That night after supper Robert McIntyre poured forth all that he had
seen to his father and to his sister. So full was he of the one subject
that it was a relief to him to share his knowledge with others. Rather
for his own sake, then, than for theirs he depicted vividly all
the marvels which he had seen; the profusion of wealth, the regal
treasure-house of gems, the gold, the marble, the extraordinary devices,
the absolute lavishness and complete disregard for money which was shown
in every detail. For an hour he pictured with glowing words all
the wonders which had been shown him, and ended with some pride by
describing the request which Mr. Raffles Haw had made, and the complete
confidence which he had placed in him.
His words had a very different effect upon his two listeners. Old
McIntyre leaned back in his chair with a bitter smile upon his lips, his
thin face crinkled into a thousand puckers, and his small eyes shining
with envy and greed. His lean yellow hand upon the table was clenched
until the knuckles gleamed white in the lamplight. Laura, on the other
hand, leaned forward, her lips parted, drinking in her brother's words
with a glow of colour upon either cheek. It seemed to Robert, as he
glanced from one to the other of them, that he had never seen his father
look so evil, or his sister so beautiful.
“Who is the fellow, then?” asked the old man after a considerable pause.
“I hope he got all this in an honest fashion. Five millions in jewels,
you say. Good gracious me! Ready to give it away, too, but afraid of
pauperising any one. You can tell him, Robert, that you know of one
very deserving case which has not the slightest objection to being
pauperised.”
“But who can he possibly be, Robert?” cried Laura. “Haw cannot be his
real name. He must be some disguised prince, or perhaps a king in exile.
Oh, I should have loved to have seen those diamonds and the emeralds! I
always think that emeralds suit dark people best. You must tell me again
all about that museum, Robert.”
“I don't think that he is anything more than he pretends to be,” her
brother answered. “He has the plain, quiet manners of an ordinary
middle-class Englishman. There was no particular polish that I
could see. He knew a little about books and pictures, just enough to
appreciate them, but nothing more. No, I fancy that he is a man quite in
our own position of life, who has in some way inherited a vast sum. Of
course it is difficult for me to form an estimate, but I should judge
that what I saw to-day--house, pictures, jewels, books, and so on--could
never have been bought under twenty millions, and I am sure that that
figure is entirely an under-statement.”
“I never knew but one Haw,” said old McIntyre, drumming his fingers on
the table; “he was a foreman in my pin-fire cartridge-case department.
But he was an elderly single man. Well, I hope he got it all honestly. I
hope the money is clean.”
“And really, really, he is coming to see us!” cried Laura, clapping her
hands. “Oh, when do you think he will come, Robert? Do give me warning.
Do you think it will be to-morrow?”
“I am sure I cannot say.”
“I should so love to see him. I don't know when I have been so
interested.”
“Why, you have a letter there,” remarked Robert. “From Hector, too, by
the foreign stamp. How is he?”
“It only came this evening. I have not opened it yet. To tell the truth,
I have been so interested in your story that I had forgotten all about
it. Poor old Hector! It is from Madeira.” She glanced rapidly over the
four pages of straggling writing in the young sailor's bold schoolboyish
hand. “Oh, he is all right,” she said. “They had a gale on the way out,
and that sort of thing, but he is all right now. He thinks he may
be back by March. I wonder whether your new friend will come
to-morrow--your knight of the enchanted Castle.”
“Hardly so soon, I should fancy.”
“If he should be looking about for an investment. Robert,” said the
father, “you won't forget to tell him what a fine opening there is now
in the gun trade. With my knowledge, and a few thousands at my back, I
could bring him in his thirty per cent. as regular as the bank. After
all, he must lay out his money somehow. He cannot sink it all in
books and precious stones. I am sure that I could give him the highest
references.”
“It may be a long time before he comes, father,” said Robert coldly;
“and when he does I am afraid that I can hardly use his friendship as a
means of advancing your interest.”
“We are his equals, father,” cried Laura with spirit. “Would you put us
on the footing of beggars? He would think we cared for him only for his
money. I wonder that you should think of such a thing.”
“If I had not thought of such things where would your education have
been, miss?” retorted the angry old man; and Robert stole quietly away
to his room, whence amid his canvases he could still hear the hoarse
voice and the clear in their never-ending family jangle. More and more
sordid seemed the surroundings of his life, and more and more to be
valued the peace which money can buy.
Breakfast had hardly been cleared in the morning, and Robert had not yet
ascended to his work, when there came a timid tapping at the door, and
there was Raffles Haw on the mat outside. Robert ran out and welcomed
him with all cordiality.
“I am afraid that I am a very early visitor,” he said apologetically;
“but I often take a walk after breakfast.” He had no traces of work upon
him now, but was trim and neat with a dark suit, and carefully brushed
hair. “You spoke yesterday of your work. Perhaps, early as it is, you
would allow me the privilege of looking over your studio?”
“Pray step in, Mr. Haw,” cried Robert, all in a flutter at this advance
from so munificent a patron of art; “I should be only too happy to show
you such little work as I have on hand, though, indeed, I am almost
afraid when I think how familiar you are with some of the greatest
masterpieces. Allow me to introduce you to my father and to my sister
Laura.”
Old McIntyre bowed low and rubbed his thin hands together; but the young
lady gave a gasp of surprise, and stared with widely-opened eyes at the
millionaire. Maw stepped forward, however, and shook her quietly by the
hand,
“I expected to find that it was you,” he said. “I have already met your
sister, Mr. McIntyre, on the very first day that I came here. We took
shelter in a shed from a snowstorm, and had quite a pleasant little
chat.”
“I had no notion that I was speaking to the owner of the Hall,” said
Laura in some confusion. “How funnily things turn out, to be sure!”
“I had often wondered who it was that I spoke to, but it was only
yesterday that I discovered. What a sweet little place you have here! It
must be charming in summer. Why, if it were not for this hill my windows
would look straight across at yours.”
“Yes, and we should see all your beautiful plantations,” said Laura,
standing beside him in the window. “I was wishing only yesterday that
the hill was not there.”
“Really! I shall be happy to have it removed for you if you would like
it.”
“Good gracious!” cried Laura. “Why, where would you put it?”
“Oh, they could run it along the line and dump it anywhere. It is not
much of a hill. A few thousand men with proper machinery, and a line
of rails brought right up to them could easily dispose of it in a few
months.”
“And the poor vicar's house?” Laura asked, laughing.
“I think that might be got over. We could run him up a facsimile, which
would, perhaps, be more convenient to him. Your brother will tell you
that I am quite an expert at the designing of houses. But, seriously, if
you think it would be an improvement I will see what can be done.”
“Not for the world, Mr. Haw. Why, I should be a traitor to the whole
village if I were to encourage such a scheme. The hill is the one thing
which gives Tamfield the slightest individuality. It would be the
height of selfishness to sacrifice it in order to improve the view from
Elmdene.”
“It is a little box of a place this, Mr. Haw,” said old McIntyre. “I
should think you must feel quite stifled in it after your grand mansion,
of which my son tells me such wonders. But we were not always accustomed
to this sort of thing, Mr. Haw. Humble as I stand here, there was a
time, and not so long ago, when I could write as many figures on a
cheque as any gunmaker in Birmingham. It was--”
“He is a dear discontented old papa,” cried Laura, throwing her arm
round him in a caressing manner. He gave a sharp squeak and a grimace
of pain, which he endeavoured to hide by an outbreak of painfully
artificial coughing.
“Shall we go upstairs?” said Robert hurriedly, anxious to divert his
guest's attention from this little domestic incident. “My studio is the
real atelier, for it is right up under the tiles. I shall lead the way,
if you will have the kindness to follow me.”
Leaving Laura and Mr. McIntyre, they went up together to the workroom.
Mr. Haw stood long in front of the “Signing of Magna Charta,” and
the “Murder of Thomas a Becket,” screwing up his eyes and twitching
nervously at his beard, while Robert stood by in anxious expectancy.
“And how much are these?” asked Raffles Haw at last.
“I priced them at a hundred apiece when I sent them to London.”
“Then the best I can wish you is that the day may come when you would
gladly give ten times the sum to have them back again. I am sure that
there are great possibilities in you, and I see that in grouping and in
boldness of design you have already achieved much. But your drawing, if
you will excuse my saying so, is just a little crude, and your colouring
perhaps a trifle thin. Now, I will make a bargain with you, Mr.
McIntyre, if you will consent to it. I know that money has no charms
for you, but still, as you said when I first met you, a man must live.
I shall buy these two canvases from you at the price which you name,
subject to the condition that you may always have them back again by
repaying the same sum.”
“You are really very kind.” Robert hardly knew whether to be delighted
at having sold his pictures or humiliated at the frank criticism of the
buyer.
“May I write a cheque at once?” said Raffles Haw. “Here is pen and ink.
So! I shall send a couple of footmen down for them in the afternoon.
Well, I shall keep them in trust for you. I dare say that when you are
famous they will be of value as specimens of your early manner.”
“I am sure that I am extremely obliged to you, Mr. Haw,” said the young
artist, placing the cheque in his notebook. He glanced at it as he
folded it up, in the vague hope that perhaps this man of whims had
assessed his pictures at a higher rate than he had named. The figures,
however, were exact. Robert began dimly to perceive that there were
drawbacks as well as advantages to the reputation of a money-scorner,
which he had gained by a few chance words, prompted rather by the
reaction against his father's than by his own real convictions.
“I hope, Miss McIntyre,” said Raffles Haw, when they had descended to
the sitting-room once more, “that you will do me the honour of coming to
see the little curiosities which I have gathered together. Your brother
will, I am sure, escort you up; or perhaps Mr. McIntyre would care to
come?”
“I shall be delighted to come, Mr. Haw,” cried Laura, with her sweetest
smile. “A good deal of my time just now is taken up in looking after the
poor people, who find the cold weather very trying.” Robert raised his
eyebrows, for it was the first he had heard of his sister's missions of
mercy, but Mr. Raffles Haw nodded approvingly. “Robert was telling us of
your wonderful hot-houses. I am sure I wish I could transport the whole
parish into one of them, and give them a good warm.”
“Nothing would be easier, but I am afraid that they might find it a
little trying when they came out again. I have one house which is only
just finished. Your brother has not seen it yet, but I think it is the
best of them all. It represents an Indian jungle, and is hot enough in
all conscience.”
“I shall so look forward to seeing it,” cried Laura, clasping her hands.
“It has been one of the dreams of my life to see India. I have read so
much of it, the temples, the forests, the great rivers, and the tigers.
Why, you would hardly believe it, but I have never seen a tiger except
in a picture.”
“That can easily be set right,” said Raffles Haw, with his quiet smile.
“Would you care to see one?”
“Oh, immensely.”
“I will have one sent down. Let me see, it is nearly twelve o'clock. I
can get a wire to Liverpool by one. There is a man there who deals in
such things. I should think he would be due to-morrow morning. Well,
I shall look forward to seeing you all before very long. I have rather
outstayed my time, for I am a man of routine, and I always put in a
certain number of hours in my laboratory.” He shook hands cordially with
them all, and lighting his pipe at the doorstep, strolled off upon his
way.
“Well, what do you think of him now?” asked Robert, as they watched his
black figure against the white snow.
“I think that he is no more fit to be trusted with all that money than a
child,” cried the old man. “It made me positively sick to hear him talk
of moving hills and buying tigers, and such-like nonsense, when there
are honest men without a business, and great businesses starving for a
little capital. It's unchristian--that's what I call it.”
“I think he is most delightful, Robert,” said Laura. “Remember, you have
promised to take us up to the Hall. And he evidently wishes us to go
soon. Don't you think we might go this afternoon?”
“I hardly think that, Laura. You leave it in my hands, and I will
arrange it all. And now I must get to work, for the light is so very
short on these winter days.”
That night Robert McIntyre had gone to bed, and was dozing off when a
hand plucked at his shoulder, and he started up to find his sister in
some white drapery, with a shawl thrown over her shoulders, standing
beside him in the moonlight.
“Robert, dear,” she whispered, stooping over him, “there was something I
wanted to ask you, but papa was always in the way. You will do something
to please me, won't you, Robert?”
“Of course, Laura. What is it?”
“I do so hate having my affairs talked over, dear. If Mr. Raffles Haw
says anything to you about me, or asks any questions, please don't say
anything about Hector. You won't, will you, Robert, for the sake of your
little sister?”
“No; not unless you wish it.”
“There is a dear good brother.” She stooped over him and kissed him
tenderly.
It was a rare thing for Laura to show any emotion, and her brother
marvelled sleepily over it until he relapsed into his interrupted doze.