RUPERT SPEAKS VERY PLAINLY.
Having made up his mind to place the state of his affairs before his
creditors, Mr. Mortomley decided to break the news to Mr. Forde in
person.
This intention, however, was abandoned at the advice of a very shrewd
individual who, happening to meet the "conspirators," as he facetiously
styled Rupert and his uncle, in the City, stopped to shake hands and
inquired if there was "anything fresh." Whereupon as he happened to be a
creditor, and one who had followed with some interest the spectacle of
Mortomley slipping off _terra firma_ into hitherto unknown water, which
grew deeper and deeper at every effort he made to get out of it, Rupert
told him in so many words what they meant to do and whither they were
bound.
"And the very best thing you can do is to stop," was the reply. "I will
do all in my power to help you through, and if you want a friendly
trustee I should not object to act. But," and he laid his hand
impressively on Mortomley's arm, "you go straight to your solicitor
without turning to the right or to the left. Put it beyond your own
power to draw back before you see Forde. I have always told you that,
although to such a concern the amount of your indebtedness is or should
be nothing, still you are a link in a chain, and you know what happens
if even one link gives way."
"But I should not like his first intimation of the matter to be by
circular," answered Mr. Mortomley.
"First intimation, pooh!" retorted the other. "The man is not a total
idiot. He knows you are in difficulties; he knows how difficulties
always end. He may not expect the end to come so soon, but he must be
certain it is on its way."
Nevertheless, Mortomley hesitated. This was just like Mortomley--to
pause when staking something high for himself, and consider Dick, Tom,
or Harry might not like his throw.
This had been a weak point in every Mortomley, since the days of him who
left the Place to seek his fortune; but it was intensified in Archibald
who, through this and other similar traits was about to bring the last
noble left by his predecessors to ninepence.
"Now promise me," said the self-constituted adviser, noticing his
hesitation; "I know Forde better than you. I have been behind the scenes
in that respectable concern, and could let you into a good many
mysteries if I chose; and I can tell you if you go to Vedast Wharf
before you have been to Mr. Leigh, you won't go into liquidation till
you have nothing left to liquidate. If Forde must be told, let your
nephew tell him."
"I will go to him fast enough if you will accompany me," answered
Rupert; "but I should not care for the task of breaking it to him
alone."
Whereat the other laughed loudly. "Look here," he said, "what is there
to be afraid of? He won't try to murder you, and if he did he could not
well succeed in the attempt. He will blow up, doubtless; rave and
blaspheme a good deal; swear you are all swindlers together, and that
there is only one honest man, himself, left on earth. He will then calm
down and try to cajole you to keep things moving a little longer; then
he will offer you more credit, and, perhaps, to help you to open fresh
credits; and if the thing is not done, he will over-persuade you to go
on. But if the thing is done, and he knows remonstrance is useless, he
will make the best of a bad business. He will tell his directors your
estate is good to pay forty shillings in the pound, and you may have
more peace and comfort in your home and your business than you have
known for many a long day past."
There was truth in all this--hard, keen, practical truth--as Rupert, who
had experienced some very stormy weather at St. Vedast Wharf, knew, and
Mortomley, who had been kept pretty well in ignorance of the frequent
tempests which prevailed there, instinctively felt.
"What you say is right enough," remarked Rupert after a pause. "But come
now, Mr. Gibbons, be frank. If it were your own case now, should you
like facing Forde?"
"So little that I should not face him at all; but if, as Mr. Mortomley
seems to think he must be faced, I should, if I were in your place, put
on a bold front and beard the lion in his den. It is your only chance. I
tell you straightforwardly if once he gets hold of Mr. Mortomley the
estate is doomed."
"Will you come with me then?" asked Rupert.
"I," repeated the other, "in what character would you have me appear? If
as a friend, he would retort that I am also a creditor; if as a
creditor, he would at once pooh, pooh! me, because I am a friend. No. Do
your part boldly, and when that connection is fairly at an end come to
me for help, and you shall have it."
Which was all very good advice, though Mr. Gibbons gave it; indeed it
was so good, that, with a very ill-grace, Rupert at last consented to
see Mr. Forde, and parted with Mortomley for that purpose.
He had arranged to meet his relative at five o'clock, so that they might
return to Homewood together; and as there was no reason to hurry the
impending interview between himself and the manager of the Chemical
Company, as there was indeed every reason to retard its advent, he took
a cheerful walk all by himself along Cheapside, through St. Paul's
Churchyard, down Ludgate Hill, over Blackfriars Bridge, whence he wended
his way to Southwark Bridge _viâ_ Bankside.
When he looked at his watch in Thames Street, however, he decided his
call might still be advantageously deferred for a short time longer, and
he accordingly retraced his steps over Southwark Bridge, and, when he
reached the Surrey side of the river, threaded his way through many a
narrow lane and curious passage till he found himself in the Borough
Market.
By that time Mortomley must be considered to have nearly finished his
business; so, buttoning his coat tight across his chest, he gathered up
his courage, drew a long breath, and stepped briskly across the bridge
to St. Vedast Wharf and the interview already described.
It is no exaggeration to say that when he beheld Mr. Forde take his hat
and leave the office, Rupert felt that, although it might be
problematical whether by that simple movement the manager had cut the
knot of his own difficulties, there could be no doubt he had thereby
sundered the worst entanglement in Mortomley's path; and it was,
therefore, with a sensation of little short of despair he beheld Mr.
Forde reappear and heard him inquire,
"Now, what is the meaning of all this--how has it come about?"
"As I suppose such things usually do," was the almost sullen reply;
"through shortness of money."
"Don't be insolent to me, sir," retorted Mr. Forde. "You know it has
come through no such thing; it has come through gross bad management and
cowardice, of which a child might be ashamed, and utter laziness and
want of energy."
"Well, we need not quarrel about the cause, Mr. Forde," said Rupert,
"and as hard words break no bones--particularly when they chance to be
untrue,--we will not quarrel over the last part of your sentence either;
the end has come, and in my opinion the only matter to be regretted is
that it did not come sooner."
"Your opinion," repeated Mr. Forde with a sneer.
"It may not be worth much I admit," said Rupert in agreement, "but such
as it is you are welcome to it; and now, Mr. Forde, as there cannot be
the slightest use in our prolonging a disagreeable interview I will wish
you good afternoon."
"Don't go yet," exclaimed the manager peremptorily. "Confound that
fellow, where has he got to?" having added which rider to his sentence,
he took his hat once more and hurried out of the office.
"I wonder if he intends to give me in charge," thought the young man,
who was much perplexed by Mr. Forde's mysterious change of manner.
"Never mind, I hope I shall never set foot in this office again." A hope
which was realized, but not in the way he desired.
Up and down the office he commenced pacing again. No one before had ever
been made so free, or made himself so free of it as to take such a
liberty; but the brand-new carpet and the furniture smelling strongly of
varnish, and the manager's airs of alternate affability and terrorism,
were nothing to Rupert now. He had sworn to himself from the time he
broke ground with Mortomley, that Mr. Forde should be an incubus on his
life no longer.
"I would rather have a settled term of penal servitude than an uncertain
period of slavery under Forde," he had remarked more than once to Mr.
Gibbons; and then Mr. Gibbons, who managed his own affairs extremely
well, and who was not over-particular, so people said, about always
rendering to other men exactly what was their due pecuniarily, asked
what could have induced him and Mortomley to become Forde's
bond-servants.
Whereupon Rupert, who could rap out an oath in a style which must have
caused Mr. Asherill to shed tears had he heard his utterances, replied,
"He believed Forde had got to the soft side of his uncle with some
'damned infernal rubbish' about his wife and children, and being ruined
himself."
At which Mr. Gibbons laughed again, and happening to own a few shares in
the General Chemical Company, directed his broker to sell them.
According to Mr. Gibbons' account, when he next met Mr. Forde, he had
never been so short of money in his life as at that particular period.
He pledged his word, nothing except dire necessity could have induced
him to part with those especial shares.
When times mended a little, he should like to re-purchase, but he
supposed there would be then none in the market.
"I will try to get you a few privately," said Mr. Forde, knowing his
companion had not spoken a word of truth during the whole of their
conversation, and Mr. Gibbons thanked him, understanding perfectly well
that Mr. Forde was perfectly well aware he regarded the General Chemical
Company as a Company going, generally speaking, to the dogs; and the
pair shook hands, and bade each other "Good-bye" most cordially, and
parted apparently on the very best of terms.
Now this Mr. Gibbons was the gentleman who, having taken Mr. Mortomley's
measure at a very early period of their business acquaintanceship,
recommended him not to see Mr. Forde till the liquidation business was
past recall; and the reader may therefore imagine the nature of Rupert's
feelings, he having unbounded faith in Mr. Gibbons' powers of
discernment, when he beheld Mr. Forde re-enter his office accompanied by
Mortomley.
The impending bankrupt looked flushed and tired. Mr. Forde's face bore
on it a mingled expression of triumph and anxiety. Rupert surveyed the
pair distrustfully. If he had ever doubted the accuracy of Mr. Gibbons'
judgment, he certainly did not doubt it then, when he beheld Mortomley
led captive into the lion's den.
Without asking his visitors to be seated, Mr. Forde flung himself into
his own especial chair, crossed his legs, stuffed one hand deep down
into his pocket, and said "You may not be aware of it, but this is a
very serious thing for me."
"I am afraid it is," agreed Mortomley, leaning in a limp attitude
against the manager's desk, one hand resting on it, the other which held
his hat hanging down by his side.
As for Rupert, seeing Mr. Forde did not think it necessary to remove his
head gear, he at once and defiantly covered his curly black locks, and
took up a position close to the window, out of which he stared
assiduously.
"And it is a very serious thing for you," observed Mr. Forde in the tone
and in the manner of an open-air preacher.
No honest man placed in such a position could dispute the truth of this
proposition, and Mr. Mortomley did not attempt to do so.
"And I really do not see how you are to get through it," went on Mr.
Forde.
"I think--indeed, I am sure I shall not have any opposing
creditor--unless it may be you," said Mortomley suggestively.
"Oh! as for me," answered Mr. Forde, "I shall walk out of the concern
whenever you go into liquidation. I have pledged myself so deeply
concerning your solvency and respectability that I could not face my
directors over your account. It is a fact, I could not. I must leave;
and I am not a young and adaptable man, like your nephew there, able to
play at football with fortune, and I am not like you, Mr. Mortomley, so
fortunate as to have married a wife possessed of money. When I go all
goes; when this salary ceases, I have not the faintest idea where to
turn to procure another, and what is to become of my wife and children
God alone knows. Poor little Alfie!" added Mr. Forde _sotto voce_,
apostrophizing the latest pug-nosed, round-faced, vacant-eyed darling
with which Mrs. Forde had as yet blessed the managerial mansion.
That shot went straight home. Mortomley thought of his wife and his
Lenore, and remained ashamedly silent. Mr. Forde perceiving his
advantage pressed it.
"You are the last man I should have considered capable of taking such a
mean advantage."
"Good heavens!" broke in Mortomley, "what would you have me do? Can I
keep on a business with men in possession, with judgments out against
me, with writs returnable next week and the week after. Mean advantage!
I have borne what I think no other man living would have done, and I
believe I have been a simple fool for my pains."
At this juncture Rupert interposed.
"If you allow Mr. Forde to persuade you to draw back now you will be a
simple fool."
"Keep silence, sir," said Mr. Forde facing round on this undesired
prophet.
"I shall not keep silence if I see fit to speak," retorted Rupert
angrily.
"You have spoken a great deal too often of late," was the reply. "Owing
to your representations I have been induced to tell my directors that
Mr. Deane intended to go into partnership with your uncle, and--"
"Stop," interposed Rupert. "Let me contradict one _canard_ at a time.
_I_ never said Mr. Deane would go into partnership with Mr. Mortomley,
but you did, and I then told you Mr. Deane would do no such thing. You
then suggested he might lend money to the concern. I told you he would
not. Of course you will try to make your own story good, but mine is the
true version of the affair."
With a shrug--which Mr. Forde believed to be of a style a Frenchman
might have envied--the manager turned once again to Mortomley.
"We will waive that question for the present," he said. "I suppose you
do not really want to go into the Gazette; you have no private reason
for desiring to liquidate your affairs?"
"No, indeed," was the answer.
"And the act is, you tell me, not past recall?"
"It is not," said Mortomley.
Rupert clenched his hand and made a feint of thrusting his fist through
a pane of glass as his relative spoke, but he refrained and said,
"Gibbons knows all about it."
"Ah! how does that happen?" asked Mr. Forde, rising and walking eagerly
towards the window.
"We met him," Rupert answered. "He asked what news, and I told him. He
said it was the best thing could be done, and that if a friendly trustee
were required he would not mind acting."
"I dare say not--I dare say not," observed Mr. Forde. "Now, sir,"
addressing Mortomley, "how much do you want to clear you? For what
amount are these debts upon which writs are returnable? Things, if
faced, are never very formidable. I dare say with good management, you
can pull through without difficulty. First--" and he dipped his pen in
the ink and drew a sheet of paper towards him.
At this crisis Rupert turned from the window and advanced towards the
desk.
"One moment, if you please," he said, interrupting Mr. Forde's figure
pattern of Mortomley's debts. "Archie," he went on, "you remember what I
told you yesterday."
"Yes, I remember, Rupert; but--"
"But you did not believe me; never mind standing nice about words, that
was what it came to. Now I know what the end of all this will prove. I
know I and my father, God forgive us both, have brought you into this
connection, out of which I fear nothing but utter ruin can now extricate
you. _Still_ there is one last chance left you, and I give it. Don't
listen to another word that plausible gentleman speaks, but come away
with me, and leave all the rest to your solicitor. Will you come? No.
Then I go; but before we meet again, I, who now thoroughly understand
Mr. Forde, say you will have done an hour's work you will repent to the
last day of your life."