EDWARD COSSEY, ESQUIRE
After George had drunk his glass of wine and given his opinion as to
the best way to deal with the dangerous pinnacle on the Boisingham
Church, he took the note, untied the fat pony, and ambled off to
Honham, leaving the lawyer alone. As soon as he was gone, Mr. Quest
threw himself back in his chair—an old oak one, by-the-way, for he had
a very pretty taste in old oak and a positive mania for collecting
it—and plunged into a brown study.
Presently he leant forward, unlocked the top drawer of his writing
table, and extracted from it a letter addressed to himself which he had
received that very morning. It was from the principals of the great
banking firm of Cossey and Son, and dated from their head office in
Mincing lane. This letter ran as follows:
“Private and confidential.
“Dear Sir,—
“We have considered your report as to the extensive mortgages which we
hold upon the Honham Castle estates, and have allowed due weight to
your arguments as to the advisability of allowing Mr. de la Molle time
to give things a chance of righting. But we must tell you that we can
see no prospect of any such solution of the matter, at any rate for
some years to come. All the information that we are able to gather
points to a further decrease in the value of the land rather than to a
recovery. The interest on the mortgages in question is moreover a year
in arrear, probably owing to the non-receipt of rents by Mr. de la
Molle. Under these circumstances, much as it grieves us to take action
against Mr. de la Molle, with whose family we have had dealings for
five generations, we can see no alternative to foreclosure, and hereby
instruct you to take the necessary preliminary steps to bring it about
in the usual manner. We are, presuming that Mr. de la Molle is not in a
position to pay off the mortgages, quite aware of the risks of a forced
sale, and shall not be astonished if, in the present unprecedented
condition of the land market, such a sale should result in a loss,
although the sum recoverable does not amount to half the valuation of
the estates, which was undertaken at our instance about twenty years
ago on the occasion of the first advance. The only alternative,
however, would be for us to enter into possession of the property or to
buy it in. But this would be a course totally inconsistent with the
usual practice of the bank, and what is more, our confidence in the
stability of landed property is so utterly shattered by our recent
experiences, that we cannot burden ourselves by such a course,
preferring to run the risk of an immediate loss. This, however, we hope
that the historical character of the property and its great natural
advantages as a residential estate will avert, or at the least
minimise.
“Be so good as to advise us by an early post of the steps you take
in pursuance of these instructions.
“We are, dear sir,
“Your obedient servants,
“Cossey & Son.
“W. Quest, Esq.
“P.S.—We have thought it better to address you direct in this matter,
but of course you will communicate the contents of this letter to Mr.
Edward Cossey, and, subject to our instructions, which are final, act
in consultation with him.”
“Well,” said Mr. Quest to himself, as he folded up the sheet of paper,
“that is about as straight as it can be put. And this is the time that
the old gentleman chooses to ask for another four thousand. He may ask,
but the answer will be more than he bargains for.”
He rose from the chair and began to walk up and down the room in
evident perplexity. “If only,” he said, “I had twenty-five thousand, I
would take up the mortgages myself and foreclose at my leisure. It
would be a good investment at that figure, even as things are, and
besides, I should like to have that place. Twenty-five thousand, only
twenty-five thousand, and now when I want it I have not got it. And I
should have had it if it had not been for that tiger, that devil Edith.
She has had more than that out of me in the last ten years, and still
she is threatening and crying for more, more, more. Tiger; yes, that is
the name for her, her own name, too. She would coin one’s vitals into
money if she could. All Belle’s fortune she has had, or nearly all, and
now she wants another five hundred, and she will have it too.
“Here we are,” and he drew a letter from his pocket written in a bold,
but somewhat uneducated, woman’s hand.
“Dear Bill,” it ran, “I’ve been unlucky again and dropped a pot. Shall
want 500 pounds by the 1st October. No shuffling, mind; money down; but
I think that you know me too well to play any more larx. When can you
tear yourself away, and come and give your E—— a look? Bring some tin
when you come, and we will have times.—Thine, The Tiger.”
“The Tiger, yes, the Tiger,” he gasped, his face working with passion
and his grey eyes glinting as he tore the epistle to fragments, threw
them down and stamped on them. “Well, be careful that I don’t one day
cut your claws and paint your stripes. By heaven, if ever a man felt
like murder, I do now. Five hundred more, and I haven’t five thousand
clear in the world. Truly we pay for the follies of our youth! It makes
me mad to think of those fools Cossey and Son forcing that place into
the market just now. There’s a fortune in it at the price. In another
year or two I might have recovered myself—that devil of a woman might
be dead—and I have several irons in the fire, some of which are sure to
turn up trumps. Surely there must be a way out of it somehow. There’s a
way out of everything except Death if only one thinks enough, but the
thing is to find it,” and he stopped in his walk opposite to the window
that looked upon the street, and put his hand to his head.
As he did so he caught sight of the figure of a tall gentleman
strolling idly towards the office door. For a moment he stared at him
blankly, as a man does when he is trying to catch the vague clue to a
new idea. Then, as the figure passed out of his view, he brought his
fist down heavily upon the sill.
“Edward Cossey, by George!” he said aloud. “There’s the way out of it,
if only I can work him, and unless I have made a strange mistake, I
think I know the road.”
A couple of minutes afterwards a tall, shapely young man, of about
twenty-four or five years of age, came strolling into the office where
Mr. Quest was sitting, to all appearance hard at work at his
correspondence. He was dark in complexion and decidedly
distinguished-looking in feature, with large dark eyes, dark
moustachios, and a pale, somewhat Spanish-looking skin. Young as the
face was, it had, if observed closely, a somewhat worn and worried air,
such as one would scarcely expect to see upon the countenance of a
gentleman born to such brilliant fortunes, and so well fitted by nature
to do them justice, as was Mr. Edward Cossey. For it is not every young
man with dark eyes and a good figure who is destined to be the future
head of one of the most wealthy private banks in England, and to
inherit in due course a sum of money in hard cash variously estimated
at from half a million to a million sterling. This, however, was the
prospect in life that opened out before Mr. Edward Cossey, who was now
supposed by his old and eminently business-like father to be in process
of acquiring a sound knowledge of the provincial affairs of the house
by attending to the working of their branch establishments in the
Eastern counties.
“How do you do, Quest?” said Edward Cossey, nodding somewhat coldly to
the lawyer and sitting down. “Any business?”
“Well, yes, Mr. Cossey,” answered the lawyer, rising respectfully,
“there is some business, some very serious business.”
“Indeed,” said Edward indifferently, “what is it?”
“Well, it is this, the house has ordered a foreclosure on the Honham
Castle estates—at least it comes to that——”
On hearing this intelligence Edward Cossey’s whole demeanour underwent
the most startling transformation—his languor vanished, his eye
brightened, and his form became instinct with active life and beauty.
“What the deuce,” he said, and then paused. “I won’t have it,” he went
on, jumping up, “I won’t have it. I am not particularly fond of old de
la Molle, perhaps because he is not particularly fond of me,” he added
rather drolly, “but it would be an infernal shame to break up that
family and sell the house over them. Why they would be ruined! And then
there’s Ida—Miss de la Molle, I mean—what would become of her? And the
old place too. After being in the family for all these centuries I
suppose that it would be sold to some confounded counter-skipper or
some retired thief of a lawyer. It must be prevented at any price—do
you hear, Quest?”
The lawyer winced a little at his chief’s contemptuous allusion, and
then remarked with a smile, “I had no idea that you were so
sentimental, Mr. Cossey, or that you took such a lively interest in
Miss de la Molle,” and he glanced up to observe the effect of his shot.
Edward Cossey coloured. “I did not mean that I took any particular
interest in Miss de la Molle,” he said, “I was referring to the
family.”
“Oh, quite so, though I’m sure I don’t know why you shouldn’t. Miss de
la Molle is one of the most charming women that I ever met, I think the
most charming except my own wife Belle,” and he again looked up
suddenly at Edward Cossey who, for his part, coloured for the second
time.
“It seems to me,” went on the lawyer, “that a man in your position has
a most splendid opportunity of playing knight errant to the lovely
damsel in distress. Here is the lady with her aged father about to be
sold up and turned out of the estates which have belonged to her family
for generations—why don’t you do the generous and graceful thing, like
the hero in a novel, and take up the mortgages?”
Edward Cossey did not reject this suggestion with the contempt that
might have been expected; on the contrary he appeared to be turning the
matter over in his mind, for he drummed a little tune with his knuckles
and stared out of the window.
“What is the sum?” he said presently.
“Five-and-twenty thousand, and he wants four more, say thirty
thousand.”
“And where am I going to find thirty thousand pounds to take up a
bundle of mortgages which will probably never pay a farthing of
interest? Why, I have not got three thousand that I can come at.
Besides,” he added, recollecting himself, “why should I interfere?”
“I do not think,” answered Mr. Quest, ignoring the latter part of the
question, “that with your prospects you would find it difficult to get
thirty thousand pounds. I know several who would consider it an honour
to lend the money to a Cossey, if only for the sake of the
introduction—that is, of course, provided the security was of a legal
nature.”
“Let me see the letter,” said Edward.
Mr. Quest handed him the document conveying the commands of Cossey and
Son, and he read it through twice.
“The old man means business,” he said, as he returned it; “that letter
was written by him, and when he has once made up his mind it is useless
to try and stir him. Did you say that you were going to see the Squire
to-day?”
“No, I did not say so, but as a matter of fact I am. His man, George—a
shrewd fellow, by the way, for one of these bumpkins—came with a letter
asking me to go up to the Castle, so I shall get round there to lunch.
It is about this fresh loan that the old gentleman wishes to negotiate.
Of course I shall be obliged to tell him that instead of giving a fresh
loan we have orders to serve a notice on him.”
“Don’t do that just yet,” said Edward with decision. “Write to the
house and say that their instructions shall be attended to. There is no
hurry about the notice, though I don’t see how I am to help in the
matter. Indeed there is no call upon me.”
“Very well, Mr. Cossey. And now, by the way, are you going to the
Castle this afternoon?”
“Yes, I believe so. Why?”
“Well, I want to get up there to luncheon, and I am in a fix. Mrs.
Quest will want the trap to go there this afternoon. Can you lend me
your dogcart to drive up in? and then perhaps you would not mind if she
gave you a lift this afternoon.”
“Very well,” answered Edward, “that is if it suits Mrs. Quest. Perhaps
she may object to carting me about the country.”
“I have not observed any such reluctance on her part,” said the lawyer
dryly, “but we can easily settle the question. I must go home and get
some plans before I attend the vestry meeting about that pinnacle. Will
you step across with me and we can ask her?”
“Oh yes,” he answered. “I have nothing particular to do.”
And accordingly, so soon as Mr. Quest had made some small arrangements
and given particular directions to his clerks as to his whereabouts for
the day, they set off together for the lawyer’s private house.