A FORCED RETIREMENT
Singleton came down again to Brantholme, bringing his amended report,
which met with Herbert's approval. He spent one wet day walking
through turnip fields and stubble in search of partridges, and two
delightful evenings with Mrs. Lansing and Sylvia, and then he was
allowed to depart. He had served his purpose, and Herbert was glad to
get rid of him. Lansing generally found it desirable to drop men for
whom he had no more use; but he had not done with Singleton.
A day or two later, after his guest had left, Herbert sat in his office
in a busy town with an open ledger in front of him. He looked
thoughtful, and, as a matter of fact, he was reviewing the latter part
of his business career, which had been marked by risks, boldly faced,
but attended by keen anxiety. Though his wife had some money, Lansing
had been hampered by lack of capital, and George's money had been
placed at his disposal at a very opportune time. It had enabled him to
carry the rubber company over what might have proved a crisis, and thus
strengthen his position as director, by purchasing sufficient shares on
George's account to keep the price from falling and defeat the
intrigues of a clique of discontented investors. Now, however, the
strain had slackened; Herbert's schemes had succeeded, and he had only
to take his profit by selling out as quietly as possible. He had
already given a broker orders to do so. He rather regretted that he
could not dispose of George's shares, but these must be kept a little
longer; to throw a large quantity upon the market would have a
depressing effect and might arouse suspicion.
Presently a man with whom he had dealings was shown in and sat down.
His appearance indicated some degree of prosperity, but he looked
disturbed and anxious.
"I met Jackson yesterday, and after what he told me of his interview
with you, I thought I'd better run up and see you at once," he
explained.
Herbert had expected the visit.
"I'm at your service," he said.
"What about the new company? I understand you haven't come to any
decision yet about the suggestions we sent you for its flotation."
"No," replied Herbert. "In fact, I've reasons for believing it
wouldn't be wise to go any farther in the matter."
The other looked at him in astonishment.
"Well," he said, "I heard that you were not so enthusiastic as you were
not long ago, which is why I came down; but I never expected this!
Anyway, after what we have done, you are bound to go on with the thing.
Our success with the first company will help the shares off."
"That's not certain." Herbert handed him a paper. "You haven't seen
Singleton's report."
The man read it hastily, his face changing. Then he looked up with
signs of strong indignation.
"You let him give you a thing like this? Paid him for it?"
"What could I do? The man's honest. He declares the country's
dangerous; he had two carriers killed. There's no prospect of our
obtaining the needful native labor."
"Send somebody else out at once!"
"With the same result. Besides, it's expensive. Singleton's fee
wasn't so big, because he shared the cost of his orchid collecting or
something of the kind with us. Then he might talk, and there would
always be the risk of somebody's challenging us with suppressing his
report. If things went wrong, that would lead to trouble."
"Would there be any use in my seeing him?"
Herbert smiled. Singleton would not turn against him; Sylvia had made
her influence felt.
"Not the slightest," he answered. "You can take that for granted."
His visitor pondered for a moment or two; and then he crumpled the
report in his hand, growing red in the face.
"You seem content with this production. It looks as if you had meant
to back out."
Herbert looked at him tranquilly.
"Well," he said, "that's my intention now; and I don't think that you
can induce me to alter it. I can't see that we would be justified in
floating the concern."
"But it was you who suggested it and led us on! What about the money
we have already spent?"
"It's gone. I'm sorry, but things don't always turn out right. When I
first mentioned the matter, the prospects looked good; investigation
places them in a less favorable light, for which you can hardly hold me
responsible. You took a business risk."
The other man angrily flung the report on the table.
"This has been a blow to me, and I'm far from appreciating the course
you've taken. But what about the older concern? Though we don't seem
to have turned out much rubber yet, I suppose its position is still
satisfactory?"
Herbert saw suspicion in the man's face and he rang a bell.
"I think you had better satisfy yourself; I have the necessary
particulars here."
He indicated some books on a neighboring shelf; and then added, when a
clerk appeared:
"Will you bring me the extract of our working expenses that I asked you
to make out?"
The clerk came back with a sheet of figures, which Herbert handed to
his visitor with one of the books, and the man spent some time
carefully examining them.
"Everything looks satisfactory; I've no fault to find," he said at
length. "But I feel very sore about your giving up the new
undertaking."
"It can't be helped," explained Herbert. "If it's any comfort to you,
I dropped as much money over preliminary expenses as you did."
After a little further conversation, his visitor left and Herbert
resumed his work. On the whole, the interview had been less
embarrassing than he expected, and though it was likely that the rest
of his colleagues would call and expostulate, he was ready to meet
them. His excuse for abandoning the project was, on the face of it, a
good one; but he had no thought of giving these men, who were largely
interested in the original company, a word of warning. It was
undesirable that they should sell their shares until he had disposed of
his. They had, he argued, the same opportunities for forecasting the
course of the market and gaging the trend of investors' ideas as he
enjoyed, and if they did not make use of them, it was their fault. The
stock had reached a satisfactory premium, which was all that he had
promised; he could not be expected to guarantee its remaining at the
high level.
During the next three or four weeks his broker sold out his shares in
small blocks, and when the quantity had been largely reduced, Herbert
decided that he would dispose of those he had purchased on George's
account. Though there were signs of a diminishing interest in such
stock, values had scarcely begun to fall, and having made his position
secure, he did not wish his cousin to incur a loss. Accordingly he
sent instructions to sell another lot of shares.
He was very busy the next day when a telegram was brought him, but he
sat still for some minutes considering it. The market, it stated, had
suddenly fallen flat, and as prices were giving way sharply, further
orders were requested. The change Herbert had foreseen had come a
little sooner than he had expected. He still held some shares, which
he had thought of keeping, because it might, after all, prove judicious
to retain a degree of control in the company, and having sold the rest
at a good profit, a moderate fall in their value would be of less
consequence. The drop, however, was marked, and he decided to further
reduce the quantity standing in his name, instead of realizing those
belonging to his cousin. George must take his chance; and the market
might rally. As a result of these reflections he wired his broker to
sell, and in a few hours received an answer.
"_Sale effected within limit given, market since broken badly, expect
slump_."
Herbert saw that he had acted with prudence, though it was evident that
his cousin had incurred a serious loss. He was sorry for this, but it
could not be helped.
A few days later he was sitting beside the fire at home after his
evening meal when Sylvia entered the room in his wife's absence. She
stood near the hearth, examining some embroidery in her hand, but she
looked up presently, and it became evident that she had been reading
the papers.
"There seems to be a sharp fall in rubber shares," she said. "Will it
affect you?"
"No," replied Herbert, "not seriously."
"I suppose that means you must have anticipated the fall and sold
out--unloaded, I think you call it--in time?"
Herbert did not wish to discuss the matter. He had already had one or
two trying interviews with his business colleagues, and the opinions
they had expressed about him still rankled in his mind. He was not
particularly sensitive, but the subject was an unpleasant one.
"Something of the kind," he answered. "One has to take precautions."
Sylvia laughed.
"One could imagine your taking them. You're not the man to be caught
at a disadvantage, are you?"
"Well," he said dryly, "it's a thing I try to avoid."
Sylvia sat down, as if she meant to continue the conversation, which
was far from what he desired, but he could not be discourteous.
"Had George any shares in your company?" she asked.
There was no way of avoiding a reply, without arousing her suspicions;
Herbert knew that she was keen-witted and persistent.
"Yes," he said, "he had a quantity."
"Have those shares been sold?"
This was a more troublesome question, but Herbert was compelled to
answer.
"No; not yet. It's unfortunate that the market broke before I could
get rid of them, but it may rally. I'm rather disturbed about the
matter; but, after all, one has to take one's chance in buying shares.
Dealing in the speculative sorts is to a large extent a game of hazard."
"I suppose so, but then somebody must win."
"No," returned Herbert, "now and then everybody loses."
Sylvia glanced at him with a mocking smile.
"Even those in the inside ring? When that happens, it must be
something like a catastrophe. But I'm sorry for George; he doesn't
deserve this."
Herbert could not deny it; but, to his surprise, the girl leaned
forward, speaking in an authoritative tone.
"I don't know what you can do, but you must do something to get George
out of the difficulty. It's obvious that you led him into it--he isn't
the man to go in for rash speculation; he would have chosen something
safe."
It was a relief to Herbert that his wife came in just then; but, as he
had reason for believing that she would not remain, he decided that he
would go out and post some letters. Sylvia seemed to be in an
inquisitive mood, and he did not wish to be left alone with her.
The night was fine but dark; in places a thin, low-lying mist that hung
over the meadows obscured the hedgerows, and it grew more dense as
Herbert approached the river, which brawled noisily among the stones.
The man, however, scarcely noticed this; his mind was occupied with
other matters. Sylvia's attitude had disturbed him. She was useful as
an ally, but she could not be allowed to criticize his conduct or to
give him orders. Moreover, he had reasons for believing that investors
in his company might share her views, and he looked for serious trouble
with two or three gentlemen who blamed him for their losses, and had so
far incivilly refused to be pacified by his explanations.
Herbert was of a philosophic disposition, and realized that one must
not expect too much. Having made a handsome profit, he felt that he
ought to be content, and bear a certain amount of suspicion and
contumely with unruffled good-humor. For all that, he found it
disagreeable to be looked upon as a trickster, and it was worse when
his disgusted associates used more offensive epithets in his presence.
He was considering how he should deal with them when he entered a
thicker belt of mist. It shut him in so that he could see nothing
ahead, but there was a strong fence between him and the river, and he
went on, lost in thought, until the mist was suddenly illuminated and a
bright light flashed along the road. The hoot of a motor-horn broke
out behind him, and, rudely startled, he sprang aside. He was too
late; somebody cried out in warning, and the next moment he was
conscious of a blow that flung him bodily forward. He came down with a
crash; something seemed to grind him into the stones; there was a
stabbing pain in his side, and he lost consciousness.
Fortunately, the big car was promptly stopped, and two men sprang down.
An indistinct object lay just behind the forward pair of wheels, and in
anxious haste they dragged it clear and into the glare of the lamps.
Herbert's hat had fallen off; he was scarcely breathing, and his face
was ghastly white; but one of the men recognized him.
"It's Lansing," he exclaimed. "Seems badly hurt, though I'd nearly
pulled her up when she struck him."
"He was dragged some way; jacket must have caught the starting crank or
something; but that doesn't matter now." He raised his voice.
"Dreadfully sorry, Mr. Lansing; can you hear me?"
There was no answer, and the man shook his head.
"I'm afraid this is serious."
His companion looked unnerved, but he roused himself with an effort.
"It is, and we're behaving like idiots, wasting time that may be
valuable. Get hold and lift him in; his house is scarcely a mile away."
They had some difficulty in getting the unconscious man into the car;
and then its owner backed it twice into a bank before he succeeded in
turning round, but in three or four minutes they carried Herbert into
Brantholme, and afterward drove away at top speed in search of
assistance. It was, however, an hour later when they returned with a
doctor, and he looked grave after he had examined his patient.
"Your husband has two ribs broken," he told Mrs. Lansing. "In a way,
that's not very serious, but he seems to be prostrated by the shock.
There are a few things that must be done at once; and then we'll have
to keep him as quiet as possible."
It was two hours later when he left the house, promising to return
early the next day with a nurse; and Herbert lay, still and
unconscious, in a dimly lighted room.