"Nothing at all."
"Why, you don't mean to say you've spent all we've made, Arthur?"
"Every penny. Haven't you?"
The butler was silent, and frowned; but his companion followed up his
question.
"Well, why don't you answer a fellow?"
"I haven't exactly spent it, Orthur," said the butler at last, coughing
to clear his voice.
"Well, what have you done with it?"
"'Orses."
"Without saying a word to me?"
"Well, I didn't know I was bound to tell you everything, Orthur."
"Well, I did; and it serves you right. If you'd gone by my advice and
taken my tips you'd ha' won."
"Yes, it was a mistake," said the butler, humbly. "I was tempted to
have just one little flutter on my own account, Orthur."
"Well, don't you do it again. That's worse than giving the gals
presents, old man. Then I suppose it will have to be your uncle again?"
"Yes, Orthur; but it's a pity we couldn't manage about a key for that
door."
"Ah! it is; but it ain't to be done, only with a big hammer and wedges,
I'm afraid. I'm trying still, though, to get a key made, and it may
turn up trumps. Never mind; raise something on what you can take."
"But it won't be enough, my boy."
"Never mind; let's do what we can. A little's more than none. Half a
loaf's better than no bread, old man."
"Very well, my boy; I'll take what I can to-night."
"I say, you're sure this'll turn out all right?"
"Certain. It's as safe as safe. I'll make him let me have a little
more--put something else up--and then we'll take all the shares we can
get."
"And about selling out at the right time?"
"You leave that to me," said the butler, smiling confidently. "Look
here."
He took out a letter and held it to his companion, who read it with his
face lighting up, and clapped it back in the butler's hands.
"That's right, isn't it?" said Roach.
"Splendid, old man. But stop; why, that's your writing."
"Of course it is; I copied it."
"Oh, I see. Well, then, that's all right. Go on ahead."
"But I wish it wasn't that centre-piece again. I'm always afraid of its
being wanted."
"Oh, it won't be wanted," said the footman, impatiently.
"If you could only have managed about that key."
"Well, give me time. I say, that was a narrow squeak, when the old
woman nearly caught us."
"Yes, it was horrible," said the butler, wiping his forehead. "Fancy
her telling Jemmy, and him sending for us to come up in the lib'ry afore
the lot of them!"
"Easy enough for him to send," said the footman, with a grin, "but it
would have taken a lot of pulling to get us there."
"Yes, Orthur, my boy, the game would have been up."
"And before we'd made our pile, old man. There, you want a glass of
wine to pull you together. You mustn't go and see our dear old relative
looking like that."
"No," said Roach, brightening up; "that would not do, Orthur. The old
woman did not find us out."
"I held the door too fast for her, and a miss is as good as a mile, eh,
guv'nor? I say, old man, don't you think we might wet it?"
The butler smiled blandly.
"Well, just one glass wouldn't be amiss, my boy. What shall it be?"
"Can't beat a glass o' port, old man. What do you say?"
"I say ditto, my dear boy," and the butler, smiling, drew out his keys,
unlocked a cupboard, lifted out a cobwebby bottle with a dab of
whitewash on its end, and with a great deal of ceremony drew the cork,
while Arthur fetched and gave a finishing touch to a couple of glasses
as the cork was presented to him.
But it was only to smell, and Arthur inhaled the fragrance and sighed.
Then the rich wine came gurgling out into the glasses, and these latter
were raised.
"Well, old man, here's success to speculation," said Arthur.
"Suck-cess to speculation," said the butler, and the glasses were slowly
drained. Lips were smacked and the glasses refilled. "A very fine
wine, Orthur."
"Tip-top. How much is there of it?"
"Over six hundred dozen, my lad."
"Well, we'll help 'em drink it, old man. It's fine. Sets a fellow
thinking. Now, look here. We're not going to stand still, eh?"
"Not a bit of it, dear boy. We'll make our hay while the sun shines."
"Ah, yes," said the butler, filling another glass of the port; "and some
people shoot a long time before folks get hit, eh, Orthur?"
"That's so, guv'nor; you've only to keep going, and the chances are that
they can't hit you at all."
The result of the emptying of that bottle of wine was that the gold
epergne and several other pieces of plate went into the charge of the
none too particular descendant of the Medici, a gentleman who, having
been exceedingly unfortunate in carrying on what he called a square
trade, had of late gone in for the risky and round, with the result that
he was making money fast, and calming his conscience by chuckling to
himself and saying--
"What harm is there, so long as you're not found out?"
That evening Mr Roach returned with a sufficient amount to dip slightly
into the new speculation in which the Clareboroughs were engaged, but he
did not sleep any better for that. He dreamed about brokers who dealt
in stock, and by a steady descent of thought he went on to brokers who
put executions into houses. They suggested debtors' prisons--debtors'
prisons brought up Holloway, and Holloway the criminal side--the
criminal side, penal Portland, with irons, and costumes ornamented with
broad arrows, shortcut hair, chain-gangs, and an awakening in a violent
perspiration.
Mr Roach had no appetite next morning, but on behalf of footman Arthur
and himself, a couple of hundred pounds were invested in the shares of
the gaseous company which had nothing whatever to do with gas.