Kauri Gum
The reader will no doubt think that Ferdinand Lopez must have been
very hardly driven indeed by circumstances before he would have made
such an appeal to the Duke as that given in the last chapter. But
it was not want of money only that had brought it about. It may
be remembered that the £500 had already been once repaid him by
his father-in-law,--that special sum having been given to him for
that special purpose. And Lopez, when he wrote to the Duke, assured
himself that if, by any miracle, his letter should produce pecuniary
results in the shape of a payment from the Duke, he would refund the
money so obtained to Mr. Wharton. But when he wrote the letter he did
not expect to get money,--nor, indeed, did he expect that aid towards
another seat, to which he alluded at the close of his letter. He
expected probably nothing but to vex the Duke, and to drive the Duke
into a correspondence with him.
Though this man had lived nearly all his life in England, he had not
quite acquired that knowledge of the way in which things are done
which is so general among men of a certain class, and so rare among
those beneath them. He had not understood that the Duchess's promise
of her assistance at Silverbridge might be taken by him for what it
was worth, and that her aid might be used as far as it went,--but,
that in the event of its failing him, he was bound in honour to take
the result without complaining, whatever that result might be. He
felt that a grievous injury had been done him, and that it behoved
him to resent that injury,--even though it were against a woman.
He just knew that he could not very well write to the Duchess
herself,--though there was sometimes present to his mind a plan for
attacking her in public, and telling her what evil she had done him.
He had half resolved that he would do so in her own garden at the
Horns;--but on that occasion the apparition of Arthur Fletcher had
disturbed him, and he had vented his anger in another direction. But
still his wrath against the Duke and Duchess remained, and he was
wont to indulge it with very violent language as he sat upon one of
the chairs in Sexty Parker's office, talking somewhat loudly of his
own position, of the things that he would do, and of the injury done
him. Sexty Parker sympathised with him to the full,--especially as
that first £500, which he had received from Mr. Wharton, had gone
into Sexty's coffers. At that time Lopez and Sexty were together
committed to large speculations in the guano trade, and Sexty's mind
was by no means easy in the early periods of the day. As he went
into town by his train, he would think of his wife and family and of
the terrible things that might happen to them. But yet, up to this
period, money had always been forthcoming from Lopez when absolutely
wanted, and Sexty was quite alive to the fact that he was living
with a freedom of expenditure in his own household that he had never
known before, and that without apparent damage. Whenever, therefore,
at some critical moment, a much-needed sum of money was produced,
Sexty would become light-hearted, triumphant, and very sympathetic.
"Well;--I never heard such a story," he had said when Lopez was
insisting on his wrongs. "That's what the Dukes and Duchesses call
honour among thieves! Well, Ferdy, my boy, if you stand that you'll
stand anything." In these latter days Sexty had become very intimate
indeed with his partner.
"I don't mean to stand it," Lopez had replied, and then on the spot
had written the letter which he had dated from Manchester Square.
He had certainly contrived to make that letter as oppressive as
possible. He had been clever enough to put into it words which were
sure to wound the poor Duke and to confound the Duchess. And having
written it he was very careful to keep the first draft, so that if
occasion came he might use it again and push his vengeance farther.
But he certainly had not expected such a result as it produced.
When he received the private Secretary's letter with the money he
was sitting opposite to his father-in-law at breakfast, while his
wife was making the tea. Not many of his letters came to Manchester
Square. Sexty Parker's office or his club were more convenient
addresses; but in this case he had thought that Manchester Square
would have a better sound and appearance. When he opened the letter
the cheque of course appeared bearing the Duke's own signature. He
had seen that and the amount before he had read the letter, and
as he saw it his eye travelled quickly across the table to his
father-in-law's face. Mr. Wharton might certainly have seen the
cheque and even the amount, probably also the signature, without the
slightest suspicion as to the nature of the payment made. As it was,
he was eating his toast, and had thought nothing about the letter.
Lopez, having concealed the cheque, read the few words which the
private Secretary had written, and then put the document with its
contents into his pocket. "So you think, sir, of going down to
Herefordshire on the 15th," he said in a very cheery voice. The
cheery voice was still pleasant to the old man, but the young wife
had already come to distrust it. She had learned, though she was
hardly conscious how the lesson had come to her, that a certain tone
of cheeriness indicated, if not deceit, at any rate the concealment
of something. It grated against her spirit; and when this tone
reached her ears a frown or look of sorrow would cross her brow. And
her husband also had perceived that it was so, and knew at such times
that he was rebuked. He was hardly aware what doings, and especially
what feelings, were imputed to him as faults,--not understanding the
lines which separated right from wrong; but he knew that he was often
condemned by his wife, and he lived in fear that he should also be
condemned by his wife's father. Had it been his wife only, he thought
that he could soon have quenched her condemnation. He would soon have
made her tired of showing her disapproval. But he had put himself
into the old man's house, where the old man could see not only him
but his treatment of his wife, and the old man's good-will and good
opinion were essential to him. Yet he could not restrain one glance
of anger at her when he saw that look upon her face.
"I suppose I shall," said the barrister. "I must go somewhere. My
going need not disturb you."
"I think we have made up our mind," said Lopez, "to take a cottage at
Dovercourt. It is not a very lively place, nor yet fashionable. But
it is very healthy, and I can run up to town easily. Unfortunately my
business won't let me be altogether away this autumn."
"I wish my business would keep me," said the barrister.
"I did not understand that you had made up your mind to go to
Dovercourt," said Emily. He had spoken to Mr. Wharton of their joint
action in the matter, and as the place had only once been named by
him to her, she resented what seemed to be a falsehood. She knew
that she was to be taken or left as it suited him. If he had said
boldly,--"We'll go to Dovercourt. That's what I've settled on.
That's what will suit me," she would have been contented. She quite
understood that he meant to have his own way in such things. But
it seemed to her that he wanted to be a tyrant without having the
courage necessary for tyranny.
"I thought you seemed to like it," he said.
"I don't dislike it at all."
"Then, as it suits my business, we might as well consider it
settled." So saying, he left the room and went off to the city. The
old man was still sipping his tea and lingering over his breakfast in
a way that was not usual with him. He was generally anxious to get
away to Lincoln's Inn, and on most mornings had left the house before
his son-in-law. Emily of course remained with him, sitting silent in
her place opposite to the teapot, meditating perhaps on her prospects
of happiness at Dovercourt,--a place of which she had never heard
even the name two days ago, and in which it was hardly possible that
she should find even an acquaintance. In former years these autumn
months, passed in Herefordshire, had been the delight of her life.
Mr. Wharton also had seen the cloud on his daughter's face, and had
understood the nature of the little dialogue about Dovercourt. And
he was aware,--had been aware since they had both come into his
house,--that the young wife's manner and tone to her husband was not
that of perfect conjugal sympathy. He had already said to himself
more than once that she had made her bed for herself, and must lie
upon it. She was the man's wife, and must take her husband as he was.
If she suffered under this man's mode and manner of life, he, as her
father, could not assist her,--could do nothing for her, unless the
man should become absolutely cruel. He had settled that within his
own mind already; but yet his heart yearned towards her, and when
he thought that she was unhappy he longed to comfort her and tell
her that she still had a father. But the time had not come as yet
in which he could comfort her by sympathising with her against
her husband. There had never fallen from her lips a syllable of
complaint. When she had spoken to him a chance word respecting her
husband, it had always carried with it some tone of affection. But
still he longed to say to her something which might tell her that his
heart was soft towards her. "Do you like the idea of going to this
place?" he said.
"I don't at all know what it will be like. Ferdinand says it will be
cheap."
"Is that of such vital consequence?"
"Ah;--yes; I fear it is."
This was very sad to him. Lopez had already had from him a
considerable sum of money, having not yet been married twelve months,
and was now living in London almost free of expense. Before his
marriage he had always spoken of himself, and had contrived to be
spoken of, as a wealthy man, and now he was obliged to choose some
small English seaside place to which to retreat, because thus he
might live at a low rate! Had they married as poor people there would
have been nothing to regret in this;--there would be nothing that
might not be done with entire satisfaction. But, as it was, it told a
bad tale for the future! "Do you understand his money matters,
Emily?"
"Not at all, papa."
"I do not in the least mean to make inquiry. Perhaps I should have
asked before;--but if I did make inquiry now it would be of him. But
I think a wife should know."
"I know nothing."
"What is his business?"
"I have no idea. I used to think he was connected with Mr. Mills
Happerton and with Messrs. Hunky and Sons."
"Is he not connected with Hunky's house?"
"I think not. He has a partner of the name of Parker, who is,--who is
not, I think, quite--quite a gentleman. I never saw him."
"What does he do with Mr. Parker?"
"I believe they buy guano."
"Ah;--that, I fancy, was only one affair."
"I'm afraid he lost money, papa, by that election at Silverbridge."
"I paid that," said Mr. Wharton sternly. Surely he should have told
his wife that he had received that money from her family!
"Did you? That was very kind. I am afraid, papa, we are a great
burden on you."
"I should not mind it, my dear, if there were confidence and
happiness. What matter would it be to me whether you had your money
now or hereafter, so that you might have it in the manner that would
be most beneficial to you? I wish he would be open with me, and tell
me everything."
"Shall I let him know that you say so?"
He thought for a minute or two before he answered her. Perhaps the
man would be more impressed if the message came to him through his
wife. "If you think that he will not be annoyed with you, you may do
so."
"I don't know why he should,--but if it be right, that must be borne.
I am not afraid to say anything to him."
"Then tell him so. Tell him that it will be better that he should
let me know the whole condition of his affairs. God bless you, dear."
Then he stooped over her, and kissed her, and went his way to Stone
Buildings.
It was not as he sat at the breakfast table that Ferdinand Lopez made
up his mind to pocket the Duke's money and to say nothing about it to
Mr. Wharton. He had been careful to conceal the cheque, but he had
done so with the feeling that the matter was one to be considered in
his own mind before he took any step. As he left the house, already
considering it, he was inclined to think that the money must be
surrendered. Mr. Wharton had very generously paid his electioneering
expenses, but had not done so simply with the view of making him a
present of money. He wished the Duke had not taken him at his word.
In handing this cheque over to Mr. Wharton he would be forced to tell
the story of his letter to the Duke, and he was sure that Mr. Wharton
would not approve of his having written such a letter. How could
any one approve of his having applied for a sum of money which had
already been paid to him? How could such a one as Mr. Wharton,--an
old-fashioned English gentleman,--approve of such an application
being made under any circumstances? Mr. Wharton would very probably
insist on having the cheque sent back to the Duke,--which would be
a sorry end to the triumph as at present achieved. And the more he
thought of it the more sure he was that it would be imprudent to
mention to Mr. Wharton his application to the Duke. The old men
of the present day were, he said to himself, such fools that they
understood nothing. And then the money was very convenient to
him. He was intent on obtaining Sexty Parker's consent to a large
speculation, and knew that he could not do so without a show of
funds. By the time, therefore, that he had reached the city he had
resolved that at any rate for the present he would use the money and
say nothing about it to Mr. Wharton. Was it not spoil got from the
enemy by his own courage and cleverness? When he was writing his
acknowledgement for the money to Warburton he had taught himself to
look upon the sum extracted from the Duke as a matter quite distinct
from the payment made to him by his father-in-law.
It was evident on that day to Sexty Parker that his partner was a
man of great resources. Though things sometimes looked very bad, yet
money always "turned up." Some of their buyings and sellings had
answered pretty well. Some had been great failures. No great stroke
had been made as yet, but then the great stroke was always being
expected. Sexty's fears were greatly exaggerated by the feeling that
the coffee and guano were not always real coffee and guano. His
partner, indeed, was of opinion that in such a trade as this they
were following there was no need at all of real coffee and real
guano, and explained his theory with considerable eloquence. "If I
buy a ton of coffee and keep it six weeks, why do I buy it and keep
it, and why does the seller sell it instead of keeping it? The seller
sells it because he thinks he can do best by parting with it now at a
certain price. I buy it because I think I can make money by keeping
it. It is just the same as though we were to back our opinions. He
backs the fall. I back the rise. You needn't have coffee and you
needn't have guano to do this. Indeed the possession of the coffee
or the guano is only a very clumsy addition to the trouble of your
profession. I make it my study to watch the markets;--but I needn't
buy everything I see in order to make money by my labour and
intelligence." Sexty Parker before his lunch always thought that his
partner was wrong, but after that ceremony he almost daily became
a convert to the great doctrine. Coffee and guano still had to be
bought because the world was dull and would not learn the tricks of
trade as taught by Ferdinand Lopez,--also possibly because somebody
might want such articles,--but our enterprising hero looked for a
time in which no such dull burden should be imposed on him.
On this day, when the Duke's £500 was turned into the business, Sexty
yielded in a large matter which his partner had been pressing upon
him for the last week. They bought a cargo of Kauri gum, coming from
New Zealand. Lopez had reasons for thinking that Kauri gum must have
a great rise. There was an immense demand for amber, and Kauri gum
might be used as a substitute, and in six months' time would be
double its present value. This unfortunately was a real cargo. He
could not find an individual so enterprising as to venture to deal in
a cargo of Kauri gum after his fashion. But the next best thing was
done. The real cargo was bought, and his name and Sexty's name were
on the bills given for the goods. On that day he returned home in
high spirits, for he did believe in his own intelligence and good
fortune.