AS the day fixed for the hearing drew near, Ruin lived with them by day
and slept with them by night. Its dark shadow covered their lives, and
they moved in the gloom of its presence. If the trial went against them,
and Owen in his most hopeful moods did not disguise from them that it
might, they would have to pay the double costs as well as the original
claim. All that they possessed would not cover it. On the other hand,
if they won, this rich Company might carry the matter to a higher Appeal
Court, and so involve them in a fresh succession of anxieties and
expenses. Do what they would, there was always danger. Frank said
little, and he slept little also.
One night, just before the trial, Wingfield, the accountant of the
Society, came down to Woking. He had managed the case all through for
the directors. His visit was a sort of ultimatum.
‘We are still ready to pay our own law-costs,’ said he, ‘if you will
allow the original claim.’
‘I can’t do that,’ said Frank doggedly.
‘The costs are piling up at a furious rate, and some one will have to pay
them.’
‘I hope that it will be you.’
‘Well, don’t say afterwards that I did not warn you. My dear Crosse, I
assure you that you are being misled, and that you have not really got a
leg to stand upon.’
‘That’s what the trial is about,’ said Frank.
He kept a bold face to the enemy, but after Wingfield’s departure, Maude
saw that his confidence was greatly shaken.
‘He seemed very sure of their case,’ said he. ‘He would not speak like
that if he did not know.’
But Maude took quite another view.
‘If they know that they can recover their money in court, why should they
send Mr. Wingfield down in this way.’
‘He is such a good chap—he wants to save us expense.’
Maude was less trusting.
‘He is doing the best for his own side,’ said she. ‘It is his duty, and
we can’t blame him. But if he thought it best to get behind his own
lawyers and come down here, then he must have some doubts about going
into court. Perhaps he would be willing to consider some compromise.’
But Frank only shook his head.
‘We have drawn the cork, and we must drink the wine,’ said he. ‘We have
gone too far to stop. Any compromise which they would accept would be as
much out of our power to pay as the whole sum would be, and so we may
just as well see it through.’ But for once Maude did not take his
opinion as final, but lay awake all night and thought it over. She had
determined to begin acting upon her own account, and she was so eager to
try what she could do that she lay longing for the morning to break.
When she came down to breakfast, her plan of campaign was formed.
‘I am coming up to town with you, Frank.’
‘Delighted to hear it, dear.’ When she had shopping to do, she
frequently went up with him, so it did not surprise him. What would have
surprised him was to know that she had despatched three telegrams, by
means of Jemima, before he was up.
‘To John Selby, 53 Fenchurch Street, E.C. Will call eleven o’clock.
Important business.—