then that sort +of man would never be in this sort of trouble. The “Teal, you forget +yourself” type of man would be a first-class shot, a plus golfer, and +would certainly consider himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady +Eva. + +“The question is,” went on Mr. Teal, “how are we to break it off?” + +Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in allowing +the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as well go +the whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And it was an +undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some one. + +He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks with +the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + +“It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. +And it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her +ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train +for London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some +fact, some disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her +ladyship's ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty.” + +He eyed Roland meditatively. + +“If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?” + +“Well, I haven't.” + +“No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had +made a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who +have made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally +done their bit of time. But, of course, if you----. Let me think. Do you +drink, sir?” + +“No.” + +Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing +the old man a good deal. + +“You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?” asked Mr. Teal, not very +hopefully. “I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted wife? Some +poor creature you have treated shamefully?” + +At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was +compelled to answer in the negative. + +“I was afraid not,” said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. “Thinking it all +over yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' You +don't look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his time.” + +“Thinking it over?” + +“Not on your account, sir,” explained Mr. Teal. “On the family's. I +disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family +as long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to +entertain a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense to +yourself, sir, this would not have done.” + +“Well, it looks as if it would have to do,” said Roland, gloomily. “I +can't see any way out of it.” + +“I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot.” + +Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + +“You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?” + +Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He +feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was +smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + +“I've never been at Aldershot in my life.” + +“For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let +me explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much +good. She's not very particular. I am sure she would do it for a +consideration.” + +“Do what?” + +“Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's +had some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you would +guess it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir,” he went on +with enthusiasm, “done all frizzy. Just the sort of young person that a +young gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' with. You couldn't +find a better if you tried for a twelvemonth.” + +“But, I say----!” + +“I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?” + +“Well, no, I suppose not, but----” + +“Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow +and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day +after to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the +letters.” + +“Letters?” + +“Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature of +these cases.” + +“Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what +to say. I've never seen her.” + +“That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. I +will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you write +those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on it? +Then it will all be perfectly simple.” + +When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly +passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had +succeeded in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the +conclusion that there must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good +deal less respectable than he appeared to be at present. Byronic was +the only adjective applicable to his collaborator's style of amatory +composition. In every letter there were passages against which Roland +had felt compelled to make a modest protest. + +“'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you think +that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for the +pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken +hair against my cheek!' What I mean is--well, what about it, you know?” + +“The phrases,” said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, “to +which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I +happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord +Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His +lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters.” + +Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. +Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a +period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + +“That,” Mr. Teal explained, “will make your conduct definitely +unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,”--Mr. Teal +was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration--“you have the +effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship.” + +With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo +the atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + +“You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and +strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would +you be?” + +Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one +of the shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the +afternoon. + +It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud +of having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up--all were +perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. +Lady Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, and +Roland thinking. A peaceful scene. + +A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just +proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and +Teal announced, “Miss Chilvers.” + +Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he +felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he had +been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat and +did nothing. + +It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the +actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture +of her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one +fact of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings of +the long drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably “not much good” than +Roland had ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama +could not fail of success. He should have been pleased; he was merely +appalled. The thing might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it +was going to be terrible. + +She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice her. +Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been +some ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer +amazement. Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at +the apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring +relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she +was possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these +situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled +the night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in +his own drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy +days. + +Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive +Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity. + +“To what are we----?” he began. + +Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there +while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into +speech. + +“Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot +of perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right +and wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have +my feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the +weekend. I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, +and not before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily +Sketch the other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to +me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva +Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I +read that, I said 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being +able to travel at once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came +along to-day, just to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask +him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I +know it's the sort of thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I +thought it might be worth mentioning. So now!” + + * * * * * + +Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that +Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this +sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have +been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was +thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did +not intend lightly to relinquish it. + +“My good girl,” said Lady Kimbuck, “talk less and prove more. When did +Mr. Bleke promise to marry you?” + +“Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got +all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters.” + +Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never +lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them +as literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in +useful. + +“Roland,” said Lady Eva, quietly, “haven't you anything to contribute to +this conversation?” + +Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with +her, and she was up in the correct business. + +“Is he here? In this room?” + +Roland slunk from the shadows. + +“Mr. Bleke,” said Lord Evenwood, sternly, “who is this woman?” + +Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + +“Are these letters in your handwriting?” asked Lady Kimbuck, almost +cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, +and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a +colorless stick should have been capable of them. + +Roland nodded. + +“Well, it's lucky you're rich,” said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. “What +are you asking for these?” she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + +“Exactly,” said Lord Evenwood, relieved. “Precisely. Your sterling +common sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on +a businesslike footing.” + +“Do you imagine for a moment----?” began Miss Chilvers slowly. + +“Yes,” said Lady Kimbuck. “How much?” + +Miss Chilvers sobbed. + +“If I have lost him for ever----” + +Lady Eva rose. + +“But you haven't,” she said pleasantly. “I wouldn't dream of standing in +your way.” She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and +walked to the door. “I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke,” she said, as she +reached it. + +Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had +confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene +figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life +on which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he +gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and +the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad +view of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady +Kimbuck had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make +for gaiety. + + * * * * * + +He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside +the sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened +the first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + + “Dear Sir,” (it ran). + + “We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + “Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison.” + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +***** This file should be named 8713-0.txt or 8713-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8713/ + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/8713-0.zip b/8713-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..471bf77 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-0.zip diff --git a/8713-8.txt b/8713-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1120bb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3839 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8713] +Posting Date: July 27, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + + + + + +A MAN OF MEANS + +A SERIES OF SIX STORIES + + +By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +From the _Pictorial Review_, May-October 1916 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +First of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +May 1916] + + +When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main +chance receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely +large order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to +predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, +he asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do +they merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald +and unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem +depends the important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge +a fraudulent jam disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would +resent. + +This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian +Fineberg, of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke +knocked at his door; and such was its difficulty that only at the +nineteenth knock did Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + +"Come in--that dashed woodpecker out there!" he shouted, for it was his +habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior +members of his staff. + +The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a +provincial seed-merchant's office--which, strangely enough, he chanced +to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He was a +young man; and when you had said that of him you had said everything. +There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, except the +fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two and his +name was Roland Bleke. + +"Please, sir, it's about my salary." + +Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British +square at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a +squadron of cuirassiers. + +"Salary?" he cried. "What about it? What's the matter with it? You get +it, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir, but----" + +"Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?" + +"It's too much." + +Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could +have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard +one of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched +himself. + +"Say that again," he said. + +"If you could see your way to reduce it, sir----" + +It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was +endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that +idea. + +"Why do you want it reduced?" + +"Please, sir, I'm going to be married." + +"What the deuce do you mean?" + +"When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and +forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds----" + +Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + +"My boy," he said genially, "I quite understand. But I can do you better +than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. From now +on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. You're an +excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit when I find +it. Close the door after you." + +And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed +problem. + +The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may +be briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had +lodged at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter +at the local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic +pets, consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of +sixty, Mrs. Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life +was devoted to cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers +Frank and Percy, gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged +in the mysterious occupation known as "lookin' about for somethin'," +and, lastly, Muriel. + +For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke +a mere automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for +neatly-laid breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. +Gradually, however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use +sufficiently to enable him to look at her when she came into the room, +he discovered that she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the +North by a mass of auburn hair and to the South by small and shapely +feet. She also possessed what, we are informed--we are children in these +matters ourselves--is known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met +Roland's one evening, as he chumped his chop, and before he knew what he +was doing he had remarked that it had been a fine day. + +From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed. +Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not +bring himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy +conversation about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he +felt bound to say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found +it more and more difficult each evening to hit on something bright, +until finally, from sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + +If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then. +It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast +machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the +room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science. +Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of +Mr. Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado, +of Brothers Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow +simultaneously half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making +bread-pellets and throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the +Coppin cat, which had wandered in on the chance of fish. + +Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came +the word "bans," and smote him like a blast of East wind. + +It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from +that moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a +reduction of salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was +extraordinarily happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to +be engaged is an intoxicating experience, and at first life was one +long golden glow to Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always +nourished a desire to be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his +engagement satisfied that desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers +Frank and Percy cough knowingly when he came in. It was pleasant to walk +abroad with a girl like Muriel in the capacity of the accepted wooer. +Above all, it was pleasant to sit holding Muriel's hand and watching the +ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert Potter to hide his mortification. +Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works round the corner, and hitherto +Roland had always felt something of a worm in his presence. Albert was +so infernally strong and silent and efficient. He could dissect a car +and put it together again. He could drive through the thickest traffic. +He could sit silent in company without having his silence attributed to +shyness or imbecility. But--he could not get engaged to Muriel Coppin. +That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, the dasher, the young man +of affairs. It was all very well being able to tell a spark-plug from a +commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in an affair of the +heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper place, third at +the pole. + +Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would +never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to +creep more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic +descended upon Roland Bleke. + +All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An invitation +to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. He was one +of those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of planning out any +definite step. He could do things on the spur of the moment, but plans +made him lose his nerve. + +By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in +agonized tones: "Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me +out of this frightful marriage business." + +If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the +attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made +it clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to them. +It would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style to +which they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they went +with Muriel as a sort of bonus. + + * * * * * + +The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was +a general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known that +he had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. Fineberg +on the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin removed his +saucer of tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a sardine from +the corner of his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an undertone. Albert +Potter, who was present, glowered silently. + +Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his +rejoicing heart would permit. + +"I'm afraid I've bad news." + +Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. +Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + +"He won't give you your raise?" + +Roland sighed. + +"He's reduced me." + +"Reduced you!" + +"Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a +hundred and ten." + +The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed +to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank +and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their +fountain pens. + +Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel +Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed +upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + +"I suppose," said Roland, "we couldn't get married on a hundred and +ten?" + +"No," said Percy. + +"No," said Frank. + +"No," said Albert Potter. + +They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + +"Then," said Roland regretfully, "I'm afraid we must wait." + +It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said she +thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had asked, +was quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between sobs, moaned +that it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely devouring +bread and jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. And, to end a +painful scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and went up-stairs +to his own quarters. + +There was a telegram on the mantel. + +"Some fellows," he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, "wouldn't +have been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given +themselves away. They would----" + +The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + +For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been +written in Hindustani. + +It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the +promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder +of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of +this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in +due course. + + * * * * * + +Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he +could recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these +open-handed gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him +back to a morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's +eldest son Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money +from his father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of +cardboard, at the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly +from a vague desire to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally +because it struck him as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed +over the ten shillings; and there, as far as he had known, the matter +had ended. + +And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the +shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + +Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five +hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + +For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five +hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + +His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling +fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the +telegram to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think +the whole matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. +After all, he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a secret. He +would receive the check in due course, as stated, and he would bicycle +over to the neighboring town of Lexingham and start a bank-account with +it. Nobody would know, and life would go on as before. + +He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + + * * * * * + +It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep +at eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. +Coppin was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. +Coppin was there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had +apparently kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy +stood at his bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. +Coppin thrust a newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + +These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and +the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep +from it was this head-line: + + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES + +And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + + POOR CLERK WINS 40,000 + +His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of +the faithful Gelatine. + +Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day +followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere +except just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when +conscience could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to +think of anything or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to +remove him from Bury St. Edwards on any terms. + +It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted +telepathically to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their +behavior at this juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the +police force. Perhaps it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an eye +on what they already considered their own private gold-mine that made +them so adhesive. Certainly there was no hour of the day when one or the +other was not in Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their vigilance +even extended to the night hours, and once, when Roland, having tossed +sleeplessly on his bed, got up at two in the morning, with the wild idea +of stealing out of the house and walking to London, a door opened as he +reached the top of the stairs, and a voice asked him what he thought he +was doing. The statement that he was walking in his sleep was accepted, +but coldly. + +It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary strategy +eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, with his +ticket to London in his pocket and the express already entering the +station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, who appeared +from nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a speech that lasted +until the tail-lights of the train had vanished and Brothers Frank and +Percy arrived, panting. + +A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this +last episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing +himself described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim +addition that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to +a fresh dash for liberty. + +Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the +exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a +certain amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the +things which made the present a source of misery to him was the fact +that he was expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober +young man with a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained from +infancy to a decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted itself +to the possession of large means; and the open-handed role forced upon +him by the family appalled him. + +When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to +Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had +reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he might +surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, a man +of his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere gauds +and trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand for a +silk petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and Percy +took theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst blow by +insisting on a hired motor-car. + +Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert +Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one +way of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave +the paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good +deal of discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better +to go round corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these +expeditions, Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, his +torments were subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the only +way in which he could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony was to +increase the speed to sixty miles an hour. + +It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of +Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the loop +in his aeroplane. + +It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and +see M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures +which never grow _blas_ at the sight of a fellow human taking a +sporting chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild +animal exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew +him like a magnet. + +"The blighter goes up," he explained, as he conducted the party into the +arena, "and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. I've +seen pictures of it." + +It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the +ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would +take up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have +been no rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail +themselves of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small +man with a chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture cards +and smoking a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + +Albert Potter was scornful. + +"Lot of rabbits," he said. "Where's their pluck? And I suppose they call +themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a five-pound +note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the laugh of us." + +It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful +tenderness from Muriel. "You're so brave, Mr. Potter," she said. + +Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or +whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but +Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to +his rival. + +Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and waved +the note aside. + +"I take no favors," he said with dignity. + +There was a pause. + +"Why don't you do it." said Albert, nastily. "Five pounds is nothing to +you." + +"Why should I?" + +"Ah! Why should you?" + +It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It +stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an +unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + +In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had +apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + +"All right, then, I will," he said suddenly. + +"Easy enough to talk," said Albert. + +Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. +Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + +Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh +hour. + +"Don't let him," she cried. + +But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the sort +of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + +For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was +experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type +of person when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an +acquaintance of theirs. + +"What are you talking about?" he said. "There's no danger. At least, not +much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. What do +you want to go interfering for?" + +Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little +longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud was +a foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + +He took Muriel's hand. + +"Good-by," he said. + +He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It +struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle--and, worse, +delaying the start of the proceedings. + +"What's it all about?" he demanded. "You go on as if we were never going +to see you again." + +"You never know." + +"It's as safe as being in bed." + +"But still, in case we never meet again----" + +"Oh, well," said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + + * * * * * + +The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along +the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, +till the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + +"Now," said Brother Frank. "Now watch. Now he's going to loop the loop." + +But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew +smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + +"What the dickens?" + +Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the +sky--something that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an aeroplane +traveling rapidly into the sunset. + +Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +Second of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, June 1916] + + +Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the +rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey +Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the +full. His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; +and his wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it +difficult to get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + +"There's a column in to-day's _Financial Argus_," she said, "of which +you really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat +Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that +you knew it when you floated the company." + +"They will have their little joke." + +"But you had the usual mining-expert's report." + +"Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at +the time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended +rather on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a +matter of fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in +South America somewhere. Awful climate--snakes, mosquitoes, revolutions, +fever." + +Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + +"Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out +there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in +within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next +number but one. What are you going to do about it?" + +Mr. Windlebird yawned. + +"Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The +Napoleon of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty +thousand pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we sail +for the Argentine. I've got the tickets." + +"You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. +It's a flea-bite." + +"On paper--in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it +is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, hard +lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite from a +hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So--St. Helena +for Napoleon." + +Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a +Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more accurate +title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the head of his +class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was delightfully +simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco Trust, founded by +Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those profits which the +glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. Geoffrey would appease +the excited shareholders by giving them Preference Shares (interest +guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction Company, hastily floated to meet +the emergency. When the interest became due, it would, as likely as not, +be paid out of the capital just subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines +Exploitation Association, the little deficiency in the latter being +replaced in its turn, when absolutely necessary and not a moment before, +by the transfer of some portion of the capital just raised for yet +another company. And so on, ad infinitum. There were moments when it +seemed to Mr. Windlebird that he had solved the problem of Perpetual +Promotion. + +The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's +is when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands +ready money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened +now, and it had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + +He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled that +the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had handled +millions--on paper, it was true, but still millions--and here he was +knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + +"Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?" persisted Mrs. +Windlebird. "Have you tried every one?" + +"Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight--the probables, the possibles, the +highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the minstrel's +wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this time. +Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of twenty +thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from the +clouds." + +As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees beyond +the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth turf, not +twenty yards from where he was seated. + + * * * * * + +Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress +rather resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in +which he has spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling more +wretched than he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. He had +a splitting headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes smarted. +He was hungry. He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, who had +hopped out and was now busy tinkering the engine, a gay Provencal air +upon his lips, as he had rarely hated any one, even Muriel Coppin's +brother Frank. + +So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. +Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on +the turf before him. + +"Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?" + +Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial +stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, +keen student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his +photograph in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk +from house to tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of +the more salient points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird +heard that Roland had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up +and took notice. + +"Lead me to him," he said simply. + +Roland sneezed. + +"Doe accident, thag you," he replied miserably. "Somethig's gone wrong +with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck." + +M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose +to his feet, and bowed. + +"Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, +_mon ami_," he said radiantly to Roland, "all now O. K. We go on." + +"No," said Roland decidedly. + +"No? What you mean--no?" + +A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The +eminent bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he +felt like a brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little +aeroplane rides which bordered upon the princely. + +"But you say--take me to France with you----" + +"I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well." + +"But it's all wrong." M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. +"You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. +It is here." He slapped his breast pocket. "But the other two hundred +pounds which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in +France, where is that, my friend?" + +"I will give you two hundred and fifty," said Roland earnestly, "to +leave me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly +machine again." + +A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous +Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to +Roland. + +"Ah, now you talk. Now you say something," he cried in his impetuous +way. "Embrace me. You are all right." + +Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane +disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + +"You're not well, you know," said Mr. Windlebird. + +"I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night--that French ass +lost his bearings--and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a hotel?" + +"Hotel? Nonsense." Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice which +at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders as +if by magic. "You're coming right into my house and up to bed this +instant." + +It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at his +toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name of his +good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle out of +bed and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which he had +learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in something +approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest business brains of +the age. + +To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance +about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The +kindness of the Windlebirds--and there seemed to be nothing that they +were not ready to do for him--distressed him beyond measure. To have a +really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over +his bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost +horrible. Such condescension was too much. + +Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling replaced +by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, simple, kindly +couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained only gratitude. +He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was not long before +he had told them the history of his career, skipping the earlier years +and beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + +"It makes you feel funny," he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic +ear, "suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem +hardly able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it." + +Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + +"The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little +experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you +would allow me to recommend some sound investment----" + +Roland glowed with gratitude. + +"There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money +into anything. It's like this." + +He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel +Coppin. Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his conscience +had begun to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had not acted +well toward Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she didn't +care a bit about him and was in love with Albert, the silent mechanic, +but there was just the chance that she was mourning over his loss; and, +anyhow, his conscience was sore. + +"I'd like to give her something," he said. "How much do you think?" + +Mr. Windlebird perpended. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with--say, +a thousand pounds--not a check, you understand, but one thousand golden +sovereigns that he can show her--roll about on the table in front of her +eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money in the raw +has on people." + +"I'd rather make it two thousand," said Roland. He had never really +loved Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; +but he wanted to retreat with honor. + +"Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know +how old Harrison is going to carry all that money." + +As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it +over, after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the +conclusion that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it +would be good for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + +Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel +jumped at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland +next morning that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird +redoubled. + +"And now," said Mr. Windlebird genially, "we can talk about that money +of yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something +which, without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless +returns a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you want is +something sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a kick to +it, something which can't go down and may go soaring like a rocket." + +Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit another +cigar. + +"Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips--But +I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. +Put your money--" he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, "put every +penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs." + +He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just +imparted to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the +philosopher's stone. + +"Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird," said Roland gratefully. "I will." + +The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + +"Not so fast, young man," laughed Mr. Windlebird. "Getting into Wildcat +Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you +propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty +thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy Wildcat +Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed." + +Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to +invest thirty thousand pounds--or pence--in Wildcat Reefs, the market +would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked with +laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke--except to the unfortunate +few who still held any of the shares. + +"The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But I +think--I say I think--I can manage it for you." + +"You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird." + +"Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be +doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time." He +filled his glass. "This--" he paused to sip--"this pal of mine has a +large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the money +into something else, in which he is more personally interested." Mr. +Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn current +account at the bank. "In which he is more personally interested," he +repeated dreamily. "But of course you couldn't unload thirty pounds' +worth of Wildcats in the public market." + +"I quite see that," assented Roland. + +"It might, however, be done by private negotiation," he said. "I +must act very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand +to-night, and I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I +can do." + + * * * * * + +He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland +did not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, +Mr. Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him twenty +thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + +"There, my boy," he said. + +"It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird." + +"My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am." + +Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + +It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the +pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the +beautiful garden, the pleasant company--all these things combined to +make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + +He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly +on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to +show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and +tired. + +A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only +crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. +Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the city, +but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, +and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even +this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, +who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an errand, had +promised to bring one back with him. He might appear at any moment now. + +The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. +She was looking terribly troubled. + +It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been +unusually silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. +Windlebird's room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and +agitated. Could they have had some bad news? + +"Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you." + +Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + +"You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he +would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it to +you." + +"Break it to me!" + +"My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine +called Wildcat Reefs." + +"Yes. Thirty thousand pounds." + +"As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!" + +She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + +"Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, +they may be absolutely worthless." + +Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + +"Wor-worthless!" he stammered. + +Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + +"You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice +that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He +is in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of +you, Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been the +innocent instrument of your trouble." + + * * * * * + +Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were +precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth +seemed to melt under him. + +"We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to +the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must +make good your losses. We must buy back those shares." + +A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + +"But----" he began. + +"There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a +minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds +for the shares, you said? Well"--she held out a pink slip of paper to +him--"this will make everything all right." + +Roland looked at the check. + +"But--but this is signed by you," he said. + +"Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it would +mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with every +movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might ruin +the plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling out +stock doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, +to give me time to realize on the securities in which my money is +invested." + +Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had +been his host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. +But chivalry forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of +self-sacrifice warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had +never had any fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it +that for all practical purposes it might never have been his. + +With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when +exhibited on the stage by the hero of the number two company of "The +Price of Honor," which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a +few months before, he tore the check into little pieces. + +"I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird," he said. "I can't tell you how +deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I +bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, +and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me +here, it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and +generous of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a +little money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, +anyway, so--so it's all right." + +"Mr. Bleke, I implore you." + +Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of +escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no other +way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he perceived +Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + +"Johnson said he was going into the town," said Roland apologetically, +"so I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch +scores." + +If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was +strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her +face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the +chair which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. +She lay back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + +Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to +the conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and +Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in competition +with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + +Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as +he did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + +Out of the explosion emerged the word "WILD-CATS". + +"Why!" he exclaimed. "There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page +here!" + +"Yes?" Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her +eyes were still closed. + +Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES + +Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic exuberance, +what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + + The "special commissioner" sent out by The _Financial Argus_ to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine--with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public--has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The _Financial Argus_ has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. + +The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The +very atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable +of thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand +pounds. + +"Oh, Mrs. Windlebird," he cried, "It's all right after all." + +Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + +"It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully. "Why, if I've +made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted. +It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the +biggest thing of his life." + +He thought for a moment. + +"The chap I'm sorry for," he said meditatively, "is Mr. Windlebird's +pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his +shares to me." + +A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear +it. He was reading the cricket news. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +July 1916] + + +It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you +sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke +with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment +Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen +in; and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not +altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before, +and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had +become afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical +supper-party again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must +possess dash; and Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a +little short of dash. + +The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. +While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was +"old Gerry" whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on +its course. After a glance at old Gerry--a chinless child of about +nineteen--Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a young +man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one of +those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited +one which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the +better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter. + +The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a +more serious view of the situation. + +"Sidney, you make me tired," she said severely. "If I had thought you +didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with +you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to +come and sit by me. I want to talk to him." + +That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + +"I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke," +she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. "I've heard +such a lot about you." + +What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred +thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + +"In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't have +come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as a +general rule. They bore me stiff." + +Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. +Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but +there were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment--a thoughtful +student of character--a girl who understood that a man might sit at a +supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man of parts. + +"I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken--but that's me all over. All +my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one +she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one she +tells them straight out, too.'" + +"And a very admirable trait," said Roland, enthusiastically. + +Miss Verepoint sighed. "P'raps it is," she said pensively, "but I'm +afraid it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like +it: they think girls should be seen and not heard." + +Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + +"But what's the good of worrying," went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave +but hollow laugh. "Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has +got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is +bound to come some day." + +The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to +indicate that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less +than sixty years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous +nature was up in arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to +help this victim of managerial unfairness. "You don't mind my going on +about my troubles, do you?" asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. "One so +seldom meets anybody really sympathetic." + +Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + +"I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon," she said. + +"Oh, rather!" said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more +polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + +"Of course, I know what a busy man you are----" + +"No, no!" + +"Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in." + +Roland bleated gratefully. + +"I'll write down the address for you," said Miss Verepoint, suddenly +businesslike. + + * * * * * + +Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor +Theater, Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence +fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not--the +next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking +lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with +"yes's" and "no's" were always so thoroughly confused that he never knew +even whose suggestion it was. + +The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, +is not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. +Roland was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was +carried through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that +he had never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the offices +of Mr. Montague with the intention of making an offer for the lease for, +say, six months; and that wizard, in the space of less than an hour, had +not only induced him to sign mysterious documents which made him sole +proprietor of the house, but had left him with the feeling that he had +done an extremely acute stroke of business. Mr. Montague had dabbled in +many professions in his time, from street peddling upward, but what he +was really best at was hypnotism. + +Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was +withdrawn, rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby +to hold by a strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, +Roland was to some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by +Miss Verepoint. She said it was much better to buy a theater than to +rent it, because then you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, +but Roland had a dim feeling that there was a flaw somewhere in the +reasoning; and it was from this point that a shadow may be said to have +fallen upon the brightness of the venture. + +He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the +Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the +metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles +was "The Mugs' Graveyard"--a title which had been bestowed upon it not +without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, +whose principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant +supply of the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of +the Higher Drama which flowed practically without cessation from the +restless pen of the insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater +had passed from hand to hand with the agility of a gold watch in a +gathering of race-course thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man who +found himself, by some accident, in possession of the Windsor Theater, +was to pass it on to somebody else. The only really permanent tenant it +ever had was the representative of the Official Receiver. + +Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the theater, +but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama lay in +the fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was hidden. +Cabmen shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were asked to +take a fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the Australian +bush was child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on its trail and +finish up at the point where they had started. + +It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted +Mr. Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical +advantages of the theater were enormous. It was further from a +fire-station than any other building of the same insurance value in +London, even without having regard to the mystery which enveloped its +whereabouts. Often after a good dinner he would lean comfortably back +in his chair and see in the smoke of his cigar a vision of the Windsor +Theater blazing merrily, while distracted firemen galloped madly all +over London, vainly endeavoring to get some one to direct them to the +scene of the conflagration. So Mr. Montague bought the theater for a +mere song, and prepared to get busy. + +Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with +which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows +insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the +fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. +Nothing would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay +their salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix +were so strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly +disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal--a thing +which had never happened to him before. + +And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race +was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland +for twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more +than he himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit +mitigated the slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring +to Roland the insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting +to rather more than seventy thousand pounds on a building so notoriously +valueless as the Windsor Theater had been an achievement of which Mr. +Montague was justly proud, and it seemed sad to him that so much earnest +endeavor should be thrown away. + + * * * * * + +Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain +her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined +her policy. + +"What we must put up at that theater," she announced, "is a revue. +A revue," repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little +calculations on the back of the menu, "we could run for about fifteen +hundred a week--or, say, two thousand." + +Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same as +paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + +"I know two boys who could write us a topping revue," said Miss +Verepoint. "They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in +love with me--both of them. We'd better get in touch with them at once." + +To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister +about the sound of that word "touch," but he said nothing. + +"Why, there they are--lunching over there!" cried Miss Verepoint, +pointing to a neighboring table. "Now, isn't that lucky?" + +To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to +Miss Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their +table. + +The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss +Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown +lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland +thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, +but a closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine +distinctions were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. +Bromham Rhodes ran his friend so close that it was practically a dead +heat. They were both fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the +fact that what revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant +assimilation of food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite +in London; but, on the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + +"Well, dear old thing!" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"Well, old child!" said R. P. de Parys. + +Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair +appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + +Miss Verepoint struck the business note. "Now you stop, boys," she said. +"Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I want you +two lads to write a revue for me." + +"Delighted!" said Bromham Rhodes; "but----" + +"There is the trifling point to be raised first----" said R. P. de +Parys. + +"Where is the money coming from?" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money," said Miss Verepoint, +with dignity. "He has taken the Windsor Theater." + +The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, +increased with a jerk. "Has he? By Jove!" they cried. "We must get +together and talk this over." + +It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he +never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de +Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical +London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think of +doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. The +amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during the +course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at lunch +would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, as +likely as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order to +thrash the question thoroughly out. + + * * * * * + +The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the +actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable +difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It +seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England +or America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere +with Miss Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the principal +role. It was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss Verepoint was an +expert in theatrical matters, he scarcely felt entitled to question her +views. + +It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The +passage of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a +certain extent moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from +a passionate devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for +her, into a sort of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason +for proposing was that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of +events. Her air towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She now +called him "Roly-poly" in public--a proceeding which left him with mixed +feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as everybody +knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of the +theatrical profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had +begun to feel a little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss +Verepoint. Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the +revue in which she was to appear; they were constantly seen together at +restaurants; people looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He had +to ask himself: was he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The answer was +in the negative. He took a cab to her flat and proposed before he could +repent of his decision. + +She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad +or sorry. "But I don't want to get married," she went on, "until I have +justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have +made a success in this revue." + +Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + +The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes +to whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these--a scrubby but +confident lot--were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from +nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired scenic +artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great cloud of +chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even Bromham Rhodes +and R. P. de Parys--those human pythons--showed signs of activity. They +cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered him into the +Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him extracts from +a brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed him, was the first +act. + +It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right +to be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and R. +P. de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every responsible +manager in London. As "Oh! What a Life!" it had failed to satisfy the +directors of the Empire. Re-christened "Wow-Wow!" it had been rejected +by the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider it, even under +the name of "Hullo, Cellar-Flap!" It was now called, "Pass Along, +Please!" and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + +Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he +was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking +effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking +effects. As far as he could gather, the main difference between these +things was that real revue was something which had been stolen from some +previous English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect was +something which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of +these, he was given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the +public wanted. + +Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was +properly supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but +even the authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. +They explained that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, +that they had actually started it about ten years ago when they were +careless lads. Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart +topical hits of the early years of the century; but that, they said, +would be all right. They could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; it +was simply a matter of deleting allusions to pro-Boers and substituting +lines about Marconi shares and mangel-wurzels. "It'll be all right," +they assured Roland; "this is real revue." + +In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, +"Here is the beginning of the end." This point came with Roland at the +commencement of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized +the terrible nature of the production for which he had made himself +responsible. Moreover, it was rehearsals which gave him his first clear +insight into the character of Miss Verepoint. + +Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, as +he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case to +be made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the +background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight +about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of "Pass +Along, Please!" but such as there were she reached out for and +grabbed away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and +muttering, like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland +included. + + * * * * * + +Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, +panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage +with this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic +his instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual +dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides--everything +that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the +revue was a success, she would marry him--and revues, he knew, were +always successes. At that very moment there were six "best revues in +London," running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that +in a few weeks there would be seven. + +He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by +himself for a day or two in a place where there were no papers with +advertisements of revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy +Verepoint. That night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in +happier days, he had once spent a Summer holiday--a peaceful, primitive +place where the inhabitants could not have told real revue from a +corking effect. + +Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his quivering +nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London happier, but a +little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of farewell, he had not +communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, and experience had +made him aware that she was a lady who demanded an adequate amount of +attention. + +That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in +upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, +when somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he +uttered a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + +Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial +gaze of Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor +Theater. + +Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, +congratulatory. + +"You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the +first month--by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of +commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought +it, to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and +staring me in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't +grudge it to you--you deserve it my boy! You're a nut!" + +"I really don't know what you mean." + +"Quite right, my boy!" chuckled Mr. Montague. "You're quite right to +keep it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the +least said soonest mended." + +He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + +Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note of +Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered with +what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was beating +fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a wholesome +respect for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his favorite +chair. There were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys, who +had made themselves completely at home with a couple of his cigars and +whisky from the oldest bin. + +"So here you are at last!" said Miss Verepoint, querulously. "The valet +told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on +earth have you been to, running away like this, without a word?" + +"I only went----" + +"Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you +going to do about it?" + +"We thought we'd better come along and talk it over," said R. P. de +Parys. + +"Talk what over?" said Roland: "the revue?" + +"Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!" snapped Miss +Verepoint. "It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. +What do you suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course." + +"What about the theater?" + +Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. "Don't you ever read the +papers?" + +"I haven't seen a paper since I went away." + +"Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently," +said Miss Verepoint. "The theater's been burned down--that's what's +happened." + +"Burned down?" + +"Burned down!" repeated Roland. + +"That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left copies +of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire to two +other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main thoroughfares +and the fire-brigade got them under control at once. I suppose they +couldn't find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the ground and what we +want to know is what are you going to do about it?" + +Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply +at once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction +on his silence. + +"Poor old Roly!" he said. "It's quite broken him up. The best thing we +can do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of +lunch." + +"Well," said Miss Verepoint, "what are you going to do--rebuild the +Windsor or try and get another theater?" + + * * * * * + +The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take +time, but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this +time of the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater at +a moment's notice. + +To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor +Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct +intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome +second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, could +now be postponed indefinitely. + +"Of course," said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, "our contract with you +makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date--but I +dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?" + +"Sure!" said Rhodes. "Something nominal, say a further five hundred on +account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better +to rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?" + +"I do," agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. "You see, Roly, our revue has +been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it +for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the +Windsor would be your best course." + +There was a pause. + +"What do you think, Roly-poly?" asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no +sign. + +"Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take +another theater, or do anything else to oblige," he said, cheerfully. +"Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn." + +It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful +silence fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de +Parys woke with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and +Bromham Rhodes forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. +Miss Verepoint was the first to break the silence. + +"Do you mean to say," she gasped, "that you didn't insure the place?" + +Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had +put the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + +"Why didn't you?" Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + +"Because it did not appear to me to be necessary." + +Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had +done all the insuring that was necessary--and a bit over. + +Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. "What +about the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this +time?" she demanded. + +"I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely +my fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I +can manage that, I think." + +Miss Verepoint rose. "And what about me? What about me, that's what I +want to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you +without your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly +well mistaken." + +Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and +resignation. He even contrived to sigh. + +"Very well, then," said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this +behavior as his final pronouncement on the situation. "Then everything's +jolly well off." + +She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like +porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and +took out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among +the fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at +such pains to secure from so many companies. + +"And so," he said softly to himself, "am I." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +Fourth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, August 1916] + + +It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the +other end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far +as his preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been +attributing the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered +from one himself. + +He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this +particular bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation +on the question of what on earth he was to do with two hundred and fifty +thousand pounds, to which figure his fortune had now risen. + +The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always +been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds +a year, he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this +direction; but now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was +crying out for assistance. + +Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his eyes +had been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of +'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend "Men Who Speak +to Girls," and he had gathered that the accompanying article was a +denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other +hand, she was obviously in distress. + +Another sniff decided him. + +"I say, you know," he said. + +The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had +that air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good +thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was +delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's +heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + +"Pardon me," he went on, "but you appear to be in trouble. Is there +anything I can do for you?" + +She looked at him again--a keen look which seemed to get into Roland's +soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied by the +inspection, she spoke. + +"No, I don't think there is," she said. "Unless you happen to be the +proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress +for it." + +"I don't understand." + +"Well, that's all any one could do for me--give me back my work or give +me something else of the same sort." + +"Oh, have you lost your job?" + +"I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, +and I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, but +I was here first, and there are heaps of other benches." + +"No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able--what +I mean is--think of something. Tell me all about it." + +There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand +pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel +almost masterful. + +"Why should I?" + +"Why shouldn't you?" + +"There's something in that," said the girl reflectively. "After all, +you might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been +discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's +Page." + +"By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak----'?" + +The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment +vanished instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a becoming +pink, you know! + +"You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever +really read 'Squibs.'" + +"Read it!" cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. "I should jolly +well think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after +an article like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a +failure?" + +"Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because +they couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about +it." + +"Who's Mr. Petheram?" + +"Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's really +everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next week. +When I started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got +whittled down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and myself. It +was like the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by one, till +I was the only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is doing the +whole paper now." + +"How is it that he can't get anything better to do?" Roland said. + +"He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, +but they thought he was too old." + +Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder +with a fatherly manner. + +"Oh, he's old, is he?" + +"Twenty-four." + +There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung +Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent +Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the only +man worth looking rapt about. + +He rose. + +"Would you mind giving me your address?" he said. + +"Why?" + +"In order," said Roland carefully, "that I may offer you your former +employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it." + +After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have +his moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled +her over completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, +open-mouthed. Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, "I +wonder how much this is going to cost." + +"You're going to buy 'Squibs!'" + +Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + +"I am." + +She gulped. + +"Well, I think you're wonderful." + +So did Roland. + +"Where will a letter find you?" he asked. + +"My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford +Street." + +"Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in +due course." + +He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when +there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + +"I--I just wanted to thank you," she said. + +"Not at all," said Roland. "Not at all." + +He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was +Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put +Petheram in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. +Laughable. + +A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, +informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the +offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted +state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + +Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just +escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. +There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of +'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, +in which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed +him to wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere +box. Roland was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + +The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + +Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost +painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before +him was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of +taking his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a +red face and a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was +surprized to see Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at +the closing door, and kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down +several inches of discolored plaster. + +"Take a seat," he said, when he had finished this performance. "What can +I do for you?" + +Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were +less easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was +that Mr. Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him +for a prospective advertiser. + +"I want to buy the paper," said Roland. He was aware that this was an +abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to +buy the paper, so why not say so? + +Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + +"Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has +sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you +try?" + +"I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know." + +Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to +be carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him +blankly. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Roland. He felt the interview was going all +wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have +had. + +"Honestly?" said Mr. Petheram. "You aren't pulling my leg?" + +Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, +and finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly +honest. + +"Don't you be an ass," he said. "You don't know what you're letting +yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you +know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to +for life." + +"Why?" + +"We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors--not +the present ones--thought it would give the thing a boom if they had +a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. +Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from +proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried +to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he +would only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the +time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. +That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed." + +A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking +of Bessie March. + +"I know all about that," he said. + +"And you still want to buy the thing?" + +"Yes." + +"But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own +paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you +landed. Why are you doing it?" + +"Oh, just for fun." + +"Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go +ahead." + +He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on +the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + +"You know," he said, "there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. +If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. +We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming +the paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, +what I don't know about editing--but perhaps you had got somebody else +in your mind?" + +"No, no," said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an +office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled +him. + +"Very well, then," resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap +of papers to give more room for his feet. "Take it that I continue as +editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been +doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't +want to spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would +sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a +broken-down wreck who might swoon from starvation?" + +"But one moment," said Roland. "Are you sure that the present +proprietors will want to sell?" + +"Want to sell," cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. "Why, if they know +you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them without +the paper as--as--well, I can't think of anything that has such a poor +chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry on +your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now." + +He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a +note-book. + +"There's just one other thing," said Roland. "I have been a regular +reader of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in +which the Woman's Page----" + +"You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do +better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before +you change your mind or wake up." + +Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland +began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering +cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. +Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that +he was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into +the business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at +every pore. + +Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was +under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a weekly +journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase +of a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. +Nobody could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was willing, even +anxious, to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the +Woman's Page, now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he +wanted Roland to concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital +for ingenious advertising schemes. + +"How would it be," he asked one morning--he always began his remarks +with, "How would it be?"--"if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly in +white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across +his chest?" + +Roland thought it would certainly not be. + +"Good sound advertising stunt," urged Mr. Petheram. "You don't like it? +All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of +men dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' See +what I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! Wah! +Wah! Buy it! Buy it!' It would make people talk." + +Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest +apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus +sprinting down the Strand shouting "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!" with +reference to his personal property appalled him. + +He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as +he generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of +romance which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had +faded entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue +to captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the +exclusive property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish any +delusion that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a +mild liking for him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an +indisputable claim. Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate +devotee toward a high priest. One morning, entering the office +unexpectedly, Roland found her kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; +and from that moment his interest in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to +zero. It amazed him that he could ever have been idiot enough to have +allowed himself to be entangled in this insane venture for the sake +of an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with a snub-nose and a poor +complexion. + +What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good +cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to +the, on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter +the fact that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked buoyantly +about turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. + +The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any +crisis, came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and +went to Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, +he contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + +He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London +in time for dinner. + +Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his +bright weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room near +Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody +seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven 'Squibs' +completely from his mind for the time being. + +The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the +coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + +"What's this?" he asked. + +"The lady, sare," said the waiter vaguely. + +Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped +him. There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant +was a favorite with artistes who were permitted to "look in" at their +theaters as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly +self-conscious, yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited +tribute. He tore open the envelope. + +The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. +Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + +"'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it," it ran. All the mellowing effects +of a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. +He paid his bill and left the place. + +A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable +sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow +him to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between two +of the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + +"Is there a doctor in the house?" + +There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the box. +A man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + +"My wife has fainted," continued the speaker. "She has just discovered +that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'" + +The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an +English audience in the presence of the unusual. + +Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their +leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + +As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had +sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was +headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a +good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in her +time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had +ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a suit +of white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. His +top-hat, at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a +pantomime, flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, +which, tho the weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore +the device "One penny weekly". + +The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into +a taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His +head was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through +the window of the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong +exhortations of the vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. +This he did with a sovereign, and the cab drove off. + +He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it +occurred to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the +first page. The middle column was devoted to a really capitally written +account of the proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest +of six men who, it was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the +disturbance of the peace by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu +warriors, shouting in unison the words "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'" + + * * * * * + +Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the +hound Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could +scarcely have surpassed. + +It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His +Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct +this belief fell on deaf ears. + +"Have I seen the advertisements?" he cried, echoing his editor's first +question. "I've seen nothing else." + +"There!" said Mr. Petheram proudly. + +"It can't go on." + +"Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we +send them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the +Revue boom started and actors were expected to do six different parts in +seven minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about +the Strand, ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a +special staff flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat and +drink to them to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel +ten years younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those +Zulus used to have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society +Contortionists. The Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried +like children when we took them on. + +"By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? +The fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're +coining money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we +should turn the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on +two wheels. Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? +Then you haven't seen our new Scandal Page--'We Just Want to Know, You +Know.' It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. +Everybody reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I +wanted to ask you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort +of thing now." + +Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking +Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful +production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + +"This is awful," he moaned. "We shall have a hundred libel actions." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't +know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. +A more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute +modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of +course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it +goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I +have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute limpid +truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb." + +Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, +started as if he had removed it from a snake. + +"But this is bound to mean a libel action!" he cried. + +"Not a bit of it," said Mr. Petheram comfortably. "You don't know Percy. +I won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he doesn't +rush into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough." + + * * * * * + +But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his +scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of +defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a +scene of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins +of Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was +reading an illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his +surroundings. + +"He's gorn," he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + +"What do you mean?" Roland snapped at him. "Who's gone and where did he +go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise and +stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves." + +Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and +answered. + +"Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there +was a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I +went in, and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the +furniture all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad +been putting 'im froo it proper," concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + +Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his +illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + +It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of +astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of +Jimmy's story. + +She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken +editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes +and a set jaw. + +"Aubrey," she said--it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name was +Aubrey--"is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and sitting up +and taking nourishment." + +"That's good." + +"In a spoon only." + +"Ah!" said Roland. + +"The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it was +that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can prove +nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again this +week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand +them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild." + +Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he +appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and +he addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc +than anything else on earth, firmly. + +"Miss March," he said, "I realize that this is a crisis, and that we +must all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything +in reason--but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects +of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if we repeat +the process I do not care to think." + +"You are afraid?" + +"Yes," said Roland simply. + +Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a +worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely +better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon +of a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it +is better that people should say of you, "There he goes!" than that they +should say, "How peaceful he looks". + +Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to +Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into +the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of +the departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. +Thanks to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in +hand to enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, +however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he +could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal +Page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence +as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the Scandal +Page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy would, +he felt, be with her the work of a moment. + + * * * * * + +Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at +the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring its +whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + +His brow grew damp. What sort of people--except book-makers--did things +you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody. + +He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. +A kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. +How long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The +paragraph was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of +some large deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not +understand a word of it, but it gave him an idea. + +[*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + +Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. +Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be +no possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about +the manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had +used during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + +Within five minutes he had compiled the following + + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? + +After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour +he had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might have +been proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt that +he could go to Mr. Pook, and say, "Percy, on your honor as a British +book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?" And Mr. +Pook would be compelled to reply, "You have not." + +Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's +blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly +hostile to Mr. Pook. + + * * * * * + +A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It +had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's +point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, +signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to +the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him +with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client +disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, +Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, they +could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + +Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual +pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived +a loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales +could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as soon as a +swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing +out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but Roland's methods of +doing business were always rapid. + +"This chap," he said, "this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll he +give?" + +"That," began one of the Harrisons ponderously, "would, of course, +largely depend----" + +"I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the present +staff, an even five thousand. How's that?" + +"Five thousand is a large----" + +"Take it or leave it." + +"My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our +client might consent to the sum you mention." + +"Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who +is your client?" + +Mr. Harrison coughed. + +"His name," he said, "will be familiar to you. He is the eminent +financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird." + + + + + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +Fifth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +September 1916] + + +The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the +Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the +tango out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, +for the national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and +fifteen recognized steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, "Hullo, +Caoutchouc," had been produced with success. And the pioneer of the +dance, the peerless Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it +nightly at the music-hall where she had first broken loose. + +The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. +Of all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Maraquita +had made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes +called a fine woman. + +She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International +forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + +There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the +three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative +decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a +salmon-colored whirlwind. + +That was the bit that hit Roland. + +Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and +applauding wildly. + +One night an attendant came to his box. + +"Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita +wishes to speak to you." + +He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not +appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was +generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got +it--quick. + +They were alone. + +With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to +the conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any +less beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of +the dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had +undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, diffident +nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was +the rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Maraquita +droop. + +For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on +his without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this +leading question: + +"You love me, _hein_?" + +Roland nodded feebly. + +"When men make love to me, I send them away--so." + +She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost +cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The +woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + +"But not you." + +"Not me?" + +"No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you +in the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I +say to myself, 'What a man!'" + +"Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird," +mumbled Roland. + +"I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you." + +"Thanks awfully," bleated Roland. + +"You would do anything for my sake, _hein_? I knew you were that kind +of man directly I see you. No," she added, as Roland writhed uneasily +in his chair, "do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the +Great Day." + +What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He +could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + +"And now," said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, "you +come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They +will be glad and proud to meet you." + + * * * * * + +After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to +the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The +former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and +hairy. + +The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous +figure. He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected +him of carrying lethal weapons. + +Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoya +sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert could +evidently squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the +company was good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + +Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's +benefit, Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those +present were marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, stood +the very flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their native land +by the Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth +the Infamy of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked effect on the +company. Some scowled, others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito +did both. Before supper, to which they presently sat down, was over, +however, Roland knew a good deal about Paranoya and its history. The +conversation conducted by Maraquita--to a ceaseless _bouche pleine_ +accompaniment from her friends--bore exclusively upon the subject. + +Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries under +the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of Alejandro the +Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the Infamy +of 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the +abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. + +Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the +caoutchouc, was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alejandro +the Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end +had been untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. +Paranoya, Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The +army was disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order +of things. + +A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely +to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + +At the mention of the word "funds," Roland, who had become thoroughly +bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. +He had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for +a subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. +Especially by Bombito. + +He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + +She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he gathered +that it somehow had reference to himself. + +As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and extended +their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that Maraquita +had been proposing his health. + +"They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'" kindly translated the +Peerless One. "You must excuse," said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy +of patriots surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. "They are so +grateful to the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it +not that I have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal +standard floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that will be +soon, very soon," she went on. "With you on our side we can not fail." + +What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor +under the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on +behalf of a deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + +Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + +"I have told them," she said, "that you love me, that you are willing +to risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the +rich Senor Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, +comrades. To the Savior of Paranoya!" + +Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic +enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary +speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, +well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, he +put the question to Maraquita. + +She said, "Poof! The cost? La, la!" Which was all very well, but hardly +satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get +out of her. + + * * * * * + +The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind +of dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + +Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details +connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. +She now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which +she presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing +the restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking +everything for her sake. + +In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the +thing should be done--well, or not at all. There would be so much for +rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the +expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much +to be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a +little when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya +amounted to twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt +it thoroughly at a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious +course, to Roland's way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of +the question and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. + +It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, +that she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution +would be disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. +Unless, she pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, looting, +and so on, the revolution would not achieve a popular success. True, the +beloved Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a throne +that was insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty +turn. By all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but not at the +risk of making the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was an emotional +country, and liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them. + +It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the +revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a +little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to +the financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That +his person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not +foreseen. + +The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the +arrival of the deputation. + +It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner +cigar. + +It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, +stout, and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue +hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native of +Paranoya. + +For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he +had not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited +resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He +poised himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they +should try to kiss him on the cheek. + +"Mr. Bleke?" said the long man. + +His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the +table, and looked at it wistfully. + +"Long live the monarchy," said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the +course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally +went well. + +On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the +contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped themselves +to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + +"Death to the monarchy," corrected the long man coldly. "And," he added +with a wealth of meaning in his voice, "to all who meddle in the affairs +of our beloved country and seek to do it harm." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Roland. + +"Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be +well advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the +malcontents who would do my beloved land an injury." + +The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit +of taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity +be a devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him +to realize that there were those who objected to his restoration to +the throne. Till now he had looked on the enemy as something in the +abstract. It had not struck him that the people for whose correction +he was buying all these rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a +lively distaste for having their blood shed. + +"Senor Bleke," resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions +whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, "you are a +man of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, +this scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there +is still time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your +blood be upon your own head." + +"My blood!" gasped Roland. + +The speaker bowed. + +"That is all," he said. "We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor +Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of +yours, you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the +road, and you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is +it, but much the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account the +policeman on the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We wish +you a good night." + +The deputation withdrew. + +Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said +"Poof!" It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in a +difficult situation if she could get out of the habit of saying "Poof!" + +"It is nothing," she said. + +"No?" said Roland. + +"We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money +to the Cause, and then where are they, _hein_?" + +It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. +He said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + +"You are not weakening, Roland?" she said. "You would not betray us +now?" + +"Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still----. +What I mean is----" + +Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + +"Take care," she cried. "With me it is nothing, for I know that your +heart is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect +that your resolve was failing--ah! If Bombito----" + +Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + +"For goodness' sake," he said hastily, "don't go saying anything to +Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you +can rely on me, and all that. That's all right." + +Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass--they were lunching at +the time--and put it to her lips. + +"To the Savior of Paranoya!" she said. + +"Beware!" whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + +He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, dark, +hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted +air which waiters cultivate. + +Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + +That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight +of the word "Beware" scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had +apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + +"Sir?" said the competent valet. ("Competent valets are in attendance at +each of these flats."--_Advt._) + +"Has any one been here since I left?" + +"Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, sir. +I showed him into your room." + +The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland +dragged himself out of bed. + +"Hullo?" + +"Is that Senor Bleke?" + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"Beware!" + +Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of +nerve, but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister +persecution. Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent +of withdrawing his support from the royalist movement, what then? +Bombito. If ever there was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. +And all because a perfectly respectful admiration for the caoutchouc +had led him to occupy a stage-box several nights in succession at the +theater where the peerless Maraquita tied herself into knots. + + * * * * * + +There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their +next meeting. + +"We have been in communication with Him," she whispered. "He will +receive you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya." + +"Eh? Who will?" + +"Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are to +go to him at once." + +"Where?" + +"At his own house. He will receive you in person." + +Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing +of late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of +meeting face to face a genuine--if exiled--monarch. The thought did flit +through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's office +if they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + +The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. +Roland rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the prosaic +in the action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + +There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were +ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a +luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts +running in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got an +uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to see +the dentist. + +Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + +"His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke." + +Roland followed him with tottering knees. + +His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a +genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle +and a little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous +stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + +"Sit down, Mr. Bleke," said His Majesty, as the door closed. "I have +been wanting to see you for some time." + +Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a +long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + +King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, +who shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked +thoughtfully for a while. + +"You know, Mr. Bleke," he said at last, "this must stop. It really must. +I mean your devoted efforts on my behalf." + +Roland gaped at him. + +"You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. +Your youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair +from a spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to +gain commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before +we part, that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this +movement to restore me to the throne. + +"I don't understand--er--your majesty." + +"I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. +You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a +reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise +very pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know +Paranoya? Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort +of life a King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure +you that a coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, the +climate of the country is abominable. I always had a cold in the head. +Secondly, there is a small but energetic section of the populace whose +sole recreation it seems to be to use their monarch as a target for +bombs. They are not very good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, ten +explodes, and even an occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the +target. + +"Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave +it. I was educated in England--I am a Magdalene College man--and I have +the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My present life +suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. For both our +sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon this scheme of +yours." + + * * * * * + +Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence +long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial monarch +had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his situation came +home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound to displease +somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly impulsive when they +were vexed. + +For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the +instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the +body, he called at her house. + +She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There +were the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + +He looked unhappily round the crowd. + +Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + +"To the revolution," he said mechanically. + +There was a silence--it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he +had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift +from the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with some +apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + +But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward +and slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came to +light that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + +"My old chap," he said. "I would have a speech with you." + +He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + +"The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say +'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently." + +He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken +gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly +there came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was +nervous. + +"After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you +ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, +perhaps. The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in +Paranoya. Upset. Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have +been--what do you say?--put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more +ministry. New ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is +the cry. So deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent +merchants and that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be +President. See? No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor +Bleke. What about it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So +no need for your kind assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No +more royalist revolution." + +The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an +interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not fond +of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would kill +the poor girl. + +"But Maraquita----?" + +"That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, +stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, +whither thou goes will I follow. No?" + +"But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?" + +"Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?" + +"Have you been married to her all the time?" + +"Why, certainly, good, dear boy." + +The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind +for meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found +Bombito's hand. + +"By Jove," he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, "I knew you +were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. +Have a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and tell +me all about it." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + +Final Story of the Series [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +October 1916] + + +"What do you mean--you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why +can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish." + +Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House +of Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the +Gilded Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, +irritation. If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood +disliked, it was any interference with arrangements already made. + +"The man," he continued, "is not unsightly. The man is not conspicuously +vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man pronounces his +aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, moreover, is worth +rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I repeat, you are +childish!" + +"Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father," said Lady Eva. +"It's not that at all." + +"I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is." + +"Well, do you think I could be happy with him?" + +Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a +very happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches +of her family. + +"We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of happiness. +Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Gerry, whose only +visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is the four hundred +a year which he draws as a member for a constituency which has every +intention of throwing him out at the next election." + +Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of +her family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern +Cornwall. + +"Young O'Rion is not to be thought of," said Lord Evenwood firmly. "Not +for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all +wrong. Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred +responsibility not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your +word one day to enter upon the most solemn contract known to--ah--the +civilized world, and break it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is +not fair to me. You know that all I live for is to see you comfortably +settled. If I could myself do anything for you, the matter would be +different. But these abominable land-taxes and Blowick--especially +Blowick--no, no, it's out of the question. You will be very sorry if you +do anything foolish. I can assure you that Roland Blekes are not to be +found--ah--on every bush. Men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays." + +"Especially," said Lady Kimbuck, "into a family like ours. What with +Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather +and the circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in +'85----" + +"Thank you, Sophia," interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. "It is +unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate +reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her +word to Mr. Bleke." + +Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of +the utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one +firm of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, +and the family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while +Cupidity fought its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood +family had at various times and in various ways stimulated the +circulation of the evening papers. Most of them were living down +something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's habit, when thwarted in her +lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and announce that she was not +to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book. Abject +surrender followed on the instant. + +At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and +rose. + +"It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or +you will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining +years with literary work, but----" + +Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + +Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + +"There, run along now," she said. "I daresay you've got a headache or +something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. +Go down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say +goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient." + +Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that Lady +Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to +bed with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview +which he so dreaded. + +Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion +that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary +insanity. They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel +for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the +highest flights of love. It was only later that the reaction came and he +realized that he was nothing of the sort. + +At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of +whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so +much as Lady Eva Blyton. + +Other women--notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the +destinies of Paranoya--had frightened him by their individuality. Lady +Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of +aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever +of what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of +an earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the +society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were +beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly +called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + +All along, from the very moment when--to his unbounded astonishment--she +had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he +never realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. +He was filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had +taken him to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the +notice of Lady Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap +at her invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; +but for that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady +Kimbuck had convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got +him somehow, whether he had accepted or refused. + +What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been +no need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in +his breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the sense to +realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he might have +a quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. Their lives +could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with a fondness +for the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, picture-palaces, +and Association football. Merely to think of Association football in +connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct +clear. He ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some +inaccessible goddess. + +A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + +"I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.--er--Roland," she said, +holding out her hand. "Do excuse me. I've got such a headache." + +"Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry." + +If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that +moment, it was himself. + +"Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?" asked Lady Eva languidly. + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot." + +The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. +He was the biggest ass in Christendom. + +"Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?" + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no." There it was again, that awful phrase. He +was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking him a +perfect lunatic. "I don't play golf." + +They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that +her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her +that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of +sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him +to babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his +quite respectable biceps? No. + +"Never mind," she said, kindly. "I daresay we shall think of something +to amuse you." + +She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible +instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from +the emotion through which he had been passing. + +"Good night." + +"Good night." + +Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at +least. + +A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had +left him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul +escaped him. + +"I can't do it!" + +He sprang to his feet. + +"I won't do it." + +A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + +"I think you are quite right, sir--if I may make the remark." + +Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first place, +he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the second, he +had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment before, he +had been. + +But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the +cat-like faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly--a fact which +had won for him, in the course of a long career in the service of the +best families, the flattering position of star witness in a number of +England's raciest divorce-cases. + +Mr. Teal, the butler--for it was no less a celebrity who had broken in +on Roland's reverie--was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly cast of +countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many butlers +possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn to him +during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had been +uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, stricken +by interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human thing in +the place. + +He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. +He could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, +he had the right to freeze Teal with a look. + +He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very +forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner +were soothing. + +"Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room," went on the +butler, "I thought for a moment that you were addressing me." + +This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him +that Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the +point. + +"What do you mean--you think I am quite right?" he said. "You don't know +what I was thinking about." + +Teal smiled indulgently. + +"On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just +come to the decision--in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one--that your +engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are quite +right, sir. It won't do." + +Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly well +aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady +Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's magnetism that +he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own +business. "Teal, you forget yourself!" would have covered the situation. +Roland, however, was physically incapable of saying "Teal, you forget +yourself!" The bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand +talking to the snake, but he is incapable of ending the conversation. +Roland was conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who +could tell butlers that they forgot themselves. But then that sort +of man would never be in this sort of trouble. The "Teal, you forget +yourself" type of man would be a first-class shot, a plus golfer, and +would certainly consider himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady +Eva. + +"The question is," went on Mr. Teal, "how are we to break it off?" + +Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in allowing +the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as well go +the whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And it was an +undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some one. + +He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks with +the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + +"It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. +And it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her +ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train +for London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some +fact, some disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her +ladyship's ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty." + +He eyed Roland meditatively. + +"If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?" + +"Well, I haven't." + +"No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had +made a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who +have made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally +done their bit of time. But, of course, if you----. Let me think. Do you +drink, sir?" + +"No." + +Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing +the old man a good deal. + +"You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?" asked Mr. Teal, not very +hopefully. "I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted wife? Some +poor creature you have treated shamefully?" + +At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was +compelled to answer in the negative. + +"I was afraid not," said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. "Thinking it all +over yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' You +don't look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his time." + +"Thinking it over?" + +"Not on your account, sir," explained Mr. Teal. "On the family's. I +disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family +as long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to +entertain a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense to +yourself, sir, this would not have done." + +"Well, it looks as if it would have to do," said Roland, gloomily. "I +can't see any way out of it." + +"I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot." + +Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + +"You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?" + +Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He +feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was +smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + +"I've never been at Aldershot in my life." + +"For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let +me explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much +good. She's not very particular. I am sure she would do it for a +consideration." + +"Do what?" + +"Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's +had some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you would +guess it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir," he went on +with enthusiasm, "done all frizzy. Just the sort of young person that a +young gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' with. You couldn't +find a better if you tried for a twelvemonth." + +"But, I say----!" + +"I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not, but----" + +"Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow +and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day +after to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the +letters." + +"Letters?" + +"Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature of +these cases." + +"Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what +to say. I've never seen her." + +"That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. I +will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you write +those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on it? +Then it will all be perfectly simple." + +When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly +passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had +succeeded in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the +conclusion that there must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good +deal less respectable than he appeared to be at present. Byronic was +the only adjective applicable to his collaborator's style of amatory +composition. In every letter there were passages against which Roland +had felt compelled to make a modest protest. + +"'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you think +that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for the +pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken +hair against my cheek!' What I mean is--well, what about it, you know?" + +"The phrases," said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, "to +which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I +happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord +Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His +lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters." + +Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. +Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a +period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + +"That," Mr. Teal explained, "will make your conduct definitely +unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,"--Mr. Teal +was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration--"you have the +effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship." + +With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo +the atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + +"You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and +strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would +you be?" + +Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one +of the shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the +afternoon. + +It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud +of having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up--all were +perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. +Lady Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, and +Roland thinking. A peaceful scene. + +A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just +proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and +Teal announced, "Miss Chilvers." + +Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he +felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he had +been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat and +did nothing. + +It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the +actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture +of her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one +fact of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings of +the long drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably "not much good" than +Roland had ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama +could not fail of success. He should have been pleased; he was merely +appalled. The thing might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it +was going to be terrible. + +She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice her. +Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been +some ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer +amazement. Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at +the apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring +relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she +was possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these +situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled +the night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in +his own drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy +days. + +Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive +Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity. + +"To what are we----?" he began. + +Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there +while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into +speech. + +"Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot +of perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right +and wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have +my feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the +weekend. I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, +and not before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily +Sketch the other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to +me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva +Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I +read that, I said 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being +able to travel at once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came +along to-day, just to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask +him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I +know it's the sort of thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I +thought it might be worth mentioning. So now!" + + * * * * * + +Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that +Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this +sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have +been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was +thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did +not intend lightly to relinquish it. + +"My good girl," said Lady Kimbuck, "talk less and prove more. When did +Mr. Bleke promise to marry you?" + +"Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got +all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters." + +Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never +lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them +as literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in +useful. + +"Roland," said Lady Eva, quietly, "haven't you anything to contribute to +this conversation?" + +Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with +her, and she was up in the correct business. + +"Is he here? In this room?" + +Roland slunk from the shadows. + +"Mr. Bleke," said Lord Evenwood, sternly, "who is this woman?" + +Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + +"Are these letters in your handwriting?" asked Lady Kimbuck, almost +cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, +and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a +colorless stick should have been capable of them. + +Roland nodded. + +"Well, it's lucky you're rich," said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. "What +are you asking for these?" she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + +"Exactly," said Lord Evenwood, relieved. "Precisely. Your sterling +common sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on +a businesslike footing." + +"Do you imagine for a moment----?" began Miss Chilvers slowly. + +"Yes," said Lady Kimbuck. "How much?" + +Miss Chilvers sobbed. + +"If I have lost him for ever----" + +Lady Eva rose. + +"But you haven't," she said pleasantly. "I wouldn't dream of standing in +your way." She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and +walked to the door. "I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke," she said, as she +reached it. + +Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had +confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene +figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life +on which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he +gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and +the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad +view of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady +Kimbuck had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make +for gaiety. + + * * * * * + +He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside +the sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened +the first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + + "Dear Sir," (it ran). + + "We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + "Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison." + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +***** This file should be named 8713-8.txt or 8713-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8713/ + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/8713-8.zip b/8713-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fee90f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-8.zip diff --git a/8713-h.zip b/8713-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a166bf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-h.zip diff --git a/8713-h/8713-h.htm b/8713-h/8713-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea6fb35 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713-h/8713-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4633 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + A Man of Means, by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +Release Date: July 27, 2009 [EBook #8713] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A MAN OF MEANS + </h1> + <h2> + A SERIES OF SIX STORIES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + </h2> + <h3> + From the <i>Pictorial Review</i>, May-October 1916 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED + MONARCH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + </h2> + <p> + First of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + May 1916] + </p> + <p> + When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main chance + receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely large + order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to + predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, he + asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do they + merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald and + unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem depends the + important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge a fraudulent jam + disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would resent. + </p> + <p> + This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian Fineberg, + of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke knocked at his + door; and such was its difficulty that only at the nineteenth knock did + Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come in—that dashed woodpecker out there!” he shouted, for it was + his habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior + members of his staff. + </p> + <p> + The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a + provincial seed-merchant's office—which, strangely enough, he + chanced to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He + was a young man; and when you had said that of him you had said + everything. There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, + except the fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two + and his name was Roland Bleke. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, it's about my salary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British square + at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a squadron of + cuirassiers. + </p> + <p> + “Salary?” he cried. “What about it? What's the matter with it? You get it, + don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's too much.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could + have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard one + of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched himself. + </p> + <p> + “Say that again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If you could see your way to reduce it, sir——” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was + endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that + idea. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want it reduced?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and + forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds——” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said genially, “I quite understand. But I can do you better + than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. From now + on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. You're an + excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit when I find it. + Close the door after you.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed + problem. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may be + briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had lodged + at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter at the + local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic pets, + consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of sixty, Mrs. + Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life was devoted to + cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers Frank and Percy, + gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged in the mysterious + occupation known as “lookin' about for somethin',” and, lastly, Muriel. + </p> + <p> + For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke a mere + automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for neatly-laid + breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. Gradually, + however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use sufficiently to + enable him to look at her when she came into the room, he discovered that + she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the North by a mass of auburn + hair and to the South by small and shapely feet. She also possessed what, + we are informed—we are children in these matters ourselves—is + known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met Roland's one evening, as he + chumped his chop, and before he knew what he was doing he had remarked + that it had been a fine day. + </p> + <p> + From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed. + Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not bring + himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy conversation + about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he felt bound to + say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found it more and more + difficult each evening to hit on something bright, until finally, from + sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + </p> + <p> + If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then. + It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast + machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the + room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science. + Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of Mr. + Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado, of Brothers + Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow simultaneously + half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making bread-pellets and + throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the Coppin cat, which + had wandered in on the chance of fish. + </p> + <p> + Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came + the word “bans,” and smote him like a blast of East wind. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from that + moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a reduction of + salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was extraordinarily + happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to be engaged is an + intoxicating experience, and at first life was one long golden glow to + Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always nourished a desire to + be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his engagement satisfied that + desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers Frank and Percy cough knowingly + when he came in. It was pleasant to walk abroad with a girl like Muriel in + the capacity of the accepted wooer. Above all, it was pleasant to sit + holding Muriel's hand and watching the ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert + Potter to hide his mortification. Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works + round the corner, and hitherto Roland had always felt something of a worm + in his presence. Albert was so infernally strong and silent and efficient. + He could dissect a car and put it together again. He could drive through + the thickest traffic. He could sit silent in company without having his + silence attributed to shyness or imbecility. But—he could not get + engaged to Muriel Coppin. That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, the + dasher, the young man of affairs. It was all very well being able to tell + a spark-plug from a commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in + an affair of the heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper + place, third at the pole. + </p> + <p> + Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would + never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to creep + more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic descended + upon Roland Bleke. + </p> + <p> + All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An invitation + to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. He was one of + those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of planning out any + definite step. He could do things on the spur of the moment, but plans + made him lose his nerve. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in agonized + tones: “Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me out of this + frightful marriage business.” + </p> + <p> + If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the + attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made it + clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to them. It + would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style to which + they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they went with + Muriel as a sort of bonus. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was a + general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known that he + had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. Fineberg on + the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin removed his saucer of + tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a sardine from the corner of + his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an undertone. Albert Potter, who was + present, glowered silently. + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his + rejoicing heart would permit. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I've bad news.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. + Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + </p> + <p> + “He won't give you your raise?” + </p> + <p> + Roland sighed. + </p> + <p> + “He's reduced me.” + </p> + <p> + “Reduced you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a + hundred and ten.” + </p> + <p> + The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed to + be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank and + Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their + fountain pens. + </p> + <p> + Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel + Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed + upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Roland, “we couldn't get married on a hundred and ten?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Percy. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Albert Potter. + </p> + <p> + They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Roland regretfully, “I'm afraid we must wait.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said she + thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had asked, was + quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between sobs, moaned that + it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely devouring bread and + jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. And, to end a painful + scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and went up-stairs to his + own quarters. + </p> + <p> + There was a telegram on the mantel. + </p> + <p> + “Some fellows,” he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, “wouldn't have + been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given + themselves away. They would——” + </p> + <p> + The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + </p> + <p> + For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been + written in Hindustani. + </p> + <p> + It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the + promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder + of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of + this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in due + course. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he could + recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these open-handed + gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him back to a + morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's eldest son + Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money from his + father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of cardboard, at + the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly from a vague desire + to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally because it struck him + as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed over the ten shillings; + and there, as far as he had known, the matter had ended. + </p> + <p> + And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the + shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five + hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + </p> + <p> + For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five + hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + </p> + <p> + His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling + fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the telegram + to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think the whole + matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. After all, + he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a secret. He would receive + the check in due course, as stated, and he would bicycle over to the + neighboring town of Lexingham and start a bank-account with it. Nobody + would know, and life would go on as before. + </p> + <p> + He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep at + eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. Coppin + was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. Coppin was + there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had apparently + kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy stood at his + bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. Coppin thrust a + newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + </p> + <p> + These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and + the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep + from it was this head-line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES +</pre> + <p> + And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + POOR CLERK WINS £40,000 +</pre> + <p> + His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of the + faithful Gelatine. + </p> + <p> + Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day + followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere except + just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when conscience + could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to think of anything + or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to remove him from Bury + St. Edwards on any terms. + </p> + <p> + It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted telepathically + to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their behavior at this + juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the police force. Perhaps + it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an eye on what they already + considered their own private gold-mine that made them so adhesive. + Certainly there was no hour of the day when one or the other was not in + Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their vigilance even extended to the + night hours, and once, when Roland, having tossed sleeplessly on his bed, + got up at two in the morning, with the wild idea of stealing out of the + house and walking to London, a door opened as he reached the top of the + stairs, and a voice asked him what he thought he was doing. The statement + that he was walking in his sleep was accepted, but coldly. + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary strategy + eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, with his + ticket to London in his pocket and the express already entering the + station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, who appeared from + nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a speech that lasted until + the tail-lights of the train had vanished and Brothers Frank and Percy + arrived, panting. + </p> + <p> + A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this last + episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing himself + described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim addition + that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to a fresh + dash for liberty. + </p> + <p> + Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the + exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a certain + amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the things which + made the present a source of misery to him was the fact that he was + expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober young man with + a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained from infancy to a + decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted itself to the + possession of large means; and the open-handed role forced upon him by the + family appalled him. + </p> + <p> + When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to + Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had + reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he might + surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, a man of + his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere gauds and + trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand for a silk + petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and Percy took + theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst blow by + insisting on a hired motor-car. + </p> + <p> + Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert + Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one way + of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave the + paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good deal of + discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better to go round + corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these expeditions, + Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, his torments were + subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the only way in which he + could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony was to increase the speed + to sixty miles an hour. + </p> + <p> + It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of + Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the loop + in his aeroplane. + </p> + <p> + It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and see + M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures which + never grow <i>blasé</i> at the sight of a fellow human taking a sporting + chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild animal + exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew him like a + magnet. + </p> + <p> + “The blighter goes up,” he explained, as he conducted the party into the + arena, “and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. I've + seen pictures of it.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the + ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would take + up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have been no + rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail themselves + of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small man with a + chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture cards and smoking + a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Albert Potter was scornful. + </p> + <p> + “Lot of rabbits,” he said. “Where's their pluck? And I suppose they call + themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a five-pound + note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the laugh of us.” + </p> + <p> + It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful + tenderness from Muriel. “You're so brave, Mr. Potter,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or + whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but + Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to + his rival. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and waved + the note aside. + </p> + <p> + “I take no favors,” he said with dignity. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you do it.” said Albert, nastily. “Five pounds is nothing to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Why should you?” + </p> + <p> + It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It + stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an + unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + </p> + <p> + In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had + apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + </p> + <p> + “All right, then, I will,” he said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough to talk,” said Albert. + </p> + <p> + Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. + Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + </p> + <p> + Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh + hour. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the sort + of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + </p> + <p> + For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was + experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type of person + when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an acquaintance of + theirs. + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” he said. “There's no danger. At least, not + much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. What do + you want to go interfering for?” + </p> + <p> + Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little + longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud was a + foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + </p> + <p> + He took Muriel's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It + struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle—and, + worse, delaying the start of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “What's it all about?” he demanded. “You go on as if we were never going + to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + “You never know.” + </p> + <p> + “It's as safe as being in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “But still, in case we never meet again——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along + the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, till + the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Brother Frank. “Now watch. Now he's going to loop the loop.” + </p> + <p> + But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew + smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + </p> + <p> + “What the dickens?” + </p> + <p> + Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the sky—something + that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an aeroplane traveling rapidly + into the sunset. + </p> + <p> + Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + </h2> + <p> + Second of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + June 1916] + </p> + <p> + Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the + rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey + Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the full. + His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; and his + wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it difficult to + get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + </p> + <p> + “There's a column in to-day's <i>Financial Argus</i>,” she said, “of which + you really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat + Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that you + knew it when you floated the company.” + </p> + <p> + “They will have their little joke.” + </p> + <p> + “But you had the usual mining-expert's report.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at the + time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended rather + on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a matter of + fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in South America + somewhere. Awful climate—snakes, mosquitoes, revolutions, fever.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out + there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in + within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next + number but one. What are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird yawned. + </p> + <p> + “Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The Napoleon + of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty thousand + pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we sail for the + Argentine. I've got the tickets.” + </p> + <p> + “You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. It's + a flea-bite.” + </p> + <p> + “On paper—in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it + is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, hard + lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite from a + hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So—St. + Helena for Napoleon.” + </p> + <p> + Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a + Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more accurate + title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the head of his + class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was delightfully + simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco Trust, founded by + Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those profits which the + glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. Geoffrey would appease + the excited shareholders by giving them Preference Shares (interest + guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction Company, hastily floated to meet + the emergency. When the interest became due, it would, as likely as not, + be paid out of the capital just subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines + Exploitation Association, the little deficiency in the latter being + replaced in its turn, when absolutely necessary and not a moment before, + by the transfer of some portion of the capital just raised for yet another + company. And so on, ad infinitum. There were moments when it seemed to Mr. + Windlebird that he had solved the problem of Perpetual Promotion. + </p> + <p> + The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's is + when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands ready + money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened now, and it + had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + </p> + <p> + He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled that + the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had handled + millions—on paper, it was true, but still millions—and here he + was knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?” persisted Mrs. + Windlebird. “Have you tried every one?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight—the probables, the possibles, + the highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the + minstrel's wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this + time. Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of + twenty thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from + the clouds.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees beyond + the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth turf, not + twenty yards from where he was seated. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress rather + resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in which he has + spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling more wretched than + he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. He had a splitting + headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes smarted. He was hungry. + He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, who had hopped out and was + now busy tinkering the engine, a gay Provencal air upon his lips, as he + had rarely hated any one, even Muriel Coppin's brother Frank. + </p> + <p> + So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. + Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on the + turf before him. + </p> + <p> + “Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?” + </p> + <p> + Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial + stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, keen + student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his photograph + in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk from house to + tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of the more salient + points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird heard that Roland + had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up and took notice. + </p> + <p> + “Lead me to him,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + Roland sneezed. + </p> + <p> + “Doe accident, thag you,” he replied miserably. “Somethig's gone wrong + with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck.” + </p> + <p> + M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose to + his feet, and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, <i>mon + ami</i>,” he said radiantly to Roland, “all now O. K. We go on.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Roland decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “No? What you mean—no?” + </p> + <p> + A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The eminent + bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he felt like a + brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little aeroplane rides + which bordered upon the princely. + </p> + <p> + “But you say—take me to France with you——” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's all wrong.” M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. + “You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. It + is here.” He slapped his breast pocket. “But the other two hundred pounds + which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in France, where + is that, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you two hundred and fifty,” said Roland earnestly, “to leave + me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly machine + again.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous + Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to + Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now you talk. Now you say something,” he cried in his impetuous way. + “Embrace me. You are all right.” + </p> + <p> + Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane + disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + </p> + <p> + “You're not well, you know,” said Mr. Windlebird. + </p> + <p> + “I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night—that French ass + lost his bearings—and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a + hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “Hotel? Nonsense.” Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice which + at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders as if by + magic. “You're coming right into my house and up to bed this instant.” + </p> + <p> + It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at his + toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name of his + good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle out of bed + and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which he had + learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in something + approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest business brains of + the age. + </p> + <p> + To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance + about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The + kindness of the Windlebirds—and there seemed to be nothing that they + were not ready to do for him—distressed him beyond measure. To have + a really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over his + bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost horrible. + Such condescension was too much. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling replaced + by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, simple, kindly + couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained only gratitude. + He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was not long before he + had told them the history of his career, skipping the earlier years and + beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + </p> + <p> + “It makes you feel funny,” he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic + ear, “suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem hardly + able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + </p> + <p> + “The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little + experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you would + allow me to recommend some sound investment——” + </p> + <p> + Roland glowed with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money + into anything. It's like this.” + </p> + <p> + He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel Coppin. + Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his conscience had begun + to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had not acted well toward + Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she didn't care a bit about + him and was in love with Albert, the silent mechanic, but there was just + the chance that she was mourning over his loss; and, anyhow, his + conscience was sore. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to give her something,” he said. “How much do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird perpended. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with—say, + a thousand pounds—not a check, you understand, but one thousand + golden sovereigns that he can show her—roll about on the table in + front of her eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money + in the raw has on people.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather make it two thousand,” said Roland. He had never really loved + Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; but he + wanted to retreat with honor. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know how + old Harrison is going to carry all that money.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it over, + after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the conclusion + that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it would be good + for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel jumped + at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland next morning + that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird redoubled. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Mr. Windlebird genially, “we can talk about that money of + yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something which, + without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless returns + a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you want is something + sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a kick to it, + something which can't go down and may go soaring like a rocket.” + </p> + <p> + Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit another + cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips—But + I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. + Put your money—” he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, “put + every penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just imparted + to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the philosopher's + stone. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird,” said Roland gratefully. “I will.” + </p> + <p> + The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, young man,” laughed Mr. Windlebird. “Getting into Wildcat + Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you + propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty + thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy Wildcat + Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed.” + </p> + <p> + Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to + invest thirty thousand pounds—or pence—in Wildcat Reefs, the + market would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked + with laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke—except to the + unfortunate few who still held any of the shares. + </p> + <p> + “The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But I + think—I say I think—I can manage it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be + doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time.” He filled + his glass. “This—” he paused to sip—“this pal of mine has a + large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the money + into something else, in which he is more personally interested.” Mr. + Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn current + account at the bank. “In which he is more personally interested,” he + repeated dreamily. “But of course you couldn't unload thirty pounds' worth + of Wildcats in the public market.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite see that,” assented Roland. + </p> + <p> + “It might, however, be done by private negotiation,” he said. “I must act + very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand to-night, and + I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I can do.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland did + not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, Mr. + Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him twenty + thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + </p> + <p> + “There, my boy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the + pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the + beautiful garden, the pleasant company—all these things combined to + make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + </p> + <p> + He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly on + the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to show + Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and tired. + </p> + <p> + A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only crumpled + rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. Windlebird would + bring one back with him when he returned from the city, but Roland wanted + one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, and he wanted to know + how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even this crumpled rose-leaf + had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, who happened to be riding + into the nearest town on an errand, had promised to bring one back with + him. He might appear at any moment now. + </p> + <p> + The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. She + was looking terribly troubled. + </p> + <p> + It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been unusually + silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. Windlebird's + room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and agitated. Could + they have had some bad news? + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + </p> + <p> + “You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he + would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Break it to me!” + </p> + <p> + “My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine called + Wildcat Reefs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Thirty thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!” + </p> + <p> + She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, they + may be absolutely worthless.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + </p> + <p> + “Wor-worthless!” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice + that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He is + in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of you, + Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been the + innocent instrument of your trouble.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were + precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth + seemed to melt under him. + </p> + <p> + “We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to + the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must + make good your losses. We must buy back those shares.” + </p> + <p> + A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + </p> + <p> + “But——” he began. + </p> + <p> + “There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a + minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds + for the shares, you said? Well”—she held out a pink slip of paper to + him—“this will make everything all right.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at the check. + </p> + <p> + “But—but this is signed by you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it would + mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with every + movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might ruin the + plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling out stock + doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, to give me + time to realize on the securities in which my money is invested.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had been his + host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. But chivalry + forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of self-sacrifice + warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had never had any + fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it that for all + practical purposes it might never have been his. + </p> + <p> + With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when exhibited + on the stage by the hero of the number two company of “The Price of + Honor,” which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a few months + before, he tore the check into little pieces. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird,” he said. “I can't tell you how + deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I + bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, + and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me here, + it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and generous + of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a little + money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, anyway, so—so + it's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, I implore you.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of + escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no other + way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he perceived + Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + </p> + <p> + “Johnson said he was going into the town,” said Roland apologetically, “so + I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch scores.” + </p> + <p> + If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was + strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her + face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the chair + which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. She lay + back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + </p> + <p> + Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to the + conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and + Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in competition + with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + </p> + <p> + Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as he + did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + </p> + <p> + Out of the explosion emerged the word “WILD-CATS”. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he exclaimed. “There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page + here!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her + eyes were still closed. + </p> + <p> + Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES +</pre> + <p> + Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic exuberance, + what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The “special commissioner” sent out by The <i>Financial Argus</i> to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine—with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public—has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The <i>Financial Argus</i> has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. +</pre> + <p> + The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The very + atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable of + thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand + pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Windlebird,” he cried, “It's all right after all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right for every one,” screamed Roland joyfully. “Why, if I've + made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted. + It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the + biggest thing of his life.” + </p> + <p> + He thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The chap I'm sorry for,” he said meditatively, “is Mr. Windlebird's pal. + You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his shares + to me.” + </p> + <p> + A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear it. + He was reading the cricket news. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + </h2> + <p> + Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + July 1916] + </p> + <p> + It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you + sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke + with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment + Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen in; + and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not + altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before, + and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had become + afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical supper-party + again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must possess dash; and + Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a little short of dash. + </p> + <p> + The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. + While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was + “old Gerry” whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on its + course. After a glance at old Gerry—a chinless child of about + nineteen—Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a + young man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one + of those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited one + which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the + better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter. + </p> + <p> + The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a + more serious view of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Sidney, you make me tired,” she said severely. “If I had thought you + didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with + you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to + come and sit by me. I want to talk to him.” + </p> + <p> + That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + </p> + <p> + “I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke,” + she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. “I've heard such + a lot about you.” + </p> + <p> + What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred + thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't have + come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as a + general rule. They bore me stiff.” + </p> + <p> + Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. + Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but there + were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment—a thoughtful + student of character—a girl who understood that a man might sit at a + supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man of parts. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken—but that's me all over. + All my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one + she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one she + tells them straight out, too.'” + </p> + <p> + “And a very admirable trait,” said Roland, enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint sighed. “P'raps it is,” she said pensively, “but I'm afraid + it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like it: they + think girls should be seen and not heard.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + </p> + <p> + “But what's the good of worrying,” went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave + but hollow laugh. “Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has + got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is + bound to come some day.” + </p> + <p> + The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to indicate + that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less than sixty + years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous nature was up in + arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to help this victim of + managerial unfairness. “You don't mind my going on about my troubles, do + you?” asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. “One so seldom meets anybody + really sympathetic.” + </p> + <p> + Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rather!” said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more + polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I know what a busy man you are——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bleated gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “I'll write down the address for you,” said Miss Verepoint, suddenly + businesslike. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor Theater, + Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence + fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not—the + next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking + lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with “yes's” + and “no's” were always so thoroughly confused that he never knew even + whose suggestion it was. + </p> + <p> + The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, is + not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. Roland + was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was carried + through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that he had + never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the offices of Mr. + Montague with the intention of making an offer for the lease for, say, six + months; and that wizard, in the space of less than an hour, had not only + induced him to sign mysterious documents which made him sole proprietor of + the house, but had left him with the feeling that he had done an extremely + acute stroke of business. Mr. Montague had dabbled in many professions in + his time, from street peddling upward, but what he was really best at was + hypnotism. + </p> + <p> + Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was withdrawn, + rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby to hold by a + strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, Roland was to + some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by Miss Verepoint. + She said it was much better to buy a theater than to rent it, because then + you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, but Roland had a dim feeling + that there was a flaw somewhere in the reasoning; and it was from this + point that a shadow may be said to have fallen upon the brightness of the + venture. + </p> + <p> + He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the + Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the + metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles was + “The Mugs' Graveyard”—a title which had been bestowed upon it not + without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, whose + principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant supply of + the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of the Higher Drama + which flowed practically without cessation from the restless pen of the + insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater had passed from hand to + hand with the agility of a gold watch in a gathering of race-course + thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man who found himself, by some + accident, in possession of the Windsor Theater, was to pass it on to + somebody else. The only really permanent tenant it ever had was the + representative of the Official Receiver. + </p> + <p> + Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the theater, + but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama lay in the + fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was hidden. Cabmen + shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were asked to take a + fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the Australian bush was + child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on its trail and finish up + at the point where they had started. + </p> + <p> + It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted Mr. + Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical advantages + of the theater were enormous. It was further from a fire-station than any + other building of the same insurance value in London, even without having + regard to the mystery which enveloped its whereabouts. Often after a good + dinner he would lean comfortably back in his chair and see in the smoke of + his cigar a vision of the Windsor Theater blazing merrily, while + distracted firemen galloped madly all over London, vainly endeavoring to + get some one to direct them to the scene of the conflagration. So Mr. + Montague bought the theater for a mere song, and prepared to get busy. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with + which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows + insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the + fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. Nothing + would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay their + salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix were so + strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly + disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal—a thing + which had never happened to him before. + </p> + <p> + And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race + was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland for + twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more than he + himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit mitigated the + slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring to Roland the + insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting to rather more + than seventy thousand pounds on a building so notoriously valueless as the + Windsor Theater had been an achievement of which Mr. Montague was justly + proud, and it seemed sad to him that so much earnest endeavor should be + thrown away. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain + her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined her + policy. + </p> + <p> + “What we must put up at that theater,” she announced, “is a revue. A + revue,” repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little calculations + on the back of the menu, “we could run for about fifteen hundred a week—or, + say, two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same as + paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + </p> + <p> + “I know two boys who could write us a topping revue,” said Miss Verepoint. + “They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in love with me—both + of them. We'd better get in touch with them at once.” + </p> + <p> + To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister about + the sound of that word “touch,” but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there they are—lunching over there!” cried Miss Verepoint, + pointing to a neighboring table. “Now, isn't that lucky?” + </p> + <p> + To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to Miss + Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their table. + </p> + <p> + The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss + Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown + lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland + thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, but a + closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine distinctions + were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. Bromham Rhodes ran + his friend so close that it was practically a dead heat. They were both + fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the fact that what + revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant assimilation of + food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite in London; but, on + the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear old thing!” said Bromham Rhodes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old child!” said R. P. de Parys. + </p> + <p> + Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair + appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint struck the business note. “Now you stop, boys,” she said. + “Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I want you two + lads to write a revue for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted!” said Bromham Rhodes; “but——” + </p> + <p> + “There is the trifling point to be raised first——” said R. P. + de Parys. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the money coming from?” said Bromham Rhodes. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money,” said Miss Verepoint, with + dignity. “He has taken the Windsor Theater.” + </p> + <p> + The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, + increased with a jerk. “Has he? By Jove!” they cried. “We must get + together and talk this over.” + </p> + <p> + It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he + never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de + Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical + London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think of + doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. The + amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during the + course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at lunch + would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, as likely + as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order to thrash + the question thoroughly out. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the + actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable + difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It + seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England or + America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere with Miss + Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the principal role. It + was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss Verepoint was an expert in + theatrical matters, he scarcely felt entitled to question her views. + </p> + <p> + It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The passage + of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a certain extent + moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from a passionate + devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for her, into a sort + of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason for proposing was + that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of events. Her air + towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She now called him + “Roly-poly” in public—a proceeding which left him with mixed + feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as everybody + knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of the theatrical + profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had begun to feel a + little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss Verepoint. + Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the revue in which she + was to appear; they were constantly seen together at restaurants; people + looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He had to ask himself: was + he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The answer was in the negative. He + took a cab to her flat and proposed before he could repent of his + decision. + </p> + <p> + She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad or + sorry. “But I don't want to get married,” she went on, “until I have + justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have + made a success in this revue.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + </p> + <p> + The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes to + whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these—a scrubby but + confident lot—were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from + nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired scenic + artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great cloud of + chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even Bromham Rhodes and + R. P. de Parys—those human pythons—showed signs of activity. + They cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered him into the + Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him extracts from a + brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed him, was the first + act. + </p> + <p> + It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right to + be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and R. P. + de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every responsible + manager in London. As “Oh! What a Life!” it had failed to satisfy the + directors of the Empire. Re-christened “Wow-Wow!” it had been rejected by + the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider it, even under the + name of “Hullo, Cellar-Flap!” It was now called, “Pass Along, Please!” + and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + </p> + <p> + Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he + was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking + effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking effects. + As far as he could gather, the main difference between these things was + that real revue was something which had been stolen from some previous + English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect was something + which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of these, he was + given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the public wanted. + </p> + <p> + Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was properly + supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but even the + authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. They explained + that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, that they had + actually started it about ten years ago when they were careless lads. + Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart topical hits of the + early years of the century; but that, they said, would be all right. They + could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; it was simply a matter of + deleting allusions to pro-Boers and substituting lines about Marconi + shares and mangel-wurzels. “It'll be all right,” they assured Roland; + “this is real revue.” + </p> + <p> + In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, “Here is + the beginning of the end.” This point came with Roland at the commencement + of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized the terrible nature + of the production for which he had made himself responsible. Moreover, it + was rehearsals which gave him his first clear insight into the character + of Miss Verepoint. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, as + he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case to be + made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the + background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight + about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of “Pass + Along, Please!” but such as there were she reached out for and grabbed + away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and muttering, + like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland included. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, + panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage with + this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic his + instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual + dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides—everything + that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the + revue was a success, she would marry him—and revues, he knew, were + always successes. At that very moment there were six “best revues in + London,” running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that in + a few weeks there would be seven. + </p> + <p> + He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by himself for + a day or two in a place where there were no papers with advertisements of + revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy Verepoint. That + night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in happier days, he had + once spent a Summer holiday—a peaceful, primitive place where the + inhabitants could not have told real revue from a corking effect. + </p> + <p> + Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his quivering + nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London happier, but a + little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of farewell, he had not + communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, and experience had made + him aware that she was a lady who demanded an adequate amount of + attention. + </p> + <p> + That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in + upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, when + somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he uttered + a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + </p> + <p> + Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial gaze of + Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor Theater. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, + congratulatory. + </p> + <p> + “You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the first + month—by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of + commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought it, + to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and staring me + in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't grudge it to you—you + deserve it my boy! You're a nut!” + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, my boy!” chuckled Mr. Montague. “You're quite right to keep + it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the least + said soonest mended.” + </p> + <p> + He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + </p> + <p> + Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note of + Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered with + what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was beating + fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a wholesome respect + for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his favorite chair. There + were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys, who had made + themselves completely at home with a couple of his cigars and whisky from + the oldest bin. + </p> + <p> + “So here you are at last!” said Miss Verepoint, querulously. “The valet + told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on earth + have you been to, running away like this, without a word?” + </p> + <p> + “I only went——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you + going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought we'd better come along and talk it over,” said R. P. de Parys. + </p> + <p> + “Talk what over?” said Roland: “the revue?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!” snapped Miss Verepoint. + “It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. What do you + suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What about the theater?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. “Don't you ever read the + papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't seen a paper since I went away.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently,” said + Miss Verepoint. “The theater's been burned down—that's what's + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Burned down?” + </p> + <p> + “Burned down!” repeated Roland. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left copies + of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire to two + other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main thoroughfares and + the fire-brigade got them under control at once. I suppose they couldn't + find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the ground and what we want to + know is what are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply at + once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction on his + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Roly!” he said. “It's quite broken him up. The best thing we can + do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Miss Verepoint, “what are you going to do—rebuild the + Windsor or try and get another theater?” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take time, + but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this time of + the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater at a + moment's notice. + </p> + <p> + To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor + Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct + intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome + second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, could + now be postponed indefinitely. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, “our contract with you + makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date—but + I dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” said Rhodes. “Something nominal, say a further five hundred on + account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better to + rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. “You see, Roly, our revue has + been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it + for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the + Windsor would be your best course.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, Roly-poly?” asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no + sign. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take + another theater, or do anything else to oblige,” he said, cheerfully. + “Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful silence + fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de Parys woke + with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and Bromham Rhodes + forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. Miss Verepoint + was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” she gasped, “that you didn't insure the place?” + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had put + the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you?” Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + </p> + <p> + “Because it did not appear to me to be necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had done + all the insuring that was necessary—and a bit over. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. “What about + the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this time?” she + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely my + fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I can + manage that, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint rose. “And what about me? What about me, that's what I want + to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you without + your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly well + mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and resignation. + He even contrived to sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this behavior + as his final pronouncement on the situation. “Then everything's jolly well + off.” + </p> + <p> + She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like + porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and took + out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among the + fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at such + pains to secure from so many companies. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he said softly to himself, “am I.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + </h2> + <p> + Fourth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + August 1916] + </p> + <p> + It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the other + end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far as his + preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been attributing + the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered from one + himself. + </p> + <p> + He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this particular + bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation on the + question of what on earth he was to do with two hundred and fifty thousand + pounds, to which figure his fortune had now risen. + </p> + <p> + The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always + been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds a year, + he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this direction; but + now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was crying out for + assistance. + </p> + <p> + Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his eyes had + been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of + 'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend “Men Who Speak to + Girls,” and he had gathered that the accompanying article was a + denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other hand, + she was obviously in distress. + </p> + <p> + Another sniff decided him. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had that + air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good + thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was + delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's + heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he went on, “but you appear to be in trouble. Is there + anything I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again—a keen look which seemed to get into + Roland's soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied + by the inspection, she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think there is,” she said. “Unless you happen to be the + proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all any one could do for me—give me back my work or + give me something else of the same sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you lost your job?” + </p> + <p> + “I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, and + I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, but I was + here first, and there are heaps of other benches.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able—what + I mean is—think of something. Tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand + pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel + almost masterful. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in that,” said the girl reflectively. “After all, you + might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been + discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's Page.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak——'?” + </p> + <p> + The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment vanished + instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a becoming pink, you + know! + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever + really read 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <p> + “Read it!” cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. “I should jolly well + think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after an article + like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a failure?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because they + couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's Mr. Petheram?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's really + everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next week. When I + started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got whittled + down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and myself. It was like + the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by one, till I was the + only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is doing the whole paper + now.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it that he can't get anything better to do?” Roland said. + </p> + <p> + “He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, but + they thought he was too old.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder + with a fatherly manner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's old, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung + Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent + Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the only + man worth looking rapt about. + </p> + <p> + He rose. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind giving me your address?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “In order,” said Roland carefully, “that I may offer you your former + employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it.” + </p> + <p> + After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have his + moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled her over + completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, open-mouthed. + Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, “I wonder how much + this is going to cost.” + </p> + <p> + “You're going to buy 'Squibs!'” + </p> + <p> + Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + She gulped. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think you're wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + So did Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Where will a letter find you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford + Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in due + course.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when + there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + </p> + <p> + “I—I just wanted to thank you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Roland. “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was + Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put Petheram + in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. Laughable. + </p> + <p> + A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, + informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the + offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted + state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + </p> + <p> + Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just + escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. + There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of + 'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, in + which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed him to + wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere box. Roland + was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + </p> + <p> + The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost + painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before him + was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of taking + his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a red face and + a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was surprized to see + Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at the closing door, and + kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down several inches of + discolored plaster. + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat,” he said, when he had finished this performance. “What can I + do for you?” + </p> + <p> + Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were less + easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was that Mr. + Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him for a + prospective advertiser. + </p> + <p> + “I want to buy the paper,” said Roland. He was aware that this was an + abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to buy + the paper, so why not say so? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has + sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you + try?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to be + carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him + blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Roland. He felt the interview was going all + wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have + had. + </p> + <p> + “Honestly?” said Mr. Petheram. “You aren't pulling my leg?” + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, and + finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly honest. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be an ass,” he said. “You don't know what you're letting + yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you + know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to + for life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors—not + the present ones—thought it would give the thing a boom if they had + a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. + Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from + proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried to + get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he would + only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the time + we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. That's + why we are at the present moment a little understaffed.” + </p> + <p> + A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking of + Bessie March. + </p> + <p> + “I know all about that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And you still want to buy the thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own paper + like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you landed. + Why are you doing it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just for fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go + ahead.” + </p> + <p> + He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on + the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” he said, “there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. If + it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. We + haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming the + paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, what I + don't know about editing—but perhaps you had got somebody else in + your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an + office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap of + papers to give more room for his feet. “Take it that I continue as editor. + We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been doing all + the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't want to spoil + the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would sooner have a + happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a broken-down wreck + who might swoon from starvation?” + </p> + <p> + “But one moment,” said Roland. “Are you sure that the present proprietors + will want to sell?” + </p> + <p> + “Want to sell,” cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. “Why, if they know + you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them without + the paper as—as—well, I can't think of anything that has such + a poor chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry + on your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now.” + </p> + <p> + He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a + note-book. + </p> + <p> + “There's just one other thing,” said Roland. “I have been a regular reader + of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in which the + Woman's Page——” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do + better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before you + change your mind or wake up.” + </p> + <p> + Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland + began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering + cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. + Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that he + was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into the + business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at every + pore. + </p> + <p> + Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was + under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a weekly + journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase of + a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. Nobody + could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was willing, even anxious, + to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the Woman's Page, + now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he wanted Roland to + concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital for ingenious + advertising schemes. + </p> + <p> + “How would it be,” he asked one morning—he always began his remarks + with, “How would it be?”—“if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly + in white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across + his chest?” + </p> + <p> + Roland thought it would certainly not be. + </p> + <p> + “Good sound advertising stunt,” urged Mr. Petheram. “You don't like it? + All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of men + dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' See what + I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy + it! Buy it!' It would make people talk.” + </p> + <p> + Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest + apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus + sprinting down the Strand shouting “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!” with + reference to his personal property appalled him. + </p> + <p> + He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as he + generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of romance + which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had faded + entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue to + captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the exclusive + property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish any delusion + that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a mild liking for + him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an indisputable claim. + Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate devotee toward a high + priest. One morning, entering the office unexpectedly, Roland found her + kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; and from that moment his interest + in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to zero. It amazed him that he could ever + have been idiot enough to have allowed himself to be entangled in this + insane venture for the sake of an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with + a snub-nose and a poor complexion. + </p> + <p> + What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good + cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to the, + on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter the fact + that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked buoyantly about + turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. + </p> + <p> + The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any crisis, + came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and went to + Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, he + contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + </p> + <p> + He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London in + time for dinner. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his bright + weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room near + Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody + seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven 'Squibs' + completely from his mind for the time being. + </p> + <p> + The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the + coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The lady, sare,” said the waiter vaguely. + </p> + <p> + Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped him. + There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant was a + favorite with artistes who were permitted to “look in” at their theaters + as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly self-conscious, + yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited tribute. He tore open + the envelope. + </p> + <p> + The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. + Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + </p> + <p> + “'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it,” it ran. All the mellowing effects of + a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. He + paid his bill and left the place. + </p> + <p> + A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable + sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow him + to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between two of + the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a doctor in the house?” + </p> + <p> + There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the box. A + man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “My wife has fainted,” continued the speaker. “She has just discovered + that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <p> + The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an + English audience in the presence of the unusual. + </p> + <p> + Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their + leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + </p> + <p> + As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had + sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was + headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a + good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in her + time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had + ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a suit of + white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. His top-hat, + at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a pantomime, + flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, which, tho the + weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore the device “One + penny weekly”. + </p> + <p> + The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into a + taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His head + was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through the window of + the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong exhortations of the + vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. This he did with a + sovereign, and the cab drove off. + </p> + <p> + He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it occurred + to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the first page. The + middle column was devoted to a really capitally written account of the + proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest of six men who, it + was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the disturbance of the peace + by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu warriors, shouting in unison + the words “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the hound + Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could scarcely + have surpassed. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His + Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct this + belief fell on deaf ears. + </p> + <p> + “Have I seen the advertisements?” he cried, echoing his editor's first + question. “I've seen nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Mr. Petheram proudly. + </p> + <p> + “It can't go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we send + them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the Revue boom + started and actors were expected to do six different parts in seven + minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about the Strand, + ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a special staff + flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat and drink to them + to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel ten years + younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those Zulus used to + have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society Contortionists. The + Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried like children when we + took them on. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? The + fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're coining + money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we should turn + the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on two wheels. + Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? Then you + haven't seen our new Scandal Page—'We Just Want to Know, You Know.' + It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. Everybody + reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I wanted to ask + you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort of thing now.” + </p> + <p> + Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking + Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful + production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + </p> + <p> + “This is awful,” he moaned. “We shall have a hundred libel actions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't + know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. A + more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute + modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of + course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it + goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I + have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute limpid + truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb.” + </p> + <p> + Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, + started as if he had removed it from a snake. + </p> + <p> + “But this is bound to mean a libel action!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” said Mr. Petheram comfortably. “You don't know Percy. I + won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he doesn't rush + into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his + scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of + defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a scene + of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins of + Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was reading an + illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “He's gorn,” he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” Roland snapped at him. “Who's gone and where did he + go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise and + stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there was + a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I went in, + and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the furniture + all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad been putting + 'im froo it proper,” concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + </p> + <p> + Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his + illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + </p> + <p> + It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of + astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of + Jimmy's story. + </p> + <p> + She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken + editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes and + a set jaw. + </p> + <p> + “Aubrey,” she said—it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name + was Aubrey—“is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and + sitting up and taking nourishment.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good.” + </p> + <p> + “In a spoon only.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it was + that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can prove + nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again this + week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand + them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he + appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and he + addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc than + anything else on earth, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss March,” he said, “I realize that this is a crisis, and that we must + all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything in + reason—but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects + of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if we repeat the + process I do not care to think.” + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roland simply. + </p> + <p> + Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a + worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely + better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon of + a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it is + better that people should say of you, “There he goes!” than that they + should say, “How peaceful he looks”. + </p> + <p> + Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to + Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into the + breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of the + departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. Thanks + to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in hand to + enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, however, + did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he could to help, + he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal Page. It must be + added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence as to chivalry. + Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the Scandal Page. In her + present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy would, he felt, be + with her the work of a moment. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at + the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring its + whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + </p> + <p> + His brow grew damp. What sort of people—except book-makers—did + things you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, + nobody. + </p> + <p> + He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. A + kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. How + long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The paragraph + was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of some large + deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not understand a + word of it, but it gave him an idea. + </p> + <p> + [*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. + Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be no + possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about the + manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had used + during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Within five minutes he had compiled the following + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? +</pre> + <p> + After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour he + had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might have been + proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt that he + could go to Mr. Pook, and say, “Percy, on your honor as a British + book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?” And Mr. + Pook would be compelled to reply, “You have not.” + </p> + <p> + Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's + blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly hostile + to Mr. Pook. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It + had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's + point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, + signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to + the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him + with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client + disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, + Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, + they could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + </p> + <p> + Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual + pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived a + loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales + could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as soon as a + swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing + out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but Roland's methods of + doing business were always rapid. + </p> + <p> + “This chap,” he said, “this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll he + give?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” began one of the Harrisons ponderously, “would, of course, largely + depend——” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the present + staff, an even five thousand. How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand is a large——” + </p> + <p> + “Take it or leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our + client might consent to the sum you mention.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who is + your client?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harrison coughed. + </p> + <p> + “His name,” he said, “will be familiar to you. He is the eminent + financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + </h2> + <p> + Fifth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + September 1916] + </p> + <p> + The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the + Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the tango + out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, for the + national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and fifteen recognized + steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, “Hullo, Caoutchouc,” had been + produced with success. And the pioneer of the dance, the peerless + Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it nightly at the + music-hall where she had first broken loose. + </p> + <p> + The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. Of + all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Maraquita had + made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes called a + fine woman. + </p> + <p> + She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International + forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + </p> + <p> + There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the + three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative + decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a + salmon-colored whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + That was the bit that hit Roland. + </p> + <p> + Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and + applauding wildly. + </p> + <p> + One night an attendant came to his box. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita + wishes to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not + appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was + generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got it—quick. + </p> + <p> + They were alone. + </p> + <p> + With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to the + conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any less + beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of the + dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had + undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, diffident + nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was the + rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Maraquita droop. + </p> + <p> + For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on his + without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this + leading question: + </p> + <p> + “You love me, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded feebly. + </p> + <p> + “When men make love to me, I send them away—so.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost + cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The + woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + </p> + <p> + “But not you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you in + the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I say to + myself, 'What a man!'” + </p> + <p> + “Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird,” + mumbled Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks awfully,” bleated Roland. + </p> + <p> + “You would do anything for my sake, <i>hein</i>? I knew you were that kind + of man directly I see you. No,” she added, as Roland writhed uneasily in + his chair, “do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the Great + Day.” + </p> + <p> + What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He + could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, “you + come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They will + be glad and proud to meet you.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to + the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The + former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and + hairy. + </p> + <p> + The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous figure. + He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected him of + carrying lethal weapons. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoya + sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert could evidently + squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the company was + good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + </p> + <p> + Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's benefit, + Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those present were + marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, stood the very + flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their native land by the + Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth the Infamy + of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked effect on the company. Some + scowled, others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito did both. Before + supper, to which they presently sat down, was over, however, Roland knew a + good deal about Paranoya and its history. The conversation conducted by + Maraquita—to a ceaseless <i>bouche pleine</i> accompaniment from her + friends—bore exclusively upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries under + the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of Alejandro the + Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the Infamy of + 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the + abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. + </p> + <p> + Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the caoutchouc, + was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alejandro the + Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end had been + untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. Paranoya, + Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The army was + disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order of things. + </p> + <p> + A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely + to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + </p> + <p> + At the mention of the word “funds,” Roland, who had become thoroughly + bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. He + had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for a + subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. Especially + by Bombito. + </p> + <p> + He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + </p> + <p> + She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he gathered + that it somehow had reference to himself. + </p> + <p> + As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and extended + their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that Maraquita + had been proposing his health. + </p> + <p> + “They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'” kindly translated the Peerless + One. “You must excuse,” said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy of patriots + surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. “They are so grateful to + the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it not that I + have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal standard + floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that will be soon, very + soon,” she went on. “With you on our side we can not fail.” + </p> + <p> + What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor under + the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on behalf of a + deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + </p> + <p> + “I have told them,” she said, “that you love me, that you are willing to + risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the rich Senor + Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, comrades. To + the Savior of Paranoya!” + </p> + <p> + Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic + enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary + speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, + well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, he + put the question to Maraquita. + </p> + <p> + She said, “Poof! The cost? La, la!” Which was all very well, but hardly + satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get + out of her. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind of + dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details + connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. She + now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which she + presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing the + restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking everything + for her sake. + </p> + <p> + In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the + thing should be done—well, or not at all. There would be so much for + rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the + expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much to + be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a little + when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya amounted to + twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt it thoroughly at + a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious course, to Roland's + way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of the question and avoid + unnecessary bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, that + she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution would be + disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. Unless, she + pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, looting, and so on, + the revolution would not achieve a popular success. True, the beloved + Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a throne that was + insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty turn. By + all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but not at the risk of making + the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was an emotional country, and + liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the + revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a + little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to the + financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That his + person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not foreseen. + </p> + <p> + The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the + arrival of the deputation. + </p> + <p> + It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner cigar. + </p> + <p> + It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, stout, + and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue hairiness which + he had come by this time to associate with the native of Paranoya. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he had + not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited + resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He poised + himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they should try + to kiss him on the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke?” said the long man. + </p> + <p> + His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the table, + and looked at it wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Long live the monarchy,” said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the + course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally + went well. + </p> + <p> + On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the + contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped themselves + to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + </p> + <p> + “Death to the monarchy,” corrected the long man coldly. “And,” he added + with a wealth of meaning in his voice, “to all who meddle in the affairs + of our beloved country and seek to do it harm.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be well + advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the malcontents + who would do my beloved land an injury.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit of + taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity be a + devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him to realize + that there were those who objected to his restoration to the throne. Till + now he had looked on the enemy as something in the abstract. It had not + struck him that the people for whose correction he was buying all these + rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a lively distaste for having + their blood shed. + </p> + <p> + “Senor Bleke,” resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions + whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, “you are a man + of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, this + scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there is still + time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your blood be + upon your own head.” + </p> + <p> + “My blood!” gasped Roland. + </p> + <p> + The speaker bowed. + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” he said. “We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor + Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of yours, + you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the road, and + you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is it, but much + the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account the policeman on + the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We wish you a good + night.” + </p> + <p> + The deputation withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said “Poof!” + It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in a difficult + situation if she could get out of the habit of saying “Poof!” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No?” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money to + the Cause, and then where are they, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. He + said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + </p> + <p> + “You are not weakening, Roland?” she said. “You would not betray us now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still——. + What I mean is——” + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + </p> + <p> + “Take care,” she cried. “With me it is nothing, for I know that your heart + is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect that your + resolve was failing—ah! If Bombito——” + </p> + <p> + Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “For goodness' sake,” he said hastily, “don't go saying anything to + Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you + can rely on me, and all that. That's all right.” + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass—they were lunching + at the time—and put it to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “To the Savior of Paranoya!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Beware!” whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + </p> + <p> + He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, dark, + hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted air + which waiters cultivate. + </p> + <p> + Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + </p> + <p> + That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight of + the word “Beware” scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had + apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” said the competent valet. (“Competent valets are in attendance at + each of these flats.”—<i>Advt.</i>) + </p> + <p> + “Has any one been here since I left?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, sir. I + showed him into your room.” + </p> + <p> + The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland + dragged himself out of bed. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that Senor Bleke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beware!” + </p> + <p> + Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of nerve, + but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister persecution. + Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent of withdrawing + his support from the royalist movement, what then? Bombito. If ever there + was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. And all because a perfectly + respectful admiration for the caoutchouc had led him to occupy a stage-box + several nights in succession at the theater where the peerless Maraquita + tied herself into knots. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their next + meeting. + </p> + <p> + “We have been in communication with Him,” she whispered. “He will receive + you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Who will?” + </p> + <p> + “Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are to + go to him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At his own house. He will receive you in person.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing of + late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of meeting + face to face a genuine—if exiled—monarch. The thought did flit + through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's office if + they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + </p> + <p> + The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. Roland + rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the prosaic in the + action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were + ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a + luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts running + in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got an + uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to see + the dentist. + </p> + <p> + Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + </p> + <p> + “His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke.” + </p> + <p> + Roland followed him with tottering knees. + </p> + <p> + His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a + genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle and a + little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous + stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Bleke,” said His Majesty, as the door closed. “I have been + wanting to see you for some time.” + </p> + <p> + Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a + long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + </p> + <p> + King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, who + shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked + thoughtfully for a while. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Mr. Bleke,” he said at last, “this must stop. It really must. I + mean your devoted efforts on my behalf.” + </p> + <p> + Roland gaped at him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. Your + youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair from a + spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to gain + commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before we part, + that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this movement to + restore me to the throne. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand—er—your majesty.” + </p> + <p> + “I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. + You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a + reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise very + pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know Paranoya? + Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort of life a + King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure you that a + coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, the climate of the + country is abominable. I always had a cold in the head. Secondly, there is + a small but energetic section of the populace whose sole recreation it + seems to be to use their monarch as a target for bombs. They are not very + good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, ten explodes, and even an + occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the target. + </p> + <p> + “Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave + it. I was educated in England—I am a Magdalene College man—and + I have the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My present + life suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. For both + our sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon this scheme + of yours.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence + long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial monarch + had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his situation came + home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound to displease + somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly impulsive when they + were vexed. + </p> + <p> + For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the + instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the + body, he called at her house. + </p> + <p> + She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There were + the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + </p> + <p> + He looked unhappily round the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + </p> + <p> + “To the revolution,” he said mechanically. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence—it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he + had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift from + the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with some + apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + </p> + <p> + But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward and + slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came to light + that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + </p> + <p> + “My old chap,” he said. “I would have a speech with you.” + </p> + <p> + He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say + 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently.” + </p> + <p> + He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken + gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly there + came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was nervous. + </p> + <p> + “After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you + ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, perhaps. + The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in Paranoya. Upset. + Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have been—what do you + say?—put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more ministry. New + ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is the cry. So + deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent merchants and + that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be President. See? + No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor Bleke. What about + it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So no need for your kind + assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No more royalist + revolution.” + </p> + <p> + The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an + interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not fond + of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would kill the + poor girl. + </p> + <p> + “But Maraquita——?” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, + stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, + whither thou goes will I follow. No?” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been married to her all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, good, dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind for + meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found Bombito's + hand. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, “I knew you + were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. Have + a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and tell me all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + </h2> + <p> + Final Story of the Series [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + October 1916] + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why + can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House of + Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the Gilded + Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, irritation. + If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood disliked, it + was any interference with arrangements already made. + </p> + <p> + “The man,” he continued, “is not unsightly. The man is not conspicuously + vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man pronounces his + aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, moreover, is worth + rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I repeat, you are + childish!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father,” said Lady Eva. “It's + not that at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you think I could be happy with him?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a very + happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches of her + family. + </p> + <p> + “We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of happiness. + Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Gerry, whose only + visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is the four hundred a + year which he draws as a member for a constituency which has every + intention of throwing him out at the next election.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of her + family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern + Cornwall. + </p> + <p> + “Young O'Rion is not to be thought of,” said Lord Evenwood firmly. “Not + for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all wrong. + Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred responsibility + not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your word one day to enter + upon the most solemn contract known to—ah—the civilized world, + and break it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is not fair to me. + You know that all I live for is to see you comfortably settled. If I could + myself do anything for you, the matter would be different. But these + abominable land-taxes and Blowick—especially Blowick—no, no, + it's out of the question. You will be very sorry if you do anything + foolish. I can assure you that Roland Blekes are not to be found—ah—on + every bush. Men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially,” said Lady Kimbuck, “into a family like ours. What with + Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather and the + circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in '85——” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sophia,” interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. “It is + unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate + reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her + word to Mr. Bleke.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of the + utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one firm + of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, and the + family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while Cupidity fought + its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood family had at various + times and in various ways stimulated the circulation of the evening + papers. Most of them were living down something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's + habit, when thwarted in her lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and + announce that she was not to be disturbed as she was at last making a + start on her book. Abject surrender followed on the instant. + </p> + <p> + At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and rose. + </p> + <p> + “It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or you + will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining years + with literary work, but——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “There, run along now,” she said. “I daresay you've got a headache or + something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. Go + down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say + goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient.” + </p> + <p> + Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that Lady + Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to bed + with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview which he + so dreaded. + </p> + <p> + Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion that + women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary insanity. + They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel for a brief + while that he was a dashing young man capable of the highest flights of + love. It was only later that the reaction came and he realized that he was + nothing of the sort. + </p> + <p> + At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of + whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so + much as Lady Eva Blyton. + </p> + <p> + Other women—notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the + destinies of Paranoya—had frightened him by their individuality. + Lady Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of + aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever of + what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of an + earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the + society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were + beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly + called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + </p> + <p> + All along, from the very moment when—to his unbounded astonishment—she + had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he never + realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. He was + filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had taken him + to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the notice of Lady + Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap at her + invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; but for + that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady Kimbuck had + convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got him somehow, + whether he had accepted or refused. + </p> + <p> + What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been no + need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in his + breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the sense to + realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he might have a + quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. Their lives + could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with a fondness for + the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, picture-palaces, and + Association football. Merely to think of Association football in + connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct clear. He + ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some inaccessible + goddess. + </p> + <p> + A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + </p> + <p> + “I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.—er—Roland,” she + said, holding out her hand. “Do excuse me. I've got such a headache.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry.” + </p> + <p> + If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that + moment, it was himself. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?” asked Lady Eva languidly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot.” + </p> + <p> + The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. He + was the biggest ass in Christendom. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no.” There it was again, that awful phrase. He + was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking him a + perfect lunatic. “I don't play golf.” + </p> + <p> + They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that + her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her + that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of + sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him to + babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his quite + respectable biceps? No. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said, kindly. “I daresay we shall think of something to + amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible + instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from + the emotion through which he had been passing. + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at + least. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had left + him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't do it!” + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I won't do it.” + </p> + <p> + A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are quite right, sir—if I may make the remark.” + </p> + <p> + Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first place, + he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the second, he + had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment before, he + had been. + </p> + <p> + But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the cat-like + faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly—a fact which had + won for him, in the course of a long career in the service of the best + families, the flattering position of star witness in a number of England's + raciest divorce-cases. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal, the butler—for it was no less a celebrity who had broken + in on Roland's reverie—was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly + cast of countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many + butlers possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn to + him during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had been + uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, stricken by + interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human thing in the + place. + </p> + <p> + He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. He + could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, he had + the right to freeze Teal with a look. + </p> + <p> + He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very + forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner + were soothing. + </p> + <p> + “Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room,” went on the + butler, “I thought for a moment that you were addressing me.” + </p> + <p> + This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him that + Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the point. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—you think I am quite right?” he said. “You don't + know what I was thinking about.” + </p> + <p> + Teal smiled indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just come + to the decision—in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one—that + your engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are quite + right, sir. It won't do.” + </p> + <p> + Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly well + aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady + Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's magnetism that + he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own + business. “Teal, you forget yourself!” would have covered the situation. + Roland, however, was physically incapable of saying “Teal, you forget + yourself!” The bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand talking + to the snake, but he is incapable of ending the conversation. Roland was + conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who could tell + butlers that they forgot themselves. But then that sort of man would never + be in this sort of trouble. The “Teal, you forget yourself” type of man + would be a first-class shot, a plus golfer, and would certainly consider + himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady Eva. + </p> + <p> + “The question is,” went on Mr. Teal, “how are we to break it off?” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in allowing + the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as well go the + whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And it was an + undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some one. + </p> + <p> + He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks with + the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + </p> + <p> + “It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. And + it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her + ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train for + London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some fact, some + disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her ladyship's + ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + He eyed Roland meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had made + a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who have + made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally done + their bit of time. But, of course, if you——. Let me think. Do + you drink, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing + the old man a good deal. + </p> + <p> + “You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?” asked Mr. Teal, not very + hopefully. “I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted wife? Some + poor creature you have treated shamefully?” + </p> + <p> + At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was + compelled to answer in the negative. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid not,” said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. “Thinking it all over + yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' You don't + look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his time.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking it over?” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your account, sir,” explained Mr. Teal. “On the family's. I + disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family as + long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to entertain + a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense to yourself, + sir, this would not have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it looks as if it would have to do,” said Roland, gloomily. “I + can't see any way out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + </p> + <p> + “You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?” + </p> + <p> + Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He + feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was + smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + </p> + <p> + “I've never been at Aldershot in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let me + explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much good. She's not + very particular. I am sure she would do it for a consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's had + some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you would guess + it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir,” he went on with + enthusiasm, “done all frizzy. Just the sort of young person that a young + gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' with. You couldn't find a + better if you tried for a twelvemonth.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I say——!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, I suppose not, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow + and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day after + to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature of + these cases.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what to + say. I've never seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. I + will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you write + those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on it? Then + it will all be perfectly simple.” + </p> + <p> + When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly + passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had succeeded + in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the conclusion that there + must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good deal less respectable than + he appeared to be at present. Byronic was the only adjective applicable to + his collaborator's style of amatory composition. In every letter there + were passages against which Roland had felt compelled to make a modest + protest. + </p> + <p> + “'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you think + that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for the + pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken + hair against my cheek!' What I mean is—well, what about it, you + know?” + </p> + <p> + “The phrases,” said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, “to + which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I + happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord + Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His + lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters.” + </p> + <p> + Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. + Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a + period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + </p> + <p> + “That,” Mr. Teal explained, “will make your conduct definitely + unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,”—Mr. Teal + was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration—“you have the + effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo the + atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + </p> + <p> + “You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and + strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would you + be?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one of the + shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud of + having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up—all were + perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. Lady + Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, and Roland + thinking. A peaceful scene. + </p> + <p> + A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just + proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and Teal + announced, “Miss Chilvers.” + </p> + <p> + Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he + felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he had + been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat and did + nothing. + </p> + <p> + It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the + actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture of + her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one fact + of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings of the long + drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably “not much good” than Roland had + ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama could not fail of + success. He should have been pleased; he was merely appalled. The thing + might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it was going to be + terrible. + </p> + <p> + She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice her. + Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been some + ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer amazement. + Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at the + apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring + relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she was + possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these + situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled the + night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in his own + drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy days. + </p> + <p> + Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive + Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “To what are we——?” he began. + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there + while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into + speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot of + perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right and + wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have my + feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the weekend. + I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, and not + before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily Sketch the + other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to me with her + thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva Blyton who was + engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I read that, I said + 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being able to travel at + once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came along to-day, just + to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask him if he's forgotten + that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I know it's the sort of + thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I thought it might be + worth mentioning. So now!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that + Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this + sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have + been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was + thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did not + intend lightly to relinquish it. + </p> + <p> + “My good girl,” said Lady Kimbuck, “talk less and prove more. When did Mr. + Bleke promise to marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got + all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never lost + an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them as + literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in + useful. + </p> + <p> + “Roland,” said Lady Eva, quietly, “haven't you anything to contribute to + this conversation?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with + her, and she was up in the correct business. + </p> + <p> + “Is he here? In this room?” + </p> + <p> + Roland slunk from the shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke,” said Lord Evenwood, sternly, “who is this woman?” + </p> + <p> + Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + </p> + <p> + “Are these letters in your handwriting?” asked Lady Kimbuck, almost + cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, + and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a + colorless stick should have been capable of them. + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's lucky you're rich,” said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. “What + are you asking for these?” she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Lord Evenwood, relieved. “Precisely. Your sterling common + sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on a + businesslike footing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine for a moment——?” began Miss Chilvers slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Kimbuck. “How much?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “If I have lost him for ever——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva rose. + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't,” she said pleasantly. “I wouldn't dream of standing in + your way.” She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and + walked to the door. “I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke,” she said, as she + reached it. + </p> + <p> + Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had + confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene + figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life on + which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he + gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and + the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad view + of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady Kimbuck + had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make for gaiety. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside the + sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened the + first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear Sir,” (it ran). + + “We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + “Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +***** This file should be named 8713-h.htm or 8713-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8713/ + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/8713.txt b/8713.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b71db67 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3839 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8713] +Posting Date: July 27, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + + + + + +A MAN OF MEANS + +A SERIES OF SIX STORIES + + +By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +From the _Pictorial Review_, May-October 1916 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +First of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +May 1916] + + +When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main +chance receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely +large order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to +predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, +he asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do +they merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald +and unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem +depends the important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge +a fraudulent jam disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would +resent. + +This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian +Fineberg, of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke +knocked at his door; and such was its difficulty that only at the +nineteenth knock did Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + +"Come in--that dashed woodpecker out there!" he shouted, for it was his +habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior +members of his staff. + +The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a +provincial seed-merchant's office--which, strangely enough, he chanced +to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He was a +young man; and when you had said that of him you had said everything. +There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, except the +fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two and his +name was Roland Bleke. + +"Please, sir, it's about my salary." + +Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British +square at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a +squadron of cuirassiers. + +"Salary?" he cried. "What about it? What's the matter with it? You get +it, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir, but----" + +"Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?" + +"It's too much." + +Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could +have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard +one of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched +himself. + +"Say that again," he said. + +"If you could see your way to reduce it, sir----" + +It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was +endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that +idea. + +"Why do you want it reduced?" + +"Please, sir, I'm going to be married." + +"What the deuce do you mean?" + +"When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and +forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds----" + +Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + +"My boy," he said genially, "I quite understand. But I can do you better +than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. From now +on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. You're an +excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit when I find +it. Close the door after you." + +And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed +problem. + +The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may +be briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had +lodged at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter +at the local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic +pets, consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of +sixty, Mrs. Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life +was devoted to cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers +Frank and Percy, gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged +in the mysterious occupation known as "lookin' about for somethin'," +and, lastly, Muriel. + +For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke +a mere automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for +neatly-laid breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. +Gradually, however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use +sufficiently to enable him to look at her when she came into the room, +he discovered that she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the +North by a mass of auburn hair and to the South by small and shapely +feet. She also possessed what, we are informed--we are children in these +matters ourselves--is known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met +Roland's one evening, as he chumped his chop, and before he knew what he +was doing he had remarked that it had been a fine day. + +From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed. +Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not +bring himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy +conversation about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he +felt bound to say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found +it more and more difficult each evening to hit on something bright, +until finally, from sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + +If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then. +It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast +machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the +room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science. +Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of +Mr. Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado, +of Brothers Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow +simultaneously half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making +bread-pellets and throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the +Coppin cat, which had wandered in on the chance of fish. + +Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came +the word "bans," and smote him like a blast of East wind. + +It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from +that moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a +reduction of salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was +extraordinarily happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to +be engaged is an intoxicating experience, and at first life was one +long golden glow to Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always +nourished a desire to be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his +engagement satisfied that desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers +Frank and Percy cough knowingly when he came in. It was pleasant to walk +abroad with a girl like Muriel in the capacity of the accepted wooer. +Above all, it was pleasant to sit holding Muriel's hand and watching the +ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert Potter to hide his mortification. +Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works round the corner, and hitherto +Roland had always felt something of a worm in his presence. Albert was +so infernally strong and silent and efficient. He could dissect a car +and put it together again. He could drive through the thickest traffic. +He could sit silent in company without having his silence attributed to +shyness or imbecility. But--he could not get engaged to Muriel Coppin. +That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, the dasher, the young man +of affairs. It was all very well being able to tell a spark-plug from a +commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in an affair of the +heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper place, third at +the pole. + +Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would +never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to +creep more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic +descended upon Roland Bleke. + +All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An invitation +to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. He was one +of those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of planning out any +definite step. He could do things on the spur of the moment, but plans +made him lose his nerve. + +By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in +agonized tones: "Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me +out of this frightful marriage business." + +If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the +attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made +it clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to them. +It would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style to +which they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they went +with Muriel as a sort of bonus. + + * * * * * + +The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was +a general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known that +he had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. Fineberg +on the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin removed his +saucer of tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a sardine from +the corner of his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an undertone. Albert +Potter, who was present, glowered silently. + +Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his +rejoicing heart would permit. + +"I'm afraid I've bad news." + +Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. +Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + +"He won't give you your raise?" + +Roland sighed. + +"He's reduced me." + +"Reduced you!" + +"Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a +hundred and ten." + +The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed +to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank +and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their +fountain pens. + +Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel +Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed +upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + +"I suppose," said Roland, "we couldn't get married on a hundred and +ten?" + +"No," said Percy. + +"No," said Frank. + +"No," said Albert Potter. + +They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + +"Then," said Roland regretfully, "I'm afraid we must wait." + +It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said she +thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had asked, +was quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between sobs, moaned +that it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely devouring +bread and jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. And, to end a +painful scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and went up-stairs +to his own quarters. + +There was a telegram on the mantel. + +"Some fellows," he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, "wouldn't +have been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given +themselves away. They would----" + +The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + +For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been +written in Hindustani. + +It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the +promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder +of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of +this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in +due course. + + * * * * * + +Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he +could recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these +open-handed gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him +back to a morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's +eldest son Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money +from his father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of +cardboard, at the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly +from a vague desire to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally +because it struck him as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed +over the ten shillings; and there, as far as he had known, the matter +had ended. + +And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the +shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + +Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five +hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + +For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five +hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + +His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling +fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the +telegram to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think +the whole matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. +After all, he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a secret. He +would receive the check in due course, as stated, and he would bicycle +over to the neighboring town of Lexingham and start a bank-account with +it. Nobody would know, and life would go on as before. + +He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + + * * * * * + +It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep +at eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. +Coppin was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. +Coppin was there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had +apparently kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy +stood at his bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. +Coppin thrust a newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + +These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and +the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep +from it was this head-line: + + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES + +And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + + POOR CLERK WINS L40,000 + +His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of +the faithful Gelatine. + +Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day +followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere +except just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when +conscience could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to +think of anything or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to +remove him from Bury St. Edwards on any terms. + +It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted +telepathically to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their +behavior at this juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the +police force. Perhaps it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an eye +on what they already considered their own private gold-mine that made +them so adhesive. Certainly there was no hour of the day when one or the +other was not in Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their vigilance +even extended to the night hours, and once, when Roland, having tossed +sleeplessly on his bed, got up at two in the morning, with the wild idea +of stealing out of the house and walking to London, a door opened as he +reached the top of the stairs, and a voice asked him what he thought he +was doing. The statement that he was walking in his sleep was accepted, +but coldly. + +It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary strategy +eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, with his +ticket to London in his pocket and the express already entering the +station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, who appeared +from nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a speech that lasted +until the tail-lights of the train had vanished and Brothers Frank and +Percy arrived, panting. + +A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this +last episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing +himself described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim +addition that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to +a fresh dash for liberty. + +Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the +exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a +certain amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the +things which made the present a source of misery to him was the fact +that he was expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober +young man with a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained from +infancy to a decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted itself +to the possession of large means; and the open-handed role forced upon +him by the family appalled him. + +When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to +Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had +reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he might +surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, a man +of his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere gauds +and trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand for a +silk petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and Percy +took theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst blow by +insisting on a hired motor-car. + +Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert +Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one +way of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave +the paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good +deal of discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better +to go round corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these +expeditions, Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, his +torments were subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the only +way in which he could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony was to +increase the speed to sixty miles an hour. + +It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of +Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the loop +in his aeroplane. + +It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and +see M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures +which never grow _blase_ at the sight of a fellow human taking a +sporting chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild +animal exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew +him like a magnet. + +"The blighter goes up," he explained, as he conducted the party into the +arena, "and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. I've +seen pictures of it." + +It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the +ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would +take up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have +been no rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail +themselves of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small +man with a chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture cards +and smoking a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + +Albert Potter was scornful. + +"Lot of rabbits," he said. "Where's their pluck? And I suppose they call +themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a five-pound +note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the laugh of us." + +It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful +tenderness from Muriel. "You're so brave, Mr. Potter," she said. + +Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or +whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but +Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to +his rival. + +Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and waved +the note aside. + +"I take no favors," he said with dignity. + +There was a pause. + +"Why don't you do it." said Albert, nastily. "Five pounds is nothing to +you." + +"Why should I?" + +"Ah! Why should you?" + +It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It +stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an +unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + +In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had +apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + +"All right, then, I will," he said suddenly. + +"Easy enough to talk," said Albert. + +Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. +Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + +Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh +hour. + +"Don't let him," she cried. + +But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the sort +of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + +For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was +experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type +of person when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an +acquaintance of theirs. + +"What are you talking about?" he said. "There's no danger. At least, not +much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. What do +you want to go interfering for?" + +Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little +longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud was +a foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + +He took Muriel's hand. + +"Good-by," he said. + +He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It +struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle--and, worse, +delaying the start of the proceedings. + +"What's it all about?" he demanded. "You go on as if we were never going +to see you again." + +"You never know." + +"It's as safe as being in bed." + +"But still, in case we never meet again----" + +"Oh, well," said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + + * * * * * + +The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along +the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, +till the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + +"Now," said Brother Frank. "Now watch. Now he's going to loop the loop." + +But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew +smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + +"What the dickens?" + +Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the +sky--something that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an aeroplane +traveling rapidly into the sunset. + +Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +Second of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, June 1916] + + +Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the +rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey +Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the +full. His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; +and his wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it +difficult to get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + +"There's a column in to-day's _Financial Argus_," she said, "of which +you really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat +Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that +you knew it when you floated the company." + +"They will have their little joke." + +"But you had the usual mining-expert's report." + +"Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at +the time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended +rather on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a +matter of fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in +South America somewhere. Awful climate--snakes, mosquitoes, revolutions, +fever." + +Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + +"Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out +there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in +within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next +number but one. What are you going to do about it?" + +Mr. Windlebird yawned. + +"Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The +Napoleon of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty +thousand pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we sail +for the Argentine. I've got the tickets." + +"You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. +It's a flea-bite." + +"On paper--in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it +is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, hard +lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite from a +hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So--St. Helena +for Napoleon." + +Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a +Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more accurate +title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the head of his +class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was delightfully +simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco Trust, founded by +Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those profits which the +glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. Geoffrey would appease +the excited shareholders by giving them Preference Shares (interest +guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction Company, hastily floated to meet +the emergency. When the interest became due, it would, as likely as not, +be paid out of the capital just subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines +Exploitation Association, the little deficiency in the latter being +replaced in its turn, when absolutely necessary and not a moment before, +by the transfer of some portion of the capital just raised for yet +another company. And so on, ad infinitum. There were moments when it +seemed to Mr. Windlebird that he had solved the problem of Perpetual +Promotion. + +The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's +is when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands +ready money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened +now, and it had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + +He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled that +the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had handled +millions--on paper, it was true, but still millions--and here he was +knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + +"Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?" persisted Mrs. +Windlebird. "Have you tried every one?" + +"Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight--the probables, the possibles, the +highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the minstrel's +wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this time. +Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of twenty +thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from the +clouds." + +As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees beyond +the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth turf, not +twenty yards from where he was seated. + + * * * * * + +Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress +rather resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in +which he has spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling more +wretched than he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. He had +a splitting headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes smarted. +He was hungry. He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, who had +hopped out and was now busy tinkering the engine, a gay Provencal air +upon his lips, as he had rarely hated any one, even Muriel Coppin's +brother Frank. + +So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. +Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on +the turf before him. + +"Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?" + +Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial +stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, +keen student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his +photograph in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk +from house to tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of +the more salient points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird +heard that Roland had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up +and took notice. + +"Lead me to him," he said simply. + +Roland sneezed. + +"Doe accident, thag you," he replied miserably. "Somethig's gone wrong +with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck." + +M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose +to his feet, and bowed. + +"Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, +_mon ami_," he said radiantly to Roland, "all now O. K. We go on." + +"No," said Roland decidedly. + +"No? What you mean--no?" + +A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The +eminent bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he +felt like a brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little +aeroplane rides which bordered upon the princely. + +"But you say--take me to France with you----" + +"I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well." + +"But it's all wrong." M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. +"You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. +It is here." He slapped his breast pocket. "But the other two hundred +pounds which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in +France, where is that, my friend?" + +"I will give you two hundred and fifty," said Roland earnestly, "to +leave me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly +machine again." + +A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous +Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to +Roland. + +"Ah, now you talk. Now you say something," he cried in his impetuous +way. "Embrace me. You are all right." + +Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane +disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + +"You're not well, you know," said Mr. Windlebird. + +"I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night--that French ass +lost his bearings--and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a hotel?" + +"Hotel? Nonsense." Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice which +at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders as +if by magic. "You're coming right into my house and up to bed this +instant." + +It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at his +toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name of his +good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle out of +bed and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which he had +learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in something +approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest business brains of +the age. + +To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance +about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The +kindness of the Windlebirds--and there seemed to be nothing that they +were not ready to do for him--distressed him beyond measure. To have a +really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over +his bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost +horrible. Such condescension was too much. + +Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling replaced +by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, simple, kindly +couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained only gratitude. +He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was not long before +he had told them the history of his career, skipping the earlier years +and beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + +"It makes you feel funny," he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic +ear, "suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem +hardly able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it." + +Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + +"The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little +experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you +would allow me to recommend some sound investment----" + +Roland glowed with gratitude. + +"There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money +into anything. It's like this." + +He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel +Coppin. Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his conscience +had begun to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had not acted +well toward Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she didn't +care a bit about him and was in love with Albert, the silent mechanic, +but there was just the chance that she was mourning over his loss; and, +anyhow, his conscience was sore. + +"I'd like to give her something," he said. "How much do you think?" + +Mr. Windlebird perpended. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with--say, +a thousand pounds--not a check, you understand, but one thousand golden +sovereigns that he can show her--roll about on the table in front of her +eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money in the raw +has on people." + +"I'd rather make it two thousand," said Roland. He had never really +loved Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; +but he wanted to retreat with honor. + +"Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know +how old Harrison is going to carry all that money." + +As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it +over, after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the +conclusion that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it +would be good for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + +Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel +jumped at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland +next morning that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird +redoubled. + +"And now," said Mr. Windlebird genially, "we can talk about that money +of yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something +which, without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless +returns a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you want is +something sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a kick to +it, something which can't go down and may go soaring like a rocket." + +Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit another +cigar. + +"Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips--But +I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. +Put your money--" he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, "put every +penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs." + +He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just +imparted to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the +philosopher's stone. + +"Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird," said Roland gratefully. "I will." + +The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + +"Not so fast, young man," laughed Mr. Windlebird. "Getting into Wildcat +Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you +propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty +thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy Wildcat +Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed." + +Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to +invest thirty thousand pounds--or pence--in Wildcat Reefs, the market +would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked with +laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke--except to the unfortunate +few who still held any of the shares. + +"The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But I +think--I say I think--I can manage it for you." + +"You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird." + +"Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be +doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time." He +filled his glass. "This--" he paused to sip--"this pal of mine has a +large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the money +into something else, in which he is more personally interested." Mr. +Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn current +account at the bank. "In which he is more personally interested," he +repeated dreamily. "But of course you couldn't unload thirty pounds' +worth of Wildcats in the public market." + +"I quite see that," assented Roland. + +"It might, however, be done by private negotiation," he said. "I +must act very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand +to-night, and I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I +can do." + + * * * * * + +He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland +did not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, +Mr. Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him twenty +thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + +"There, my boy," he said. + +"It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird." + +"My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am." + +Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + +It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the +pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the +beautiful garden, the pleasant company--all these things combined to +make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + +He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly +on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to +show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and +tired. + +A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only +crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. +Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the city, +but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, +and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even +this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, +who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an errand, had +promised to bring one back with him. He might appear at any moment now. + +The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. +She was looking terribly troubled. + +It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been +unusually silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. +Windlebird's room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and +agitated. Could they have had some bad news? + +"Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you." + +Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + +"You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he +would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it to +you." + +"Break it to me!" + +"My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine +called Wildcat Reefs." + +"Yes. Thirty thousand pounds." + +"As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!" + +She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + +"Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, +they may be absolutely worthless." + +Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + +"Wor-worthless!" he stammered. + +Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + +"You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice +that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He +is in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of +you, Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been the +innocent instrument of your trouble." + + * * * * * + +Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were +precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth +seemed to melt under him. + +"We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to +the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must +make good your losses. We must buy back those shares." + +A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + +"But----" he began. + +"There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a +minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds +for the shares, you said? Well"--she held out a pink slip of paper to +him--"this will make everything all right." + +Roland looked at the check. + +"But--but this is signed by you," he said. + +"Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it would +mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with every +movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might ruin +the plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling out +stock doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, +to give me time to realize on the securities in which my money is +invested." + +Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had +been his host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. +But chivalry forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of +self-sacrifice warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had +never had any fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it +that for all practical purposes it might never have been his. + +With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when +exhibited on the stage by the hero of the number two company of "The +Price of Honor," which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a +few months before, he tore the check into little pieces. + +"I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird," he said. "I can't tell you how +deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I +bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, +and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me +here, it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and +generous of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a +little money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, +anyway, so--so it's all right." + +"Mr. Bleke, I implore you." + +Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of +escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no other +way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he perceived +Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + +"Johnson said he was going into the town," said Roland apologetically, +"so I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch +scores." + +If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was +strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her +face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the +chair which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. +She lay back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + +Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to +the conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and +Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in competition +with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + +Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as +he did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + +Out of the explosion emerged the word "WILD-CATS". + +"Why!" he exclaimed. "There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page +here!" + +"Yes?" Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her +eyes were still closed. + +Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES + +Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic exuberance, +what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + + The "special commissioner" sent out by The _Financial Argus_ to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine--with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public--has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The _Financial Argus_ has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. + +The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The +very atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable +of thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand +pounds. + +"Oh, Mrs. Windlebird," he cried, "It's all right after all." + +Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + +"It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully. "Why, if I've +made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted. +It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the +biggest thing of his life." + +He thought for a moment. + +"The chap I'm sorry for," he said meditatively, "is Mr. Windlebird's +pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his +shares to me." + +A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear +it. He was reading the cricket news. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +July 1916] + + +It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you +sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke +with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment +Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen +in; and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not +altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before, +and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had +become afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical +supper-party again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must +possess dash; and Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a +little short of dash. + +The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. +While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was +"old Gerry" whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on +its course. After a glance at old Gerry--a chinless child of about +nineteen--Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a young +man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one of +those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited +one which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the +better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter. + +The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a +more serious view of the situation. + +"Sidney, you make me tired," she said severely. "If I had thought you +didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with +you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to +come and sit by me. I want to talk to him." + +That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + +"I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke," +she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. "I've heard +such a lot about you." + +What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred +thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + +"In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't have +come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as a +general rule. They bore me stiff." + +Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. +Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but +there were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment--a thoughtful +student of character--a girl who understood that a man might sit at a +supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man of parts. + +"I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken--but that's me all over. All +my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one +she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one she +tells them straight out, too.'" + +"And a very admirable trait," said Roland, enthusiastically. + +Miss Verepoint sighed. "P'raps it is," she said pensively, "but I'm +afraid it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like +it: they think girls should be seen and not heard." + +Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + +"But what's the good of worrying," went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave +but hollow laugh. "Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has +got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is +bound to come some day." + +The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to +indicate that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less +than sixty years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous +nature was up in arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to +help this victim of managerial unfairness. "You don't mind my going on +about my troubles, do you?" asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. "One so +seldom meets anybody really sympathetic." + +Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + +"I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon," she said. + +"Oh, rather!" said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more +polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + +"Of course, I know what a busy man you are----" + +"No, no!" + +"Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in." + +Roland bleated gratefully. + +"I'll write down the address for you," said Miss Verepoint, suddenly +businesslike. + + * * * * * + +Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor +Theater, Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence +fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not--the +next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking +lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with +"yes's" and "no's" were always so thoroughly confused that he never knew +even whose suggestion it was. + +The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, +is not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. +Roland was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was +carried through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that +he had never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the offices +of Mr. Montague with the intention of making an offer for the lease for, +say, six months; and that wizard, in the space of less than an hour, had +not only induced him to sign mysterious documents which made him sole +proprietor of the house, but had left him with the feeling that he had +done an extremely acute stroke of business. Mr. Montague had dabbled in +many professions in his time, from street peddling upward, but what he +was really best at was hypnotism. + +Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was +withdrawn, rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby +to hold by a strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, +Roland was to some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by +Miss Verepoint. She said it was much better to buy a theater than to +rent it, because then you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, +but Roland had a dim feeling that there was a flaw somewhere in the +reasoning; and it was from this point that a shadow may be said to have +fallen upon the brightness of the venture. + +He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the +Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the +metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles +was "The Mugs' Graveyard"--a title which had been bestowed upon it not +without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, +whose principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant +supply of the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of +the Higher Drama which flowed practically without cessation from the +restless pen of the insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater +had passed from hand to hand with the agility of a gold watch in a +gathering of race-course thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man who +found himself, by some accident, in possession of the Windsor Theater, +was to pass it on to somebody else. The only really permanent tenant it +ever had was the representative of the Official Receiver. + +Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the theater, +but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama lay in +the fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was hidden. +Cabmen shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were asked to +take a fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the Australian +bush was child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on its trail and +finish up at the point where they had started. + +It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted +Mr. Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical +advantages of the theater were enormous. It was further from a +fire-station than any other building of the same insurance value in +London, even without having regard to the mystery which enveloped its +whereabouts. Often after a good dinner he would lean comfortably back +in his chair and see in the smoke of his cigar a vision of the Windsor +Theater blazing merrily, while distracted firemen galloped madly all +over London, vainly endeavoring to get some one to direct them to the +scene of the conflagration. So Mr. Montague bought the theater for a +mere song, and prepared to get busy. + +Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with +which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows +insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the +fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. +Nothing would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay +their salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix +were so strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly +disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal--a thing +which had never happened to him before. + +And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race +was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland +for twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more +than he himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit +mitigated the slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring +to Roland the insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting +to rather more than seventy thousand pounds on a building so notoriously +valueless as the Windsor Theater had been an achievement of which Mr. +Montague was justly proud, and it seemed sad to him that so much earnest +endeavor should be thrown away. + + * * * * * + +Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain +her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined +her policy. + +"What we must put up at that theater," she announced, "is a revue. +A revue," repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little +calculations on the back of the menu, "we could run for about fifteen +hundred a week--or, say, two thousand." + +Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same as +paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + +"I know two boys who could write us a topping revue," said Miss +Verepoint. "They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in +love with me--both of them. We'd better get in touch with them at once." + +To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister +about the sound of that word "touch," but he said nothing. + +"Why, there they are--lunching over there!" cried Miss Verepoint, +pointing to a neighboring table. "Now, isn't that lucky?" + +To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to +Miss Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their +table. + +The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss +Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown +lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland +thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, +but a closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine +distinctions were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. +Bromham Rhodes ran his friend so close that it was practically a dead +heat. They were both fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the +fact that what revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant +assimilation of food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite +in London; but, on the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + +"Well, dear old thing!" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"Well, old child!" said R. P. de Parys. + +Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair +appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + +Miss Verepoint struck the business note. "Now you stop, boys," she said. +"Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I want you +two lads to write a revue for me." + +"Delighted!" said Bromham Rhodes; "but----" + +"There is the trifling point to be raised first----" said R. P. de +Parys. + +"Where is the money coming from?" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money," said Miss Verepoint, +with dignity. "He has taken the Windsor Theater." + +The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, +increased with a jerk. "Has he? By Jove!" they cried. "We must get +together and talk this over." + +It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he +never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de +Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical +London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think of +doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. The +amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during the +course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at lunch +would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, as +likely as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order to +thrash the question thoroughly out. + + * * * * * + +The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the +actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable +difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It +seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England +or America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere +with Miss Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the principal +role. It was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss Verepoint was an +expert in theatrical matters, he scarcely felt entitled to question her +views. + +It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The +passage of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a +certain extent moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from +a passionate devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for +her, into a sort of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason +for proposing was that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of +events. Her air towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She now +called him "Roly-poly" in public--a proceeding which left him with mixed +feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as everybody +knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of the +theatrical profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had +begun to feel a little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss +Verepoint. Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the +revue in which she was to appear; they were constantly seen together at +restaurants; people looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He had +to ask himself: was he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The answer was +in the negative. He took a cab to her flat and proposed before he could +repent of his decision. + +She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad +or sorry. "But I don't want to get married," she went on, "until I have +justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have +made a success in this revue." + +Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + +The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes +to whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these--a scrubby but +confident lot--were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from +nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired scenic +artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great cloud of +chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even Bromham Rhodes +and R. P. de Parys--those human pythons--showed signs of activity. They +cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered him into the +Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him extracts from +a brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed him, was the first +act. + +It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right +to be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and R. +P. de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every responsible +manager in London. As "Oh! What a Life!" it had failed to satisfy the +directors of the Empire. Re-christened "Wow-Wow!" it had been rejected +by the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider it, even under +the name of "Hullo, Cellar-Flap!" It was now called, "Pass Along, +Please!" and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + +Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he +was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking +effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking +effects. As far as he could gather, the main difference between these +things was that real revue was something which had been stolen from some +previous English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect was +something which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of +these, he was given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the +public wanted. + +Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was +properly supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but +even the authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. +They explained that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, +that they had actually started it about ten years ago when they were +careless lads. Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart +topical hits of the early years of the century; but that, they said, +would be all right. They could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; it +was simply a matter of deleting allusions to pro-Boers and substituting +lines about Marconi shares and mangel-wurzels. "It'll be all right," +they assured Roland; "this is real revue." + +In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, +"Here is the beginning of the end." This point came with Roland at the +commencement of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized +the terrible nature of the production for which he had made himself +responsible. Moreover, it was rehearsals which gave him his first clear +insight into the character of Miss Verepoint. + +Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, as +he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case to +be made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the +background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight +about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of "Pass +Along, Please!" but such as there were she reached out for and +grabbed away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and +muttering, like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland +included. + + * * * * * + +Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, +panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage +with this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic +his instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual +dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides--everything +that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the +revue was a success, she would marry him--and revues, he knew, were +always successes. At that very moment there were six "best revues in +London," running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that +in a few weeks there would be seven. + +He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by +himself for a day or two in a place where there were no papers with +advertisements of revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy +Verepoint. That night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in +happier days, he had once spent a Summer holiday--a peaceful, primitive +place where the inhabitants could not have told real revue from a +corking effect. + +Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his quivering +nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London happier, but a +little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of farewell, he had not +communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, and experience had +made him aware that she was a lady who demanded an adequate amount of +attention. + +That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in +upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, +when somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he +uttered a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + +Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial +gaze of Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor +Theater. + +Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, +congratulatory. + +"You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the +first month--by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of +commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought +it, to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and +staring me in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't +grudge it to you--you deserve it my boy! You're a nut!" + +"I really don't know what you mean." + +"Quite right, my boy!" chuckled Mr. Montague. "You're quite right to +keep it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the +least said soonest mended." + +He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + +Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note of +Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered with +what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was beating +fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a wholesome +respect for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his favorite +chair. There were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys, who +had made themselves completely at home with a couple of his cigars and +whisky from the oldest bin. + +"So here you are at last!" said Miss Verepoint, querulously. "The valet +told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on +earth have you been to, running away like this, without a word?" + +"I only went----" + +"Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you +going to do about it?" + +"We thought we'd better come along and talk it over," said R. P. de +Parys. + +"Talk what over?" said Roland: "the revue?" + +"Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!" snapped Miss +Verepoint. "It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. +What do you suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course." + +"What about the theater?" + +Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. "Don't you ever read the +papers?" + +"I haven't seen a paper since I went away." + +"Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently," +said Miss Verepoint. "The theater's been burned down--that's what's +happened." + +"Burned down?" + +"Burned down!" repeated Roland. + +"That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left copies +of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire to two +other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main thoroughfares +and the fire-brigade got them under control at once. I suppose they +couldn't find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the ground and what we +want to know is what are you going to do about it?" + +Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply +at once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction +on his silence. + +"Poor old Roly!" he said. "It's quite broken him up. The best thing we +can do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of +lunch." + +"Well," said Miss Verepoint, "what are you going to do--rebuild the +Windsor or try and get another theater?" + + * * * * * + +The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take +time, but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this +time of the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater at +a moment's notice. + +To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor +Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct +intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome +second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, could +now be postponed indefinitely. + +"Of course," said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, "our contract with you +makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date--but I +dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?" + +"Sure!" said Rhodes. "Something nominal, say a further five hundred on +account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better +to rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?" + +"I do," agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. "You see, Roly, our revue has +been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it +for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the +Windsor would be your best course." + +There was a pause. + +"What do you think, Roly-poly?" asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no +sign. + +"Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take +another theater, or do anything else to oblige," he said, cheerfully. +"Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn." + +It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful +silence fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de +Parys woke with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and +Bromham Rhodes forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. +Miss Verepoint was the first to break the silence. + +"Do you mean to say," she gasped, "that you didn't insure the place?" + +Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had +put the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + +"Why didn't you?" Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + +"Because it did not appear to me to be necessary." + +Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had +done all the insuring that was necessary--and a bit over. + +Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. "What +about the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this +time?" she demanded. + +"I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely +my fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I +can manage that, I think." + +Miss Verepoint rose. "And what about me? What about me, that's what I +want to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you +without your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly +well mistaken." + +Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and +resignation. He even contrived to sigh. + +"Very well, then," said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this +behavior as his final pronouncement on the situation. "Then everything's +jolly well off." + +She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like +porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and +took out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among +the fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at +such pains to secure from so many companies. + +"And so," he said softly to himself, "am I." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +Fourth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial +Review_, August 1916] + + +It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the +other end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far +as his preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been +attributing the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered +from one himself. + +He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this +particular bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation +on the question of what on earth he was to do with two hundred and fifty +thousand pounds, to which figure his fortune had now risen. + +The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always +been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds +a year, he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this +direction; but now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was +crying out for assistance. + +Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his eyes +had been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of +'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend "Men Who Speak +to Girls," and he had gathered that the accompanying article was a +denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other +hand, she was obviously in distress. + +Another sniff decided him. + +"I say, you know," he said. + +The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had +that air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good +thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was +delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's +heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + +"Pardon me," he went on, "but you appear to be in trouble. Is there +anything I can do for you?" + +She looked at him again--a keen look which seemed to get into Roland's +soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied by the +inspection, she spoke. + +"No, I don't think there is," she said. "Unless you happen to be the +proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress +for it." + +"I don't understand." + +"Well, that's all any one could do for me--give me back my work or give +me something else of the same sort." + +"Oh, have you lost your job?" + +"I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, +and I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, but +I was here first, and there are heaps of other benches." + +"No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able--what +I mean is--think of something. Tell me all about it." + +There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand +pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel +almost masterful. + +"Why should I?" + +"Why shouldn't you?" + +"There's something in that," said the girl reflectively. "After all, +you might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been +discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's +Page." + +"By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak----'?" + +The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment +vanished instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a becoming +pink, you know! + +"You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever +really read 'Squibs.'" + +"Read it!" cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. "I should jolly +well think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after +an article like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a +failure?" + +"Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because +they couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about +it." + +"Who's Mr. Petheram?" + +"Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's really +everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next week. +When I started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got +whittled down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and myself. It +was like the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by one, till +I was the only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is doing the +whole paper now." + +"How is it that he can't get anything better to do?" Roland said. + +"He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, +but they thought he was too old." + +Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder +with a fatherly manner. + +"Oh, he's old, is he?" + +"Twenty-four." + +There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung +Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent +Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the only +man worth looking rapt about. + +He rose. + +"Would you mind giving me your address?" he said. + +"Why?" + +"In order," said Roland carefully, "that I may offer you your former +employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it." + +After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have +his moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled +her over completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, +open-mouthed. Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, "I +wonder how much this is going to cost." + +"You're going to buy 'Squibs!'" + +Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + +"I am." + +She gulped. + +"Well, I think you're wonderful." + +So did Roland. + +"Where will a letter find you?" he asked. + +"My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford +Street." + +"Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in +due course." + +He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when +there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + +"I--I just wanted to thank you," she said. + +"Not at all," said Roland. "Not at all." + +He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was +Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put +Petheram in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. +Laughable. + +A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, +informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the +offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted +state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + +Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just +escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. +There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of +'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, +in which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed +him to wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere +box. Roland was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + +The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + +Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost +painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before +him was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of +taking his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a +red face and a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was +surprized to see Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at +the closing door, and kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down +several inches of discolored plaster. + +"Take a seat," he said, when he had finished this performance. "What can +I do for you?" + +Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were +less easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was +that Mr. Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him +for a prospective advertiser. + +"I want to buy the paper," said Roland. He was aware that this was an +abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to +buy the paper, so why not say so? + +Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + +"Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has +sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you +try?" + +"I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know." + +Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to +be carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him +blankly. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Roland. He felt the interview was going all +wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have +had. + +"Honestly?" said Mr. Petheram. "You aren't pulling my leg?" + +Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, +and finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly +honest. + +"Don't you be an ass," he said. "You don't know what you're letting +yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you +know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to +for life." + +"Why?" + +"We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors--not +the present ones--thought it would give the thing a boom if they had +a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. +Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from +proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried +to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he +would only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the +time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. +That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed." + +A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking +of Bessie March. + +"I know all about that," he said. + +"And you still want to buy the thing?" + +"Yes." + +"But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own +paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you +landed. Why are you doing it?" + +"Oh, just for fun." + +"Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go +ahead." + +He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on +the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + +"You know," he said, "there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. +If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. +We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming +the paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, +what I don't know about editing--but perhaps you had got somebody else +in your mind?" + +"No, no," said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an +office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled +him. + +"Very well, then," resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap +of papers to give more room for his feet. "Take it that I continue as +editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been +doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't +want to spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would +sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a +broken-down wreck who might swoon from starvation?" + +"But one moment," said Roland. "Are you sure that the present +proprietors will want to sell?" + +"Want to sell," cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. "Why, if they know +you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them without +the paper as--as--well, I can't think of anything that has such a poor +chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry on +your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now." + +He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a +note-book. + +"There's just one other thing," said Roland. "I have been a regular +reader of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in +which the Woman's Page----" + +"You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do +better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before +you change your mind or wake up." + +Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland +began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering +cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. +Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that +he was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into +the business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at +every pore. + +Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was +under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a weekly +journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase +of a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. +Nobody could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was willing, even +anxious, to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the +Woman's Page, now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he +wanted Roland to concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital +for ingenious advertising schemes. + +"How would it be," he asked one morning--he always began his remarks +with, "How would it be?"--"if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly in +white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across +his chest?" + +Roland thought it would certainly not be. + +"Good sound advertising stunt," urged Mr. Petheram. "You don't like it? +All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of +men dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' See +what I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! Wah! +Wah! Buy it! Buy it!' It would make people talk." + +Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest +apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus +sprinting down the Strand shouting "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!" with +reference to his personal property appalled him. + +He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as +he generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of +romance which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had +faded entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue +to captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the +exclusive property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish any +delusion that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a +mild liking for him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an +indisputable claim. Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate +devotee toward a high priest. One morning, entering the office +unexpectedly, Roland found her kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; +and from that moment his interest in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to +zero. It amazed him that he could ever have been idiot enough to have +allowed himself to be entangled in this insane venture for the sake +of an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with a snub-nose and a poor +complexion. + +What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good +cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to +the, on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter +the fact that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked buoyantly +about turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. + +The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any +crisis, came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and +went to Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, +he contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + +He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London +in time for dinner. + +Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his +bright weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room near +Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody +seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven 'Squibs' +completely from his mind for the time being. + +The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the +coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + +"What's this?" he asked. + +"The lady, sare," said the waiter vaguely. + +Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped +him. There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant +was a favorite with artistes who were permitted to "look in" at their +theaters as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly +self-conscious, yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited +tribute. He tore open the envelope. + +The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. +Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + +"'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it," it ran. All the mellowing effects +of a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. +He paid his bill and left the place. + +A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable +sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow +him to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between two +of the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + +"Is there a doctor in the house?" + +There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the box. +A man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + +"My wife has fainted," continued the speaker. "She has just discovered +that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'" + +The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an +English audience in the presence of the unusual. + +Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their +leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + +As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had +sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was +headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a +good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in her +time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had +ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a suit +of white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. His +top-hat, at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a +pantomime, flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, +which, tho the weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore +the device "One penny weekly". + +The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into +a taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His +head was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through +the window of the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong +exhortations of the vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. +This he did with a sovereign, and the cab drove off. + +He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it +occurred to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the +first page. The middle column was devoted to a really capitally written +account of the proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest +of six men who, it was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the +disturbance of the peace by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu +warriors, shouting in unison the words "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'" + + * * * * * + +Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the +hound Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could +scarcely have surpassed. + +It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His +Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct +this belief fell on deaf ears. + +"Have I seen the advertisements?" he cried, echoing his editor's first +question. "I've seen nothing else." + +"There!" said Mr. Petheram proudly. + +"It can't go on." + +"Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we +send them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the +Revue boom started and actors were expected to do six different parts in +seven minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about +the Strand, ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a +special staff flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat and +drink to them to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel +ten years younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those +Zulus used to have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society +Contortionists. The Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried +like children when we took them on. + +"By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? +The fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're +coining money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we +should turn the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on +two wheels. Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? +Then you haven't seen our new Scandal Page--'We Just Want to Know, You +Know.' It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. +Everybody reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I +wanted to ask you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort +of thing now." + +Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking +Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful +production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + +"This is awful," he moaned. "We shall have a hundred libel actions." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't +know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. +A more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute +modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of +course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it +goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I +have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute limpid +truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb." + +Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, +started as if he had removed it from a snake. + +"But this is bound to mean a libel action!" he cried. + +"Not a bit of it," said Mr. Petheram comfortably. "You don't know Percy. +I won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he doesn't +rush into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough." + + * * * * * + +But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his +scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of +defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a +scene of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins +of Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was +reading an illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his +surroundings. + +"He's gorn," he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + +"What do you mean?" Roland snapped at him. "Who's gone and where did he +go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise and +stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves." + +Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and +answered. + +"Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there +was a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I +went in, and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the +furniture all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad +been putting 'im froo it proper," concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + +Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his +illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + +It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of +astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of +Jimmy's story. + +She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken +editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes +and a set jaw. + +"Aubrey," she said--it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name was +Aubrey--"is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and sitting up +and taking nourishment." + +"That's good." + +"In a spoon only." + +"Ah!" said Roland. + +"The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it was +that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can prove +nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again this +week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand +them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild." + +Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he +appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and +he addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc +than anything else on earth, firmly. + +"Miss March," he said, "I realize that this is a crisis, and that we +must all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything +in reason--but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects +of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if we repeat +the process I do not care to think." + +"You are afraid?" + +"Yes," said Roland simply. + +Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a +worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely +better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon +of a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it +is better that people should say of you, "There he goes!" than that they +should say, "How peaceful he looks". + +Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to +Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into +the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of +the departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. +Thanks to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in +hand to enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, +however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he +could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal +Page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence +as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the Scandal +Page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy would, +he felt, be with her the work of a moment. + + * * * * * + +Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at +the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring its +whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + +His brow grew damp. What sort of people--except book-makers--did things +you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody. + +He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. +A kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. +How long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The +paragraph was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of +some large deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not +understand a word of it, but it gave him an idea. + +[*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + +Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. +Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be +no possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about +the manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had +used during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + +Within five minutes he had compiled the following + + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? + +After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour +he had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might have +been proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt that +he could go to Mr. Pook, and say, "Percy, on your honor as a British +book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?" And Mr. +Pook would be compelled to reply, "You have not." + +Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's +blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly +hostile to Mr. Pook. + + * * * * * + +A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It +had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's +point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, +signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to +the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him +with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client +disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, +Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, they +could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + +Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual +pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived +a loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales +could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as soon as a +swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing +out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but Roland's methods of +doing business were always rapid. + +"This chap," he said, "this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll he +give?" + +"That," began one of the Harrisons ponderously, "would, of course, +largely depend----" + +"I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the present +staff, an even five thousand. How's that?" + +"Five thousand is a large----" + +"Take it or leave it." + +"My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our +client might consent to the sum you mention." + +"Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who +is your client?" + +Mr. Harrison coughed. + +"His name," he said, "will be familiar to you. He is the eminent +financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird." + + + + + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +Fifth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +September 1916] + + +The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the +Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the +tango out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, +for the national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and +fifteen recognized steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, "Hullo, +Caoutchouc," had been produced with success. And the pioneer of the +dance, the peerless Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it +nightly at the music-hall where she had first broken loose. + +The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. +Of all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Maraquita +had made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes +called a fine woman. + +She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International +forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + +There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the +three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative +decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a +salmon-colored whirlwind. + +That was the bit that hit Roland. + +Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and +applauding wildly. + +One night an attendant came to his box. + +"Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita +wishes to speak to you." + +He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not +appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was +generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got +it--quick. + +They were alone. + +With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to +the conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any +less beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of +the dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had +undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, diffident +nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was +the rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Maraquita +droop. + +For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on +his without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this +leading question: + +"You love me, _hein_?" + +Roland nodded feebly. + +"When men make love to me, I send them away--so." + +She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost +cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The +woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + +"But not you." + +"Not me?" + +"No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you +in the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I +say to myself, 'What a man!'" + +"Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird," +mumbled Roland. + +"I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you." + +"Thanks awfully," bleated Roland. + +"You would do anything for my sake, _hein_? I knew you were that kind +of man directly I see you. No," she added, as Roland writhed uneasily +in his chair, "do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the +Great Day." + +What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He +could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + +"And now," said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, "you +come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They +will be glad and proud to meet you." + + * * * * * + +After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to +the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The +former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and +hairy. + +The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous +figure. He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected +him of carrying lethal weapons. + +Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoya +sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert could +evidently squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the +company was good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + +Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's +benefit, Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those +present were marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, stood +the very flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their native land +by the Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth +the Infamy of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked effect on the +company. Some scowled, others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito +did both. Before supper, to which they presently sat down, was over, +however, Roland knew a good deal about Paranoya and its history. The +conversation conducted by Maraquita--to a ceaseless _bouche pleine_ +accompaniment from her friends--bore exclusively upon the subject. + +Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries under +the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of Alejandro the +Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the Infamy +of 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the +abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. + +Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the +caoutchouc, was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alejandro +the Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end +had been untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. +Paranoya, Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The +army was disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order +of things. + +A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely +to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + +At the mention of the word "funds," Roland, who had become thoroughly +bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. +He had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for +a subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. +Especially by Bombito. + +He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + +She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he gathered +that it somehow had reference to himself. + +As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and extended +their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that Maraquita +had been proposing his health. + +"They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'" kindly translated the +Peerless One. "You must excuse," said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy +of patriots surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. "They are so +grateful to the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it +not that I have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal +standard floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that will be +soon, very soon," she went on. "With you on our side we can not fail." + +What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor +under the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on +behalf of a deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + +Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + +"I have told them," she said, "that you love me, that you are willing +to risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the +rich Senor Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, +comrades. To the Savior of Paranoya!" + +Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic +enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary +speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, +well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, he +put the question to Maraquita. + +She said, "Poof! The cost? La, la!" Which was all very well, but hardly +satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get +out of her. + + * * * * * + +The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind +of dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + +Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details +connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. +She now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which +she presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing +the restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking +everything for her sake. + +In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the +thing should be done--well, or not at all. There would be so much for +rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the +expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much +to be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a +little when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya +amounted to twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt +it thoroughly at a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious +course, to Roland's way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of +the question and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. + +It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, +that she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution +would be disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. +Unless, she pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, looting, +and so on, the revolution would not achieve a popular success. True, the +beloved Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a throne +that was insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty +turn. By all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but not at the +risk of making the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was an emotional +country, and liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them. + +It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the +revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a +little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to +the financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That +his person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not +foreseen. + +The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the +arrival of the deputation. + +It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner +cigar. + +It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, +stout, and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue +hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native of +Paranoya. + +For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he +had not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited +resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He +poised himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they +should try to kiss him on the cheek. + +"Mr. Bleke?" said the long man. + +His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the +table, and looked at it wistfully. + +"Long live the monarchy," said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the +course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally +went well. + +On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the +contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped themselves +to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + +"Death to the monarchy," corrected the long man coldly. "And," he added +with a wealth of meaning in his voice, "to all who meddle in the affairs +of our beloved country and seek to do it harm." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Roland. + +"Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be +well advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the +malcontents who would do my beloved land an injury." + +The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit +of taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity +be a devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him +to realize that there were those who objected to his restoration to +the throne. Till now he had looked on the enemy as something in the +abstract. It had not struck him that the people for whose correction +he was buying all these rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a +lively distaste for having their blood shed. + +"Senor Bleke," resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions +whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, "you are a +man of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, +this scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there +is still time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your +blood be upon your own head." + +"My blood!" gasped Roland. + +The speaker bowed. + +"That is all," he said. "We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor +Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of +yours, you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the +road, and you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is +it, but much the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account the +policeman on the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We wish +you a good night." + +The deputation withdrew. + +Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said +"Poof!" It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in a +difficult situation if she could get out of the habit of saying "Poof!" + +"It is nothing," she said. + +"No?" said Roland. + +"We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money +to the Cause, and then where are they, _hein_?" + +It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. +He said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + +"You are not weakening, Roland?" she said. "You would not betray us +now?" + +"Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still----. +What I mean is----" + +Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + +"Take care," she cried. "With me it is nothing, for I know that your +heart is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect +that your resolve was failing--ah! If Bombito----" + +Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + +"For goodness' sake," he said hastily, "don't go saying anything to +Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you +can rely on me, and all that. That's all right." + +Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass--they were lunching at +the time--and put it to her lips. + +"To the Savior of Paranoya!" she said. + +"Beware!" whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + +He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, dark, +hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted +air which waiters cultivate. + +Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + +That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight +of the word "Beware" scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had +apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + +"Sir?" said the competent valet. ("Competent valets are in attendance at +each of these flats."--_Advt._) + +"Has any one been here since I left?" + +"Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, sir. +I showed him into your room." + +The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland +dragged himself out of bed. + +"Hullo?" + +"Is that Senor Bleke?" + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"Beware!" + +Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of +nerve, but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister +persecution. Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent +of withdrawing his support from the royalist movement, what then? +Bombito. If ever there was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. +And all because a perfectly respectful admiration for the caoutchouc +had led him to occupy a stage-box several nights in succession at the +theater where the peerless Maraquita tied herself into knots. + + * * * * * + +There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their +next meeting. + +"We have been in communication with Him," she whispered. "He will +receive you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya." + +"Eh? Who will?" + +"Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are to +go to him at once." + +"Where?" + +"At his own house. He will receive you in person." + +Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing +of late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of +meeting face to face a genuine--if exiled--monarch. The thought did flit +through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's office +if they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + +The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. +Roland rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the prosaic +in the action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + +There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were +ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a +luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts +running in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got an +uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to see +the dentist. + +Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + +"His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke." + +Roland followed him with tottering knees. + +His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a +genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle +and a little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous +stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + +"Sit down, Mr. Bleke," said His Majesty, as the door closed. "I have +been wanting to see you for some time." + +Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a +long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + +King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, +who shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked +thoughtfully for a while. + +"You know, Mr. Bleke," he said at last, "this must stop. It really must. +I mean your devoted efforts on my behalf." + +Roland gaped at him. + +"You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. +Your youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair +from a spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to +gain commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before +we part, that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this +movement to restore me to the throne. + +"I don't understand--er--your majesty." + +"I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. +You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a +reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise +very pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know +Paranoya? Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort +of life a King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure +you that a coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, the +climate of the country is abominable. I always had a cold in the head. +Secondly, there is a small but energetic section of the populace whose +sole recreation it seems to be to use their monarch as a target for +bombs. They are not very good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, ten +explodes, and even an occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the +target. + +"Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave +it. I was educated in England--I am a Magdalene College man--and I have +the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My present life +suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. For both our +sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon this scheme of +yours." + + * * * * * + +Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence +long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial monarch +had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his situation came +home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound to displease +somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly impulsive when they +were vexed. + +For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the +instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the +body, he called at her house. + +She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There +were the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + +He looked unhappily round the crowd. + +Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + +"To the revolution," he said mechanically. + +There was a silence--it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he +had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift +from the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with some +apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + +But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward +and slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came to +light that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + +"My old chap," he said. "I would have a speech with you." + +He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + +"The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say +'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently." + +He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken +gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly +there came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was +nervous. + +"After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you +ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, +perhaps. The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in +Paranoya. Upset. Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have +been--what do you say?--put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more +ministry. New ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is +the cry. So deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent +merchants and that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be +President. See? No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor +Bleke. What about it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So +no need for your kind assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No +more royalist revolution." + +The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an +interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not fond +of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would kill +the poor girl. + +"But Maraquita----?" + +"That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, +stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, +whither thou goes will I follow. No?" + +"But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?" + +"Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?" + +"Have you been married to her all the time?" + +"Why, certainly, good, dear boy." + +The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind +for meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found +Bombito's hand. + +"By Jove," he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, "I knew you +were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. +Have a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and tell +me all about it." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + +Final Story of the Series [First published in _Pictorial Review_, +October 1916] + + +"What do you mean--you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why +can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish." + +Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House +of Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the +Gilded Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, +irritation. If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood +disliked, it was any interference with arrangements already made. + +"The man," he continued, "is not unsightly. The man is not conspicuously +vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man pronounces his +aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, moreover, is worth +rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I repeat, you are +childish!" + +"Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father," said Lady Eva. +"It's not that at all." + +"I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is." + +"Well, do you think I could be happy with him?" + +Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a +very happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches +of her family. + +"We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of happiness. +Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Gerry, whose only +visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is the four hundred +a year which he draws as a member for a constituency which has every +intention of throwing him out at the next election." + +Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of +her family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern +Cornwall. + +"Young O'Rion is not to be thought of," said Lord Evenwood firmly. "Not +for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all +wrong. Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred +responsibility not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your +word one day to enter upon the most solemn contract known to--ah--the +civilized world, and break it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is +not fair to me. You know that all I live for is to see you comfortably +settled. If I could myself do anything for you, the matter would be +different. But these abominable land-taxes and Blowick--especially +Blowick--no, no, it's out of the question. You will be very sorry if you +do anything foolish. I can assure you that Roland Blekes are not to be +found--ah--on every bush. Men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays." + +"Especially," said Lady Kimbuck, "into a family like ours. What with +Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather +and the circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in +'85----" + +"Thank you, Sophia," interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. "It is +unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate +reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her +word to Mr. Bleke." + +Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of +the utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one +firm of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, +and the family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while +Cupidity fought its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood +family had at various times and in various ways stimulated the +circulation of the evening papers. Most of them were living down +something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's habit, when thwarted in her +lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and announce that she was not +to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book. Abject +surrender followed on the instant. + +At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and +rose. + +"It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or +you will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining +years with literary work, but----" + +Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + +Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + +"There, run along now," she said. "I daresay you've got a headache or +something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. +Go down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say +goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient." + +Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that Lady +Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to +bed with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview +which he so dreaded. + +Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion +that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary +insanity. They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel +for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the +highest flights of love. It was only later that the reaction came and he +realized that he was nothing of the sort. + +At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of +whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so +much as Lady Eva Blyton. + +Other women--notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the +destinies of Paranoya--had frightened him by their individuality. Lady +Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of +aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever +of what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of +an earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the +society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were +beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly +called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + +All along, from the very moment when--to his unbounded astonishment--she +had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he +never realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. +He was filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had +taken him to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the +notice of Lady Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap +at her invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; +but for that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady +Kimbuck had convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got +him somehow, whether he had accepted or refused. + +What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been +no need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in +his breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the sense to +realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he might have +a quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. Their lives +could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with a fondness +for the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, picture-palaces, +and Association football. Merely to think of Association football in +connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct +clear. He ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some +inaccessible goddess. + +A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + +"I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.--er--Roland," she said, +holding out her hand. "Do excuse me. I've got such a headache." + +"Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry." + +If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that +moment, it was himself. + +"Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?" asked Lady Eva languidly. + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot." + +The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. +He was the biggest ass in Christendom. + +"Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?" + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no." There it was again, that awful phrase. He +was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking him a +perfect lunatic. "I don't play golf." + +They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that +her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her +that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of +sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him +to babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his +quite respectable biceps? No. + +"Never mind," she said, kindly. "I daresay we shall think of something +to amuse you." + +She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible +instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from +the emotion through which he had been passing. + +"Good night." + +"Good night." + +Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at +least. + +A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had +left him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul +escaped him. + +"I can't do it!" + +He sprang to his feet. + +"I won't do it." + +A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + +"I think you are quite right, sir--if I may make the remark." + +Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first place, +he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the second, he +had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment before, he +had been. + +But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the +cat-like faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly--a fact which +had won for him, in the course of a long career in the service of the +best families, the flattering position of star witness in a number of +England's raciest divorce-cases. + +Mr. Teal, the butler--for it was no less a celebrity who had broken in +on Roland's reverie--was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly cast of +countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many butlers +possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn to him +during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had been +uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, stricken +by interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human thing in +the place. + +He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. +He could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, +he had the right to freeze Teal with a look. + +He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very +forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner +were soothing. + +"Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room," went on the +butler, "I thought for a moment that you were addressing me." + +This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him +that Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the +point. + +"What do you mean--you think I am quite right?" he said. "You don't know +what I was thinking about." + +Teal smiled indulgently. + +"On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just +come to the decision--in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one--that your +engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are quite +right, sir. It won't do." + +Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly well +aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady +Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's magnetism that +he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own +business. "Teal, you forget yourself!" would have covered the situation. +Roland, however, was physically incapable of saying "Teal, you forget +yourself!" The bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand +talking to the snake, but he is incapable of ending the conversation. +Roland was conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who +could tell butlers that they forgot themselves. But then that sort +of man would never be in this sort of trouble. The "Teal, you forget +yourself" type of man would be a first-class shot, a plus golfer, and +would certainly consider himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady +Eva. + +"The question is," went on Mr. Teal, "how are we to break it off?" + +Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in allowing +the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as well go +the whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And it was an +undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some one. + +He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks with +the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + +"It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. +And it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her +ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train +for London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some +fact, some disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her +ladyship's ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty." + +He eyed Roland meditatively. + +"If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?" + +"Well, I haven't." + +"No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had +made a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who +have made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally +done their bit of time. But, of course, if you----. Let me think. Do you +drink, sir?" + +"No." + +Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing +the old man a good deal. + +"You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?" asked Mr. Teal, not very +hopefully. "I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted wife? Some +poor creature you have treated shamefully?" + +At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was +compelled to answer in the negative. + +"I was afraid not," said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. "Thinking it all +over yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' You +don't look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his time." + +"Thinking it over?" + +"Not on your account, sir," explained Mr. Teal. "On the family's. I +disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family +as long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to +entertain a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense to +yourself, sir, this would not have done." + +"Well, it looks as if it would have to do," said Roland, gloomily. "I +can't see any way out of it." + +"I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot." + +Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + +"You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?" + +Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He +feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was +smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + +"I've never been at Aldershot in my life." + +"For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let +me explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much +good. She's not very particular. I am sure she would do it for a +consideration." + +"Do what?" + +"Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's +had some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you would +guess it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir," he went on +with enthusiasm, "done all frizzy. Just the sort of young person that a +young gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' with. You couldn't +find a better if you tried for a twelvemonth." + +"But, I say----!" + +"I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not, but----" + +"Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow +and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day +after to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the +letters." + +"Letters?" + +"Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature of +these cases." + +"Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what +to say. I've never seen her." + +"That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. I +will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you write +those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on it? +Then it will all be perfectly simple." + +When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly +passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had +succeeded in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the +conclusion that there must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good +deal less respectable than he appeared to be at present. Byronic was +the only adjective applicable to his collaborator's style of amatory +composition. In every letter there were passages against which Roland +had felt compelled to make a modest protest. + +"'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you think +that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for the +pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken +hair against my cheek!' What I mean is--well, what about it, you know?" + +"The phrases," said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, "to +which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I +happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord +Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His +lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters." + +Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. +Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a +period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + +"That," Mr. Teal explained, "will make your conduct definitely +unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,"--Mr. Teal +was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration--"you have the +effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship." + +With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo +the atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + +"You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and +strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would +you be?" + +Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one +of the shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the +afternoon. + +It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud +of having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up--all were +perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. +Lady Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, and +Roland thinking. A peaceful scene. + +A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just +proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and +Teal announced, "Miss Chilvers." + +Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he +felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he had +been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat and +did nothing. + +It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the +actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture +of her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one +fact of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings of +the long drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably "not much good" than +Roland had ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama +could not fail of success. He should have been pleased; he was merely +appalled. The thing might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it +was going to be terrible. + +She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice her. +Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been +some ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer +amazement. Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at +the apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring +relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she +was possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these +situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled +the night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in +his own drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy +days. + +Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive +Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity. + +"To what are we----?" he began. + +Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there +while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into +speech. + +"Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot +of perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right +and wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have +my feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the +weekend. I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, +and not before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily +Sketch the other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to +me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva +Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I +read that, I said 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being +able to travel at once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came +along to-day, just to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask +him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I +know it's the sort of thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I +thought it might be worth mentioning. So now!" + + * * * * * + +Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that +Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this +sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have +been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was +thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did +not intend lightly to relinquish it. + +"My good girl," said Lady Kimbuck, "talk less and prove more. When did +Mr. Bleke promise to marry you?" + +"Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got +all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters." + +Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never +lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them +as literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in +useful. + +"Roland," said Lady Eva, quietly, "haven't you anything to contribute to +this conversation?" + +Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with +her, and she was up in the correct business. + +"Is he here? In this room?" + +Roland slunk from the shadows. + +"Mr. Bleke," said Lord Evenwood, sternly, "who is this woman?" + +Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + +"Are these letters in your handwriting?" asked Lady Kimbuck, almost +cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, +and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a +colorless stick should have been capable of them. + +Roland nodded. + +"Well, it's lucky you're rich," said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. "What +are you asking for these?" she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + +"Exactly," said Lord Evenwood, relieved. "Precisely. Your sterling +common sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on +a businesslike footing." + +"Do you imagine for a moment----?" began Miss Chilvers slowly. + +"Yes," said Lady Kimbuck. "How much?" + +Miss Chilvers sobbed. + +"If I have lost him for ever----" + +Lady Eva rose. + +"But you haven't," she said pleasantly. "I wouldn't dream of standing in +your way." She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and +walked to the door. "I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke," she said, as she +reached it. + +Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had +confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene +figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life +on which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he +gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and +the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad +view of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady +Kimbuck had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make +for gaiety. + + * * * * * + +He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside +the sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened +the first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + + "Dear Sir," (it ran). + + "We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + "Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison." + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +***** This file should be named 8713.txt or 8713.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8713/ + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/8713.zip b/8713.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb70092 --- /dev/null +++ b/8713.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91f44a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #8713 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8713) diff --git a/old/8713-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/8713-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..347405d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8713-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,4632 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Man of Means, by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +Release Date: July 27, 2009 [EBook #8713] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A MAN OF MEANS + </h1> + <h2> + A SERIES OF SIX STORIES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + </h2> + <h3> + From the <i>Pictorial Review</i>, May-October 1916 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED + MONARCH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + </h2> + <p> + First of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + May 1916] + </p> + <p> + When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main chance + receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely large + order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to + predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, he + asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do they + merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald and + unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem depends the + important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge a fraudulent jam + disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would resent. + </p> + <p> + This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian Fineberg, + of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke knocked at his + door; and such was its difficulty that only at the nineteenth knock did + Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come in—that dashed woodpecker out there!” he shouted, for it was + his habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior + members of his staff. + </p> + <p> + The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a + provincial seed-merchant's office—which, strangely enough, he + chanced to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He + was a young man; and when you had said that of him you had said + everything. There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, + except the fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two + and his name was Roland Bleke. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, it's about my salary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British square + at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a squadron of + cuirassiers. + </p> + <p> + “Salary?” he cried. “What about it? What's the matter with it? You get it, + don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's too much.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium could + have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly heard one + of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He pinched himself. + </p> + <p> + “Say that again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If you could see your way to reduce it, sir——” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was + endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled that + idea. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want it reduced?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and + forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds——” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said genially, “I quite understand. But I can do you better + than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. From now + on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. You're an + excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit when I find it. + Close the door after you.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed + problem. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may be + briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had lodged + at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter at the + local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic pets, + consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of sixty, Mrs. + Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life was devoted to + cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers Frank and Percy, + gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged in the mysterious + occupation known as “lookin' about for somethin',” and, lastly, Muriel. + </p> + <p> + For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke a mere + automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for neatly-laid + breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. Gradually, + however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use sufficiently to + enable him to look at her when she came into the room, he discovered that + she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the North by a mass of auburn + hair and to the South by small and shapely feet. She also possessed what, + we are informed—we are children in these matters ourselves—is + known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met Roland's one evening, as he + chumped his chop, and before he knew what he was doing he had remarked + that it had been a fine day. + </p> + <p> + From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed. + Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not bring + himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy conversation + about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he felt bound to + say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found it more and more + difficult each evening to hit on something bright, until finally, from + sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + </p> + <p> + If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then. + It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast + machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the + room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science. + Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of Mr. + Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado, of Brothers + Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow simultaneously + half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making bread-pellets and + throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the Coppin cat, which + had wandered in on the chance of fish. + </p> + <p> + Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came + the word “bans,” and smote him like a blast of East wind. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from that + moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a reduction of + salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was extraordinarily + happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to be engaged is an + intoxicating experience, and at first life was one long golden glow to + Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always nourished a desire to + be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his engagement satisfied that + desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers Frank and Percy cough knowingly + when he came in. It was pleasant to walk abroad with a girl like Muriel in + the capacity of the accepted wooer. Above all, it was pleasant to sit + holding Muriel's hand and watching the ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert + Potter to hide his mortification. Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works + round the corner, and hitherto Roland had always felt something of a worm + in his presence. Albert was so infernally strong and silent and efficient. + He could dissect a car and put it together again. He could drive through + the thickest traffic. He could sit silent in company without having his + silence attributed to shyness or imbecility. But—he could not get + engaged to Muriel Coppin. That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, the + dasher, the young man of affairs. It was all very well being able to tell + a spark-plug from a commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in + an affair of the heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper + place, third at the pole. + </p> + <p> + Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would + never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to creep + more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic descended + upon Roland Bleke. + </p> + <p> + All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An invitation + to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. He was one of + those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of planning out any + definite step. He could do things on the spur of the moment, but plans + made him lose his nerve. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in agonized + tones: “Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me out of this + frightful marriage business.” + </p> + <p> + If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the + attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made it + clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to them. It + would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style to which + they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they went with + Muriel as a sort of bonus. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was a + general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known that he + had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. Fineberg on + the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin removed his saucer of + tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a sardine from the corner of + his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an undertone. Albert Potter, who was + present, glowered silently. + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his + rejoicing heart would permit. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I've bad news.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. + Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + </p> + <p> + “He won't give you your raise?” + </p> + <p> + Roland sighed. + </p> + <p> + “He's reduced me.” + </p> + <p> + “Reduced you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a + hundred and ten.” + </p> + <p> + The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed to + be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank and + Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their + fountain pens. + </p> + <p> + Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel + Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed + upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Roland, “we couldn't get married on a hundred and ten?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Percy. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Albert Potter. + </p> + <p> + They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Roland regretfully, “I'm afraid we must wait.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said she + thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had asked, was + quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between sobs, moaned that + it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely devouring bread and + jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. And, to end a painful + scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and went up-stairs to his + own quarters. + </p> + <p> + There was a telegram on the mantel. + </p> + <p> + “Some fellows,” he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, “wouldn't have + been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given + themselves away. They would——” + </p> + <p> + The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + </p> + <p> + For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been + written in Hindustani. + </p> + <p> + It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the + promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder + of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of + this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in due + course. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he could + recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these open-handed + gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him back to a + morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's eldest son + Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money from his + father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of cardboard, at + the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly from a vague desire + to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally because it struck him + as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed over the ten shillings; + and there, as far as he had known, the matter had ended. + </p> + <p> + And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the + shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five + hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + </p> + <p> + For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five + hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + </p> + <p> + His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling + fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the telegram + to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think the whole + matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. After all, + he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a secret. He would receive + the check in due course, as stated, and he would bicycle over to the + neighboring town of Lexingham and start a bank-account with it. Nobody + would know, and life would go on as before. + </p> + <p> + He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep at + eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. Coppin + was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. Coppin was + there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had apparently + kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy stood at his + bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. Coppin thrust a + newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + </p> + <p> + These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and + the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep + from it was this head-line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES +</pre> + <p> + And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + POOR CLERK WINS £40,000 +</pre> + <p> + His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of the + faithful Gelatine. + </p> + <p> + Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day + followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere except + just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when conscience + could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to think of anything + or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to remove him from Bury + St. Edwards on any terms. + </p> + <p> + It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted telepathically + to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their behavior at this + juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the police force. Perhaps + it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an eye on what they already + considered their own private gold-mine that made them so adhesive. + Certainly there was no hour of the day when one or the other was not in + Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their vigilance even extended to the + night hours, and once, when Roland, having tossed sleeplessly on his bed, + got up at two in the morning, with the wild idea of stealing out of the + house and walking to London, a door opened as he reached the top of the + stairs, and a voice asked him what he thought he was doing. The statement + that he was walking in his sleep was accepted, but coldly. + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary strategy + eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, with his + ticket to London in his pocket and the express already entering the + station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, who appeared from + nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a speech that lasted until + the tail-lights of the train had vanished and Brothers Frank and Percy + arrived, panting. + </p> + <p> + A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this last + episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing himself + described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim addition + that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to a fresh + dash for liberty. + </p> + <p> + Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the + exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a certain + amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the things which + made the present a source of misery to him was the fact that he was + expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober young man with + a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained from infancy to a + decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted itself to the + possession of large means; and the open-handed role forced upon him by the + family appalled him. + </p> + <p> + When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to + Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had + reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he might + surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, a man of + his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere gauds and + trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand for a silk + petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and Percy took + theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst blow by + insisting on a hired motor-car. + </p> + <p> + Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert + Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one way + of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave the + paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good deal of + discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better to go round + corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these expeditions, + Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, his torments were + subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the only way in which he + could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony was to increase the speed + to sixty miles an hour. + </p> + <p> + It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of + Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the loop + in his aeroplane. + </p> + <p> + It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and see + M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures which + never grow <i>blasé</i> at the sight of a fellow human taking a sporting + chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild animal + exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew him like a + magnet. + </p> + <p> + “The blighter goes up,” he explained, as he conducted the party into the + arena, “and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. I've + seen pictures of it.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the + ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would take + up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have been no + rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail themselves + of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small man with a + chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture cards and smoking + a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Albert Potter was scornful. + </p> + <p> + “Lot of rabbits,” he said. “Where's their pluck? And I suppose they call + themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a five-pound + note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the laugh of us.” + </p> + <p> + It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful + tenderness from Muriel. “You're so brave, Mr. Potter,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or + whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but + Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to + his rival. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and waved + the note aside. + </p> + <p> + “I take no favors,” he said with dignity. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you do it.” said Albert, nastily. “Five pounds is nothing to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Why should you?” + </p> + <p> + It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It + stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an + unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + </p> + <p> + In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had + apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + </p> + <p> + “All right, then, I will,” he said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough to talk,” said Albert. + </p> + <p> + Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. + Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + </p> + <p> + Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh + hour. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the sort + of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + </p> + <p> + For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was + experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type of person + when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an acquaintance of + theirs. + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” he said. “There's no danger. At least, not + much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. What do + you want to go interfering for?” + </p> + <p> + Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little + longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud was a + foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + </p> + <p> + He took Muriel's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It + struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle—and, + worse, delaying the start of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “What's it all about?” he demanded. “You go on as if we were never going + to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + “You never know.” + </p> + <p> + “It's as safe as being in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “But still, in case we never meet again——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along + the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, till + the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Brother Frank. “Now watch. Now he's going to loop the loop.” + </p> + <p> + But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew + smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + </p> + <p> + “What the dickens?” + </p> + <p> + Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the sky—something + that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an aeroplane traveling rapidly + into the sunset. + </p> + <p> + Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + </h2> + <p> + Second of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + June 1916] + </p> + <p> + Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the + rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey + Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the full. + His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; and his + wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it difficult to + get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + </p> + <p> + “There's a column in to-day's <i>Financial Argus</i>,” she said, “of which + you really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat + Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that you + knew it when you floated the company.” + </p> + <p> + “They will have their little joke.” + </p> + <p> + “But you had the usual mining-expert's report.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at the + time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended rather + on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a matter of + fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in South America + somewhere. Awful climate—snakes, mosquitoes, revolutions, fever.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out + there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in + within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next + number but one. What are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird yawned. + </p> + <p> + “Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The Napoleon + of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty thousand + pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we sail for the + Argentine. I've got the tickets.” + </p> + <p> + “You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. It's + a flea-bite.” + </p> + <p> + “On paper—in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it + is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, hard + lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite from a + hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So—St. + Helena for Napoleon.” + </p> + <p> + Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a + Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more accurate + title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the head of his + class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was delightfully + simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco Trust, founded by + Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those profits which the + glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. Geoffrey would appease + the excited shareholders by giving them Preference Shares (interest + guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction Company, hastily floated to meet + the emergency. When the interest became due, it would, as likely as not, + be paid out of the capital just subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines + Exploitation Association, the little deficiency in the latter being + replaced in its turn, when absolutely necessary and not a moment before, + by the transfer of some portion of the capital just raised for yet another + company. And so on, ad infinitum. There were moments when it seemed to Mr. + Windlebird that he had solved the problem of Perpetual Promotion. + </p> + <p> + The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's is + when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands ready + money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened now, and it + had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + </p> + <p> + He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled that + the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had handled + millions—on paper, it was true, but still millions—and here he + was knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?” persisted Mrs. + Windlebird. “Have you tried every one?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight—the probables, the possibles, + the highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the + minstrel's wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this + time. Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of + twenty thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from + the clouds.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees beyond + the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth turf, not + twenty yards from where he was seated. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress rather + resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in which he has + spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling more wretched than + he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. He had a splitting + headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes smarted. He was hungry. + He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, who had hopped out and was + now busy tinkering the engine, a gay Provencal air upon his lips, as he + had rarely hated any one, even Muriel Coppin's brother Frank. + </p> + <p> + So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. + Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on the + turf before him. + </p> + <p> + “Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?” + </p> + <p> + Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial + stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, keen + student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his photograph + in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk from house to + tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of the more salient + points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird heard that Roland + had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up and took notice. + </p> + <p> + “Lead me to him,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + Roland sneezed. + </p> + <p> + “Doe accident, thag you,” he replied miserably. “Somethig's gone wrong + with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck.” + </p> + <p> + M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose to + his feet, and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, <i>mon + ami</i>,” he said radiantly to Roland, “all now O. K. We go on.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Roland decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “No? What you mean—no?” + </p> + <p> + A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The eminent + bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he felt like a + brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little aeroplane rides + which bordered upon the princely. + </p> + <p> + “But you say—take me to France with you——” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's all wrong.” M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. + “You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. It + is here.” He slapped his breast pocket. “But the other two hundred pounds + which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in France, where + is that, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you two hundred and fifty,” said Roland earnestly, “to leave + me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly machine + again.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous + Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to + Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now you talk. Now you say something,” he cried in his impetuous way. + “Embrace me. You are all right.” + </p> + <p> + Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane + disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + </p> + <p> + “You're not well, you know,” said Mr. Windlebird. + </p> + <p> + “I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night—that French ass + lost his bearings—and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a + hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “Hotel? Nonsense.” Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice which + at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders as if by + magic. “You're coming right into my house and up to bed this instant.” + </p> + <p> + It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at his + toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name of his + good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle out of bed + and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which he had + learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in something + approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest business brains of + the age. + </p> + <p> + To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance + about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The + kindness of the Windlebirds—and there seemed to be nothing that they + were not ready to do for him—distressed him beyond measure. To have + a really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over his + bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost horrible. + Such condescension was too much. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling replaced + by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, simple, kindly + couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained only gratitude. + He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was not long before he + had told them the history of his career, skipping the earlier years and + beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + </p> + <p> + “It makes you feel funny,” he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic + ear, “suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem hardly + able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + </p> + <p> + “The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little + experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you would + allow me to recommend some sound investment——” + </p> + <p> + Roland glowed with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money + into anything. It's like this.” + </p> + <p> + He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel Coppin. + Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his conscience had begun + to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had not acted well toward + Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she didn't care a bit about + him and was in love with Albert, the silent mechanic, but there was just + the chance that she was mourning over his loss; and, anyhow, his + conscience was sore. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to give her something,” he said. “How much do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird perpended. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with—say, + a thousand pounds—not a check, you understand, but one thousand + golden sovereigns that he can show her—roll about on the table in + front of her eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money + in the raw has on people.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather make it two thousand,” said Roland. He had never really loved + Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; but he + wanted to retreat with honor. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know how + old Harrison is going to carry all that money.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it over, + after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the conclusion + that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it would be good + for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel jumped + at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland next morning + that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird redoubled. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Mr. Windlebird genially, “we can talk about that money of + yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something which, + without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless returns + a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you want is something + sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a kick to it, + something which can't go down and may go soaring like a rocket.” + </p> + <p> + Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit another + cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips—But + I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. + Put your money—” he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, “put + every penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just imparted + to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the philosopher's + stone. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird,” said Roland gratefully. “I will.” + </p> + <p> + The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, young man,” laughed Mr. Windlebird. “Getting into Wildcat + Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you + propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty + thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy Wildcat + Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed.” + </p> + <p> + Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to + invest thirty thousand pounds—or pence—in Wildcat Reefs, the + market would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked + with laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke—except to the + unfortunate few who still held any of the shares. + </p> + <p> + “The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But I + think—I say I think—I can manage it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be + doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time.” He filled + his glass. “This—” he paused to sip—“this pal of mine has a + large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the money + into something else, in which he is more personally interested.” Mr. + Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn current + account at the bank. “In which he is more personally interested,” he + repeated dreamily. “But of course you couldn't unload thirty pounds' worth + of Wildcats in the public market.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite see that,” assented Roland. + </p> + <p> + “It might, however, be done by private negotiation,” he said. “I must act + very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand to-night, and + I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I can do.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland did + not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, Mr. + Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him twenty + thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + </p> + <p> + “There, my boy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the + pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the + beautiful garden, the pleasant company—all these things combined to + make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + </p> + <p> + He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly on + the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to show + Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and tired. + </p> + <p> + A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only crumpled + rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. Windlebird would + bring one back with him when he returned from the city, but Roland wanted + one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, and he wanted to know + how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even this crumpled rose-leaf + had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, who happened to be riding + into the nearest town on an errand, had promised to bring one back with + him. He might appear at any moment now. + </p> + <p> + The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. She + was looking terribly troubled. + </p> + <p> + It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been unusually + silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. Windlebird's + room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and agitated. Could + they have had some bad news? + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + </p> + <p> + “You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he + would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Break it to me!” + </p> + <p> + “My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine called + Wildcat Reefs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Thirty thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!” + </p> + <p> + She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, they + may be absolutely worthless.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + </p> + <p> + “Wor-worthless!” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice + that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He is + in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of you, + Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been the + innocent instrument of your trouble.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were + precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth + seemed to melt under him. + </p> + <p> + “We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to + the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must + make good your losses. We must buy back those shares.” + </p> + <p> + A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + </p> + <p> + “But——” he began. + </p> + <p> + “There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a + minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds + for the shares, you said? Well”—she held out a pink slip of paper to + him—“this will make everything all right.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at the check. + </p> + <p> + “But—but this is signed by you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it would + mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with every + movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might ruin the + plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling out stock + doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, to give me + time to realize on the securities in which my money is invested.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had been his + host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. But chivalry + forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of self-sacrifice + warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had never had any + fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it that for all + practical purposes it might never have been his. + </p> + <p> + With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when exhibited + on the stage by the hero of the number two company of “The Price of + Honor,” which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a few months + before, he tore the check into little pieces. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird,” he said. “I can't tell you how + deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I + bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, + and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me here, + it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and generous + of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a little + money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, anyway, so—so + it's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke, I implore you.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of + escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no other + way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he perceived + Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + </p> + <p> + “Johnson said he was going into the town,” said Roland apologetically, “so + I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch scores.” + </p> + <p> + If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was + strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her + face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the chair + which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. She lay + back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + </p> + <p> + Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to the + conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and + Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in competition + with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + </p> + <p> + Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as he + did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + </p> + <p> + Out of the explosion emerged the word “WILD-CATS”. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he exclaimed. “There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page + here!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her + eyes were still closed. + </p> + <p> + Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES +</pre> + <p> + Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic exuberance, + what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The “special commissioner” sent out by The <i>Financial Argus</i> to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine—with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public—has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The <i>Financial Argus</i> has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. +</pre> + <p> + The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The very + atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable of + thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand + pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Windlebird,” he cried, “It's all right after all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right for every one,” screamed Roland joyfully. “Why, if I've + made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted. + It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the + biggest thing of his life.” + </p> + <p> + He thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The chap I'm sorry for,” he said meditatively, “is Mr. Windlebird's pal. + You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his shares + to me.” + </p> + <p> + A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear it. + He was reading the cricket news. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + </h2> + <p> + Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + July 1916] + </p> + <p> + It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you + sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke + with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment + Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen in; + and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not + altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before, + and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had become + afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical supper-party + again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must possess dash; and + Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a little short of dash. + </p> + <p> + The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. + While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was + “old Gerry” whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on its + course. After a glance at old Gerry—a chinless child of about + nineteen—Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a + young man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one + of those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited one + which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the + better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter. + </p> + <p> + The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a + more serious view of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Sidney, you make me tired,” she said severely. “If I had thought you + didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with + you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to + come and sit by me. I want to talk to him.” + </p> + <p> + That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + </p> + <p> + “I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke,” + she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. “I've heard such + a lot about you.” + </p> + <p> + What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred + thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't have + come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as a + general rule. They bore me stiff.” + </p> + <p> + Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. + Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but there + were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment—a thoughtful + student of character—a girl who understood that a man might sit at a + supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man of parts. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken—but that's me all over. + All my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one + she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one she + tells them straight out, too.'” + </p> + <p> + “And a very admirable trait,” said Roland, enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint sighed. “P'raps it is,” she said pensively, “but I'm afraid + it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like it: they + think girls should be seen and not heard.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + </p> + <p> + “But what's the good of worrying,” went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave + but hollow laugh. “Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has + got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is + bound to come some day.” + </p> + <p> + The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to indicate + that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less than sixty + years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous nature was up in + arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to help this victim of + managerial unfairness. “You don't mind my going on about my troubles, do + you?” asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. “One so seldom meets anybody + really sympathetic.” + </p> + <p> + Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rather!” said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more + polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I know what a busy man you are——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bleated gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “I'll write down the address for you,” said Miss Verepoint, suddenly + businesslike. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor Theater, + Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence + fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not—the + next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking + lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with “yes's” + and “no's” were always so thoroughly confused that he never knew even + whose suggestion it was. + </p> + <p> + The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, is + not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. Roland + was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was carried + through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that he had + never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the offices of Mr. + Montague with the intention of making an offer for the lease for, say, six + months; and that wizard, in the space of less than an hour, had not only + induced him to sign mysterious documents which made him sole proprietor of + the house, but had left him with the feeling that he had done an extremely + acute stroke of business. Mr. Montague had dabbled in many professions in + his time, from street peddling upward, but what he was really best at was + hypnotism. + </p> + <p> + Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was withdrawn, + rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby to hold by a + strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, Roland was to + some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by Miss Verepoint. + She said it was much better to buy a theater than to rent it, because then + you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, but Roland had a dim feeling + that there was a flaw somewhere in the reasoning; and it was from this + point that a shadow may be said to have fallen upon the brightness of the + venture. + </p> + <p> + He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the + Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the + metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles was + “The Mugs' Graveyard”—a title which had been bestowed upon it not + without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, whose + principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant supply of + the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of the Higher Drama + which flowed practically without cessation from the restless pen of the + insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater had passed from hand to + hand with the agility of a gold watch in a gathering of race-course + thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man who found himself, by some + accident, in possession of the Windsor Theater, was to pass it on to + somebody else. The only really permanent tenant it ever had was the + representative of the Official Receiver. + </p> + <p> + Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the theater, + but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama lay in the + fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was hidden. Cabmen + shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were asked to take a + fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the Australian bush was + child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on its trail and finish up + at the point where they had started. + </p> + <p> + It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted Mr. + Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical advantages + of the theater were enormous. It was further from a fire-station than any + other building of the same insurance value in London, even without having + regard to the mystery which enveloped its whereabouts. Often after a good + dinner he would lean comfortably back in his chair and see in the smoke of + his cigar a vision of the Windsor Theater blazing merrily, while + distracted firemen galloped madly all over London, vainly endeavoring to + get some one to direct them to the scene of the conflagration. So Mr. + Montague bought the theater for a mere song, and prepared to get busy. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with + which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows + insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the + fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. Nothing + would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay their + salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix were so + strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly + disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal—a thing + which had never happened to him before. + </p> + <p> + And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race + was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland for + twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more than he + himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit mitigated the + slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring to Roland the + insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting to rather more + than seventy thousand pounds on a building so notoriously valueless as the + Windsor Theater had been an achievement of which Mr. Montague was justly + proud, and it seemed sad to him that so much earnest endeavor should be + thrown away. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain + her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined her + policy. + </p> + <p> + “What we must put up at that theater,” she announced, “is a revue. A + revue,” repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little calculations + on the back of the menu, “we could run for about fifteen hundred a week—or, + say, two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same as + paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + </p> + <p> + “I know two boys who could write us a topping revue,” said Miss Verepoint. + “They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in love with me—both + of them. We'd better get in touch with them at once.” + </p> + <p> + To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister about + the sound of that word “touch,” but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there they are—lunching over there!” cried Miss Verepoint, + pointing to a neighboring table. “Now, isn't that lucky?” + </p> + <p> + To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to Miss + Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their table. + </p> + <p> + The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss + Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown + lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland + thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, but a + closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine distinctions + were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. Bromham Rhodes ran + his friend so close that it was practically a dead heat. They were both + fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the fact that what + revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant assimilation of + food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite in London; but, on + the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear old thing!” said Bromham Rhodes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old child!” said R. P. de Parys. + </p> + <p> + Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair + appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint struck the business note. “Now you stop, boys,” she said. + “Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I want you two + lads to write a revue for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted!” said Bromham Rhodes; “but——” + </p> + <p> + “There is the trifling point to be raised first——” said R. P. + de Parys. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the money coming from?” said Bromham Rhodes. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money,” said Miss Verepoint, with + dignity. “He has taken the Windsor Theater.” + </p> + <p> + The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, + increased with a jerk. “Has he? By Jove!” they cried. “We must get + together and talk this over.” + </p> + <p> + It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he + never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de + Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical + London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think of + doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. The + amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during the + course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at lunch + would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, as likely + as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order to thrash + the question thoroughly out. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the + actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable + difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It + seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England or + America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere with Miss + Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the principal role. It + was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss Verepoint was an expert in + theatrical matters, he scarcely felt entitled to question her views. + </p> + <p> + It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The passage + of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a certain extent + moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from a passionate + devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for her, into a sort + of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason for proposing was + that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of events. Her air + towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She now called him + “Roly-poly” in public—a proceeding which left him with mixed + feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as everybody + knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of the theatrical + profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had begun to feel a + little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss Verepoint. + Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the revue in which she + was to appear; they were constantly seen together at restaurants; people + looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He had to ask himself: was + he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The answer was in the negative. He + took a cab to her flat and proposed before he could repent of his + decision. + </p> + <p> + She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad or + sorry. “But I don't want to get married,” she went on, “until I have + justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have + made a success in this revue.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + </p> + <p> + The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes to + whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these—a scrubby but + confident lot—were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from + nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired scenic + artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great cloud of + chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even Bromham Rhodes and + R. P. de Parys—those human pythons—showed signs of activity. + They cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered him into the + Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him extracts from a + brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed him, was the first + act. + </p> + <p> + It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right to + be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and R. P. + de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every responsible + manager in London. As “Oh! What a Life!” it had failed to satisfy the + directors of the Empire. Re-christened “Wow-Wow!” it had been rejected by + the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider it, even under the + name of “Hullo, Cellar-Flap!” It was now called, “Pass Along, Please!” + and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + </p> + <p> + Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he + was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking + effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking effects. + As far as he could gather, the main difference between these things was + that real revue was something which had been stolen from some previous + English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect was something + which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of these, he was + given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the public wanted. + </p> + <p> + Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was properly + supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but even the + authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. They explained + that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, that they had + actually started it about ten years ago when they were careless lads. + Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart topical hits of the + early years of the century; but that, they said, would be all right. They + could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; it was simply a matter of + deleting allusions to pro-Boers and substituting lines about Marconi + shares and mangel-wurzels. “It'll be all right,” they assured Roland; + “this is real revue.” + </p> + <p> + In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, “Here is + the beginning of the end.” This point came with Roland at the commencement + of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized the terrible nature + of the production for which he had made himself responsible. Moreover, it + was rehearsals which gave him his first clear insight into the character + of Miss Verepoint. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, as + he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case to be + made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the + background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight + about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of “Pass + Along, Please!” but such as there were she reached out for and grabbed + away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and muttering, + like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland included. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, + panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage with + this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic his + instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual + dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides—everything + that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the + revue was a success, she would marry him—and revues, he knew, were + always successes. At that very moment there were six “best revues in + London,” running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that in + a few weeks there would be seven. + </p> + <p> + He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by himself for + a day or two in a place where there were no papers with advertisements of + revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy Verepoint. That + night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in happier days, he had + once spent a Summer holiday—a peaceful, primitive place where the + inhabitants could not have told real revue from a corking effect. + </p> + <p> + Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his quivering + nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London happier, but a + little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of farewell, he had not + communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, and experience had made + him aware that she was a lady who demanded an adequate amount of + attention. + </p> + <p> + That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in + upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, when + somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he uttered + a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + </p> + <p> + Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial gaze of + Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor Theater. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, + congratulatory. + </p> + <p> + “You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the first + month—by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of + commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought it, + to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and staring me + in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't grudge it to you—you + deserve it my boy! You're a nut!” + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, my boy!” chuckled Mr. Montague. “You're quite right to keep + it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the least + said soonest mended.” + </p> + <p> + He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + </p> + <p> + Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note of + Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered with + what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was beating + fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a wholesome respect + for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his favorite chair. There + were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys, who had made + themselves completely at home with a couple of his cigars and whisky from + the oldest bin. + </p> + <p> + “So here you are at last!” said Miss Verepoint, querulously. “The valet + told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on earth + have you been to, running away like this, without a word?” + </p> + <p> + “I only went——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you + going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought we'd better come along and talk it over,” said R. P. de Parys. + </p> + <p> + “Talk what over?” said Roland: “the revue?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!” snapped Miss Verepoint. + “It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. What do you + suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What about the theater?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. “Don't you ever read the + papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't seen a paper since I went away.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently,” said + Miss Verepoint. “The theater's been burned down—that's what's + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Burned down?” + </p> + <p> + “Burned down!” repeated Roland. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left copies + of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire to two + other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main thoroughfares and + the fire-brigade got them under control at once. I suppose they couldn't + find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the ground and what we want to + know is what are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply at + once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction on his + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Roly!” he said. “It's quite broken him up. The best thing we can + do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Miss Verepoint, “what are you going to do—rebuild the + Windsor or try and get another theater?” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take time, + but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this time of + the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater at a + moment's notice. + </p> + <p> + To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor + Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct + intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome + second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, could + now be postponed indefinitely. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, “our contract with you + makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date—but + I dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” said Rhodes. “Something nominal, say a further five hundred on + account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better to + rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. “You see, Roly, our revue has + been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it + for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the + Windsor would be your best course.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, Roly-poly?” asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no + sign. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take + another theater, or do anything else to oblige,” he said, cheerfully. + “Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful silence + fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de Parys woke + with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and Bromham Rhodes + forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. Miss Verepoint + was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” she gasped, “that you didn't insure the place?” + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had put + the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you?” Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + </p> + <p> + “Because it did not appear to me to be necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had done + all the insuring that was necessary—and a bit over. + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. “What about + the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this time?” she + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely my + fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I can + manage that, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Verepoint rose. “And what about me? What about me, that's what I want + to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you without + your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly well + mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and resignation. + He even contrived to sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this behavior + as his final pronouncement on the situation. “Then everything's jolly well + off.” + </p> + <p> + She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like + porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and took + out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among the + fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at such + pains to secure from so many companies. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he said softly to himself, “am I.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + </h2> + <p> + Fourth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + August 1916] + </p> + <p> + It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the other + end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far as his + preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been attributing + the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered from one + himself. + </p> + <p> + He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this particular + bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet deliberation on the + question of what on earth he was to do with two hundred and fifty thousand + pounds, to which figure his fortune had now risen. + </p> + <p> + The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had always + been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty pounds a year, + he had had few opportunities of indulging himself in this direction; but + now it seemed to him sometimes that the whole world was crying out for + assistance. + </p> + <p> + Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his eyes had + been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the title of + 'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend “Men Who Speak to + Girls,” and he had gathered that the accompanying article was a + denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the other hand, + she was obviously in distress. + </p> + <p> + Another sniff decided him. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had that + air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good + thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was + delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's + heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he went on, “but you appear to be in trouble. Is there + anything I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again—a keen look which seemed to get into + Roland's soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied + by the inspection, she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think there is,” she said. “Unless you happen to be the + proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all any one could do for me—give me back my work or + give me something else of the same sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you lost your job?” + </p> + <p> + “I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, and + I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, but I was + here first, and there are heaps of other benches.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able—what + I mean is—think of something. Tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand + pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel + almost masterful. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in that,” said the girl reflectively. “After all, you + might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been + discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's Page.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak——'?” + </p> + <p> + The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment vanished + instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a becoming pink, you + know! + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever + really read 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <p> + “Read it!” cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. “I should jolly well + think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after an article + like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a failure?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because they + couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's Mr. Petheram?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's really + everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next week. When I + started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But it got whittled + down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and myself. It was like + the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by one, till I was the + only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is doing the whole paper + now.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it that he can't get anything better to do?” Roland said. + </p> + <p> + “He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, but + they thought he was too old.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder + with a fatherly manner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's old, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung + Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent + Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the only + man worth looking rapt about. + </p> + <p> + He rose. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind giving me your address?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “In order,” said Roland carefully, “that I may offer you your former + employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it.” + </p> + <p> + After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have his + moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled her over + completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, open-mouthed. + Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, “I wonder how much + this is going to cost.” + </p> + <p> + “You're going to buy 'Squibs!'” + </p> + <p> + Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + She gulped. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think you're wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + So did Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Where will a letter find you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford + Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in due + course.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when + there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + </p> + <p> + “I—I just wanted to thank you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Roland. “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was + Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put Petheram + in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. Laughable. + </p> + <p> + A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, + informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that the + offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his exalted + state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + </p> + <p> + Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just + escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. + There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of + 'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, in + which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed him to + wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere box. Roland + was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + </p> + <p> + The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost + painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before him + was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of taking + his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a red face and + a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was surprized to see + Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at the closing door, and + kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down several inches of + discolored plaster. + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat,” he said, when he had finished this performance. “What can I + do for you?” + </p> + <p> + Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were less + easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was that Mr. + Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken him for a + prospective advertiser. + </p> + <p> + “I want to buy the paper,” said Roland. He was aware that this was an + abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to buy + the paper, so why not say so? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has + sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you + try?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to be + carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him + blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Roland. He felt the interview was going all + wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have + had. + </p> + <p> + “Honestly?” said Mr. Petheram. “You aren't pulling my leg?” + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, and + finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly honest. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be an ass,” he said. “You don't know what you're letting + yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you + know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to + for life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors—not + the present ones—thought it would give the thing a boom if they had + a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. + Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from + proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried to + get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he would + only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the time + we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. That's + why we are at the present moment a little understaffed.” + </p> + <p> + A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking of + Bessie March. + </p> + <p> + “I know all about that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And you still want to buy the thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own paper + like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you landed. + Why are you doing it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just for fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go + ahead.” + </p> + <p> + He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on + the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” he said, “there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. If + it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. We + haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming the + paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, what I + don't know about editing—but perhaps you had got somebody else in + your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an + office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap of + papers to give more room for his feet. “Take it that I continue as editor. + We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been doing all + the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't want to spoil + the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would sooner have a + happy, well-fed editor running about the place than a broken-down wreck + who might swoon from starvation?” + </p> + <p> + “But one moment,” said Roland. “Are you sure that the present proprietors + will want to sell?” + </p> + <p> + “Want to sell,” cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. “Why, if they know + you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them without + the paper as—as—well, I can't think of anything that has such + a poor chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll cry + on your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now.” + </p> + <p> + He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a + note-book. + </p> + <p> + “There's just one other thing,” said Roland. “I have been a regular reader + of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in which the + Woman's Page——” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do + better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before you + change your mind or wake up.” + </p> + <p> + Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland + began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering + cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. + Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that he + was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital into the + business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded ideas at every + pore. + </p> + <p> + Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He was + under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a weekly + journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the purchase of + a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he made. Nobody + could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was willing, even anxious, + to write the whole paper himself, with the exception of the Woman's Page, + now brightly conducted once more by Miss March. What he wanted Roland to + concentrate himself upon was the supplying of capital for ingenious + advertising schemes. + </p> + <p> + “How would it be,” he asked one morning—he always began his remarks + with, “How would it be?”—“if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly + in white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across + his chest?” + </p> + <p> + Roland thought it would certainly not be. + </p> + <p> + “Good sound advertising stunt,” urged Mr. Petheram. “You don't like it? + All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of men + dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' See what + I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy + it! Buy it!' It would make people talk.” + </p> + <p> + Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest + apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus + sprinting down the Strand shouting “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!” with + reference to his personal property appalled him. + </p> + <p> + He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as he + generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of romance + which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had faded + entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue to + captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the exclusive + property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish any delusion + that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a mild liking for + him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an indisputable claim. + Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate devotee toward a high + priest. One morning, entering the office unexpectedly, Roland found her + kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; and from that moment his interest + in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to zero. It amazed him that he could ever + have been idiot enough to have allowed himself to be entangled in this + insane venture for the sake of an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with + a snub-nose and a poor complexion. + </p> + <p> + What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away good + cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal to the, + on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not alter the fact + that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked buoyantly about + turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just as far off. + </p> + <p> + The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any crisis, + came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and went to + Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, he + contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + </p> + <p> + He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London in + time for dinner. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his bright + weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room near + Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where nobody + seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven 'Squibs' + completely from his mind for the time being. + </p> + <p> + The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the + coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The lady, sare,” said the waiter vaguely. + </p> + <p> + Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped him. + There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant was a + favorite with artistes who were permitted to “look in” at their theaters + as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly self-conscious, + yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited tribute. He tore open + the envelope. + </p> + <p> + The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. + Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + </p> + <p> + “'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it,” it ran. All the mellowing effects of + a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. He + paid his bill and left the place. + </p> + <p> + A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable + sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow him + to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between two of + the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a doctor in the house?” + </p> + <p> + There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the box. A + man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “My wife has fainted,” continued the speaker. “She has just discovered + that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <p> + The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an + English audience in the presence of the unusual. + </p> + <p> + Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their + leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + </p> + <p> + As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had + sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was + headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like a + good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in her + time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes had + ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a suit of + white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. His top-hat, + at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a pantomime, + flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, which, tho the + weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore the device “One + penny weekly”. + </p> + <p> + The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive into a + taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. His head + was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through the window of + the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong exhortations of the + vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. This he did with a + sovereign, and the cab drove off. + </p> + <p> + He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it occurred + to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the first page. The + middle column was devoted to a really capitally written account of the + proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest of six men who, it + was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the disturbance of the peace + by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu warriors, shouting in unison + the words “Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the hound + Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could scarcely + have surpassed. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His + Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct this + belief fell on deaf ears. + </p> + <p> + “Have I seen the advertisements?” he cried, echoing his editor's first + question. “I've seen nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Mr. Petheram proudly. + </p> + <p> + “It can't go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we send + them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the Revue boom + started and actors were expected to do six different parts in seven + minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about the Strand, + ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a special staff + flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat and drink to them + to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them feel ten years + younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those Zulus used to + have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society Contortionists. The + Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried like children when we + took them on. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? The + fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're coining + money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we should turn + the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on two wheels. + Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? Then you + haven't seen our new Scandal Page—'We Just Want to Know, You Know.' + It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. Everybody + reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I wanted to ask + you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort of thing now.” + </p> + <p> + Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking + Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful + production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + </p> + <p> + “This is awful,” he moaned. “We shall have a hundred libel actions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't + know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. A + more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute + modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of + course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it + goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I + have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute limpid + truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your thumb.” + </p> + <p> + Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, + started as if he had removed it from a snake. + </p> + <p> + “But this is bound to mean a libel action!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” said Mr. Petheram comfortably. “You don't know Percy. I + won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he doesn't rush + into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe enough.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his + scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of + defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a scene + of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the ruins of + Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was reading an + illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “He's gorn,” he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” Roland snapped at him. “Who's gone and where did he + go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise and + stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there was + a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I went in, + and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the furniture + all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad been putting + 'im froo it proper,” concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + </p> + <p> + Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his + illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + </p> + <p> + It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of + astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of + Jimmy's story. + </p> + <p> + She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken + editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes and + a set jaw. + </p> + <p> + “Aubrey,” she said—it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name + was Aubrey—“is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and + sitting up and taking nourishment.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good.” + </p> + <p> + “In a spoon only.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it was + that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can prove + nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again this + week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't understand + them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild.” + </p> + <p> + Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he + appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and he + addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc than + anything else on earth, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss March,” he said, “I realize that this is a crisis, and that we must + all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do anything in + reason—but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen the effects + of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do if we repeat the + process I do not care to think.” + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roland simply. + </p> + <p> + Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a + worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely + better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon of + a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it is + better that people should say of you, “There he goes!” than that they + should say, “How peaceful he looks”. + </p> + <p> + Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to + Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into the + breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of the + departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. Thanks + to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in hand to + enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, however, + did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he could to help, + he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal Page. It must be + added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence as to chivalry. + Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the Scandal Page. In her + present mood it was not safe. To slip it into Percy would, he felt, be + with her the work of a moment. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared at + the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring its + whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + </p> + <p> + His brow grew damp. What sort of people—except book-makers—did + things you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, + nobody. + </p> + <p> + He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. A + kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. How + long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The paragraph + was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of some large + deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not understand a + word of it, but it gave him an idea. + </p> + <p> + [*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. + Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be no + possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about the + manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host had used + during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Within five minutes he had compiled the following + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? +</pre> + <p> + After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour he + had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might have been + proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He felt that he + could go to Mr. Pook, and say, “Percy, on your honor as a British + book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?” And Mr. + Pook would be compelled to reply, “You have not.” + </p> + <p> + Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's + blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly hostile + to Mr. Pook. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It + had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's + point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, + signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to + the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him + with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client + disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, + Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, + they could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + </p> + <p> + Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual + pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived a + loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing sales + could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as soon as a + swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for spinning the thing + out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but Roland's methods of + doing business were always rapid. + </p> + <p> + “This chap,” he said, “this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll he + give?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” began one of the Harrisons ponderously, “would, of course, largely + depend——” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the present + staff, an even five thousand. How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand is a large——” + </p> + <p> + “Take it or leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our + client might consent to the sum you mention.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who is + your client?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harrison coughed. + </p> + <p> + “His name,” he said, “will be familiar to you. He is the eminent + financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + </h2> + <p> + Fifth of a Series of Six Stories [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + September 1916] + </p> + <p> + The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the + Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the tango + out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, for the + national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and fifteen recognized + steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, “Hullo, Caoutchouc,” had been + produced with success. And the pioneer of the dance, the peerless + Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it nightly at the + music-hall where she had first broken loose. + </p> + <p> + The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. Of + all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, Maraquita had + made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is sometimes called a + fine woman. + </p> + <p> + She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International + forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + </p> + <p> + There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the + three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative + decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a + salmon-colored whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + That was the bit that hit Roland. + </p> + <p> + Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and + applauding wildly. + </p> + <p> + One night an attendant came to his box. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita + wishes to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not + appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was + generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got it—quick. + </p> + <p> + They were alone. + </p> + <p> + With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to the + conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any less + beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of the + dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had + undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, diffident + nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really liked was the + rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made Maraquita droop. + </p> + <p> + For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on his + without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this + leading question: + </p> + <p> + “You love me, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded feebly. + </p> + <p> + “When men make love to me, I send them away—so.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost + cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The + woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + </p> + <p> + “But not you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you in + the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I say to + myself, 'What a man!'” + </p> + <p> + “Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird,” + mumbled Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks awfully,” bleated Roland. + </p> + <p> + “You would do anything for my sake, <i>hein</i>? I knew you were that kind + of man directly I see you. No,” she added, as Roland writhed uneasily in + his chair, “do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the Great + Day.” + </p> + <p> + What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. He + could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, “you + come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. They will + be glad and proud to meet you.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to + the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The + former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and + hairy. + </p> + <p> + The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous figure. + He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected him of + carrying lethal weapons. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of Paranoya + sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert could evidently + squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on the company was + good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + </p> + <p> + Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's benefit, + Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those present were + marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, stood the very + flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their native land by the + Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire what on earth the Infamy + of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked effect on the company. Some + scowled, others uttered deep-throated oaths. Bombito did both. Before + supper, to which they presently sat down, was over, however, Roland knew a + good deal about Paranoya and its history. The conversation conducted by + Maraquita—to a ceaseless <i>bouche pleine</i> accompaniment from her + friends—bore exclusively upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries under + the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of Alejandro the + Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating in the Infamy of + 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was nothing less than the + abolition of the monarchy and the installation of a republic. + </p> + <p> + Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the caoutchouc, + was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved Alejandro the + Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this end had been + untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. Paranoya, + Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The army was + disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order of things. + </p> + <p> + A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never likely + to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + </p> + <p> + At the mention of the word “funds,” Roland, who had become thoroughly + bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. He + had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for a + subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. Especially + by Bombito. + </p> + <p> + He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + </p> + <p> + She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he gathered + that it somehow had reference to himself. + </p> + <p> + As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and extended + their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that Maraquita + had been proposing his health. + </p> + <p> + “They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'” kindly translated the Peerless + One. “You must excuse,” said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy of patriots + surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. “They are so grateful to + the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it not that I + have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the royal standard + floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that will be soon, very + soon,” she went on. “With you on our side we can not fail.” + </p> + <p> + What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor under + the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on behalf of a + deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + </p> + <p> + “I have told them,” she said, “that you love me, that you are willing to + risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the rich Senor + Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, comrades. To + the Savior of Paranoya!” + </p> + <p> + Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic + enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary + speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, + well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, he + put the question to Maraquita. + </p> + <p> + She said, “Poof! The cost? La, la!” Which was all very well, but hardly + satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get + out of her. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind of + dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details + connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. She + now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which she + presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing the + restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking everything + for her sake. + </p> + <p> + In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the + thing should be done—well, or not at all. There would be so much for + rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the + expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much to + be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a little + when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya amounted to + twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt it thoroughly at + a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious course, to Roland's + way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of the question and avoid + unnecessary bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, that + she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution would be + disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. Unless, she + pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, looting, and so on, + the revolution would not achieve a popular success. True, the beloved + Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a throne that was + insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a bloodthirsty turn. By + all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but not at the risk of making + the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was an emotional country, and + liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to them. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the + revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a + little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to the + financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That his + person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not foreseen. + </p> + <p> + The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the + arrival of the deputation. + </p> + <p> + It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner cigar. + </p> + <p> + It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, stout, + and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue hairiness which + he had come by this time to associate with the native of Paranoya. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he had + not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited + resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He poised + himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they should try + to kiss him on the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke?” said the long man. + </p> + <p> + His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the table, + and looked at it wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Long live the monarchy,” said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the + course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally + went well. + </p> + <p> + On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the + contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped themselves + to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + </p> + <p> + “Death to the monarchy,” corrected the long man coldly. “And,” he added + with a wealth of meaning in his voice, “to all who meddle in the affairs + of our beloved country and seek to do it harm.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be well + advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the malcontents + who would do my beloved land an injury.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit of + taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity be a + devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him to realize + that there were those who objected to his restoration to the throne. Till + now he had looked on the enemy as something in the abstract. It had not + struck him that the people for whose correction he was buying all these + rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a lively distaste for having + their blood shed. + </p> + <p> + “Senor Bleke,” resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions + whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, “you are a man + of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, this + scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there is still + time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your blood be + upon your own head.” + </p> + <p> + “My blood!” gasped Roland. + </p> + <p> + The speaker bowed. + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” he said. “We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor + Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of yours, + you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the road, and + you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is it, but much + the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account the policeman on + the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We wish you a good + night.” + </p> + <p> + The deputation withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said “Poof!” + It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in a difficult + situation if she could get out of the habit of saying “Poof!” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No?” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money to + the Cause, and then where are they, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. He + said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + </p> + <p> + “You are not weakening, Roland?” she said. “You would not betray us now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still——. + What I mean is——” + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + </p> + <p> + “Take care,” she cried. “With me it is nothing, for I know that your heart + is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect that your + resolve was failing—ah! If Bombito——” + </p> + <p> + Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “For goodness' sake,” he said hastily, “don't go saying anything to + Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you + can rely on me, and all that. That's all right.” + </p> + <p> + Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass—they were lunching + at the time—and put it to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “To the Savior of Paranoya!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Beware!” whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + </p> + <p> + He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, dark, + hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the abstracted air + which waiters cultivate. + </p> + <p> + Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + </p> + <p> + That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight of + the word “Beware” scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had + apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” said the competent valet. (“Competent valets are in attendance at + each of these flats.”—<i>Advt.</i>) + </p> + <p> + “Has any one been here since I left?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, sir. I + showed him into your room.” + </p> + <p> + The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland + dragged himself out of bed. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that Senor Bleke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beware!” + </p> + <p> + Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of nerve, + but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister persecution. + Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent of withdrawing + his support from the royalist movement, what then? Bombito. If ever there + was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. And all because a perfectly + respectful admiration for the caoutchouc had led him to occupy a stage-box + several nights in succession at the theater where the peerless Maraquita + tied herself into knots. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their next + meeting. + </p> + <p> + “We have been in communication with Him,” she whispered. “He will receive + you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Who will?” + </p> + <p> + “Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are to + go to him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At his own house. He will receive you in person.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing of + late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of meeting + face to face a genuine—if exiled—monarch. The thought did flit + through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's office if + they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + </p> + <p> + The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. Roland + rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the prosaic in the + action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were + ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a + luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts running + in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got an + uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to see + the dentist. + </p> + <p> + Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + </p> + <p> + “His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke.” + </p> + <p> + Roland followed him with tottering knees. + </p> + <p> + His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a + genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle and a + little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous + stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Bleke,” said His Majesty, as the door closed. “I have been + wanting to see you for some time.” + </p> + <p> + Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a + long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + </p> + <p> + King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, who + shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked + thoughtfully for a while. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Mr. Bleke,” he said at last, “this must stop. It really must. I + mean your devoted efforts on my behalf.” + </p> + <p> + Roland gaped at him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. Your + youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair from a + spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to gain + commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before we part, + that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this movement to + restore me to the throne. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand—er—your majesty.” + </p> + <p> + “I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. + You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a + reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise very + pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know Paranoya? + Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort of life a + King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure you that a + coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, the climate of the + country is abominable. I always had a cold in the head. Secondly, there is + a small but energetic section of the populace whose sole recreation it + seems to be to use their monarch as a target for bombs. They are not very + good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, ten explodes, and even an + occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the target. + </p> + <p> + “Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to leave + it. I was educated in England—I am a Magdalene College man—and + I have the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My present + life suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. For both + our sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon this scheme + of yours.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence + long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial monarch + had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his situation came + home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound to displease + somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly impulsive when they + were vexed. + </p> + <p> + For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the + instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the + body, he called at her house. + </p> + <p> + She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There were + the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + </p> + <p> + He looked unhappily round the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + </p> + <p> + “To the revolution,” he said mechanically. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence—it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he + had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift from + the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with some + apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + </p> + <p> + But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward and + slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came to light + that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + </p> + <p> + “My old chap,” he said. “I would have a speech with you.” + </p> + <p> + He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say + 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently.” + </p> + <p> + He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken + gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly there + came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was nervous. + </p> + <p> + “After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you + ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, perhaps. + The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in Paranoya. Upset. + Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have been—what do you + say?—put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more ministry. New + ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is the cry. So + deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent merchants and + that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be President. See? + No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor Bleke. What about + it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So no need for your kind + assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No more royalist + revolution.” + </p> + <p> + The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an + interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not fond + of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would kill the + poor girl. + </p> + <p> + “But Maraquita——?” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, + stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, + whither thou goes will I follow. No?” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been married to her all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, good, dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind for + meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found Bombito's + hand. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, “I knew you + were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. Have + a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and tell me all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + </h2> + <p> + Final Story of the Series [First published in <i>Pictorial Review</i>, + October 1916] + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why + can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House of + Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the Gilded + Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, irritation. + If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood disliked, it + was any interference with arrangements already made. + </p> + <p> + “The man,” he continued, “is not unsightly. The man is not conspicuously + vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man pronounces his + aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, moreover, is worth + rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I repeat, you are + childish!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father,” said Lady Eva. “It's + not that at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you think I could be happy with him?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a very + happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches of her + family. + </p> + <p> + “We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of happiness. + Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin Gerry, whose only + visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is the four hundred a + year which he draws as a member for a constituency which has every + intention of throwing him out at the next election.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of her + family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern + Cornwall. + </p> + <p> + “Young O'Rion is not to be thought of,” said Lord Evenwood firmly. “Not + for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all wrong. + Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred responsibility + not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your word one day to enter + upon the most solemn contract known to—ah—the civilized world, + and break it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is not fair to me. + You know that all I live for is to see you comfortably settled. If I could + myself do anything for you, the matter would be different. But these + abominable land-taxes and Blowick—especially Blowick—no, no, + it's out of the question. You will be very sorry if you do anything + foolish. I can assure you that Roland Blekes are not to be found—ah—on + every bush. Men are extremely shy of marrying nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially,” said Lady Kimbuck, “into a family like ours. What with + Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather and the + circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in '85——” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sophia,” interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. “It is + unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate + reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her + word to Mr. Bleke.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of the + utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one firm + of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, and the + family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while Cupidity fought + its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood family had at various + times and in various ways stimulated the circulation of the evening + papers. Most of them were living down something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's + habit, when thwarted in her lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and + announce that she was not to be disturbed as she was at last making a + start on her book. Abject surrender followed on the instant. + </p> + <p> + At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and rose. + </p> + <p> + “It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or you + will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining years + with literary work, but——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “There, run along now,” she said. “I daresay you've got a headache or + something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. Go + down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say + goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient.” + </p> + <p> + Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that Lady + Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone to bed + with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview which he + so dreaded. + </p> + <p> + Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion that + women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary insanity. + They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel for a brief + while that he was a dashing young man capable of the highest flights of + love. It was only later that the reaction came and he realized that he was + nothing of the sort. + </p> + <p> + At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of + whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so + much as Lady Eva Blyton. + </p> + <p> + Other women—notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the + destinies of Paranoya—had frightened him by their individuality. + Lady Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of + aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever of + what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of an + earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the + society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were + beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly + called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + </p> + <p> + All along, from the very moment when—to his unbounded astonishment—she + had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he never + realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. He was + filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had taken him + to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the notice of Lady + Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap at her + invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; but for + that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady Kimbuck had + convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got him somehow, + whether he had accepted or refused. + </p> + <p> + What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been no + need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions in his + breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the sense to + realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he might have a + quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. Their lives + could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with a fondness for + the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, picture-palaces, and + Association football. Merely to think of Association football in + connection with her was enough to make the folly of his conduct clear. He + ought to have been content to worship her from afar as some inaccessible + goddess. + </p> + <p> + A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + </p> + <p> + “I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.—er—Roland,” she + said, holding out her hand. “Do excuse me. I've got such a headache.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry.” + </p> + <p> + If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that + moment, it was himself. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?” asked Lady Eva languidly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot.” + </p> + <p> + The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. He + was the biggest ass in Christendom. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no.” There it was again, that awful phrase. He + was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking him a + perfect lunatic. “I don't play golf.” + </p> + <p> + They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that + her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her + that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of + sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him to + babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his quite + respectable biceps? No. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said, kindly. “I daresay we shall think of something to + amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest possible + instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was clammy from + the emotion through which he had been passing. + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours at + least. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had left + him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't do it!” + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I won't do it.” + </p> + <p> + A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are quite right, sir—if I may make the remark.” + </p> + <p> + Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first place, + he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the second, he + had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment before, he + had been. + </p> + <p> + But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the cat-like + faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly—a fact which had + won for him, in the course of a long career in the service of the best + families, the flattering position of star witness in a number of England's + raciest divorce-cases. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal, the butler—for it was no less a celebrity who had broken + in on Roland's reverie—was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly + cast of countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many + butlers possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn to + him during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had been + uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, stricken by + interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human thing in the + place. + </p> + <p> + He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. He + could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, he had + the right to freeze Teal with a look. + </p> + <p> + He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very + forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner + were soothing. + </p> + <p> + “Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room,” went on the + butler, “I thought for a moment that you were addressing me.” + </p> + <p> + This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him that + Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the point. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—you think I am quite right?” he said. “You don't + know what I was thinking about.” + </p> + <p> + Teal smiled indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just come + to the decision—in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one—that + your engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are quite + right, sir. It won't do.” + </p> + <p> + Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly well + aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and Lady + Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's magnetism that + he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him to mind his own + business. “Teal, you forget yourself!” would have covered the situation. + Roland, however, was physically incapable of saying “Teal, you forget + yourself!” The bird knows all the time that he ought not to stand talking + to the snake, but he is incapable of ending the conversation. Roland was + conscious of a momentary wish that he was the sort of man who could tell + butlers that they forgot themselves. But then that sort of man would never + be in this sort of trouble. The “Teal, you forget yourself” type of man + would be a first-class shot, a plus golfer, and would certainly consider + himself extremely lucky to be engaged to Lady Eva. + </p> + <p> + “The question is,” went on Mr. Teal, “how are we to break it off?” + </p> + <p> + Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in allowing + the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as well go the + whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And it was an + undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some one. + </p> + <p> + He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks with + the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + </p> + <p> + “It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. And + it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her + ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train for + London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some fact, some + disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her ladyship's + ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + He eyed Roland meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had made + a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who have + made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have generally done + their bit of time. But, of course, if you——. Let me think. Do + you drink, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was disappointing + the old man a good deal. + </p> + <p> + “You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?” asked Mr. Teal, not very + hopefully. “I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted wife? Some + poor creature you have treated shamefully?” + </p> + <p> + At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was + compelled to answer in the negative. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid not,” said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. “Thinking it all over + yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' You don't + look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his time.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking it over?” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your account, sir,” explained Mr. Teal. “On the family's. I + disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family as + long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to entertain + a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense to yourself, + sir, this would not have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it looks as if it would have to do,” said Roland, gloomily. “I + can't see any way out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + </p> + <p> + “You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?” + </p> + <p> + Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He + feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was + smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + </p> + <p> + “I've never been at Aldershot in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let me + explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much good. She's not + very particular. I am sure she would do it for a consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's had + some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you would guess + it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir,” he went on with + enthusiasm, “done all frizzy. Just the sort of young person that a young + gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' with. You couldn't find a + better if you tried for a twelvemonth.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I say——!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, I suppose not, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow + and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day after + to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature of + these cases.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what to + say. I've never seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. I + will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you write + those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on it? Then + it will all be perfectly simple.” + </p> + <p> + When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly + passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had succeeded + in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the conclusion that there + must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good deal less respectable than + he appeared to be at present. Byronic was the only adjective applicable to + his collaborator's style of amatory composition. In every letter there + were passages against which Roland had felt compelled to make a modest + protest. + </p> + <p> + “'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you think + that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for the + pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your silken + hair against my cheek!' What I mean is—well, what about it, you + know?” + </p> + <p> + “The phrases,” said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, “to + which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I + happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord + Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His + lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters.” + </p> + <p> + Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. + Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a + period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + </p> + <p> + “That,” Mr. Teal explained, “will make your conduct definitely + unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,”—Mr. Teal + was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration—“you have the + effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo the + atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + </p> + <p> + “You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and + strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would you + be?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one of the + shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud of + having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up—all were + perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. Lady + Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, and Roland + thinking. A peaceful scene. + </p> + <p> + A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just + proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and Teal + announced, “Miss Chilvers.” + </p> + <p> + Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he + felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he had + been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat and did + nothing. + </p> + <p> + It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the + actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture of + her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but one fact + of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings of the long + drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably “not much good” than Roland had + ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama could not fail of + success. He should have been pleased; he was merely appalled. The thing + might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it was going to be + terrible. + </p> + <p> + She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice her. + Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been some + ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer amazement. + Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at the + apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring + relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she was + possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these + situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled the + night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in his own + drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy days. + </p> + <p> + Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive + Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “To what are we——?” he began. + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there + while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into + speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot of + perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right and + wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have my + feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the weekend. + I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, and not + before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily Sketch the + other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to me with her + thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva Blyton who was + engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I read that, I said + 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being able to travel at + once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came along to-day, just + to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask him if he's forgotten + that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I know it's the sort of + thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I thought it might be + worth mentioning. So now!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that + Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this + sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have + been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was + thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did not + intend lightly to relinquish it. + </p> + <p> + “My good girl,” said Lady Kimbuck, “talk less and prove more. When did Mr. + Bleke promise to marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got + all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never lost + an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them as + literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in + useful. + </p> + <p> + “Roland,” said Lady Eva, quietly, “haven't you anything to contribute to + this conversation?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with + her, and she was up in the correct business. + </p> + <p> + “Is he here? In this room?” + </p> + <p> + Roland slunk from the shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bleke,” said Lord Evenwood, sternly, “who is this woman?” + </p> + <p> + Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + </p> + <p> + “Are these letters in your handwriting?” asked Lady Kimbuck, almost + cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, + and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a + colorless stick should have been capable of them. + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's lucky you're rich,” said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. “What + are you asking for these?” she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Lord Evenwood, relieved. “Precisely. Your sterling common + sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on a + businesslike footing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine for a moment——?” began Miss Chilvers slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Kimbuck. “How much?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Chilvers sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “If I have lost him for ever——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Eva rose. + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't,” she said pleasantly. “I wouldn't dream of standing in + your way.” She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and + walked to the door. “I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke,” she said, as she + reached it. + </p> + <p> + Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had + confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene + figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life on + which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he + gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and + the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad view + of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady Kimbuck + had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make for gaiety. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside the + sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened the + first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear Sir,” (it ran). + + “We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + “Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +***** This file should be named 8713-h.htm or 8713-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8713/ + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/mnmns10.txt b/old/mnmns10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b504f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mnmns10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3843 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse +#31 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Man of Means + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8713] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 3, 2003] +[Date last updated: January 15, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + + + + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + + + + + + + + + +A MAN OF MEANS + +A Series of Six Stories + + + +By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill + +From the _Pictorial Review_, May-October 1916 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER + +First of a Series of Six Stories +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, May 1916] + + +When a seed-merchant of cautious disposition and an eye to the main +chance receives from an eminent firm of jam-manufacturers an extremely +large order for clover-seed, his emotions are mixed. Joy may be said to +predominate, but with the joy comes also uncertainty. Are these people, +he asks himself, proposing to set up as farmers of a large scale, or do +they merely want the seed to give verisimilitude to their otherwise bald +and unconvincing raspberry jam? On the solution of this problem depends +the important matter of price, for, obviously, you can charge a fraudulent +jam disseminator in a manner which an honest farmer would resent. + +This was the problem which was furrowing the brow of Mr. Julian +Fineberg, of Bury St. Edwards, one sunny morning when Roland Bleke +knocked at his door; and such was its difficulty that only at the +nineteenth knock did Mr. Fineberg raise his head. + +"Come in--that dashed woodpecker out there!" he shouted, for it was his +habit to express himself with a generous strength towards the junior +members of his staff. + +The young man who entered looked exactly like a second clerk in a +provincial seed-merchant's office--which, strangely enough, he chanced +to be. His chief characteristic was an intense ordinariness. He was a +young man; and when you had said that of him you had said everything. +There was nothing which you would have noticed about him, except the +fact that there was nothing to notice. His age was twenty-two and his +name was Roland Bleke. + +"Please, sir, it's about my salary." + +Mr. Fineberg, at the word, drew himself together much as a British +square at Waterloo must have drawn itself together at the sight of a +squadron of cuirassiers. + +"Salary?" he cried. "What about it? What's the matter with it? You get +it, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir, but----" + +"Well? Don't stand there like an idiot. What is it?" + +"It's too much." + +Mr. Fineberg's brain reeled. It was improbable that the millennium +could have arrived with a jerk; on the other hand, he had distinctly +heard one of his clerks complain that his salary was too large. He +pinched himself. + +"Say that again," he said. + +"If you could see your way to reduce it, sir----" + +It occurred to Mr. Fineberg for one instant that his subordinate was +endeavoring to be humorous, but a glance at Roland's face dispelled +that idea. + +"Why do you want it reduced?" + +"Please, sir, I'm going to be married." + +"What the deuce do you mean?" + +"When my salary reaches a hundred and fifty, sir. And it's a hundred and +forty now, so if you could see your way to knocking off ten pounds----" + +Mr. Fineberg saw light. He was a married man himself. + +"My boy," he said genially, "I quite understand. But I can do you +better than that. It's no use doing this sort of thing in a small way. +From now on your salary is a hundred and ten. No, no, don't thank me. +You're an excellent clerk, and it's a pleasure to me to reward merit +when I find it. Close the door after you." + +And Mr. Fineberg returned with a lighter heart to the great clover-seed +problem. + +The circumstances which had led Roland to approach his employer may be +briefly recounted. Since joining the staff of Mr. Fineberg, he had +lodged at the house of a Mr. Coppin, in honorable employment as porter +at the local railway-station. The Coppin family, excluding domestic +pets, consisted of Mr. Coppin, a kindly and garrulous gentleman of +sixty, Mrs. Coppin, a somewhat negative personality, most of whose life +was devoted to cooking and washing up in her underground lair, Brothers +Frank and Percy, gentleman of leisure, popularly supposed to be engaged +in the mysterious occupation known as "lookin' about for somethin'," +and, lastly, Muriel. + +For some months after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke a +mere automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for +neatly-laid breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner. +Gradually, however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use +sufficiently to enable him to look at her when she came into the room, +he discovered that she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the +North by a mass of auburn hair and to the South by small and shapely +feet. She also possessed what, we are informed--we are children in +these matters ourselves--is known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had +met Roland's one evening, as he chumped his chop, and before he knew +what he was doing he had remarked that it had been a fine day. + +From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible +speed. Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could +not bring himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy +conversation about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he +felt bound to say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found +it more and more difficult each evening to hit on something bright, +until finally, from sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her. + +If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning +then. It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting +vast machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his +audacity, the room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety +known to science. Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in +a corner, of Mr. Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling +limado, of Brothers Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow +simultaneously half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making +bread-pellets and throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at +the Coppin cat, which had wandered in on the chance of fish. + +Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came +the word "bans," and smote him like a blast of East wind. + +It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from +that moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a +reduction of salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was +extraordinarily happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, +to be engaged is an intoxicating experience, and at first life was one +long golden glow to Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always +nourished a desire to be esteemed a nut by his fellow men; and his +engagement satisfied that desire. It was pleasant to hear Brothers +Frank and Percy cough knowingly when he came in. It was pleasant to +walk abroad with a girl like Muriel in the capacity of the accepted +wooer. Above all, it was pleasant to sit holding Muriel's hand and +watching the ill-concealed efforts of Mr. Albert Potter to hide his +mortification. Albert was a mechanic in the motor-works round the +corner, and hitherto Roland had always felt something of a worm in his +presence. Albert was so infernally strong and silent and efficient. He +could dissect a car and put it together again. He could drive through +the thickest traffic. He could sit silent in company without having his +silence attributed to shyness or imbecility. But--he could not get +engaged to Muriel Coppin. That was reserved for Roland Bleke, the nut, +the dasher, the young man of affairs. It was all very well being able +to tell a spark-plug from a commutator at sight, but when it came to a +contest in an affair of the heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in +his proper place, third at the pole. + +Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would +never have wearied of the experience. But the word marriage began to +creep more and more into the family conversation, and suddenly panic +descended upon Roland Bleke. + +All his life he had had a horror of definite appointments. An +invitation to tea a week ahead had been enough to poison life for him. +He was one of those young men whose souls revolt at the thought of +planning out any definite step. He could do things on the spur of the +moment, but plans made him lose his nerve. + +By the end of the month his whole being was crying out to him in +agonized tones: "Get me out of this. Do anything you like, but get me +out of this frightful marriage business." + +If anything had been needed to emphasize his desire for freedom, the +attitude of Frank and Percy would have supplied it. Every day they made +it clearer that the man who married Muriel would be no stranger to +them. It would be his pleasing task to support them, too, in the style +to which they had become accustomed. They conveyed the idea that they +went with Muriel as a sort of bonus. + + * * * * * + +The Coppin family were at high tea when Roland reached home. There was +a general stir of interest as he entered the room, for it was known +that he had left that morning with the intention of approaching Mr. +Fineberg on the important matter of a rise in salary. Mr. Coppin +removed his saucer of tea from his lips. Frank brushed the tail of a +sardine from the corner of his mouth. Percy ate his haddock in an +undertone. Albert Potter, who was present, glowered silently. + +Roland shook his head with the nearest approach to gloom which his +rejoicing heart would permit. + +"I'm afraid I've bad news." + +Mrs. Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis. +Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile. + +"He won't give you your raise?" + +Roland sighed. + +"He's reduced me." + +"Reduced you!" + +"Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a +hundred and ten." + +The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed +to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank +and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost +their fountain pens. + +Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel +Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed +upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding. + +"I suppose," said Roland, "we couldn't get married on a hundred and +ten?" + +"No," said Percy. + +"No," said Frank. + +"No," said Albert Potter. + +They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three. + +"Then," said Roland regretfully, "I'm afraid we must wait." + +It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said +she thought they must wait. Albert Potter, whose opinion no one had +asked, was quite certain that they must wait. Mrs. Coppin, between +sobs, moaned that it would be best to wait. Frank and Percy, morosely +devouring bread and jam, said they supposed they would have to wait. +And, to end a painful scene, Roland drifted silently from the room, and +went up-stairs to his own quarters. + +There was a telegram on the mantel. + +"Some fellows," he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, "wouldn't +have been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have +given themselves away. They would----" + +The contents of the telegram demanded his attention. + +For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been +written in Hindustani. + +It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from +the promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the +holder of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in +recognition of this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be +forwarded to him in due course. + + * * * * * + +Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he +could recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these +open-handed gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept +him back to a morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's +eldest son Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money +from his father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of +cardboard, at the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly +from a vague desire to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally +because it struck him as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had +passed over the ten shillings; and there, as far as he had known, +the matter had ended. + +And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the +shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds. + +Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five +hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result. + +For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. +Five hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel. + +His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling +fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the +telegram to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think +the whole matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of +balm. After all, he felt, the thing could quite easily be kept a +secret. He would receive the check in due course, as stated, and he +would bicycle over to the neighboring town of Lexingham and start a +bank-account with it. Nobody would know, and life would go on as +before. + +He went to bed, and slept peacefully. + + * * * * * + +It was about a week after this that he was roused out of a deep sleep +at eight o'clock in the morning to find his room full of Coppins. Mr. +Coppin was there in a nightshirt and his official trousers. Mrs. Coppin +was there, weeping softly in a brown dressing-gown. Modesty had +apparently kept Muriel from the gathering, but brothers Frank and Percy +stood at his bedside, shaking him by the shoulders and shouting. Mr. +Coppin thrust a newspaper at him, as he sat up blinking. + +These epic moments are best related swiftly. Roland took the paper, and +the first thing that met his sleepy eye and effectually drove the sleep +from it was this head-line: + + ROMANCE OF THE CALCUTTA SWEEPSTAKES + +And beneath it another in type almost as large as the first: + + POOR CLERK WINS 40,000 + +His own name leaped at him from the printed page, and with it that of +the faithful Gelatine. + +Flight! That was the master-word which rang in Roland's brain as day +followed day. The wild desire of the trapped animal to be anywhere +except just where he was had come upon him. He was past the stage when +conscience could have kept him to his obligations. He had ceased to +think of anything or any one but himself. All he asked of Fate was to +remove him from Bury St. Edwards on any terms. + +It may be that some inkling of his state of mind was wafted +telepathically to Frank and Percy, for it can not be denied that their +behavior at this juncture was more than a little reminiscent of the +police force. Perhaps it was simply their natural anxiety to keep an +eye on what they already considered their own private gold-mine that +made them so adhesive. Certainly there was no hour of the day when one +or the other was not in Roland's immediate neighborhood. Their +vigilance even extended to the night hours, and once, when Roland, +having tossed sleeplessly on his bed, got up at two in the morning, +with the wild idea of stealing out of the house and walking to London, +a door opened as he reached the top of the stairs, and a voice asked +him what he thought he was doing. The statement that he was walking in +his sleep was accepted, but coldly. + +It was shortly after this that, having by dint of extraordinary +strategy eluded the brothers and reached the railway-station, Roland, +with his ticket to London in his pocket and the express already +entering the station, was engaged in conversation by old Mr. Coppin, +who appeared from nowhere to denounce the high cost of living in a +speech that lasted until the tail-lights of the train had vanished and +Brothers Frank and Percy arrived, panting. + +A man has only a certain capacity for battling with Fate. After this +last episode Roland gave in. Not even the exquisite agony of hearing +himself described in church as a bachelor of this parish, with the grim +addition that this was for the second time of asking, could stir him to +a fresh dash for liberty. + +Altho the shadow of the future occupied Roland's mind almost to the +exclusion of everything else, he was still capable of suffering a +certain amount of additional torment from the present; and one of the +things which made the present a source of misery to him was the fact +that he was expected to behave more like a mad millionaire than a sober +young man with a knowledge of the value of money. His mind, trained +from infancy to a decent respect for the pence, had not yet adjusted +itself to the possession of large means; and the open-handed role +forced upon him by the family appalled him. + +When the Coppins wanted anything, they asked for it; and it seemed to +Roland that they wanted pretty nearly everything. If Mr. Coppin had +reached his present age without the assistance of a gold watch, he +might surely have struggled along to the end on gun-metal. In any case, +a man of his years should have been thinking of higher things than mere +gauds and trinkets. A like criticism applied to Mrs. Coppin's demand +for a silk petticoat, which struck Roland as simply indecent. Frank and +Percy took theirs mostly in specie. It was Muriel who struck the worst +blow by insisting on a hired motor-car. + +Roland hated motor-cars, especially when they were driven by Albert +Potter, as this one was. Albert, that strong, silent man, had but one +way of expressing his emotions, namely to open the throttle and shave +the paint off trolley-cars. Disappointed love was giving Albert a good +deal of discomfort at this time, and he found it made him feel better +to go round corners on two wheels. As Muriel sat next to him on these +expeditions, Roland squashing into the tonneau with Frank and Percy, +his torments were subtle. He was not given a chance to forget, and the +only way in which he could obtain a momentary diminution of the agony +was to increase the speed to sixty miles an hour. + +It was in this fashion that they journeyed to the neighboring town of +Lexingham to see M. Etienne Feriaud perform his feat of looping the +loop in his aeroplane. + +It was Brother Frank's idea that they should make up a party to go and +see M. Feriaud. Frank's was one of those generous, unspoiled natures +which never grow _blas_ at the sight of a fellow human taking a +sporting chance at hara-kiri. He was a well-known figure at every wild +animal exhibition within a radius of fifty miles, and M. Feriaud drew +him like a magnet. + +"The blighter goes up," he explained, as he conducted the party into +the arena, "and then he stands on his head and goes round in circles. +I've seen pictures of it." + +It appeared that M. Feriaud did even more than this. Posters round the +ground advertised the fact that, on receipt of five pounds, he would +take up a passenger with him. To date, however, there appeared to have +been no rush on the part of the canny inhabitants of Lexingham to avail +themselves of this chance of a breath of fresh air. M. Feriaud, a small +man with a chubby and amiable face, wandered about signing picture +cards and smoking a lighted cigaret, looking a little disappointed. + +Albert Potter was scornful. + +"Lot of rabbits," he said. "Where's their pluck? And I suppose they +call themselves Englishmen. I'd go up precious quick if I had a +five-pound note. Disgrace, I call it, letting a Frenchman have the +laugh of us." + +It was a long speech for Mr. Potter, and it drew a look of respectful +tenderness from Muriel. "You're so brave, Mr. Potter," she said. + +Whether it was the slight emphasis which she put on the first word, or +whether it was sheer generosity that impelled him, one can not say; but +Roland produced the required sum even while she spoke. He offered it to +his rival. + +Mr. Potter started, turned a little pale, then drew himself up and +waved the note aside. + +"I take no favors," he said with dignity. + +There was a pause. + +"Why don't you do it." said Albert, nastily. "Five pounds is nothing +to you." + +"Why should I?" + +"Ah! Why should you?" + +It would be useless to assert that Mr. Potter's tone was friendly. It +stung Roland. It seemed to him that Muriel was looking at him in an +unpleasantly contemptuous manner. + +In some curious fashion, without doing anything to merit it, he had +apparently become an object of scorn and derision to the party. + +"All right, then, I will," he said suddenly. + +"Easy enough to talk," said Albert. + +Roland strode with a pale but determined face to the spot where M. +Feriaud, beaming politely, was signing a picture post-card. + +Some feeling of compunction appeared to come to Muriel at the eleventh +hour. + +"Don't let him," she cried. + +But Brother Frank was made of sterner stuff. This was precisely the +sort of thing which, in his opinion, made for a jolly afternoon. + +For years he had been waiting for something of this kind. He was +experiencing that pleasant thrill which comes to a certain type of +person when the victim of a murder in the morning paper is an +acquaintance of theirs. + +"What are you talking about?" he said. "There's no danger. At least, +not much. He might easily come down all right. Besides, he wants to. +What do you want to go interfering for?" + +Roland returned. The negotiations with the bird-man had lasted a little +longer than one would have expected. But then, of course, M. Feriaud +was a foreigner, and Roland's French was not fluent. + +He took Muriel's hand. + +"Good-by," he said. + +He shook hands with the rest of the party, even with Albert Potter. It +struck Frank that he was making too much fuss over a trifle--and, +worse, delaying the start of the proceedings. + +"What's it all about?" he demanded. "You go on as if we were never +going to see you again." + +"You never know." + +"It's as safe as being in bed." + +"But still, in case we never meet again----" + +"Oh, well," said Brother Frank, and took the outstretched hand. + + * * * * * + +The little party stood and watched as the aeroplane moved swiftly along +the ground, rose, and soared into the air. Higher and higher it rose, +till the features of the two occupants were almost invisible. + +"Now," said Brother Frank. "Now watch. Now he's going to loop the +loop." + +But the wheels of the aeroplane still pointed to the ground. It grew +smaller and smaller. It was a mere speck. + +"What the dickens?" + +Far away to the West something showed up against the blue of the +sky--something that might have been a bird, a toy kite, or an +aeroplane traveling rapidly into the sunset. + +Four pairs of eyes followed it in rapt silence. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE FINANCIAL NAPOLEON + +Second of a Series of Six Stories +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, June 1916] + + +Seated with his wife at breakfast on the veranda which overlooked the +rolling lawns and leafy woods of his charming Sussex home, Geoffrey +Windlebird, the great financier, was enjoying the morning sun to the +full. His chubby features were relaxed in a smile of lazy contentment; +and his wife, who liked to act sometimes as his secretary, found it +difficult to get him to pay any attention to his morning's mail. + +"There's a column in to-day's _Financial Argus_," she said, "of which you +really must take notice. It's most abusive. It's about the Wildcat +Reef. They assert that there never was any gold in the mine, and that +you knew it when you floated the company." + +"They will have their little joke." + +"But you had the usual mining-expert's report." + +"Of course we had. And a capital report it was. I remember thinking at +the time what a neat turn of phrase the fellow had. I admit he depended +rather on his fine optimism than on any examination of the mine. As a +matter of fact, he never went near it. And why should he? It's down in +South America somewhere. Awful climate--snakes, mosquitoes, +revolutions, fever." + +Mr. Windlebird spoke drowsily. His eyes closed. + +"Well, the Argus people say that they have sent a man of their own out +there to make inquiries, a well-known expert, and the report will be in +within the next fortnight. They say they will publish it in their next +number but one. What are you going to do about it?" + +Mr. Windlebird yawned. + +"Not to put too fine a point on it, dearest, the game is up. The +Napoleon of Finance is about to meet his Waterloo. And all for twenty +thousand pounds. That is the really bitter part of it. To-morrow we +sail for the Argentine. I've got the tickets." + +"You're joking, Geoffrey. You must be able to raise twenty thousand. +It's a flea-bite." + +"On paper--in the form of shares, script, bonds, promissory notes, it +is a flea-bite. But when it has to be produced in the raw, in flat, +hard lumps of gold or in crackling bank-notes, it's more like a bite +from a hippopotamus. I can't raise it, and that's all about it. So--St. +Helena for Napoleon." + +Altho Geoffrey Windlebird described himself as a Napoleon of Finance, a +Cinquevalli or Chung Ling Soo of Finance would have been a more +accurate title. As a juggler with other people's money he was at the +head of his class. And yet, when one came to examine it, his method was +delightfully simple. Say, for instance, that the Home-grown Tobacco +Trust, founded by Geoffrey in a moment of ennui, failed to yield those +profits which the glowing prospectus had led the public to expect. +Geoffrey would appease the excited shareholders by giving them +Preference Shares (interest guaranteed) in the Sea-gold Extraction +Company, hastily floated to meet the emergency. When the interest +became due, it would, as likely as not, be paid out of the capital just +subscribed for the King Solomon's Mines Exploitation Association, the +little deficiency in the latter being replaced in its turn, when +absolutely necessary and not a moment before, by the transfer of some +portion of the capital just raised for yet another company. And so on, +ad infinitum. There were moments when it seemed to Mr. Windlebird that +he had solved the problem of Perpetual Promotion. + +The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's +is when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands +ready money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened +now, and it had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche. + +He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled +that the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had +handled millions--on paper, it was true, but still millions--and here +he was knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds. + +"Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?" persisted Mrs. +Windlebird. "Have you tried every one?" + +"Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight--the probables, the possibles, the +highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the minstrel's +wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this time. +Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of +twenty thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from +the clouds." + +As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees +beyond the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth +turf, not twenty yards from where he was seated. + + * * * * * + +Roland Bleke stepped stiffly out onto the tennis-lawn. His progress +rather resembled that of a landsman getting out of an open boat in +which he has spent a long and perilous night at sea. He was feeling +more wretched than he had ever felt in his life. He had a severe cold. +He had a splitting headache. His hands and feet were frozen. His eyes +smarted. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He hated cheerful M. Feriaud, +who had hopped out and was now busy tinkering the engine, a gay +Provencal air upon his lips, as he had rarely hated any one, even +Muriel Coppin's brother Frank. + +So absorbed was he in his troubles that he was not aware of Mr. +Windlebird's approach until that pleasant, portly man's shadow fell on +the turf before him. + +"Not had an accident, I hope, Mr. Bleke?" + +Roland was too far gone in misery to speculate as to how this genial +stranger came to know his name. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Windlebird, +keen student of the illustrated press, had recognized Roland by his +photograph in the Daily Mirror. In the course of the twenty yards' walk +from house to tennis-lawn she had put her husband into possession of +the more salient points in Roland's history. It was when Mr. Windlebird +heard that Roland had forty thousand pounds in the bank that he sat up +and took notice. + +"Lead me to him," he said simply. + +Roland sneezed. + +"Doe accident, thag you," he replied miserably. "Somethig's gone wrong +with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck." + +M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose +to his feet, and bowed. + +"Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See, +_mon ami_," he said radiantly to Roland, "all now O. K. We go on." + +"No," said Roland decidedly. + +"No? What you mean--no?" + +A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The +eminent bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he +felt like a brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little +aeroplane rides which bordered upon the princely. + +"But you say--take me to France with you----" + +"I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well." + +"But it's all wrong." M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point. +"You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good. +It is here." He slapped his breast pocket. "But the other two hundred +pounds which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in +France, where is that, my friend?" + +"I will give you two hundred and fifty," said Roland earnestly, "to +leave me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly +machine again." + +A smile of brotherly forgiveness lit up M. Feriaud's face. The generous +Gallic nature asserted itself. He held out his arms affectionately to +Roland. + +"Ah, now you talk. Now you say something," he cried in his impetuous +way. "Embrace me. You are all right." + +Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane +disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. + +"You're not well, you know," said Mr. Windlebird. + +"I've caught cold. We've been flying about all night--that French ass +lost his bearings--and my suit is thin. Can you direct me to a hotel?" + +"Hotel? Nonsense." Mr. Windlebird spoke in the bluff, breezy voice +which at many a stricken board-meeting had calmed frantic shareholders +as if by magic. "You're coming right into my house and up to bed this +instant." + +It was not till he was between the sheets with a hot-water bottle at +his toes and a huge breakfast inside him that Roland learned the name +of his good Samaritan. When he did, his first impulse was to struggle +out of bed and make his escape. Geoffrey Windlebird's was a name which +he had learned, in the course of his mercantile career, to hold in +something approaching reverence as that of one of the mightiest +business brains of the age. + +To have to meet so eminent a man in the capacity of invalid, a nuisance +about the house, was almost too much for Roland's shrinking nature. The +kindness of the Windlebirds--and there seemed to be nothing that they +were not ready to do for him--distressed him beyond measure. To have a +really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over his +bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost +horrible. Such condescension was too much. + +Gradually, as he became convalescent, Roland found this feeling +replaced by something more comfortable. They were such a genuine, +simple, kindly couple, these Windlebirds, that he lost awe and retained +only gratitude. He loved them both. He opened his heart to them. It was +not long before he had told them the history of his career, skipping +the earlier years and beginning with the entry of wealth into his life. + +"It makes you feel funny," he confided to Mr. Windlebird's sympathetic +ear, "suddenly coming into a pot of money like that. You don't seem +hardly able to realize it. I don't know what to do with it." + +Mr. Windlebird smiled paternally. + +"The advice of an older man who has had, if I may say so, some little +experience of finance, might be useful to you there. Perhaps if you +would allow me to recommend some sound investment----" + +Roland glowed with gratitude. + +"There's just one thing I'd like to do before I start putting my money +into anything. It's like this." + +He briefly related the story of his unfortunate affair with Muriel +Coppin. Within an hour of his departure in the aeroplane, his +conscience had begun to trouble him on this point. He felt that he had +not acted well toward Muriel. True, he was practically certain that she +didn't care a bit about him and was in love with Albert, the silent +mechanic, but there was just the chance that she was mourning over his +loss; and, anyhow, his conscience was sore. + +"I'd like to give her something," he said. "How much do you think?" + +Mr. Windlebird perpended. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send my own lawyer to her with--say, +a thousand pounds--not a check, you understand, but one thousand golden +sovereigns that he can show her--roll about on the table in front of her +eyes. That'll console her. It's wonderful, the effect money in the raw +has on people." + +"I'd rather make it two thousand," said Roland. He had never really +loved Muriel, and the idea of marrying her had been a nightmare to him; +but he wanted to retreat with honor. + +"Very well, make it two thousand, if you like. Tho I don't quite know +how old Harrison is going to carry all that money." + +As a matter of fact, old Harrison never had to try. On thinking it +over, after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the +conclusion that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it +would be good for Miss Coppin to have all at once. + +Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel +jumped at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland +next morning that his slate was clean. His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird +redoubled. + +"And now," said Mr. Windlebird genially, "we can talk about that money +of yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something +which, without being in any way what is called speculative, +nevertheless returns a fair and reasonable amount of interest. What you +want is something sound, something solid, yet something with a bit of a +kick to it, something which can't go down and may go soaring like a +rocket." + +Roland quietly announced that was just what he did want, and lit +another cigar. + +"Now, look here, Bleke, my boy, as a general rule I don't give tips--But +I've taken a great fancy to you, Bleke, and I'm going to break my rule. +Put your money--" he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, "put every +penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs." + +He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just +imparted to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the +philosopher's stone. + +"Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird," said Roland gratefully. "I +will." + +The Napoleonic features were lightened by that rare, indulgent smile. + +"Not so fast, young man," laughed Mr. Windlebird. "Getting into Wildcat +Reefs isn't quite so easy as you seem to think. Shall we say that you +propose to invest thirty thousand pounds? Yes? Very well, then. Thirty +thousand pounds! Why, if it got about that you were going to buy +Wildcat Reefs on that scale the market would be convulsed." + +Which was perfectly true. If it had got about that any one was going to +invest thirty thousand pounds--or pence--in Wildcat Reefs, the market +would certainly have been convulsed. The House would have rocked with +laughter. Wildcat Reefs were a standing joke--except to the unfortunate +few who still held any of the shares. + +"The thing will have to be done very cautiously. No one must know. But +I think--I say I think--I can manage it for you." + +"You're awfully kind, Mr. Windlebird." + +"Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. As a matter of fact, I shall be +doing a very good turn to another pal of mine at the same time." He +filled his glass. "This--" he paused to sip--"this pal of mine has a +large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the +money into something else, in which he is more personally interested." +Mr. Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn +current account at the bank. "In which he is more personally +interested," he repeated dreamily. "But of course you couldn't unload +thirty pounds' worth of Wildcats in the public market." + +"I quite see that," assented Roland. + +"It might, however, be done by private negotiation," he said. "I must +act very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand to-night, +and I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I can do." + + * * * * * + +He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland +did not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means, +Mr. Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him +twenty thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine. + +"There, my boy," he said. + +"It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird." + +"My dear boy, don't mention it. If you're satisfied, I'm sure I am." + +Mr. Windlebird always spoke the truth when he could. He spoke it now. + +It seemed to Roland, as the days went by, that nothing could mar the +pleasant, easy course of life at the Windlebirds. The fine weather, the +beautiful garden, the pleasant company--all these things combined to +make this sojourn an epoch in his life. + +He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly +on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to +show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and +tired. + +A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only +crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr. +Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the +city, but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county +cricket, and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. +But even this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson, +the groom, who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an +errand, had promised to bring one back with him. He might appear at any +moment now. + +The sight of his hostess drove all thoughts of sport out of his mind. +She was looking terribly troubled. + +It flashed across Roland that both his host and hostess had been +unusually silent at dinner the night before; and later, passing Mr. +Windlebird's room on his way to bed, he had heard their voices, low and +agitated. Could they have had some bad news? + +"Mr. Bleke, I want to speak to you." + +Roland moved like a sympathetic cow, and waited to hear more. + +"You were not up when my husband left for the city this morning, or he +would have told you himself. Mr. Bleke, I hardly know how to break it +to you." + +"Break it to me!" + +"My husband advised you to put a very large sum of money in a mine +called Wildcat Reefs." + +"Yes. Thirty thousand pounds." + +"As much as that! Oh, Mr. Bleke!" + +She began to cry softly. She pressed his hand. Roland gaped at her. + +"Mr. Bleke, there has been a terrible slump in Wildcat Reefs. To-day, +they may be absolutely worthless." + +Roland felt as if a cold hand had been laid on his spine. + +"Wor-worthless!" he stammered. + +Mrs. Windlebird looked at him with moist eyes. + +"You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice +that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He +is in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of +you, Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been +the innocent instrument of your trouble." + + * * * * * + +Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were +precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth +seemed to melt under him. + +"We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to +the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must +make good your losses. We must buy back those shares." + +A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon. + +"But----" he began. + +"There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a +minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds +for the shares, you said? Well"--she held out a pink slip of paper to +him--"this will make everything all right." + +Roland looked at the check. + +"But--but this is signed by you," he said. + +"Yes. You see, if Geoffrey had to sign a check for that amount, it +would mean selling out some of his stock, and in his position, with +every movement watched by enemies, he can not afford to do it. It might +ruin the plans of years. But I have some money of my own. My selling +out stock doesn't matter, you see. I have post-dated the check a week, +to give me time to realize on the securities in which my money is +invested." + +Roland's whole nature rose in revolt at this sacrifice. If it had been his +host who had made this offer, he would have accepted it. But chivalry +forbade his taking this money from a woman. A glow of self-sacrifice +warmed him. After all, what was this money of his? He had never had any +fun out of it. He had had so little acquaintance with it that for all +practical purposes it might never have been his. + +With a gesture which had once impressed him very favorably when +exhibited on the stage by the hero of the number two company of "The +Price of Honor," which had paid a six days' visit to Bury St. Edwards a +few months before, he tore the check into little pieces. + +"I couldn't accept it, Mrs. Windlebird," he said. "I can't tell you how +deeply I appreciate your wonderful kindness, but I really couldn't. I +bought the shares with my eyes open. The whole thing is nobody's fault, +and I can't let you suffer for it. After the way you have treated me +here, it would be impossible. I can't take your money. It's noble and +generous of you in the extreme, but I can't accept it. I've still got a +little money left, and I've always been used to working for my living, +anyway, so--so it's all right." + +"Mr. Bleke, I implore you." + +Roland was hideously embarrassed. He looked right and left for a way of +escape. He could hardly take to his heels, and yet there seemed no +other way of ending the interview. Then, with a start of relief, he +perceived Johnson the groom coming toward him with the evening paper. + +"Johnson said he was going into the town," said Roland apologetically, +"so I asked him to get me an evening paper. I wanted to see the lunch +scores." + +If he had been looking at his hostess then, an action which he was +strenuously avoiding, he might have seen a curious spasm pass over her +face. Mrs. Windlebird turned very pale and sat down suddenly in the +chair which Roland had vacated at the beginning of their conversation. +She lay back in it with her eyes closed. She looked tired and defeated. + +Roland took the paper mechanically. He wanted it as a diversion to the +conversation merely, for his interest in the doings of Surrey and +Yorkshire had waned to the point of complete indifference in +competition with Mrs. Windlebird's news. + +Equally mechanically he unfolded it and glanced at front page; and, as +he did do, a flaring explosion of headlines smote his eye. + +Out of the explosion emerged the word "WILD-CATS". + +"Why!" he exclaimed. "There's columns about Wild-cats on the front page +here!" + +"Yes?" Mrs. Windlebird's voice sounded strangely dull and toneless. Her +eyes were still closed. + +Roland took in the headlines with starting eyes. + + THE WILD-CAT REEF GOLD-MINE + + ANOTHER KLONDIKE + + FRENZIED SCENES ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE + + BROKERS FIGHT FOR SHARES + + RECORD BOOM + + UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN PRICES + +Shorn of all superfluous adjectives and general journalistic +exuberance, what the paper had to announce to its readers was this: + + The "special commissioner" sent out by The _Financial Argus_ to + make an exhaustive examination of the Wild-cat Reef Mine--with + the amiable view, no doubt, of exploding Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird + once and for all with the confiding British public--has found, + to his unbounded astonishment, that there are vast quantities of + gold in the mine. + + The discovery of the new reef, the largest and richest, it is + stated, since the famous Mount Morgan, occurred with dramatic + appropriateness on the very day of his arrival. We need scarcely + remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares + had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained + their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird + is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his + fortune. + + The publication of the expert's report in The _Financial Argus_ has + resulted in a boom in Wild-cats, the like of which can seldom have + been seen on the Stock Exchange. From something like one shilling + and sixpence per bundle the one pound shares have gone up to nearly + ten pounds a share, and even at this latter figure people were + literally fighting to secure them. + +The world swam about Roland. He was stupefied and even terrified. The +very atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable +of thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand +pounds. + +"Oh, Mrs. Windlebird," he cried, "It's all right after all." + +Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. + +"It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully. "Why, if I've +made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have +netted. It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled +off the biggest thing of his life." + +He thought for a moment. + +"The chap I'm sorry for," he said meditatively, "is Mr. Windlebird's +pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his +shares to me." + +A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear +it. He was reading the cricket news. + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE + +Third of a Series of Six Stories +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, July 1916] + + +It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you +sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke +with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment +Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen +in; and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was +not altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party +before, and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he +had become afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical +supper-party again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must +possess dash; and Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a +little short of dash. + +The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it. +While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it +was "old Gerry" whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on +its course. After a glance at old Gerry--a chinless child of about +nineteen--Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a +young man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had +one of those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively +limited one which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be +for the better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't +matter. + +The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a +more serious view of the situation. + +"Sidney, you make me tired," she said severely. "If I had thought you +didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with +you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke +to come and sit by me. I want to talk to him." + +That was Roland's first introduction to Miss Billy Verepoint. + +"I've been wanting to have a chat with you all the evening, Mr. Bleke," +she said, as Roland blushingly sank into the empty chair. "I've heard +such a lot about you." + +What Miss Verepoint had heard about Roland was that he had two hundred +thousand pounds and apparently did not know what to do with it. + +"In fact, if I hadn't been told that you would be here, I shouldn't +have come to this party. Can't stand these gatherings of nuts in May as +a general rule. They bore me stiff." + +Roland hastily revised his first estimate of the theatrical profession. +Shallow, empty-headed creatures some of them might be, no doubt, but +there were exceptions. Here was a girl of real discernment--a +thoughtful student of character--a girl who understood that a man might +sit at a supper-party without uttering a word and might still be a man +of parts. + +"I'm afraid you'll think me very outspoken--but that's me all over. All +my friends say, 'Billy Verepoint's a funny girl: if she likes any one +she just tells them so straight out; and if she doesn't like any one +she tells them straight out, too.'" + +"And a very admirable trait," said Roland, enthusiastically. + +Miss Verepoint sighed. "P'raps it is," she said pensively, "but I'm +afraid it's what has kept me back in my profession. Managers don't like +it: they think girls should be seen and not heard." + +Roland's blood boiled. Managers were plainly a dastardly crew. + +"But what's the good of worrying," went on Miss Verepoint, with a brave +but hollow laugh. "Of course, it's wearing, having to wait when one has +got as much ambition as I have; but they all tell me that my chance is +bound to come some day." + +The intense mournfulness of Miss Verepoint's expression seemed to +indicate that she anticipated the arrival of the desired day not less +than sixty years hence. Roland was profoundly moved. His chivalrous +nature was up in arms. He fell to wondering if he could do anything to +help this victim of managerial unfairness. "You don't mind my going on +about my troubles, do you?" asked Miss Verepoint, solicitously. "One +so seldom meets anybody really sympathetic." + +Roland babbled fervent assurances, and she pressed his hand gratefully. + +"I wonder if you would care to come to tea one afternoon," she said. + +"Oh, rather!" said Roland. He would have liked to put it in a more +polished way but he was almost beyond speech. + +"Of course, I know what a busy man you are----" + +"No, no!" + +"Well, I should be in to-morrow afternoon, if you cared to look in." + +Roland bleated gratefully. + +"I'll write down the address for you," said Miss Verepoint, suddenly +businesslike. + + * * * * * + +Exactly when he committed himself to the purchase of the Windsor +Theater, Roland could never say. The idea seemed to come into existence +fully-grown, without preliminary discussion. One moment it was not--the +next it was. His recollections of the afternoon which he spent drinking +lukewarm tea and punctuating Miss Verepoint's flow of speech with +"yes's" and "no's" were always so thoroughly confused that he never +knew even whose suggestion it was. + +The purchase of a West-end theater, when one has the necessary cash, is +not nearly such a complicated business as the layman might imagine. +Roland was staggered by the rapidity with which the transaction was +carried through. The theater was his before he had time to realize that +he had never meant to buy the thing at all. He had gone into the +offices of Mr. Montague with the intention of making an offer for the +lease for, say, six months; and that wizard, in the space of less than +an hour, had not only induced him to sign mysterious documents which +made him sole proprietor of the house, but had left him with the +feeling that he had done an extremely acute stroke of business. Mr. +Montague had dabbled in many professions in his time, from street +peddling upward, but what he was really best at was hypnotism. + +Altho he felt, after the spell of Mr. Montague's magnetism was +withdrawn, rather like a nervous man who has been given a large baby to +hold by a strange woman who has promptly vanished round the corner, +Roland was to some extent consoled by the praise bestowed upon him by +Miss Verepoint. She said it was much better to buy a theater than to +rent it, because then you escaped the heavy rent. It was specious, but +Roland had a dim feeling that there was a flaw somewhere in the +reasoning; and it was from this point that a shadow may be said to have +fallen upon the brightness of the venture. + +He would have been even less self-congratulatory if he had known the +Windsor Theater's reputation. Being a comparative stranger in the +metropolis, he was unaware that its nickname in theatrical circles was +"The Mugs' Graveyard"--a title which had been bestowed upon it not +without reason. Built originally by a slightly insane old gentleman, +whose principal delusion was that the public was pining for a constant +supply of the Higher Drama, and more especially those specimens of the +Higher Drama which flowed practically without cessation from the +restless pen of the insane old gentleman himself, the Windsor Theater +had passed from hand to hand with the agility of a gold watch in a +gathering of race-course thieves. The one anxiety of the unhappy man +who found himself, by some accident, in possession of the Windsor +Theater, was to pass it on to somebody else. The only really permanent +tenant it ever had was the representative of the Official Receiver. + +Various causes were assigned for the phenomenal ill-luck of the +theater, but undoubtedly the vital objection to it as a Temple of Drama +lay in the fact that nobody could ever find the place where it was +hidden. Cabmen shook their heads on the rare occasions when they were +asked to take a fare there. Explorers to whom a stroll through the +Australian bush was child's-play, had been known to spend an hour on +its trail and finish up at the point where they had started. + +It was precisely this quality of elusiveness which had first attracted +Mr. Montague. He was a far-seeing man, and to him the topographical +advantages of the theater were enormous. It was further from a +fire-station than any other building of the same insurance value +in London, even without having regard to the mystery which enveloped +its whereabouts. Often after a good dinner he would lean comfortably +back in his chair and see in the smoke of his cigar a vision of the +Windsor Theater blazing merrily, while distracted firemen galloped madly +all over London, vainly endeavoring to get some one to direct them to +the scene of the conflagration. So Mr. Montague bought the theater for +a mere song, and prepared to get busy. + +Unluckily for him, the representatives of the various fire offices with +which he had effected his policies got busy first. The generous fellows +insisted upon taking off his shoulders the burden of maintaining the +fireman whose permanent presence in a theater is required by law. +Nothing would satisfy them but to install firemen of their own and pay +their salaries. This, to a man in whom the instincts of the phoenix +were so strongly developed as they were in Mr. Montague, was distinctly +disconcerting. He saw himself making no profit on the deal--a thing +which had never happened to him before. + +And then Roland Bleke occurred, and Mr. Montague's belief that his race +was really chosen was restored. He sold the Windsor Theater to Roland +for twenty-five thousand pounds. It was fifteen thousand pounds more +than he himself had given for it, and this very satisfactory profit +mitigated the slight regret which he felt when it came to transferring +to Roland the insurance policies. To have effected policies amounting +to rather more than seventy thousand pounds on a building so +notoriously valueless as the Windsor Theater had been an achievement of +which Mr. Montague was justly proud, and it seemed sad to him that so +much earnest endeavor should be thrown away. + + * * * * * + +Over the little lunch with which she kindly allowed Roland to entertain +her, to celebrate the purchase of the theater, Miss Verepoint outlined +her policy. + +"What we must put up at that theater," she announced, "is a revue. A +revue," repeated Miss Verepoint, making, as she spoke, little +calculations on the back of the menu, "we could run for about fifteen +hundred a week--or, say, two thousand." + +Saying two thousand, thought Roland to himself, is not quite the same +as paying two thousand, so why should she stint herself? + +"I know two boys who could write us a topping revue," said Miss +Verepoint. "They'd spread themselves, too, if it was for me. They're in +love with me--both of them. We'd better get in touch with them at +once." + +To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister +about the sound of that word "touch," but he said nothing. + +"Why, there they are--lunching over there!" cried Miss Verepoint, +pointing to a neighboring table. "Now, isn't that lucky?" + +To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to +Miss Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their +table. + +The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss +Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown +lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively. Of the two, Roland +thought that perhaps R. P. de Parys was a shade the more obnoxious, but +a closer inspection left him with the feeling that these fine +distinctions were a little unfair with men of such equal talents. +Bromham Rhodes ran his friend so close that it was practically a dead +heat. They were both fat and somewhat bulgy-eyed. This was due to the +fact that what revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant +assimilation of food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite +in London; but, on the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. + +"Well, dear old thing!" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"Well, old child!" said R. P. de Parys. + +Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint. The talented pair +appeared to be unaware of Roland's existence. + +Miss Verepoint struck the business note. "Now you stop, boys," she +said. "Tie weights to yourselves and sink down into those chairs. I +want you two lads to write a revue for me." + +"Delighted!" said Bromham Rhodes; "but----" + +"There is the trifling point to be raised first----" said R. P. de Parys. + +"Where is the money coming from?" said Bromham Rhodes. + +"My friend, Mr. Bleke, is putting up the money," said Miss Verepoint, +with dignity. "He has taken the Windsor Theater." + +The interest of the two authors in their host, till then languid, +increased with a jerk. "Has he? By Jove!" they cried. "We must get +together and talk this over." + +It was Roland's first experience of a theatrical talking-over, and he +never forgot it. Two such talkers-over as Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de +Parys were scarcely to be found in the length and breadth of theatrical +London. Nothing, it seemed, could the gifted pair even begin to think +of doing without first discussing the proposition in all its aspects. +The amount of food which Roland found himself compelled to absorb during +the course of these debates was appalling. Discussions which began at +lunch would be continued until it was time to order dinner; and then, +as likely as not, they would have to sit there till supper-time in order +to thrash the question thoroughly out. + + * * * * * + +The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the +actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable +difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested. It +seemed practically impossible to find any man or woman in all England +or America whose peculiar gifts or lack of them would not interfere +with Miss Verepoint's giving a satisfactory performance of the +principal role. It was all very perplexing to Roland; but as Miss +Verepoint was an expert in theatrical matters, he scarcely felt +entitled to question her views. + +It was about this time that Roland proposed to Miss Verepoint. The +passage of time and the strain of talking over the revue had to a +certain extent moderated his original fervor. He had shaded off from a +passionate devotion, through various diminishing tints of regard for +her, into a sort of pale sunset glow of affection. His principal reason +for proposing was that it seemed to him to be in the natural order of +events. Her air towards him had become distinctly proprietorial. She +now called him "Roly-poly" in public--a proceeding which left him with +mixed feelings. Also, she had taken to ordering him about, which, as +everybody knows, is an unmistakable sign of affection among ladies of +the theatrical profession. Finally, in his chivalrous way, Roland had +begun to feel a little apprehensive lest he might be compromising Miss +Verepoint. Everybody knew that he was putting up the money for the +revue in which she was to appear; they were constantly seen together at +restaurants; people looked arch when they spoke to him about her. He +had to ask himself: was he behaving like a perfect gentleman? The +answer was in the negative. He took a cab to her flat and proposed +before he could repent of his decision. + +She accepted him. He was not certain for a moment whether he was glad +or sorry. "But I don't want to get married," she went on, "until I have +justified my choice of a profession. You will have to wait until I have +made a success in this revue." + +Roland was shocked to find himself hugely relieved at this concession. + +The revue took shape. There did apparently exist a handful of artistes +to whom Miss Verepoint had no objection, and these--a scrubby but +confident lot--were promptly engaged. Sallow Americans sprang from +nowhere with songs, dances, and ideas for effects. Tousled-haired +scenic artists wandered in with model scenes under their arms. A great +cloud of chorus-ladies settled upon the theater like flies. Even +Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de Parys--those human pythons--showed signs of +activity. They cornered Roland one day near Swan and Edgar's, steered +him into the Piccadilly Grill-room and, over a hearty lunch, read him +extracts from a brown-paper-covered manuscript which, they informed +him, was the first act. + +It looked a battered sort of manuscript and, indeed, it had every right +to be. Under various titles and at various times, Bromham Rhodes' and +R. P. de Parys' first act had been refused by practically every +responsible manager in London. As "Oh! What a Life!" it had failed to +satisfy the directors of the Empire. Re-christened "Wow-Wow!" it had +been rejected by the Alhambra. The Hippodrome had refused to consider +it, even under the name of "Hullo, Cellar-Flap!" It was now called, +"Pass Along, Please!" and, according to its authors, was a real revue. + +Roland was to learn, as the days went on, that in the world in which he +was moving everything was real revue that was not a stunt or a corking +effect. He floundered in a sea of real revue, stunts, and corking +effects. As far as he could gather, the main difference between these +things was that real revue was something which had been stolen from +some previous English production, whereas a stunt or a corking effect +was something which had been looted from New York. A judicious blend of +these, he was given to understand, constituted the sort of thing the +public wanted. + +Rehearsals began before, in Roland's opinion, his little army was +properly supplied with ammunition. True, they had the first act, but +even the authors agreed that it wanted bringing up-to-date in parts. +They explained that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work, +that they had actually started it about ten years ago when they were +careless lads. Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart +topical hits of the early years of the century; but that, they said, +would be all right. They could freshen it up in a couple of evenings; +it was simply a matter of deleting allusions to pro-Boers and +substituting lines about Marconi shares and mangel-wurzels. "It'll be +all right," they assured Roland; "this is real revue." + +In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, "Here +is the beginning of the end." This point came with Roland at the +commencement of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized the +terrible nature of the production for which he had made himself +responsible. Moreover, it was rehearsals which gave him his first clear +insight into the character of Miss Verepoint. + +Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time, +as he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case +to be made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the +background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight +about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of "Pass +Along, Please!" but such as there were she reached out for and grabbed +away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and +muttering, like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland +included. + + * * * * * + +Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her, +panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage +with this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic +his instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual +dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides--everything +that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her. If the +revue was a success, she would marry him--and revues, he knew, were +always successes. At that very moment there were six "best revues in +London," running at various theaters. He shuddered at the thought that +in a few weeks there would be seven. + +He felt a longing for rural solitude. He wanted to be alone by himself +for a day or two in a place where there were no papers with +advertisements of revues, no grill-rooms, and, above all, no Miss Billy +Verepoint. That night he stole away to a Norfolk village, where, in +happier days, he had once spent a Summer holiday--a peaceful, primitive +place where the inhabitants could not have told real revue from a +corking effect. + +Here, for the space of a week, Roland lay in hiding, while his +quivering nerves gradually recovered tone. He returned to London +happier, but a little apprehensive. Beyond a brief telegram of +farewell, he had not communicated with Miss Verepoint for seven days, +and experience had made him aware that she was a lady who demanded an +adequate amount of attention. + +That his nervous system was not wholly restored to health was borne in +upon him as he walked along Piccadilly on his way to his flat; for, +when somebody suddenly slapped him hard between the shoulder-blades, he +uttered a stifled yell and leaped in the air. + +Turning to face his assailant, he found himself meeting the genial gaze +of Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor +Theater. + +Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason, +congratulatory. + +"You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the first +month--by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of +commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought +it, to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and +staring me in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't +grudge it to you--you deserve it my boy! You're a nut!" + +"I really don't know what you mean." + +"Quite right, my boy!" chuckled Mr. Montague. "You're quite right to +keep it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the +least said soonest mended." + +He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified. + +Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note +of Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered +with what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was +beating fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a +wholesome respect for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his +favorite chair. There were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de +Parys, who had made themselves completely at home with a couple of his +cigars and whisky from the oldest bin. + +"So here you are at last!" said Miss Verepoint, querulously. "The valet +told us you were expected back this morning, so we waited. Where on +earth have you been to, running away like this, without a word?" + +"I only went----" + +"Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are +you going to do about it?" + +"We thought we'd better come along and talk it over," said R. P. de +Parys. + +"Talk what over?" said Roland: "the revue?" + +"Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!" snapped Miss +Verepoint. "It doesn't suit you. You haven't the right shape of head. +What do you suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course." + +"What about the theater?" + +Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. "Don't you ever read the +papers?" + +"I haven't seen a paper since I went away." + +"Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently," +said Miss Verepoint. "The theater's been burned down--that's what's +happened." + +"Burned down?" + +"Burned down!" repeated Roland. + +"That's what I said, didn't I? The suffragettes did it. They left +copies of 'Votes for Women' about the place. The silly asses set fire +to two other theaters as well, but they happened to be in main +thoroughfares and the fire-brigade got them under control at once. +I suppose they couldn't find the Windsor. Anyhow, it's burned to the +ground and what we want to know is what are you going to do about it?" + +Roland was much too busy blessing the good angels of Kingsway to reply +at once. R. P. de Parys, sympathetic soul, placed a wrong construction +on his silence. + +"Poor old Roly!" he said. "It's quite broken him up. The best thing we +can do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of +lunch." + +"Well," said Miss Verepoint, "what are you going to do--rebuild the +Windsor or try and get another theater?" + + * * * * * + +The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take +time, but it would be more satisfactory in every way. Besides, at this +time of the year it would be no easy matter to secure another theater +at a moment's notice. + +To R. P. de Parys and Bromham Rhodes the destruction of the Windsor +Theater had appeared less in the light of a disaster than as a direct +intervention on the part of Providence. The completion of that tiresome +second act, which had brooded over their lives like an ugly cloud, +could now be postponed indefinitely. + +"Of course," said R. P. de Parys, thoughtfully, "our contract with you +makes it obligatory on you to produce our revue by a certain date--but +I dare say, Bromham, we could meet Roly there, couldn't we?" + +"Sure!" said Rhodes. "Something nominal, say a further five hundred on +account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better +to rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?" + +"I do," agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. "You see, Roly, our revue has +been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it +for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the +Windsor would be your best course." + +There was a pause. + +"What do you think, Roly-poly?" asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no +sign. + +"Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take +another theater, or do anything else to oblige," he said, cheerfully. +"Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn." + +It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful +silence fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de +Parys woke with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and +Bromham Rhodes forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours. +Miss Verepoint was the first to break the silence. + +"Do you mean to say," she gasped, "that you didn't insure the place?" + +Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had +put the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. + +"Why didn't you?" Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. + +"Because it did not appear to me to be necessary." + +Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had +done all the insuring that was necessary--and a bit over. + +Miss Verepoint fought with her growing indignation, and lost. "What +about the salaries of the people who have been rehearsing all this +time?" she demanded. + +"I'm sorry that they should be out of an engagement, but it is scarcely +my fault. However, I propose to give each of them a month's salary. I +can manage that, I think." + +Miss Verepoint rose. "And what about me? What about me, that's what I +want to know. Where do I get off? If you think I'm going to marry you +without your getting a theater and putting up this revue you're jolly +well mistaken." + +Roland made a gesture which was intended to convey regret and +resignation. He even contrived to sigh. + +"Very well, then," said Miss Verepoint, rightly interpreting this +behavior as his final pronouncement on the situation. "Then +everything's jolly well off." + +She swept out of the room, the two authors following in her wake like +porpoises behind a liner. Roland went to his bureau, unlocked it and +took out a bundle of documents. He let his fingers stray lovingly among +the fire insurance policies which energetic Mr. Montague had been at +such pains to secure from so many companies. + +"And so," he said softly to himself, "am I." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE LIVE WEEKLY + +Fourth of a Series of Six Stories +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, August 1916] + + +It was with a start that Roland Bleke realized that the girl at the +other end of the bench was crying. For the last few minutes, as far +as his preoccupation allowed him to notice them at all, he had been +attributing the subdued sniffs to a summer cold, having just recovered +from one himself. + +He was embarrassed. He blamed the fate that had led him to this +particular bench, but he wished to give himself up to quiet +deliberation on the question of what on earth he was to do with +two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, to which figure his fortune +had now risen. + +The sniffs continued. Roland's discomfort increased. Chivalry had +always been his weakness. In the old days, on a hundred and forty +pounds a year, he had had few opportunities of indulging himself +in this direction; but now it seemed to him sometimes that the +whole world was crying out for assistance. + +Should he speak to her? He wanted to; but only a few days ago his +eyes had been caught by the placard of a weekly paper bearing the +title of 'Squibs,' on which in large letters was the legend "Men Who +Speak to Girls," and he had gathered that the accompanying article +was a denunciation rather than a eulogy of these individuals. On the +other hand, she was obviously in distress. + +Another sniff decided him. + +"I say, you know," he said. + +The girl looked at him. She was small, and at the present moment had +that air of the floweret surprized while shrinking, which adds a good +thirty-three per cent. to a girl's attractions. Her nose, he noted, was +delicately tip-tilted. A certain pallor added to her beauty. Roland's +heart executed the opening steps of a buck-and-wing dance. + +"Pardon me," he went on, "but you appear to be in trouble. Is there +anything I can do for you?" + +She looked at him again--a keen look which seemed to get into Roland's +soul and walk about it with a searchlight. Then, as if satisfied by the +inspection, she spoke. + +"No, I don't think there is," she said. "Unless you happen to be the +proprietor of a weekly paper with a Woman's Page, and need an editress +for it." + +"I don't understand." + +"Well, that's all any one could do for me--give me back my work or give +me something else of the same sort." + +"Oh, have you lost your job?" + +"I have. So would you mind going away, because I want to go on crying, +and I do it better alone. You won't mind my turning you out, I hope, +but I was here first, and there are heaps of other benches." + +"No, but wait a minute. I want to hear about this. I might be able--what +I mean is--think of something. Tell me all about it." + +There is no doubt that the possession of two hundred and fifty thousand +pounds tones down a diffident man's diffidence. Roland began to feel +almost masterful. + +"Why should I?" + +"Why shouldn't you?" + +"There's something in that," said the girl reflectively. "After all, +you might know somebody. Well, as you want to know, I have just been +discharged from a paper called 'Squibs.' I used to edit the Woman's +Page." + +"By Jove, did you write that article on 'Men Who Speak----'?" + +The hard manner in which she had wrapped herself as in a garment +vanished instantly. Her eyes softened. She even blushed. Just a +becoming pink, you know! + +"You don't mean to say you read it? I didn't think that any one ever +really read 'Squibs.'" + +"Read it!" cried Roland, recklessly abandoning truth. "I should jolly +well think so. I know it by heart. Do you mean to say that, after an +article like that, they actually sacked you? Threw you out as a +failure?" + +"Oh, they didn't send me away for incompetence. It was simply because +they couldn't afford to keep me on. Mr. Petheram was very nice about +it." + +"Who's Mr. Petheram?" + +"Mr. Petheram's everything. He calls himself the editor, but he's +really everything except office-boy, and I expect he'll be that next +week. When I started with the paper, there was quite a large staff. But +it got whittled down by degrees till there was only Mr. Petheram and +myself. It was like the crew of the 'Nancy Bell.' They got eaten one by +one, till I was the only one left. And now I've gone. Mr. Petheram is +doing the whole paper now." + +"How is it that he can't get anything better to do?" Roland said. + +"He has done lots of better things. He used to be at Carmelite House, +but they thought he was too old." + +Roland felt relieved. He conjured up a picture of a white-haired elder +with a fatherly manner. + +"Oh, he's old, is he?" + +"Twenty-four." + +There was a brief silence. Something in the girl's expression stung +Roland. She wore a rapt look, as if she were dreaming of the absent +Petheram, confound him. He would show her that Petheram was not the +only man worth looking rapt about. + +He rose. + +"Would you mind giving me your address?" he said. + +"Why?" + +"In order," said Roland carefully, "that I may offer you your former +employment on 'Squibs.' I am going to buy it." + +After all, your man of dash and enterprise, your Napoleon, does have +his moments. Without looking at her, he perceived that he had bowled +her over completely. Something told him that she was staring at him, +open-mouthed. Meanwhile, a voice within him was muttering anxiously, "I +wonder how much this is going to cost." + +"You're going to buy 'Squibs!'" + +Her voice had fallen away to an awestruck whisper. + +"I am." + +She gulped. + +"Well, I think you're wonderful." + +So did Roland. + +"Where will a letter find you?" he asked. + +"My name is March. Bessie March. I'm living at twenty-seven Guildford +Street." + +"Twenty-seven. Thank you. Good morning. I will communicate with you in +due course." + +He raised his hat and walked away. He had only gone a few steps, when +there was a patter of feet behind him. He turned. + +"I--I just wanted to thank you," she said. + +"Not at all," said Roland. "Not at all." + +He went on his way, tingling with just triumph. Petheram? Who was +Petheram? Who, in the name of goodness, was Petheram? He had put +Petheram in his proper place, he rather fancied. Petheram, forsooth. +Laughable. + +A copy of the current number of 'Squibs,' purchased at a book-stall, +informed him, after a minute search to find the editorial page, that +the offices of the paper were in Fetter Lane. It was evidence of his +exalted state of mind that he proceeded thither in a cab. + +Fetter Lane is one of those streets in which rooms that have only just +escaped being cupboards by a few feet achieve the dignity of offices. +There might have been space to swing a cat in the editorial sanctum of +'Squibs,' but it would have been a near thing. As for the outer office, +in which a vacant-faced lad of fifteen received Roland and instructed +him to wait while he took his card in to Mr. Petheram, it was a mere +box. Roland was afraid to expand his chest for fear of bruising it. + +The boy returned to say that Mr. Petheram would see him. + +Mr. Petheram was a young man with a mop of hair, and an air of almost +painful restraint. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and the table before +him was heaped high with papers. Opposite him, evidently in the act of +taking his leave was a comfortable-looking man of middle age with a red +face and a short beard. He left as Roland entered and Roland was +surprized to see Mr. Petheram spring to his feet, shake his fist at the +closing door, and kick the wall with a vehemence which brought down +several inches of discolored plaster. + +"Take a seat," he said, when he had finished this performance. "What +can I do for you?" + +Roland had always imagined that editors in their private offices were +less easily approached and, when approached, more brusk. The fact was +that Mr. Petheram, whose optimism nothing could quench, had mistaken +him for a prospective advertiser. + +"I want to buy the paper," said Roland. He was aware that this was an +abrupt way of approaching the subject, but, after all, he did want to +buy the paper, so why not say so? + +Mr. Petheram fizzed in his chair. He glowed with excitement. + +"Do you mean to tell me there's a single book-stall in London which has +sold out? Great Scott, perhaps they've all sold out! How many did you +try?" + +"I mean buy the whole paper. Become proprietor, you know." + +Roland felt that he was blushing, and hated himself for it. He ought to +be carrying this thing through with an air. Mr. Petheram looked at him +blankly. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Roland. He felt the interview was going all +wrong. It lacked a stateliness which this kind of interview should have +had. + +"Honestly?" said Mr. Petheram. "You aren't pulling my leg?" + +Roland nodded. Mr. Petheram appeared to struggle with his conscience, +and finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly +honest. + +"Don't you be an ass," he said. "You don't know what you're letting +yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do +you know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a +week to for life." + +"Why?" + +"We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors--not +the present ones--thought it would give the thing a boom if they had a +football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life. +Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from +proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried +to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he +would only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the +time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits. +That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed." + +A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking +of Bessie March. + +"I know all about that," he said. + +"And you still want to buy the thing?" + +"Yes." + +"But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own +paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you +landed. Why are you doing it?" + +"Oh, just for fun." + +"Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go +ahead." + +He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on +the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism. + +"You know," he said, "there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet. +If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital. +We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming +the paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing, +what I don't know about editing--but perhaps you had got somebody else +in your mind?" + +"No, no," said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an +office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled +him. + +"Very well, then," resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap +of papers to give more room for his feet. "Take it that I continue as +editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have +been doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you +won't want to spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you +would sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the place than +a broken-down wreck who might swoon from starvation?" + +"But one moment," said Roland. "Are you sure that the present +proprietors will want to sell?" + +"Want to sell," cried Mr. Petheram enthusiastically. "Why, if they know +you want to buy, you've as much chance of getting away from them +without the paper as--as--well, I can't think of anything that has such +a poor chance of anything. If you aren't quick on your feet, they'll +cry on your shoulder. Come along, and we'll round them up now." + +He struggled into his coat, and gave his hair an impatient brush with a +note-book. + +"There's just one other thing," said Roland. "I have been a regular +reader of 'Squibs' for some time, and I particularly admire the way in +which the Woman's Page----" + +"You mean you want to reengage the editress? Rather. You couldn't do +better. I was going to suggest it myself. Now, come along quick before +you change your mind or wake up." + +Within a very few days of becoming sole proprietor of 'Squibs,' Roland +began to feel much as a man might who, a novice at the art of steering +cars, should find himself at the wheel of a runaway motor. Young Mr. +Petheram had spoken nothing less than the truth when he had said that +he was full of ideas for booming the paper. The infusion of capital +into the business acted on him like a powerful stimulant. He exuded +ideas at every pore. + +Roland's first notion had been to engage a staff of contributors. He +was under the impression that contributors were the life-blood of a +weekly journal. Mr. Petheram corrected this view. He consented to the +purchase of a lurid serial story, but that was the last concession he +made. Nobody could accuse Mr. Petheram of lack of energy. He was +willing, even anxious, to write the whole paper himself, with the +exception of the Woman's Page, now brightly conducted once more by Miss +March. What he wanted Roland to concentrate himself upon was the +supplying of capital for ingenious advertising schemes. + +"How would it be," he asked one morning--he always began his remarks +with, "How would it be?"--"if we paid a man to walk down Piccadilly in +white skin-tights with the word 'Squibs' painted in red letters across +his chest?" + +Roland thought it would certainly not be. + +"Good sound advertising stunt," urged Mr. Petheram. "You don't like it? +All right. You're the boss. Well, how would it be to have a squad of +men dressed as Zulus with white shields bearing the legend 'Squibs?' +See what I mean? Have them sprinting along the Strand shouting, 'Wah! +Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!' It would make people talk." + +Roland emerged from these interviews with his skin crawling with modest +apprehension. His was a retiring nature, and the thought of Zulus +sprinting down the Strand shouting "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy it! Buy it!" +with reference to his personal property appalled him. + +He was beginning now heartily to regret having bought the paper, as he +generally regretted every definite step which he took. The glow of +romance which had sustained him during the preliminary negotiations had +faded entirely. A girl has to be possessed of unusual charm to continue +to captivate B, when she makes it plain daily that her heart is the +exclusive property of A; and Roland had long since ceased to cherish +any delusion that Bessie March was ever likely to feel anything but a +mild liking for him. Young Mr. Petheram had obviously staked out an +indisputable claim. Her attitude toward him was that of an affectionate +devotee toward a high priest. One morning, entering the office +unexpectedly, Roland found her kissing the top of Mr. Petheram's head; +and from that moment his interest in the fortunes of 'Squibs' sank to +zero. It amazed him that he could ever have been idiot enough to have +allowed himself to be entangled in this insane venture for the sake of +an insignificant-looking bit of a girl with a snub-nose and a poor +complexion. + +What particularly galled him was the fact that he was throwing away +good cash for nothing. It was true that his capital was more than equal +to the, on the whole, modest demands of the paper, but that did not +alter the fact that he was wasting money. Mr. Petheram always talked +buoyantly about turning the corner, but the corner always seemed just +as far off. + +The old idea of flight, to which he invariably had recourse in any +crisis, came upon Roland with irresistible force. He packed a bag, and +went to Paris. There, in the discomforts of life in a foreign country, +he contrived for a month to forget his white elephant. + +He returned by the evening train which deposits the traveler in London +in time for dinner. + +Strangely enough, nothing was farther from Roland's mind than his +bright weekly paper, as he sat down to dine in a crowded grill-room +near Piccadilly Circus. Four weeks of acute torment in a city where +nobody seemed to understand the simplest English sentence had driven +'Squibs' completely from his mind for the time being. + +The fact that such a paper existed was brought home to him with the +coffee. A note was placed upon his table by the attentive waiter. + +"What's this?" he asked. + +"The lady, sare," said the waiter vaguely. + +Roland looked round the room excitedly. The spirit of romance gripped +him. There were many ladies present, for this particular restaurant was +a favorite with artistes who were permitted to "look in" at their +theaters as late as eight-thirty. None of them looked particularly +self-conscious, yet one of them had sent him this quite unsolicited +tribute. He tore open the envelope. + +The message, written in a flowing feminine hand, was brief, and Mrs. +Grundy herself could have taken no exception to it. + +"'Squibs,' one penny weekly, buy it," it ran. All the mellowing effects +of a good dinner passed away from Roland. He was feverishly irritated. +He paid his bill and left the place. + +A visit to a neighboring music-hall occurred to him as a suitable +sedative. Hardly had his nerves ceased to quiver sufficiently to allow +him to begin to enjoy the performance, when, in the interval between +two of the turns, a man rose in one of the side boxes. + +"Is there a doctor in the house?" + +There was a hush in the audience. All eyes were directed toward the +box. A man in the stalls rose, blushing, and cleared his throat. + +"My wife has fainted," continued the speaker. "She has just discovered +that she has lost her copy of 'Squibs.'" + +The audience received the statement with the bovine stolidity of an +English audience in the presence of the unusual. + +Not so Roland. Even as the purposeful-looking chuckers-out wended their +leopard-like steps toward the box, he was rushing out into the street. + +As he stood cooling his indignation in the pleasant breeze which had +sprung up, he was aware of a dense crowd proceeding toward him. It was +headed by an individual who shone out against the drab background like +a good deed in a naughty world. Nature hath framed strange fellows in +her time, and this was one of the strangest that Roland's bulging eyes +had ever rested upon. He was a large, stout man, comfortably clad in a +suit of white linen, relieved by a scarlet 'Squibs' across the bosom. +His top-hat, at least four sizes larger than any top-hat worn out of a +pantomime, flaunted the same word in letters of flame. His umbrella, +which, tho the weather was fine, he carried open above his head, bore +the device "One penny weekly". + +The arrest of this person by a vigilant policeman and Roland's dive +into a taxicab occurred simultaneously. Roland was blushing all over. +His head was in a whirl. He took the evening paper handed in through +the window of the cab quite mechanically, and it was only the strong +exhortations of the vendor which eventually induced him to pay for it. +This he did with a sovereign, and the cab drove off. + +He was just thinking of going to bed several hours later, when it +occurred to him that he had not read his paper. He glanced at the first +page. The middle column was devoted to a really capitally written +account of the proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest of +six men who, it was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the +disturbance of the peace by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu +warriors, shouting in unison the words "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'" + + * * * * * + +Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the +hound Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could +scarcely have surpassed. + +It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His +Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct +this belief fell on deaf ears. + +"Have I seen the advertisements?" he cried, echoing his editor's first +question. "I've seen nothing else." + +"There!" said Mr. Petheram proudly. + +"It can't go on." + +"Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we +send them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the +Revue boom started and actors were expected to do six different parts +in seven minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about +the Strand, ready to take on any sort of job you offer them. I have a +special staff flushing the Bodegas. These fellows love it. It's meat +and drink to them to be right in the public eye like that. Makes them +feel ten years younger. It's wonderful the talent knocking about. Those +Zulus used to have a steady job as the Six Brothers Biff, Society +Contortionists. The Revue craze killed them professionally. They cried +like children when we took them on. + +"By the way, could you put through an expenses cheque before you go? +The fines mount up a bit. But don't you worry about that either. We're +coining money. I'll show you the returns in a minute. I told you we +should turn the corner. Turned it! Blame me, we've whizzed round it on +two wheels. Have you had time to see the paper since you got back? No? +Then you haven't seen our new Scandal Page--'We Just Want to Know, You +Know.' It's a corker, and it's sent the circulation up like a rocket. +Everybody reads 'Squibs' now. I was hoping you would come back soon. I +wanted to ask you about taking new offices. We're a bit above this sort +of thing now." + +Roland, meanwhile, was reading with horrified eyes the alleged corking +Scandal Page. It seemed to him without exception the most frightful +production he had ever seen. It appalled him. + +"This is awful," he moaned. "We shall have a hundred libel actions." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It's all fake stuff, tho the public doesn't +know it. If you stuck to real scandals you wouldn't get a par. a week. +A more moral set of blameless wasters than the blighters who constitute +modern society you never struck. But it reads all right, doesn't it? Of +course, every now and then one does hear something genuine, and then it +goes in. For instance, have you ever heard of Percy Pook, the bookie? I +have got a real ripe thing in about Percy this week, the absolute +limpid truth. It will make him sit up a bit. There, just under your +thumb." + +Roland removed his thumb, and, having read the paragraph in question, +started as if he had removed it from a snake. + +"But this is bound to mean a libel action!" he cried. + +"Not a bit of it," said Mr. Petheram comfortably. "You don't know +Percy. I won't bore you with his life-history, but take it from me he +doesn't rush into a court of law from sheer love of it. You're safe +enough." + + * * * * * + +But it appeared that Mr. Pook, tho coy in the matter of cleansing his +scutcheon before a judge and jury, was not wholly without weapons of +defense and offense. Arriving at the office next day, Roland found a +scene of desolation, in the middle of which, like Marius among the +ruins of Carthage, sat Jimmy, the vacant-faced office boy. Jimmy was +reading an illustrated comic paper, and appeared undisturbed by his +surroundings. + +"He's gorn," he observed, looking up as Roland entered. + +"What do you mean?" Roland snapped at him. "Who's gone and where did he +go? And besides that, when you speak to your superiors you will rise +and stop chewing that infernal gum. It gets on my nerves." + +Jimmy neither rose nor relinquished his gum. He took his time and +answered. + +"Mr. Petheram. A couple of fellers come in and went through, and there +was a uproar inside there, and presently out they come running, and I +went in, and there was Mr. Petheram on the floor knocked silly and the +furniture all broke, and now 'e's gorn to 'orspital. Those fellers 'ad +been putting 'im froo it proper," concluded Jimmy with moody relish. + +Roland sat down weakly. Jimmy, his tale told, resumed the study of his +illustrated paper. Silence reigned in the offices of 'Squibs.' + +It was broken by the arrival of Miss March. Her exclamation of +astonishment at the sight of the wrecked room led to a repetition of +Jimmy's story. + +She vanished on hearing the name of the hospital to which the stricken +editor had been removed, and returned an hour later with flashing eyes +and a set jaw. + +"Aubrey," she said--it was news to Roland that Mr. Petheram's name was +Aubrey--"is very much knocked about, but he is conscious and sitting up +and taking nourishment." + +"That's good." + +"In a spoon only." + +"Ah!" said Roland. + +"The doctor says he will not be out for a week. Aubrey is certain it +was that horrible book-maker's men who did it, but of course he can +prove nothing. But his last words to me were, 'Slip it into Percy again +this week.' He has given me one or two things to mention. I don't +understand them, but Aubrey says they will make him wild." + +Roland's flesh crept. The idea of making Mr. Pook any wilder than he +appeared to be at present horrified him. Panic gave him strength, and +he addressed Miss March, who was looking more like a modern Joan of Arc +than anything else on earth, firmly. + +"Miss March," he said, "I realize that this is a crisis, and that we +must all do all that we can for the paper, and I am ready to do +anything in reason--but I will not slip it into Percy. You have seen +the effects of slipping it into Percy. What he or his minions will do +if we repeat the process I do not care to think." + +"You are afraid?" + +"Yes," said Roland simply. + +Miss March turned on her heel. It was plain that she regarded him as a +worm. Roland did not like being thought a worm, but it was infinitely +better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon +of a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it +is better that people should say of you, "There he goes!" than that +they should say, "How peaceful he looks". + +Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to +Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into +the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of +the departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real. +Thanks to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in +hand to enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland, +however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he +could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal +Page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence +as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the +Scandal Page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into +Percy would, he felt, be with her the work of a moment. + + * * * * * + +Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared +at the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring +its whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him. + +His brow grew damp. What sort of people--except book-makers--did things +you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody. + +He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. A +kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. How +long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The +paragraph was not particularly interesting. It gave a brief account of +some large deal which Mr. Windlebird was negotiating. Roland did not +understand a word of it, but it gave him an idea. + +[*] He is a character in the Second Episode, a fraudulent financier. + +Mr. Windlebird's financial standing, he knew, was above suspicion. Mr. +Windlebird had made that clear to him during his visit. There could be +no possibility of offending Mr. Windlebird by a paragraph or two about +the manners and customs of financiers. Phrases which his kindly host +had used during his visit came back to him, and with them inspiration. + +Within five minutes he had compiled the following + + WE JUST WANT TO KNOW, YOU KNOW + + WHO is the eminent financier at present engaged upon one of his + biggest deals? + + WHETHER the public would not be well-advised to look a little + closer into it before investing their money? + + IF it is not a fact that this gentleman has bought a first-class + ticket to the Argentine in case of accidents? + + WHETHER he may not have to use it at any moment? + +After that it was easy. Ideas came with a rush. By the end of an hour +he had completed a Scandal Page of which Mr. Petheram himself might +have been proud, without a suggestion of slipping it into Percy. He +felt that he could go to Mr. Pook, and say, "Percy, on your honor as a +British book-maker, have I slipped it into you in any way whatsoever?" +And Mr. Pook would be compelled to reply, "You have not." + +Miss March read the proofs of the page, and sniffed. But Miss March's +blood was up, and she would have sniffed at anything not directly +hostile to Mr. Pook. + + * * * * * + +A week later Roland sat in the office of 'Squibs,' reading a letter. It +had been sent from No. 18-A Bream's Buildings, E.C., but, from Roland's +point of view, it might have come direct from heaven; for its contents, +signed by Harrison, Harrison, Harrison & Harrison, Solicitors, were to +the effect that a client of theirs had instructed them to approach him +with a view to purchasing the paper. He would not find their client +disposed to haggle over terms, so, hoped Messrs. Harrison, Harrison, +Harrison & Harrison, in the event of Roland being willing to sell, they +could speedily bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. + +Any conclusion which had left him free of 'Squibs' without actual +pecuniary loss would have been satisfactory to Roland. He had conceived +a loathing for his property which not even its steadily increasing +sales could mitigate. He was around at Messrs. Harrison's office as +soon as a swift taxi could take him there. The lawyers were for +spinning the thing out with guarded remarks and cautious preambles, but +Roland's methods of doing business were always rapid. + +"This chap," he said, "this fellow who wants to buy 'Squibs,' what'll +he give?" + +"That," began one of the Harrisons ponderously, "would, of course, +largely depend----" + +"I'll take five thousand. Lock, stock, and barrel, including the +present staff, an even five thousand. How's that?" + +"Five thousand is a large----" + +"Take it or leave it." + +"My dear sir, you hold a pistol to our heads. However, I think that our +client might consent to the sum you mention." + +"Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who +is your client?" + +Mr. Harrison coughed. + +"His name," he said, "will be familiar to you. He is the eminent +financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird." + + + + + +THE DIVERTING EPISODE OF THE EXILED MONARCH + +Fifth of a Series of Six Stories +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, September 1916] + + +The caoutchouc was drawing all London. Slightly more indecent than the +Salome dance, a shade less reticent than ragtime, it had driven the +tango out of existence. Nor, indeed, did anybody actually caoutchouc, +for the national dance of Paranoya contained three hundred and fifteen +recognized steps; but everybody tried to. A new revue, "Hullo, +Caoutchouc," had been produced with success. And the pioneer of the +dance, the peerless Maraquita, a native Paranoyan, still performed it +nightly at the music-hall where she had first broken loose. + +The caoutchouc fascinated Roland Bleke. Maraquita fascinated him more. +Of all the women to whom he had lost his heart at first sight, +Maraquita had made the firmest impression upon him. She was what is +sometimes called a fine woman. + +She had large, flashing eyes, the physique of a Rugby International +forward, and the agility of a cat on hot bricks. + +There is a period of about fifty steps somewhere in the middle of the +three hundred and fifteen where the patient, abandoning the comparative +decorum of the earlier movements, whizzes about till she looks like a +salmon-colored whirlwind. + +That was the bit that hit Roland. + +Night after night he sat in his stage-box, goggling at Maraquita and +applauding wildly. + +One night an attendant came to his box. + +"Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Roland Bleke? The Senorita Maraquita +wishes to speak to you." + +He held open the door of the box. The possibility of refusal did not +appear to occur to him. Behind the scenes at that theater, it was +generally recognized that when the Peerless One wanted a thing, she got +it--quick. + +They were alone. + +With no protective footlights between himself and her, Roland came to +the conclusion that he had made a mistake. It was not that she was any +less beautiful at the very close quarters imposed by the limits of the +dressing-room; but he felt that in falling in love with her he had +undertaken a contract a little too large for one of his quiet, +diffident nature. It crossed his mind that the sort of woman he really +liked was the rather small, drooping type. Dynamite would not have made +Maraquita droop. + +For perhaps a minute and a half Maraquita fixed her compelling eyes on +his without uttering a word. Then she broke a painful silence with this +leading question: + +"You love me, _hein_?" + +Roland nodded feebly. + +"When men make love to me, I send them away--so." + +She waved her hand toward the door, and Roland began to feel almost +cheerful again. He was to be dismissed with a caution, after all. The +woman had a fine, forgiving nature. + +"But not you." + +"Not me?" + +"No, not you. You are the man I have been waiting for. I read about you +in the paper, Senor Bleke. I see your picture in the 'Daily Mirror!' I +say to myself, 'What a man!'" + +"Those picture-paper photographs always make one look rather weird," +mumbled Roland. + +"I see you night after night in your box. Poof! I love you." + +"Thanks awfully," bleated Roland. + +"You would do anything for my sake, _hein_? I knew you were that kind +of man directly I see you. No," she added, as Roland writhed uneasily +in his chair, "do not embrace me. Later, yes, but now, no. Not till the +Great Day." + +What the Great Day might be Roland could not even faintly conjecture. +He could only hope that it would also be a remote one. + +"And now," said the Senorita, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, +"you come away with me to my house. My friends are there awaiting us. +They will be glad and proud to meet you." + + * * * * * + +After his first inspection of the house and the friends, Roland came to +the conclusion that he preferred Maraquita's room to her company. The +former was large and airy, the latter, with one exception, small and +hairy. + +The exception Maraquita addressed as Bombito. He was a conspicuous +figure. He was one of those out-size, hasty-looking men. One suspected +him of carrying lethal weapons. + +Maraquita presented Roland to the company. The native speech of +Paranoya sounded like shorthand, with a blend of Spanish. An expert +could evidently squeeze a good deal of it into a minute. Its effect on +the company was good. They were manifestly soothed. Even Bombito. + +Introductions in detail then took place. This time, for Roland's +benefit, Maraquita spoke in English, and he learned that most of those +present were marquises. Before him, so he gathered from Maraquita, +stood the very flower of Paranoya's aristocracy, driven from their +native land by the Infamy of 1905. Roland was too polite to inquire +what on earth the Infamy of 1905 might be, but its mention had a marked +effect on the company. Some scowled, others uttered deep-throated +oaths. Bombito did both. Before supper, to which they presently sat +down, was over, however, Roland knew a good deal about Paranoya and its +history. The conversation conducted by Maraquita--to a ceaseless _bouche +pleine_ accompaniment from her friends--bore exclusively upon the +subject. + +Paranoya had, it appeared, existed fairly peacefully for centuries +under the rule of the Alejandro dynasty. Then, in the reign of +Alejandro the Thirteenth, disaffection had begun to spread, culminating +in the Infamy of 1905, which, Roland had at last discovered, was +nothing less than the abolition of the monarchy and the installation of +a republic. + +Since 1905 the one thing for which they had lived, besides the +caoutchouc, was to see the monarchy restored and their beloved +Alejandro the Thirteenth back on his throne. Their efforts toward this +end had been untiring, and were at last showing signs of bearing fruit. +Paranoya, Maraquita assured Roland, was honeycombed with intrigue. The +army was disaffected, the people anxious for a return to the old order +of things. + +A more propitious moment for striking the decisive blow was never +likely to arrive. The question was purely one of funds. + +At the mention of the word "funds," Roland, who had become thoroughly +bored with the lecture on Paranoyan history, sat up and took notice. He +had an instinctive feeling that he was about to be called upon for a +subscription to the cause of the distressful country's freedom. +Especially by Bombito. + +He was right. A moment later Maraquita began to make a speech. + +She spoke in Paranoyan, and Roland could not follow her, but he +gathered that it somehow had reference to himself. + +As, at the end of it, the entire company rose to their feet and +extended their glasses toward him with a mighty shout, he assumed that +Maraquita had been proposing his health. + +"They say 'To the liberator of Paranoya!'" kindly translated the +Peerless One. "You must excuse," said Maraquita tolerantly, as a bevy +of patriots surrounded Roland and kissed him on the cheek. "They are so +grateful to the savior of our country. I myself would kiss you, were it +not that I have sworn that no man's lips shall touch mine till the +royal standard floats once more above the palace of Paranoya. But that +will be soon, very soon," she went on. "With you on our side we can not +fail." + +What did the woman mean? Roland asked himself wildly. Did she labor +under the distressing delusion that he proposed to shed his blood on +behalf of a deposed monarch to whom he had never been introduced? + +Maraquita's next remarks made the matter clear. + +"I have told them," she said, "that you love me, that you are willing +to risk everything for my sake. I have promised them that you, the rich +Senor Bleke, will supply the funds for the revolution. Once more, +comrades. To the Savior of Paranoya!" + +Roland tried his hardest to catch the infection of this patriotic +enthusiasm, but somehow he could not do it. Base, sordid, mercenary +speculations would intrude themselves. About how much was a good, +well-furnished revolution likely to cost? As delicately as he could, +he put the question to Maraquita. + +She said, "Poof! The cost? La, la!" Which was all very well, but hardly +satisfactory as a business chat. However, that was all Roland could get +out of her. + + * * * * * + +The next few days passed for Roland in a sort of dream. It was the kind +of dream which it is not easy to distinguish from a nightmare. + +Maraquita's reticence at the supper-party on the subject of details +connected with the financial side of revolutions entirely disappeared. +She now talked nothing but figures, and from the confused mass which +she presented to him Roland was able to gather that, in financing the +restoration of royalty in Paranoya, he would indeed be risking +everything for her sake. + +In the matter of revolutions Maraquita was no niggard. She knew how the +thing should be done--well, or not at all. There would be so much for +rifles, machine-guns, and what not: and there would be so much for the +expense of smuggling them into the country. Then there would be so much +to be laid out in corrupting the republican army. Roland brightened a +little when they came to this item. As the standing army of Paranoya +amounted to twenty thousand men, and as it seemed possible to corrupt +it thoroughly at a cost of about thirty shillings a head, the obvious +course, to Roland's way of thinking was to concentrate on this side of +the question and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. + +It appeared, however, that Maraquita did not want to avoid bloodshed, +that she rather liked bloodshed, that the leaders of the revolution +would be disappointed if there were no bloodshed. Especially Bombito. +Unless, she pointed out, there was a certain amount of carnage, +looting, and so on, the revolution would not achieve a popular success. +True, the beloved Alejandro might be restored; but he would sit upon a +throne that was insecure, unless the coronation festivities took a +bloodthirsty turn. By all means, said Maraquita, corrupt the army, but +not at the risk of making the affair tame and unpopular. Paranoya was +an emotional country, and liked its revolutions with a bit of zip to +them. + +It was about ten days after he had definitely cast in his lot with the +revolutionary party that Roland was made aware that these things were a +little more complex than he had imagined. He had reconciled himself to +the financial outlay. It had been difficult, but he had done it. That +his person as well as his purse would be placed in peril he had not +foreseen. + +The fact was borne in upon him at the end of the second week by the +arrival of the deputation. + +It blew in from the street just as he was enjoying his after-dinner +cigar. + +It consisted of three men, one long and suave, the other two short, +stout, and silent. They all had the sallow complexion and undue +hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native +of Paranoya. + +For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he had +not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited +resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He +poised himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they +should try to kiss him on the cheek. + +"Mr. Bleke?" said the long man. + +His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the +table, and looked at it wistfully. + +"Long live the monarchy," said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the +course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally +went well. + +On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the +contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped +themselves to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness. + +"Death to the monarchy," corrected the long man coldly. "And," he added +with a wealth of meaning in his voice, "to all who meddle in the +affairs of our beloved country and seek to do it harm." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Roland. + +"Yes, Senor Bleke, you do know what I mean. I mean that you will be +well advised to abandon the schemes which you are hatching with the +malcontents who would do my beloved land an injury." + +The conversation was growing awkward. Roland had got so into the habit +of taking it for granted that every Paranoyan he met must of necessity +be a devotee of the beloved Alejandro that it came as a shock to him to +realize that there were those who objected to his restoration to the +throne. Till now he had looked on the enemy as something in the +abstract. It had not struck him that the people for whose correction he +was buying all these rifles and machine-guns were individuals with a +lively distaste for having their blood shed. + +"Senor Bleke," resumed the speaker, frowning at one of his companions +whose hand was hovering above the bottle of liqueur brandy, "you are a +man of sense. You know what is safe and what is not safe. Believe me, +this scheme of yours is not safe. You have been led away, but there is +still time to withdraw. Do so, and all is well. Do not so, and your +blood be upon your own head." + +"My blood!" gasped Roland. + +The speaker bowed. + +"That is all," he said. "We merely came to give the warning. Ah, Senor +Bleke, do not be rash. You think that here, in this great London of +yours, you are safe. You look at the policeman upon the corner of the +road, and you say to yourself 'I am safe.' Believe me, not at all so is +it, but much the opposite. We have ways by which it is of no account +the policeman on the corner of the road. That is all, Senor Bleke. We +wish you a good night." + +The deputation withdrew. + +Maraquita, informed of the incident, snapped her fingers, and said +"Poof!" It sometimes struck Roland that she would be more real help in +a difficult situation if she could get out of the habit of saying +"Poof!" + +"It is nothing," she said. + +"No?" said Roland. + +"We easily out-trick them, isn't it? You make a will leaving your money +to the Cause, and then where are they, _hein_?" + +It was one way of looking at it, but it brought little balm to Roland. +He said so. Maraquita scanned his face keenly. + +"You are not weakening, Roland?" she said. "You would not betray us +now?" + +"Well, of course, I don't know about betraying, you know, but still----. +What I mean is----" + +Maraquita's eyes seemed to shoot forth two flames. + +"Take care," she cried. "With me it is nothing, for I know that your +heart is with Paranoya. But, if the others once had cause to suspect +that your resolve was failing--ah! If Bombito----" + +Roland took her point. He had forgotten Bombito for the moment. + +"For goodness' sake," he said hastily, "don't go saying anything to +Bombito to give him the idea that I'm trying to back out. Of course you +can rely on me, and all that. That's all right." + +Maraquita's gaze softened. She raised her glass--they were lunching at +the time--and put it to her lips. + +"To the Savior of Paranoya!" she said. + +"Beware!" whispered a voice in Roland's ear. + +He turned with a start. A waiter was standing behind him, a small, +dark, hairy man. He was looking into the middle distance with the +abstracted air which waiters cultivate. + +Roland stared at him, but he did not move. + +That evening, returning to his flat, Roland was paralyzed by the sight +of the word "Beware" scrawled across the mirror in his bedroom. It had +apparently been done with a diamond. He rang the bell. + +"Sir?" said the competent valet. ("Competent valets are in attendance +at each of these flats."--_Advt._) + +"Has any one been here since I left?" + +"Yes, sir. A foreign-looking gentleman called. He said he knew you, +sir. I showed him into your room." + +The same night, well on in the small hours, the telephone rang. Roland +dragged himself out of bed. + +"Hullo?" + +"Is that Senor Bleke?" + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"Beware!" + +Things were becoming intolerable. Roland had a certain amount of nerve, +but not enough to enable him to bear up against this sinister +persecution. Yet what could he do? Suppose he did beware to the extent +of withdrawing his support from the royalist movement, what then? +Bombito. If ever there was a toad under the harrow, he was that toad. +And all because a perfectly respectful admiration for the caoutchouc +had led him to occupy a stage-box several nights in succession at the +theater where the peerless Maraquita tied herself into knots. + + * * * * * + +There was an air of unusual excitement in Maraquita's manner at their +next meeting. + +"We have been in communication with Him," she whispered. "He will +receive you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya." + +"Eh? Who will?" + +"Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are +to go to him at once." + +"Where?" + +"At his own house. He will receive you in person." + +Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing +of late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of +meeting face to face a genuine--if exiled--monarch. The thought did +flit through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's +office if they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation. + +The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square. +Roland rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the +prosaic in the action. He wondered what he should say to the butler. + +There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were +ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a +luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts +running in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got +an uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to +see the dentist. + +Presently the squad of retainers returned, the butler leading. + +"His Majesty will receive Mr. Bleke." + +Roland followed him with tottering knees. + +His Majesty, King Alejandro the Thirteenth, on the retired list, was a +genial-looking man of middle age, comfortably stout about the middle +and a little bald as to the forehead. He might have been a prosperous +stock-broker. Roland felt more at his ease at the very sight of him. + +"Sit down, Mr. Bleke," said His Majesty, as the door closed. "I have +been wanting to see you for some time." + +Roland had nothing to say. He was regaining his composure, but he had a +long way to go yet before he could feel thoroughly at home. + +King Alejandro produced a cigaret-case, and offered it to Roland, who +shook his head speechlessly. The King lit a cigaret and smoked +thoughtfully for a while. + +"You know, Mr. Bleke," he said at last, "this must stop. It really +must. I mean your devoted efforts on my behalf." + +Roland gaped at him. + +"You are a very young man. I had expected to see some one much older. +Your youth gives me the impression that you have gone into this affair +from a spirit of adventure. I can assure you that you have nothing to +gain commercially by interfering with my late kingdom. I hope, before +we part, that I can persuade you to abandon your idea of financing this +movement to restore me to the throne. + +"I don't understand--er--your majesty." + +"I will explain. Please treat what I shall say as strictly confidential. +You must know, Mr. Bleke, that these attempts to re-establish me as a +reigning monarch in Paranoya are, frankly, the curse of an otherwise +very pleasant existence. You look surprized? My dear sir, do you know +Paranoya? Have you ever been there? Have you the remotest idea what sort +of life a King of Paranoya leads? I have tried it, and I can assure +you that a coal-heaver is happy by comparison. In the first place, +the climate of the country is abominable. I always had a cold in the +head. Secondly, there is a small but energetic section of the populace +whose sole recreation it seems to be to use their monarch as a target +for bombs. They are not very good bombs, it is true, but one in, say, +ten explodes, and even an occasional bomb is unpleasant if you are the +target. + +"Finally, I am much too fond of your delightful country to wish to +leave it. I was educated in England--I am a Magdalene College man--and +I have the greatest horror of ever being compelled to leave it. My +present life suits me exactly. That is all I wished to say, Mr. Bleke. +For both our sakes, for the sake of my comfort and your purse, abandon +this scheme of yours." + + * * * * * + +Roland walked home thoughtfully. Maraquita had left the royal residence +long before he had finished the whisky-and-soda which the genial +monarch had pressed upon him. As he walked, the futility of his +situation came home to him more and more. Whatever he did, he was bound +to displease somebody; and these Paranoyans were so confoundedly +impulsive when they were vexed. + +For two days he avoided Maraquita. On the third, with something of the +instinct which draws the murderer to the spot where he has buried the +body, he called at her house. + +She was not present, but otherwise there was a full gathering. There +were the marquises; there were the counts; there was Bombito. + +He looked unhappily round the crowd. + +Somebody gave him a glass of champagne. He raised it. + +"To the revolution," he said mechanically. + +There was a silence--it seemed to Roland an awkward silence. As if he +had said something improper, the marquises and counts began to drift +from the room, till only Bombito was left. Roland regarded him with +some apprehension. He was looking larger and more unusual than ever. + +But to-night, apparently, Bombito was in genial mood. He came forward +and slapped Roland on the shoulder. And then the remarkable fact came +to light that Bombito spoke English, or a sort of English. + +"My old chap," he said. "I would have a speech with you." + +He slapped Roland again on the shoulder. + +"The others they say, 'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' Maraquita say +'Break it with Senor Bleke gently.' So I break it with you gently." + +He dealt Roland a third stupendous punch. Whatever was to be broken +gently, it was plain to Roland that it was not himself. And suddenly +there came to him a sort of intuition that told him that Bombito was +nervous. + +"After all you have done for us, Senor Bleke, we shall seem to you +ungrateful bounders, but what is it? Yes? No? I shouldn't wonder, +perhaps. The whole fact is that there has been political crisis in +Paranoya. Upset. Apple-cart. Yes? You follow? No? The Ministry have +been--what do you say?--put through it. Expelled. Broken up. No more +ministry. New ministry wanted. To conciliate royalist party, that is +the cry. So deputation of leading persons, mighty good chaps, prominent +merchants and that sort of bounder, call upon us. They offer me to be +President. See? No? Yes? That's right. I am ambitious blighter, Senor +Bleke. What about it, no? I accept. I am new President of Paranoya. So +no need for your kind assistance. Royalist revolution up the spout. No +more royalist revolution." + +The wave of relief which swept over Roland ebbed sufficiently after an +interval to enable him to think of some one but himself. He was not +fond of Maraquita, but he had a tender heart, and this, he felt, would +kill the poor girl. + +"But Maraquita----?" + +"That's all right, splendid old chap. No need to worry about Maraquita, +stout old boy. Where the husband goes, so does the wife go. As you say, +whither thou goes will I follow. No?" + +"But I don't understand. Maraquita is not your wife?" + +"Why, certainly, good old heart. What else?" + +"Have you been married to her all the time?" + +"Why, certainly, good, dear boy." + +The room swam before Roland's eyes. There was no room in his mind for +meditations on the perfidy of woman. He groped forward and found +Bombito's hand. + +"By Jove," he said thickly, as he wrung it again and again, "I knew you +were a good sort the first time I saw you. Have a drink or something. +Have a cigar or something. Have something, anyway, and sit down and +tell me all about it." + + + + + +THE EPISODE OF THE HIRED PAST + +Final Story of the Series +[First published in _Pictorial Review_, October 1916] + + +"What do you mean--you can't marry him after all? After all what? Why +can't you marry him? You are perfectly childish." + +Lord Evenwood's gentle voice, which had in its time lulled the House of +Peers to slumber more often than any voice ever heard in the Gilded +Chamber, had in it a note of unwonted, but quite justifiable, +irritation. If there was one thing more than another that Lord Evenwood +disliked, it was any interference with arrangements already made. + +"The man," he continued, "is not unsightly. The man is not +conspicuously vulgar. The man does not eat peas with his knife. The man +pronounces his aitches with meticulous care and accuracy. The man, +moreover, is worth rather more than a quarter of a million pounds. I +repeat, you are childish!" + +"Yes, I know he's a very decent little chap, Father," said Lady Eva. +"It's not that at all." + +"I should be gratified, then, to hear what, in your opinion, it is." + +"Well, do you think I could be happy with him?" + +Lady Kimbuck gave tongue. She was Lord Evenwood's sister. She spent a +very happy widowhood interfering in the affairs of the various branches +of her family. + +"We're not asking you to be happy. You have such odd ideas of +happiness. Your idea of happiness is to be married to your cousin +Gerry, whose only visible means of support, so far as I can gather, is +the four hundred a year which he draws as a member for a constituency +which has every intention of throwing him out at the next election." + +Lady Eva blushed. Lady Kimbuck's faculty for nosing out the secrets of +her family had made her justly disliked from the Hebrides to Southern +Cornwall. + +"Young O'Rion is not to be thought of," said Lord Evenwood firmly. "Not +for an instant. Apart from anything else, his politics are all wrong. +Moreover, you are engaged to this Mr. Bleke. It is a sacred responsibility +not lightly to be evaded. You can not pledge your word one day to enter +upon the most solemn contract known to--ah--the civilized world, and break +it the next. It is not fair to the man. It is not fair to me. You know +that all I live for is to see you comfortably settled. If I could myself +do anything for you, the matter would be different. But these abominable +land-taxes and Blowick--especially Blowick--no, no, it's out of the +question. You will be very sorry if you do anything foolish. I can assure +you that Roland Blekes are not to be found--ah--on every bush. Men are +extremely shy of marrying nowadays." + +"Especially," said Lady Kimbuck, "into a family like ours. What with +Blowick's scandal, and that shocking business of your grandfather and the +circus-woman, to say nothing of your poor father's trouble in '85----" + +"Thank you, Sophia," interrupted Lord Evenwood, hurriedly. "It is +unnecessary to go into all that now. Suffice it that there are adequate +reasons, apart from all moral obligations, why Eva should not break her +word to Mr. Bleke." + +Lady Kimbuck's encyclopedic grip of the family annals was a source of +the utmost discomfort to her relatives. It was known that more than one +firm of publishers had made her tempting offers for her reminiscences, +and the family looked on like nervous spectators at a battle while +Cupidity fought its ceaseless fight with Laziness; for the Evenwood +family had at various times and in various ways stimulated the +circulation of the evening papers. Most of them were living down +something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's habit, when thwarted in her +lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and announce that she was not +to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book. Abject +surrender followed on the instant. + +At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and +rose. + +"It is absolutely necessary for you, my dear, to make a good match, or +you will all be ruined. I, of course, can always support my declining +years with literary work, but----" + +Lady Eva groaned. Against this last argument there was no appeal. + +Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder. + +"There, run along now," she said. "I daresay you've got a headache or +something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. Go +down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say +goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient." + +Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that +Lady Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone +to bed with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview +which he so dreaded. + +Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion +that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary +insanity. They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel +for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the +highest flights of love. It was only later that the reaction came and +he realized that he was nothing of the sort. + +At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of +whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so +much as Lady Eva Blyton. + +Other women--notably Maraquita, now happily helping to direct the +destinies of Paranoya--had frightened him by their individuality. Lady +Eva frightened him both by her individuality and the atmosphere of +aristocratic exclusiveness which she conveyed. He had no idea whatever +of what was the proper procedure for a man engaged to the daughter of +an earl. Daughters of earls had been to him till now mere names in the +society columns of the morning paper. The very rules of the game were +beyond him. He felt like a confirmed Association footballer suddenly +called upon to play in an International Rugby match. + +All along, from the very moment when--to his unbounded astonishment--she +had accepted him, he had known that he was making a mistake; but he never +realized it with such painful clearness as he did this evening. He was +filled with a sort of blind terror. He cursed the fate which had taken +him to the Charity-Bazaar at which he had first come under the notice of +Lady Kimbuck. The fatuous snobbishness which had made him leap at her +invitation to spend a few days at Evenwood Towers he regretted; but for +that he blamed himself less. Further acquaintance with Lady Kimbuck had +convinced him that if she had wanted him, she would have got him somehow, +whether he had accepted or refused. + +What he really blamed himself for was his mad proposal. There had been +no need for it. True, Lady Eva had created a riot of burning emotions +in his breast from the moment they met; but he should have had the +sense to realize that she was not the right mate for him, even tho he +might have a quarter of a million tucked away in gilt-edged securities. +Their lives could not possibly mix. He was a commonplace young man with +a fondness for the pleasures of the people. He liked cheap papers, +picture-palaces, and Association football. Merely to think of +Association football in connection with her was enough to make the +folly of his conduct clear. He ought to have been content to worship +her from afar as some inaccessible goddess. + +A light step outside the door made his heart stop beating. + +"I've just looked in to say good night, Mr.--er--Roland," she said, +holding out her hand. "Do excuse me. I've got such a headache." + +"Oh, yes, rather; I'm awfully sorry." + +If there was one person in the world Roland despised and hated at that +moment, it was himself. + +"Are you going out with the guns to-morrow?" asked Lady Eva languidly. + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no. I'm afraid I don't shoot." + +The back of his neck began to glow. He had no illusions about himself. +He was the biggest ass in Christendom. + +"Perhaps you'd like to play a round of golf, then?" + +"Oh, yes, rather! I mean, no." There it was again, that awful phrase. +He was certain he had not intended to utter it. She must be thinking +him a perfect lunatic. "I don't play golf." + +They stood looking at each other for a moment. It seemed to Roland that +her gaze was partly contemptuous, partly pitying. He longed to tell her +that, tho she had happened to pick on his weak points in the realm of +sport, there were things he could do. An insane desire came upon him to +babble about his school football team. Should he ask her to feel his +quite respectable biceps? No. + +"Never mind," she said, kindly. "I daresay we shall think of something +to amuse you." + +She held out her hand again. He took it in his for the briefest +possible instant, painfully conscious the while that his own hand was +clammy from the emotion through which he had been passing. + +"Good night." + +"Good night." + +Thank Heaven, she was gone. That let him out for another twelve hours +at least. + +A quarter of an hour later found Roland still sitting, where she had +left him, his head in his hands. The groan of an overwrought soul +escaped him. + +"I can't do it!" + +He sprang to his feet. + +"I won't do it." + +A smooth voice from behind him spoke. + +"I think you are quite right, sir--if I may make the remark." + +Roland had hardly ever been so startled in his life. In the first +place, he was not aware of having uttered his thoughts aloud; in the +second, he had imagined that he was alone in the room. And so, a moment +before, he had been. + +But the owner of the voice possessed, among other qualities, the cat-like +faculty of entering a room perfectly noiselessly--a fact which had won for +him, in the course of a long career in the service of the best families, +the flattering position of star witness in a number of England's raciest +divorce-cases. + +Mr. Teal, the butler--for it was no less a celebrity who had broken in +on Roland's reverie--was a long, thin man of a somewhat priestly cast +of countenance. He lacked that air of reproving hauteur which many +butlers possess, and it was for this reason that Roland had felt drawn +to him during the black days of his stay at Evenwood Towers. Teal had +been uncommonly nice to him on the whole. He had seemed to Roland, +stricken by interviews with his host and Lady Kimbuck, the only human +thing in the place. + +He liked Teal. On the other hand, Teal was certainly taking a liberty. +He could, if he so pleased, tell Teal to go to the deuce. Technically, +he had the right to freeze Teal with a look. + +He did neither of these things. He was feeling very lonely and very +forlorn in a strange and depressing world, and Teal's voice and manner +were soothing. + +"Hearing you speak, and seeing nobody else in the room," went on the +butler, "I thought for a moment that you were addressing me." + +This was not true, and Roland knew it was not true. Instinct told him +that Teal knew that he knew it was not true; but he did not press the +point. + +"What do you mean--you think I am quite right?" he said. "You don't +know what I was thinking about." + +Teal smiled indulgently. + +"On the contrary, sir. A child could have guessed it. You have just +come to the decision--in my opinion a thoroughly sensible one--that +your engagement to her ladyship can not be allowed to go on. You are +quite right, sir. It won't do." + +Personal magnetism covers a multitude of sins. Roland was perfectly +well aware that he ought not to be standing here chatting over his and +Lady Eva's intimate affairs with a butler; but such was Teal's +magnetism that he was quite unable to do the right thing and tell him +to mind his own business. "Teal, you forget yourself!" would have +covered the situation. Roland, however, was physically incapable of +saying "Teal, you forget yourself!" The bird knows all the time that he +ought not to stand talking to the snake, but he is incapable of ending +the conversation. Roland was conscious of a momentary wish that he was +the sort of man who could tell butlers that they forgot themselves. But +then that sort of man would never be in this sort of trouble. The +"Teal, you forget yourself" type of man would be a first-class shot, a +plus golfer, and would certainly consider himself extremely lucky to be +engaged to Lady Eva. + +"The question is," went on Mr. Teal, "how are we to break it off?" + +Roland felt that, as he had sinned against all the decencies in +allowing the butler to discuss his affairs with him, he might just as +well go the whole hog and allow the discussion to run its course. And +it was an undeniable relief to talk about the infernal thing to some +one. + +He nodded gloomily, and committed himself. Teal resumed his remarks +with the gusto of a fellow-conspirator. + +"It's not an easy thing to do gracefully, sir, believe me, it isn't. +And it's got to be done gracefully, or not at all. You can't go to her +ladyship and say 'It's all off, and so am I,' and catch the next train +for London. The rupture must be of her ladyship's making. If some fact, +some disgraceful information concerning you were to come to her +ladyship's ears, that would be a simple way out of the difficulty." + +He eyed Roland meditatively. + +"If, for instance, you had ever been in jail, sir?" + +"Well, I haven't." + +"No offense intended, sir, I'm sure. I merely remembered that you had +made a great deal of money very quickly. My experience of gentlemen who +have made a great deal of money very quickly is that they have +generally done their bit of time. But, of course, if you----. Let me +think. Do you drink, sir?" + +"No." + +Mr. Teal sighed. Roland could not help feeling that he was +disappointing the old man a good deal. + +"You do not, I suppose, chance to have a past?" asked Mr. Teal, not +very hopefully. "I use the word in its technical sense. A deserted +wife? Some poor creature you have treated shamefully?" + +At the risk of sinking still further in the butler's esteem, Roland was +compelled to answer in the negative. + +"I was afraid not," said Mr. Teal, shaking his head. "Thinking it all +over yesterday, I said to myself, 'I'm afraid he wouldn't have one.' +You don't look like the sort of gentleman who had done much with his +time." + +"Thinking it over?" + +"Not on your account, sir," explained Mr. Teal. "On the family's. I +disapproved of this match from the first. A man who has served a family +as long as I have had the honor of serving his lordship's, comes to +entertain a high regard for the family prestige. And, with no offense +to yourself, sir, this would not have done." + +"Well, it looks as if it would have to do," said Roland, gloomily. "I +can't see any way out of it." + +"I can, sir. My niece at Aldershot." + +Mr. Teal wagged his head at him with a kind of priestly archness. + +"You can not have forgotten my niece at Aldershot?" + +Roland stared at him dumbly. It was like a line out of a melodrama. He +feared, first for his own, then for the butler's sanity. The latter was +smiling gently, as one who sees light in a difficult situation. + +"I've never been at Aldershot in my life." + +"For our purposes you have, sir. But I'm afraid I am puzzling you. Let +me explain. I've got a niece over at Aldershot who isn't much good. +She's not very particular. I am sure she would do it for a +consideration." + +"Do what?" + +"Be your 'Past,' sir. I don't mind telling you that as a 'Past' she's +had some experience; looks the part, too. She's a barmaid, and you +would guess it the first time you saw her. Dyed yellow hair, sir," he +went on with enthusiasm, "done all frizzy. Just the sort of young +person that a young gentleman like yourself would have had a 'past' +with. You couldn't find a better if you tried for a twelvemonth." + +"But, I say----!" + +"I suppose a hundred wouldn't hurt you?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not, but----" + +"Then put the whole thing in my hands, sir. I'll ask leave off to-morrow +and pop over and see her. I'll arrange for her to come here the day after +to see you. Leave it all to me. To-night you must write the letters." + +"Letters?" + +"Naturally, there would be letters, sir. It is an inseparable feature +of these cases." + +"Do you mean that I have got to write to her? But I shouldn't know what +to say. I've never seen her." + +"That will be quite all right, sir, if you place yourself in my hands. +I will come to your room after everybody's gone to bed, and help you +write those letters. You have some note-paper with your own address on +it? Then it will all be perfectly simple." + +When, some hours later, he read over the ten or twelve exceedingly +passionate epistles which, with the butler's assistance, he had +succeeded in writing to Miss Maud Chilvers, Roland came to the +conclusion that there must have been a time when Mr. Teal was a good +deal less respectable than he appeared to be at present. Byronic was +the only adjective applicable to his collaborator's style of amatory +composition. In every letter there were passages against which Roland +had felt compelled to make a modest protest. + +"'A thousand kisses on your lovely rosebud of a mouth.' Don't you +think that is a little too warmly colored? And 'I am languishing for +the pressure of your ivory arms about my neck and the sweep of your +silken hair against my cheek!' What I mean is--well, what about it, you +know?" + +"The phrases," said Mr. Teal, not without a touch of displeasure, "to +which you take exception, are taken bodily from correspondence (which I +happened to have the advantage of perusing) addressed by the late Lord +Evenwood to Animalcula, Queen of the High Wire at Astley's Circus. His +lordship, I may add, was considered an authority in these matters." + +Roland criticized no more. He handed over the letters, which, at Mr. +Teal's direction, he had headed with various dates covering roughly a +period of about two months antecedent to his arrival at the Towers. + +"That," Mr. Teal explained, "will make your conduct definitely +unpardonable. With this woman's kisses hot upon your lips,"--Mr. Teal +was still slightly aglow with the fire of inspiration--"you have the +effrontery to come here and offer yourself to her ladyship." + +With Roland's timid suggestion that it was perhaps a mistake to overdo +the atmosphere, the butler found himself unable to agree. + +"You can't make yourself out too bad. If you don't pitch it hot and +strong, her ladyship might quite likely forgive you. Then where would +you be?" + +Miss Maud Chilvers, of Aldershot, burst into Roland's life like one of +the shells of her native heath two days later at about five in the +afternoon. + +It was an entrance of which any stage-manager might have been proud of +having arranged. The lighting, the grouping, the lead-up--all were +perfect. The family had just finished tea in the long drawing-room. +Lady Kimbuck was crocheting, Lord Evenwood dozing, Lady Eva reading, +and Roland thinking. A peaceful scene. + +A soft, rippling murmur, scarcely to be reckoned a snore, had just +proceeded from Lord Evenwood's parted lips, when the door opened, and +Teal announced, "Miss Chilvers." + +Roland stiffened in his chair. Now that the ghastly moment had come, he +felt too petrified with fear even to act the little part in which he +had been diligently rehearsed by the obliging Mr. Teal. He simply sat +and did nothing. + +It was speedily made clear to him that Miss Chilvers would do all the +actual doing that was necessary. The butler had drawn no false picture +of her personal appearance. Dyed yellow hair done all frizzy was but +one fact of her many-sided impossibilities. In the serene surroundings +of the long drawing-room, she looked more unspeakably "not much good" +than Roland had ever imagined her. With such a leading lady, his drama +could not fail of success. He should have been pleased; he was merely +appalled. The thing might have a happy ending, but while it lasted it +was going to be terrible. + +She had a flatteringly attentive reception. Nobody failed to notice +her. Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had +been some ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed +sheer amazement. Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one +look at the apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous +erring relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, +she was possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to +these situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, +recalled the night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a +stiletto in his own drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy +days, happy days. + +Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the +festive Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with +dignity. + +"To what are we----?" he began. + +Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there +while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into +speech. + +"Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot +of perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right +and wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have my +feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the +weekend. I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go, +and not before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily +Sketch the other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to +me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva +Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I +read that, I said 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not +being able to travel at once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, +I came along to-day, just to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, +and ask him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me. +That's all. I know it's the sort of thing that might slip any +gentleman's mind, but I thought it might be worth mentioning. So now!" + + * * * * * + +Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that +Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this +sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have +been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was +thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did +not intend lightly to relinquish it. + +"My good girl," said Lady Kimbuck, "talk less and prove more. When did +Mr. Bleke promise to marry you?" + +"Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got +all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters." + +Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never +lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them +as literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in +useful. + +"Roland," said Lady Eva, quietly, "haven't you anything to contribute +to this conversation?" + +Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion +with her, and she was up in the correct business. + +"Is he here? In this room?" + +Roland slunk from the shadows. + +"Mr. Bleke," said Lord Evenwood, sternly, "who is this woman?" + +Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough. + +"Are these letters in your handwriting?" asked Lady Kimbuck, almost +cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life, +and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a +colorless stick should have been capable of them. + +Roland nodded. + +"Well, it's lucky you're rich," said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. +"What are you asking for these?" she enquired of Miss Chilvers. + +"Exactly," said Lord Evenwood, relieved. "Precisely. Your sterling +common sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once +on a businesslike footing." + +"Do you imagine for a moment----?" began Miss Chilvers slowly. + +"Yes," said Lady Kimbuck. "How much?" + +Miss Chilvers sobbed. + +"If I have lost him for ever----" + +Lady Eva rose. + +"But you haven't," she said pleasantly. "I wouldn't dream of standing +in your way." She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, +and walked to the door. "I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke," she said, as +she reached it. + +Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had +confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene +figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life +on which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he +gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and +the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad +view of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady +Kimbuck had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make +for gaiety. + + * * * * * + +He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside +the sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He +opened the first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining. + + "Dear Sir," (it ran). + + "We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the + Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against + you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being + desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are + instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept + the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against + you. We would further add that in support of her case our client + has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to + her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged + promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as + witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady + Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent + date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client. + + "Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post. + We are, dear Sir, + Yours faithfully, + Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison." + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF MEANS *** + +This file should be named mnmns10.txt or mnmns10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mnmns11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mnmns10a.txt + +Produced by The United States Members of the Blandings E-Group + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/mnmns10.zip b/old/mnmns10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c008f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mnmns10.zip |