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MORTOMLEY'S ESTATE.
A Novel.
BY
MRS. RIDDELL,
AUTHOR OF
"GEORGE GEITH," "TOO MUCH ALONE," "HOME, SWEET HOME,"
"THE EARL'S PROMISE," ETC. ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOL. III.
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8 CATHERINE STREET STRAND
1874.
_All rights of Translation and Reproduction are Reserved._
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,
LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
TO
Emma Martin,
OF
WADESMILL, HERTS,
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED
AS A TOKEN OF THE AUTHOR'S RESPECT AND AFFECTION.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE MEETING OF CREDITORS 1
II. ONE FRIEND MOST FAITHFUL 29
III. WHAT MR. LANG THOUGHT 58
IV. MORTOMLEY'S BLUE 86
V. MR. SWANLAND'S CRUMPLED ROSE-LEAF 107
VI. SAUVE QUI PEUT 126
VII. MORTOMLEY UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 142
VIII. MR. WERNER ASKS A FAVOUR 165
IX. THE NEW YELLOW 187
X. A BROKEN REED 203
XI. TWO UNWELCOME VISITORS 231
XII. MRS. MORTOMLEY BREAKS THE NEWS 256
XIII. SAD CONFIDENCES 270
XIV. WHAT RUPERT HAD DONE 285
XV. MR. ASHERILL IS PERSUADED 298
XVI. CONCLUSION 324
MORTOMLEY'S ESTATE.
CHAPTER I.
THE MEETING OF CREDITORS.
If any person ever questioned the wisdom of Mr. Asherill in taking for
his partner that perfect gentleman Mr. Swanland, his doubts must have
been dispelled had he chanced to be present at the meeting of
creditors--_re_ Archibald Mortomley.
Mr. Asherill himself would have felt proud of his junior, had his
principles permitted of his attending on the occasion.
There was a judicial calmness about Mr. Swanland, which produced its
effect on even the most refractory member of that motley throng.
It would have been almost as easy for a creditor to question the
decision of a Vice-Chancellor, as the statements of that unprejudiced
accountant.
If Mr. Swanland did not fling back his coat and unbutton his waistcoat,
and tear open his shirt and request those present to look into his
heart, and see if falsehood could there find a resting-place, he, at
least, posed himself as Justice, and held the scales, I am bound to
state, with strict impartiality between debtor and creditor.
His worst enemy could not say he favoured either. If his own brother had
gone into liquidation, he would not have turned the beam against the
creditors in favour of that misguided man.
Even-handed justice was meted out in Salisbury House. The old fable of
the two animals that stole the cheese, and asked a wiser than themselves
to decide as to the share to which each was entitled, was put on the
boards there, and acted day after day, and with a like result. In their
earnest desire to be perfectly impartial towards both sides, Messrs.
Asherill and Swanland ate up the cheese themselves.
If this proceeding failed to satisfy either creditor or debtor, it was
no fault of theirs.
No one could say they had shown favouritism; and, indeed, it would have
been very wicked if any one had, since Mr. Asherill--and inclusively Mr.
Swanland--always declared each estate as it came, and was liquidated,
left them losers by the transaction. Nevertheless, the villa residences
of both gentlemen bore no evidence of poverty; on the contrary--though
had either partner taken the trouble to visit the houses of those who
were so ill-advised as to go into liquidation instead of bankruptcy, he
would have found that the "friendly arrangement" carried on under the
paternal eye of Mr. Asherill, or the dispassionate gaze of Mr. Swanland,
had not resulted in any increase of luxury for the debtors or their
families.
Like his senior, however, Mr. Swanland was utterly indifferent to the
ruin of his clients, so long as he compassed his own success.
Heaven forbid I should say that all men of his profession are cast in
the same mould, but there can be no question that the new law throws a
fearful amount of power into the hands of any one who likes to use it
for his own advantage, and places at the same time any trustee who
desires to deal leniently with a bankrupt in a position of unpleasant
responsibility.
To put the matter plainly, if a trustee has a fancy for the cheese, he
can eat it himself, rind and all; but if he thinks this creditor has
been hardly done by, or that the debtor is a poor devil, really very
much to be pitied, he had better take care how he gives expression to
such sentiments.
It is far wiser to adopt Mr. Swanland's _role_, and please nobody, than
run the risk of trying to please anybody but himself.
But at a meeting of creditors when his mission was to tell a flattering
tale and get the ear of the assemblage, Mr. Swanland was a man of whom
his partner felt justly proud.
What could be neater than the way in which he placed the state of
affairs, _so far as his information went_, before the bulls of Bashan
with whom he had to deal.
Like oil on the waters came the flow of Mr. Swanland's fluent tongue.
He uttered no disparagement of Mortomley. His position was unfortunate,
doubtless, and so was the position of his creditors, but Mr. Swanland
was pleased to inform the meeting that he expected the estate to return
a very good dividend; a very good dividend indeed.
From what he could hear and from what he had seen, he was justified in
saying a large profit could be realized by carrying on the works. There
were a fine plant, an extensive connection, and a considerable amount of
stock.
It was perhaps unfortunate that Mr. Mortomley had not sooner taken his
creditors into his confidence; but, said Mr. Swanland with a touching
humility that might have done credit to Mr. Asherill himself, "we are
all liable to error."
"Mr. Mortomley acted for the best, no doubt." Here there was a murmur of
dissent from the bulk of the audience, "but whether it has proved for
the best or not in the past, at all events he has acted wisely in the
present by relinquishing everything to his creditors."
Here one sceptical wretch suggested "he hadn't given anything up till he
couldn't help hisself."
Which was indeed a statement too perfectly true to be controverted.
Mr. Swanland therefore glossed it over. "No doubt," he said, "Mr.
Mortomley would have done better for himself, and--others--had he
consulted his friends and creditors at an earlier stage of his
embarrassments, but even as matters stood, it afforded him, Mr.
Swanland, much gratification to be able to state that no real cause
existed for the gloomy view of affairs taken by a few of the gentlemen
in the room.
"He begged to be allowed to lay before the meeting a statement of Mr.
Mortomley's liabilities and probable assets." Which he did.
It was no part of Mr. Swanland's policy at this period to cover his
canvas with dark colours.
Rather he went in for Turneresque effects, and threw a lurid light upon
the profits which might be expected from the continuance of the business
under _proper supervision_; from the leasing of Homewood and its grounds
to a suitable and responsible tenant; from the sale of the effects; from
the collection of the outstanding book debts, and the appropriation of
the remaining portion of Mrs. Mortomley's fortune.
When he came to this last part of his story, over which he was rather
inclined to slur, as an inexperienced pianist slurs a difficult passage
in a new piece of music, the knowing ones amongst the creditors pricked
up their ears, and one of them, a gentleman who was quite as sharp in
his way as Mr. Gibbons, and a vast deal more honest, said,
"If you tell us, Mr. Swanland, how much the estate can pay in cash now,
we had better take that amount than await the result of liquidation;
whether it be a shilling, half-a-crown, or five shillings in the pound,
I say let us all agree to take whatever the estate can pay, and give the
bankrupt his discharge. Then if he is honest he can begin again and pay
us all off; and if he is not honest, we shall not be one bit worse off
than if we allow the concern to go on and stand by watching the whole
estate eaten up by lawyers and accountants."
There was a horrible pause; a pause during which Mr. Forde turned sick
with terror and Mr. Swanland white with rage, and more than one
non-fluent creditor cleared his throat and wetted his lips preparatory
to following the suit of the last speaker, and expressing his own humble
opinion about the subject on hand.
That pause was broken by Kleinwort.
"I mean not to be rude," he began in his broken English, which was no
better and no worse than on that evil day (for England) when he first
landed at Folkestone, "but might I make bold to inquire how large is the
little stake of that last speaker so confident, in the estate of our
poor sick Mortomley?"
"Our little stake, Mr. Kleinwort," answered the opposing creditor, "is
not quite three hundred pounds; but still three hundred pounds is more
than I and my partner care to lose totally if we can get anything out of
the fire. To the majority of people, this liquidation business is as a
new toy. Creditors are delighted with it at first. We have had some
experience of its working, however; and when a man goes into bankruptcy
we write his account down "doubtful," when he goes into liquidation we
write it off "bad."
Then arose a babel of tongues. Mr. Forde, Mr. Kleinwort, Mr. Gibbons,
and a host of other creditors, talking all at once, none listening.
To all intents and purposes there was not the slightest necessity for
this expression of opinions. Mortomley's affairs had been all settled
before the meeting of his creditors was convened. Forde had spoken, and
Kleinwort had spoken, and a few other people besides, who amongst them
virtually arranged the programme of his business future; and though an
Act of Parliament rendered this crush, by intimation, indispensable as
a matter of formality, it was, in reality, perfectly useless as a matter
of fact.
The only possible pleasure or advantage the most persistent of the
smaller creditors could derive from attending the meeting, was the
opportunity it afforded him of bemoaning his own hard fortune, and the
wickedness of Mortomley in having omitted to settle his little account
at all events.
It did not signify in the least that to these lamentations no one
listened, unless, indeed, some man gifted with a louder voice and
greater powers of endurance than his neighbours compelled the attention
of the trustee, who was always able to silence him with some calm and
plausible answer,--the indignant creditor had spoken aloud and "given
them a piece of his mind straight out,"--while, so far as Mr. Swanland
was concerned, his experience had taught him that these ebullitions were
all so many safety valves which prevented the possibility of any serious
explosion damaging his interests.
At last it became patent even to the representative man who always
announces his intention of "attending the meeting personally," of
"seeing to his own matters for hisself," and who generally tells the
assembled company that all he wants is his money--and his money he will
have--that the large creditors were with the trustee; and as the
trustee, they considered, must be friendly to Mortomley, there was no
use in pushing opposition further.
And indeed there was not. A certain number of creditors who did not
"wish to do Mr. Mortomley any harm," who had found Mr. Mortomley a very
fair dealing gentleman, and hoped he would get through his trouble all
right, had readily agreed to everything Mr. Benning's managing clerk
proposed in Mr. Mortomley's interest, and the result was that the amount
required and the numbers required to carry a majority had all been made
up long before the meeting.
Nevertheless, as he blandly suggested, Mr. Swanland liked to see
unanimity amongst the creditors. Kleinwort backing him up with a remark
to the effect that "the goods of one was for the goods of all."
"If I get my money," he observed to one splenetic individual, "you get
your money. If I get not mine, you get not yours; but look how big is
mine besides your little dot; and I am content to wait and believe. Be
you content too."
Over the choice of the gentlemen who were to form the committee of
management, and who were popularly supposed to be placed on a higher
pinnacle of power than that occupied by Mr. Swanland, there proved,
however, more difficulty than the trustee bargained for.
Not that it mattered materially to him; but opposition in any shape
chafed a temper by no means angelic, induced to a certain degree,
perhaps, by a digestion far from good.
And whatever was proposed, Mr. Gibbons and the gentleman who entertained
that rabid antipathy against lawyers and accountants set themselves
determinedly to oppose; the last individual illustrating his remarks
with a candour which, if some people in the City did not fear the
strong lights of a court as much as ladies of a certain age dread the
unflattering glare of sunshine, would infallibly have produced more than
one action for libel.
The only real fun which could be taken out of the meeting arose from
this person's comments on the capabilities for evil and impotency for
good possessed by the various candidates mentioned, and the assemblage
was almost restored to good humour when his plain speaking culminated in
a direct attack on Mr. Gibbons concerning the very estate on the
management of which that gentleman had prided himself so much when
addressing Rupert Halling.
"If I had known Mortomley contemplated any step of this kind," he
finished, "I would have taken out a debtor's summons and forced him into
the Bankruptcy Court, which he may still live to wish I had done. I hate
hole-and-corner work, and all this management of a man's assets and
debts in any shabby office on a two-pair back, with some fellow out of a
loan-office, or who has been clerk to some disreputable attorney for
trustee."
"I apprehend, sir," Mr. Forde was beginning, when Mr. Kleinwort
interposed.
"It is of no good use, Forde, talking to this gentleman gifted with so
much language. He thinks he is on the floor of your House of Commons, or
making his last address to his British public from an Old Bailey dock."
"Bravo! Kleinwort," said Mr. Benning, as a peal of laughter rewarded
this utterance.
"German thief," observed his adversary, quite audibly. Then addressing
the assemblage, added, "If you are all such idiots as to believe in any
statement of accounts dished up at a meeting of creditors such as this;
if you refuse to back me up, and are afraid to fight for the recovery of
your own money, it is of no use my speaking any longer. I wish you joy,
gentlemen, of the dividend you will receive out of this estate."
And with a mocking bow he left the room followed by Rupert Halling, who,
slipping his arm through his, walked with him along Cannon Street,
saying,
"I wish--I wish we could undo all that has been done in this matter;
that my uncle's estate could have been arranged anyhow except in
liquidation."
"Well, it cannot now, and there is no use in fretting about the matter,"
was the reply. "Of course I knew if I talked till Doomsday I could do no
good; but I never intend to cease talking till we get some decent sort
of Bankruptcy Act. Tell your uncle I bear him no malice, and that I
shall be glad to know he has got out of this affair better than I
expect. It was not for the sake of the money I spoke, but because I hate
to see a good estate eaten up by such fellows as Asherill and Swanland.
By the way, that is bad about Mrs. Mortomley's money. How could her
husband be such an idiot as not to make her safe!"
"The men who make themselves and families safe are those who let their
creditors in," said Rupert sententiously.
"I expect you will find, when Swanland has finished manipulating the
estate, that your uncle has let his creditors in to a pretty tune,"
answered the other.
"At any rate he has given up everything he had on earth," remarked
Rupert.
"So far as I am concerned, I would much rather he had kept everything
himself than given it to Swanland. I should like to meet that
congregation of asses," and he pointed back towards the Cannon Street
Hotel, "two years hence, and hear what they think of liquidation by
arrangement then."
"I must get back now. I want to hear the resolutions," said Rupert.
"Call at my office as you return and let me know the names of the
committee," observed the other; but Rupert had not the slightest idea of
doing anything of the kind. He had promised Dolly to see her
husband--who was at that moment under the same roof with his creditors,
ready to answer any inquiry they might see fit to put--safe home, and he
meant to fulfil that promise, though home now meant to his uncle merely
that little house at Clapton--though the dear old roof-tree at Whip's
Cross might shelter him or his no more for ever.
By the time Rupert re-entered the room, Mr. Swanland had been able to
complete the arrangement of Mortomley's affairs to his satisfaction.
The working of the Colour Manufactory was to be continued. A committee
of five persons was appointed, and those five persons were Messrs. Forde
and Kleinwort; an opposition colour-maker who, having ordered and paid
for some carmine which had not been delivered before the final crash,
was thus enabled to take out much more than the value of his money, in
helping to undermine the Homewood works, and keep Mortomley himself out
of the trade; that friendly creditor who knew nothing of the City, or
City ways, and was therefore quite as good as no-one; and a certain Mr.
Lloyd, who said he had no objection to serve on the committee if by
doing so he could in any way serve Mr. Mortomley.
In all questions, save one, the majority was to decide any subject in
dispute. That one excepted question was the important item of Mr.
Mortomley's discharge.
Excepting the five were of one mind on that point, Mr. Mortomley's
discharge could never take place. Unless, indeed, he paid ten shillings
in the pound--which seeing the power of paying anything had virtually
been taken from him, was, to say the least of the matter, an extremely
improbable contingency. The gentleman, however, who wished to serve Mr.
Mortomley, and Mr. Gibbons, and Mr. Leigh, and a few others, having
taken counsel together, a rider was, with much difficulty, appended to
the proceedings in the shape of a resolution to the effect that if the
committee failed to agree on the subject of the discharge, it should be
competent for the bankrupt to refer the matter to another meeting of his
creditors, said meeting to be called at his own expense, which, though
plausible enough in theory, was a reality no man in Mortomley's
position could ever hope, unless a miracle were effected in his favour,
to compass.
Moreover, the question of an allowance to Mr. Mortomley was left to the
judgment of the committee, and thus everything having been done quite
according to law, Mr. Swanland was installed solemnly as trustee and
manager of the Mortomley's Estate, and could, the moment he left that
room, snap his fingers at all the credulous folks there assembled, Mr.
Forde included in that number--Mr. Forde, who expected to sway him as he
had swayed other trustees, and who certainly when he elected that Mr.
Asherill's perfect gentleman should fill the post of liquidator, never
intended his nominee to draw as hard and fast a line against him as
against the other creditors.
Very soon, however, he was destined to be undeceived.
He tried to get Mortomley's bills renewed, but Mr. Swanland refused to
give him Mortomley's address, and warned him that if he did succeed in
obtaining the bankrupt's signature, the documents would not be worth
the paper they were written on.
He sent goods to Homewood, but they were returned on his hands.
"I must buy in the best market," said Mr. Swanland. "I am but the agent
for the creditors, you will please recollect, and have no power to show
favour to any one."
"What the devil do you mean?" inquired Mr. Forde.
"I must buy good articles at the lowest cost price," was the reply; "and
your articles are not good, and they are, further, extremely dear!"
"I rather think you forget yourself, sir," said Mr. Forde in his
loftiest manner. "You forget I made you trustee of this estate."
"I do not forget; but the days of Queen Victoria are not those of
Elizabeth," was the reply. Mr. Swanland, in his hours of elegant
leisure, had occasionally met literary people, and though he distrusted
them, stored away their utterances and quotations.
"Can't you talk English," asked Mr. Forde in reply.
"Certainly, though I should not care to talk it quite so plainly as did
her Majesty. She said, 'I made you, proud prelate, and by ---- I will
unmake you!' I say, 'You brought this estate to me, and I intend to wind
it up honestly without fear or favour.'"
"Damn you!" said Mr. Forde with a sincerity and vigour the Virgin Queen
herself might have envied.
Like Mortomley, whom he had netted, he found himself utterly taken in.
"Would to God!" he remarked, with that reference to a supreme power
people are apt to make when they have exhausted the resources of all
their own idols and found them really of very little avail, "Would to
God! I had left the management of Mortomley's Estate to that fool
Mortomley himself and his solicitor. They would have considered ME, and
this selfish brute will not."
Which was indeed quite true. A man had always better by far place
himself in the hands of a man who is a gentleman, even if he be a fool,
than of a man who is a cad, even though he be wise.
Save through misadventure, the gentleman will not throw over even a cad;
but the cad waits his opportunity and throws over friend and foe, gentle
and simple, with equal impartiality.
Mr. Swanland did at all events, and therein, situated as he chanced to
be, he was wise.
For with the best intentions in the world, Mr. Forde had hitherto always
managed to bring those trustees who were simple enough or dishonest
enough to do his bidding to ultimate grief.
When Mr. Swanland spoke of the Manager of the General Chemical Company
as so mentally short-sighted that he could only see to twelve o'clock
that day, he described his character to a nicety.
Probably, through no fault of his own in the first instance, Mr. Forde
eventually found himself traversing a path which led him at one time
along the brink of a precipice, at another across a country intersected
by deep ravines and dangerous gulleys, and any man who had fully
realised the peril of his position must either have abandoned the idea
of going further in despair, or have so utterly lost his head as to have
been dashed to pieces long before the period when this story opens.
But Mr. Forde did not realise his position, or the position of the
General Chemical Company.
He had faith if he could only hold out long enough relief would come--to
him--or to the Company. Naturally he hoped it would come to him first,
in which case he confided to a few chosen friends the fact that, if he
were to walk out of the place, the directors would have to close the
wharf-gates within four-and-twenty hours, but if relief were to pay a
preliminary visit to the Company, he knew such a stroke of good fortune
must ultimately benefit him.
With all his faith, and he had much, he believed Mr. Asherill's partner
if appointed trustee of Mortomley's Estate would be with him
hand-and-glove, and when he found Mr. Swanland was not inclined to be
hand-and-glove with any man, he bewailed in no measured terms his evil
fate to Kleinwort, who only shrugged his shoulders and said,
"You had better much have trusted the sick man and the little lady and
the swaggering nephew; you had by far best have had good temper, and not
have run to lock them up in liquidation, with your lawyer, your trustee,
your committee. That Leigh man might have been turned round a
finger--mine--and the little lady and the sick man, had you spoke
pleasant, would have gone on trying hard to do their best for another
year at least calculation. Those thousands, Forde dear friend, those
thousands! Oh! it does break mine heart to call to mind they were so
near and are so far! That demon Swanland he will liquidate it all; and
we--you Forde and I Kleinwort--we might have dealt with it had I known,
had you not spoken so hard to the little woman. I am not much of
superstitious, I do hope, dear friend, and yet I feel this will be a bad
mistake for us."
Whereupon Mr. Forde bade him hold his tongue if he could not use it to
some pleasanter purpose.
But Mr. Kleinwort refused to hold his tongue. "It was not good to lay so
many stakes upon that Archibald Mortomley horse," he persisted. "Bah!
One that could not, in your charming English, stay, that was a roarer,
so short of mercantile breath when you dug your spurs in and flogged him
with your heavy whip he dropped down as dead. It was a mistake, and then
you made bad worse with the little lady, and for this reason we shall
all suffer; we shall all cry and make bitter lamentation."
"Kleinwort, you are enough to drive a fellow mad!" expostulated his so
dear Forde.
"Yes, yes, yes. I know all that," said the German. "You never want to
hear no speech but what is pleasant and comfortable. You will not listen
to warning now, but the bad day may be nearer at hand than you think,
when you will say to me, 'You had reason, Kleinwort,'--when you will
make remark to others, 'I thought Kleinwort babbled all nonsense, but
his words were true words.'"
"Well, whether they prove true or false will not help us in this
Mortomley affair now. One good thing is the business being still carried
on. That is in our favour."
"You had better make much use of that while you can," was the reply,
"for it will not be carried on very long."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Forde.
"Just the very thing I say--unlike you English, who always mean not what
they say. Swanland will stay colour-maker for while there is money to
lose and to spend; but you, even you my good Forde, must know he cannot
so conduct that affair as to induce those big works to pay anybody but
himself."
"I fail to understand you."
"Could you go down and make those works, of which you know nothing,
yield big profits?"
"Of course I could," was the confident answer.
"Ah! but you are so clever," said Kleinwort with a sneer, which was
lost on his companion. "I did forget you had managed so long and so well
the Wharf Vedast. It is not many who could bring such talents as you.
Swanland has them not most surely, and so I say the Colour Works will
stop one day like--that,"--and Mr. Kleinwort clapped his hands together
with a suddenness which made his companion jump.
"But he is making an enormous profit," remarked Mr. Forde.
"Ah! well, we see if we live, if we live not, those who do will see,"
answered Kleinwort, with philosophical composure, as he parted from his
companion.
"I wonder what has come to Kleinwort," thought Mr. Forde; "until lately
he was always hopeful, always pleasant. I hope to mercy nothing is going
to happen to him." And at the bare idea, self-suggested, the manager
turned pale. "Good Heavens! what would become of me in that case?" was
the unspoken sentence which flitted through his mind.
But comfort came to him next instant, in the reflection that let
Kleinwort's faults be what they might, they did not include any
inclination to deceive his friend.
"He would tell me; he would give me fair warning; if there were a leak
anywhere, he would not keep the misfortune secret from me," were the
assurances with which he restored his own courage. While all the time
the little German was mentally considering,
"That orange is about squeezed dry. A short time more and our dear Forde
will have no more cause to be anxious about the affairs of Kleinwort.
His mind will be set quite at rest. Bah! The easement will come sooner
than I intended, but it is a wise man can read the signs of the weather.
That new director would spoil our little game if I stopped it not
myself. Yes, it is nearly over, and it is well, though I should like to
have played on a little more, and kept Forde like the coffin of Mahomet
hanging for a time yet longer."