AN OPPOSITION MOVE
It was a wet and chilly night, and Singleton sat in an easy chair
beside the hearth in his city quarters with an old pipe in his hand.
The room was shabbily furnished, the hearthrug had a hole in it, the
carpet was threadbare, and Singleton's attire harmonized with his
surroundings, though the box of cigars and one or two bottles and
siphons on the table suggested that he expected visitors. The loose
Tuxedo jacket he had bought in America was marked by discolored
patches; his carpet slippers were dilapidated. His means, though long
restricted, would have warranted better accommodations; but his clothes
were comfortable and he did not think it worth while to put on anything
smarter. There was a vein of rather bitter pride in the man, and he
would not, out of deference to any other person's views, alter
conditions that suited him.
A notebook lay beside him and several bulky treatises on botany were
scattered about, but he had ceased work and was thinking. After the
shadow and silence of the tropical bush, to which he was most
accustomed, the rattle of the traffic in the wet street below was
stimulating; but his reflections were not pleasant. He had waited
patiently for another invitation to Lansing's house, which had not
arrived, and a day or two ago he had met Sylvia Marston, upon whom his
mind had steadily dwelt, in a busy street. She had bowed to him
courteously, but she had made it clear that she did not expect him to
stop and speak. It had been a bitter moment to Singleton, but he had
calmly faced the truth. He had served his purpose, and he had been
dropped. Now, however, a letter from one of the people he was
expecting indicated that he might again be drawn into the
rubber-exploiting scheme.
The two gentlemen who had called on Herbert were shown in presently.
"It was I who wrote you," the first of them said; "this is my
colleague, Mr. Nevis."
Singleton bowed.
"Will you take that chair, Mr. Jackson?" He turned to the other man.
"I think you had better have this one; it's comparatively sound."
He was aware that they were looking about his apartment curiously, and
no doubt inferring something from its condition; but this was of no
consequence. He had learned his value and meant to insist on it,
without the assistance of any signs of prosperity.
"I couldn't get up to town, as you suggested," he resumed when they
were seated. "I've been rather busy of late."
"That's generally the case with us," Jackson said pointedly.
He was a thin man, very neatly and quietly dressed, with a solemn face
and an air of importance. Nevis was stouter and more florid, with a
brisker manner, but the stamp of the city was plainly set on both.
"Well," said Singleton, "I'm at your service, now you're here. The
cigars are nearest you, Mr. Nevis, and I can recommend the contents of
the smaller bottle. It's a Southern speciality and rather difficult to
get in England."
Nevis hesitated. He thought it better that the interview should be
conducted on strictly business lines, while to accept the proffered
hospitality would tend to place him and the man he wished to deal with
on a footing of social equality. But it was desirable not to offend
Singleton, and he lighted a cigar.
"To begin with, I must ask if you are still in any way connected with
Mr. Lansing?" he said.
"No," answered Singleton with some grimness. "You can take it for
granted that he has done with me."
"That clears the ground. We have been considering the report you wrote
for him. In our opinion, it was, while not encouraging, hardly
sufficient to warrant his abandoning the project, in which, as you have
been told, we were associated with him."
"He may have had other motives," Singleton suggested.
Nevis nodded gravely, as if in appreciation of his keenness.
"That," he said, "is what occurred to us. But what is your idea of the
scheme?"
"It's clearly stated in the report."
Jackson made a sign of impatience.
"We'll leave the report out and come to the point. Can the rubber,
which you say is really to be found, be collected and brought down to
the coast without incurring a prohibitive expense?"
"Yes," said Singleton. "But you must understand me. The methods
generally adopted in such cases would be bound to fail. You would
require an overseer with rather exceptional technical knowledge, who
must, besides this, be quite free from the usual prejudices on the
native question. They would, no doubt, be a little difficult to avoid,
since at first he would have to put up with a few attempts upon his
life; but, if he could combine resolution and strict justice with a
conciliatory attitude, the attempt would cease, and I think he could
earn you a fair return on a moderate outlay."
Jackson laughed.
"So far as my experience goes, such men are scarce. But I'd better say
that we had you in mind when we made this visit. Do you think you
could do anything, if we sent you out?"
"Yes," said Singleton quietly; "I believe I could make the venture pay.
Whether I'd think it worth while is another matter."
"Then," Nevis interposed, "it's simply a question of terms?"
"Oh, no. You may be surprised to hear that payment is not the first
consideration; though it's true. I'm interested in certain
investigations which can be carried out only in the tropics. However,
you'd better make your offer."
Nevis did so, and Singleton pondered for a few moments.
"The remuneration might suffice, provided that I was given a percentage
on the product and one or two special allowances; but before going any
farther I must understand your intentions. I'm a botanist, and have no
wish to be made use of merely for the purpose of furthering some
stock-jobbing scheme. Do you really want this venture put upon a
satisfactory working footing?"
"I'll explain," said Nevis. "The fact is, Lansing let us in rather
badly. We spent a good deal of money over this concession, and we're
anxious to get it back. Since we can't float the thing on the market
at present, we have formed a small private syndicate to develop the
property, though we may sell out in a year or two if you can make the
undertaking commercially successful. I think you could count on the
purchasers' continuing operations."
"Have you considered what Lansing's attitude may be?"
"It won't matter. He has gone out of the business, convinced that the
thing's no good; he cleared off most of his rubber shares, for a
similar reason. This raises another point--the original company's
possessions lie in the same region, though ruled by another state, and
things are going badly there. If you could get across and see what
could be done, we would pay an extra fee."
Singleton lighted a cigar and leaned back in his chair with a
thoughtful expression, and for a minute or two they left him alone.
They were keen business men, but they knew that their usual methods
would not serve them with this shabbily-dressed, self-possessed
botanist.
"Well," he said at length, "your suggestion rather appeals to me, but
there's the difficulty that another matter claims my attention. Though
it isn't strictly in my line, I've been asked to go out to Canada and
assist in the production of a variety of wheat that will ripen quickly;
in fact, I was looking up some information bearing on the matter when
you came in. It's a remarkably interesting subject."
They were clever enough to see that this was not an attempt to enhance
the value of his services; the man was obviously a botanical
enthusiast, and Nevis showed signs of attention. He had once or twice
thought that something might be made out of Canadian land companies.
"One could imagine that," he said. "I understand that it's a matter of
high importance."
"The development of the whole northern portion of the prairie country
depends on the success of the experiments that are being made,"
Singleton went on. "Their summers are hot but short; if they can get a
grain that ripens early, they can cultivate vast stretches of land that
are now, from economic reasons, uninhabitable, and it would make
farming a more prosperous business in other tracts. Crops growing in
the favored parts are occasionally frozen. It's a coincidence that a
day or two ago I got a letter inquiring about that kind of wheat from a
friend in Canada who is, as it happens, farming with a cousin of
Lansing's." Then he laughed. "All this, however, has nothing to do
with the object of your visit. Give me a few more minutes to think it
over."
There was silence except for the rattle of wheels outside while he
smoked half a cigar; then he turned to his companions.
"I'll go out and undertake your work. I believe you're acting wisely,
and that Lansing will be sorry after a while that he threw away his
interest in the scheme."
They discussed the details of the project and then the business men
went away, satisfied. Shortly afterward Singleton took a letter out of
a paper rack, and when he had read it he leaned back in his chair, lost
in pleasant recollections. Some years earlier, he had by chance fallen
in with a lad named West when fishing among the Scottish hills. The
young man's sister and elder brother were staying with him at the
remote hotel in which Singleton had quarters, and somewhat to his
astonishment they soon made friends with him.
Poverty had made him reserved; he knew that he was a little awkward and
unpolished, but the Wests had not attempted to patronize him. Their
cordiality set him at his ease; he liked the careless, good-humored
lad; Ethel West, grave-eyed, direct, and candid, made a strong
impression, and he had been drawn to the quiet lawyer who was much
older than either. They spent delightful days together on the lake and
among the hills; Singleton told them something about his studies and
ambitions, and in the evenings they persuaded him to sing. Ethel was a
musician and Singleton sang well. On leaving they had invited him to
visit them; but, partly from diffidence, Singleton had not gone, though
he knew these were not the people who took a man up when he could be of
service and afterward dropped him.
Now he had received a letter from Edgar West, saying that he was
farming in western Canada and inquiring if Singleton could tell him
anything about the drought-resisting and quick-ripening properties of
certain varieties of wheat. The botanist was glad to place his
knowledge at his friend's disposal, and, taking up pen and paper, he
spent an hour on a treatise on the subject, which was to save Lansing
expense and trouble, and bring Singleton further communications from
Edgar. Then he smoked another pipe and went to bed; and a fortnight
later he sailed for the tropics.
Shortly after he had gone, Herbert heard of his departure, and the
letter containing the news arrived on a cheerless afternoon during
which his doctor had visited him. After the doctor left, Herbert
entered the room where his wife and Sylvia were, and took his place in
an easy chair by a window. Outside, the lawn was covered with
half-melted snow and the trees raised naked, dripping branches above
the drooping shrubs. Farther back the hedgerows ran somberly across
the white fields, and in the distance the hills loomed, desolate and
gray, against a leaden sky.
"Ballin says I'd better take it easy for some time yet," Herbert
informed his wife. "In fact, he recommends a trip abroad; Algiers or
Egypt, for preference." He indicated the dreary prospect outside the
window. "Though he didn't actually insist on my going, the idea's
attractive."
"Could you leave your business?" Mrs. Lansing inquired.
Herbert smiled.
"Yes; I think so. I was doing pretty well when I got run over, and
things have since slackened down. My manager can look after them while
I am away."
This was correct, so far as it went; but he had another reason for
deciding not to resume operations for a while. He suspected that his
recent conduct had excited distrust and indignation in certain
quarters, but this would, no doubt, blow over before his return.
People forgot, and he could avoid those whose confidence in him had
proved expensive,
"If that's the case, we may as well get off as soon as it can be
arranged," said Mrs. Lansing. She turned to Sylvia. "Of course, you
will come with us."
Sylvia hesitated. She believed her influence over Bland would not
weaken much in her absence; but, after all, it was wiser to run no
risk. Moreover, she would, to some extent, feel her separation from
the man.
"I really don't know what I ought to do," she answered. "I might be a
restraint upon you--you can't want me always at hand; and I could spend
a month or two with Dorothy. She has several times told me to come."
"You would be better with us," Mrs. Lansing rejoined with firmness; and
Sylvia suspected her of a wish to prevent her enjoying Bland's society.
"I'll think it over," she said.
After they had discussed the projected journey, Mrs. Lansing withdrew
on some domestic errand, and Herbert turned to Sylvia.
"I needn't point out that you'll be no trouble to us, but perhaps I'd
better mention that I had a letter from George this post. As there's
very little to be done until the spring, he thinks of coming over. I
don't know how far that may affect your decision."
Sylvia was a little startled, but she reflected rapidly. The house of
the relative she had thought of visiting would be open to George, as
would be one or two others in which she might stay a while. It was
most undesirable that he should encounter Bland, which would be likely
to happen. Then it struck her that Herbert might derive as little
satisfaction from his cousin's visit as it would afford her.
"Have you succeeded in selling George's shares yet?" she asked, and
though this was, on the face of it, an abrupt change of subject, she
thought Herbert would follow the sequence of ideas.
"No," he answered, with a smile of comprehension. "It was too late
when I was able to attend to things; they have dropped to such a price
that I'll have to keep them. I'm afraid it will be a blow to George,
and he's having trouble enough already with your farm; but, luckily,
some other shares I bought on his account show signs of a marked
improvement before long."
Sylvia inferred from this that he had not informed his cousin of the
state of his affairs, and did not wish to see him until the improvement
mentioned, or some other favorable development, should mitigate the
shock of discovering what use Herbert had made of his powers. It was
clear that it rested with her to decide whether George made the visit
or not, because if she went to Egypt he would remain in Canada. But
she was not quite ready to give her companion an answer.
"Did I tell you that I met Singleton a little while ago?" she said. "I
think he wished to speak, but I merely bowed. I was in a hurry, for
one thing."
"It's the first I've heard of it, but you did quite right. Since he
was here, one or two of the other directors who tried to give me some
trouble have got hold of him. They have sent him out to see what can
be done with the rubber property."
"Was that worth while?"
"I shouldn't think so. It strikes me they're wasting their money."
This was Herbert's firm belief, but his judgment while generally
accurate, had, in this instance, proved defective. He had failed
properly to estimate Singleton's capabilities. It was, however,
obvious to Sylvia that he had had no part in the undertaking, and had
abandoned his rubber schemes, which implied that George's loss would be
serious. There was no doubt that it would suit both Herbert and
herself better if George did not come back too soon.
"Well," she said, "that is not a matter of any consequence to me.
After all, I think I'll go south with you and Muriel."
Herbert had foreseen this decision.
"It's the most suitable arrangement," he responded. "When I write,
I'll mention it to George."
Sylvia went out a little later with a sense of guilt; she felt that in
removing the strongest inducement for George's visit she had betrayed
him. She was sorry for George, but she could not allow any
consideration for him to interfere with her ambitions. Then she
resolutely drove these thoughts away. The matter could be looked at in
a more pleasant light, and there were several good reasons for the
course she had adopted.
Entering the library, she carefully wrote a little note to Captain
Bland, and then went in search of Mrs. Lansing.
"I think I'll go over to Susan's for the week-end," she announced. "I
promised her another visit, and now I can explain that I'm going away
with you."
Mrs. Lansing made no objection, and three or four days afterward Sylvia
met Bland at Mrs. Kettering's house. He arrived after her, and as
there were other guests, she had to wait a little while before she
could get a word with him alone. She was standing in the big hall,
which was unoccupied, rather late in the evening, when he came toward
her.
"I thought I should never escape from Kettering; but he's safe for a
while, talking guns in the smoking-room," he said.
Sylvia thought that they would be safe from interruption for a few
minutes, which would serve her purpose.
"So you have managed to get here," she said.
"Had you any doubt of my succeeding?" Bland asked reproachfully.
"Kettering once gave me a standing invitation, and, as it happens,
there's a famous horse dealer in this neighborhood with whom I've had
some business. That and the few Sunday trains formed a good excuse.
I, however, don't mind in the least if Mrs. Kettering attaches any
significance to the visit."
Sylvia did not wish to arouse the suspicions of her hostess, but she
smiled.
"I expected you, and I'm glad you came," she said.
"That's very nice to hear."
"Don't take too much for granted. Still, I thought I'd like to see
you, because I'm going to Egypt with Muriel for some time. Indeed, I
shall not be back until the spring."
The man displayed dismayed surprise, and Sylvia waited for his answer
with some eagerness. She did not wish to enter into a formal
engagement--it was a little too early to make an announcement yet--but
she thought it wise to bind him in some degree before she left.
"Until the spring?" he broke out. "You expect me to let you go?"
"You must," said Sylvia firmly, and added in a softer voice, "I'm
rather sorry."
He saw that he could not shake her decision.
"Then we must have a clear understanding," he rejoined hotly. "You
know I want you--when is this waiting to end? Tell me now, and let me
tell all who care to hear, that you belong to me."
Sylvia made a gesture of protest and coquettishly looked down.
"You must still have patience," she murmured; "the time will soon pass."
"And then?" he asked with eagerness.
She glanced up at him shyly.
"If you will ask me again when I come back, I will give you your
answer."
She left him no reason for doubting what that answer would be; and,
stretching out his arms, he drew her strongly to him. In a minute or
two, however, Sylvia insisted on his returning to his host, and soon
afterward Mrs. Kettering came in to look for her.