Two days after Edward's conviction, when we were all getting a little
accustomed to his loss, Miriam and I had spent an hour of the afternoon
in her garden, laying plans for our now fast-approaching elopement, and
had just left it when Mollie came running towards us with the news that
Herman and Amelia had come to tea, and wanted to see us both.
I always felt a little uneasy at the thought of Herman Eppstein, and as
in two days' time he was to sell my holding in Mount Lebanons, I thought
that he might have come to say something to me about them.
I was determined, however, that he should not say it in the
drawing-room, if I could possibly help it. Directly we went in, I began
to talk about Edward, and about the exciting things that were happening
generally, and so infected the rest with my loquacity that they all
became loquacious too, and we made an animated party. Mr. Perry was
there, which was somewhat unusual, but since Edward's departure he had
been about the house a good deal, and seemed to find it restful.
I saw very plainly, though, that Eppstein was dying to bring out some
news, and only awaited a lull in the conversation to do so. I was also
doubtful whether his wife did not know as much about Mount Lebanons as
he did, for her eye was often fixed upon me with a curious expression.
She took her full share in the conversation, but I could see that she
would make no effort to prolong it if it flagged of its own accord. I
tried to make signs to Eppstein, but he either couldn't or wouldn't
understand them, and presently I had to resign myself to some ultimate
revelation.
Just as I thought, and the Eppsteins must also have thought, that this
time had come, there was a diversion. I heard a ring at the front door
bell, and heard Blother and Lord Arthur go across the hall to answer it.
I exerted myself to give the talk another fillip, until the caller, if
there was one, should arrive, and breathed again when the door was
flung open and Mr. Blother's sonorous voice announced a name. But when I
heard that name my spirit sank again.
The visitor was Mr. Hobson, and he came into the room with a wild and
disordered air, which changed to one of menace as, without even greeting
Mrs. Perry, he pointed at me and cried: "Deceiver! You are not what you
pretend to be!"
Few deceivers are; and my conscience was not wholly clear. But I was, at
any rate, unconscious of having done Mr. Hobson any harm, and asked him,
in some surprise, what complaint he had against me.
It was Herman Eppstein who took up the question, and dealt with it with
a resource which I should hardly have expected of him.
"I know all about it, Mr. 'Obson," he said, "and you 'aven't nothing to
grumble at. Mr. 'Oward took over your shares at market price, and did
you a very good turn. If you'd a knowed you could do better by 'anging
on to them, why did you let 'em go?"
Mr. Hobson sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands, rocking
his body to and fro.
"I might have known it," he said. "Nothing I ever do goes right. If I
had kept those shares, I should have been a poor man once more. And I
_should_ have kept them, if he hadn't come and pretended to be doing me
a good turn."
He lifted up his head, and hissed the word "Viper!" at me, and then
subsided once more into his state of misery.
"What is it all about, Herman? What has happened?" asked Mr. Perry.
I also wanted to know what had happened. I was not feeling at all
comfortable, and no longer wished to prevent Eppstein from telling his
story.
"Mr. 'Oward took over thirty-five thousand Mount Lebanon shares from Mr.
'Obson. It was all in order, and Mr. 'Obson must 'ave been precious glad
to get rid of them. Mr. 'Oward 'olds them now, and I take this
opportunity of congratulating him. Still, I do think, as 'e is almost a
member of this family and you might say, 'e might 'ave let some of the
rest of us into the know, instead of keeping all the good luck to
'imself."
"What has happened?" asked Mr. Perry again.
"Arst 'im. 'E'll tell you," said Eppstein.
"I would rather you did," I said. "You can put it more lucidly."
"Well, they've been rocky for a long time," explained Eppstein, "but
they bulled them up, and never let on that they'd come to the end of
their lode. But this afternoon the news come that there's been no gold
for a long time, and they've been paying interest out of capital. And
that ain't all. There's never been more than five shillings a share paid
on them. They're calling up another five shillings at the end of a
month, and they'll call up the rest at three months' intervals, and then
they'll wind up. 'Oward, I don't bear no malice--you've got the bulge on
all of us this time--and I should like to shake 'ands with you."
I shook hands with him, my brain in a tumult, then with his wife, and
finally with Mr. Perry, who had by this time taken in the full meaning
of Eppstein's announcement, which was a good deal more than I had.
It was Hobson who brought home to me the appalling reality.
"He came to me," he said accusingly, "and offered to take twenty or
thirty thousand pounds from me as a free gift. He led me up to offering
him all my holding in Mount Lebanons. If I had kept them I should have
stood to lose over L140,000 now, and should have been entitled to pay up
another L26,000 in calls--nearly L170,000 in all. And now _he_ has lost
all that, and I say it isn't fair. He has swindled me."
There followed an altercation between him and Eppstein and Mr. Perry.
Mr. Perry rebuked him for the unfounded accusations he had made against
me, and Eppstein told him that _he_ was the swindler if he expected to
lose it both ways. But still, he kept on repeating his reproaches, and
finally I took a bold resolution, and generously offered to let him have
his shares back again.
But neither Eppstein nor Mr. Perry would hear of this, and I was not in
a position to press it. After all, Hobson had already lost the full
value of his shares, and could only stand to gain by the amount he would
have had to pay up on the calls.
When this was pointed out to him, he acknowledged that he had never been
much of a business man, apologised to me for his behaviour, and went
away somewhat comforted, leaving me to the congratulations of the
family.
I accepted them, I hope, modestly. I was almost paralysed by the blow.
Instead of being able to leave Upsidonia with a comfortable fortune, I
should leave it under an appalling burden of debt. I had lost a hundred
and seventy thousand pounds, and could only comfort myself with the
resolution never again as long as I lived to put my finger in the Stock
Exchange pie. But it was cold comfort enough, and I broke away as soon
as I could from the delight of Mr. Perry, who now saw in me a most
eligible son-in-law, and from the ill-concealed jealousy of Mrs.
Eppstein. I took Eppstein into the library with me on the plea of
business. I wanted time to think before I had another talk with Miriam,
who, I could see, had been deeply puzzled by the foregoing conversation,
and whose due it was to have all the explanation I could offer.