FINAL ADJUSTMENT OF THE LEATHER BUSINESS
Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large
apartment in Michael's office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from
yesterday's exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not
positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left
Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious
wrinkles, his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples.
Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in the
midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient
gentleman with spectacles and silver hair.
"By Jingo, it's Uncle Joe!" cried John.
But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering
eyes.
"I'll tell you what you did!" he cried. "You absconded!"
"Good-morning, Morris Finsbury," returned Joseph, with no less asperity;
"you are looking seriously ill."
"No use making trouble now," remarked Michael. "Look the facts in the
face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident;
a man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted."
"Then, if that's so," Morris broke forth, "how about the body? You don't
mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported
with my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?"
"O no, we can't go as far as that," said Michael soothingly; "you may
have met him at the club."
Morris fell into a chair. "I would have found it out if it had come to
the house," he complained. "And why didn't it? why did it go to Pitman?
what right had Pitman to open it?"
"If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal
Hercules?" asked Michael.
"He went through it with the meat-axe," said John. "It's all in
spillikins in the back garden."
"Well, there's one thing," snapped Morris; "there's my uncle again, my
fraudulent trustee. He's mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the
tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman's dead."
"I must put a stop to this nonsense," said Michael, "and that for ever.
You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has
been so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on
the cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he
will tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance."
"He did not know me," said Joseph; to do him justice, not without
emotion.
"So you're out again there, Morris," said John. "My eye! what a fool
you've made of yourself!"
"And that was why you wouldn't compromise," said Morris.
"As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been
making yourselves an exhibition," resumed Michael, "it is more than time
it came to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you
shall sign as a preliminary."
"What!" cried Morris, "and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds,
and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing?
Thank you."
"It's like you to feel gratitude, Morris," began Michael.
"O, I know it's no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!" cried
Morris. "But there's a stranger present, I can't think why, and I
appeal to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere
child, at a commercial academy. Since then, I've never had a wish but to
get back my own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there's no
doubt at times I have been ill advised. But it's the pathos of my
situation; that's what I want to show you."
"Morris," interrupted Michael, "I do wish you would let me add one
point, for I think it will affect your judgment. It's pathetic
too--since that's your taste in literature."
"Well, what is it?" said Morris.
"It's only the name of one of the persons who's to witness your
signature, Morris," replied Michael. "His name's Moss, my dear."
There was a long silence. "I might have been sure it was you!" cried
Morris.
"You'll sign, won't you?" said Michael.
"Do you know what you're doing?" cried Morris. "You're compounding a
felony."
"Very well, then, we won't compound it, Morris," returned Michael. "See
how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I
thought you would prefer it so."
"Look here, Michael," said John, "this is all very fine and large; but
how about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I'm not. And I was
robbed, too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed
same academy as himself."
"Johnny," said Michael, "don't you think you'd better leave it to me?"
"I'm your man," said John. "You wouldn't deceive a poor orphan, I'll
take my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I'll start in and
astonish your weak mind."
With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were
brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man
once more.
"And now," said Michael, "hear what I propose to do. Here, John and
Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in
partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and
Jarris's. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you
see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you
said yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you'll
probably marry before long. Here's your marriage present--from a Mr.
Moss."
Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance.
"I don't understand the performance," remarked John. "It seems too good
to be true."
"It's simply a readjustment," Michael explained. "I take up Uncle
Joseph's liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it's to be mine; if my
father gets it, it's mine anyway, you see. So that I'm rather
advantageously placed."
"Morris, my unconverted friend, you've got left," was John's comment.
"And now, Mr. Forsyth," resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest,
"here are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn't
like to interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested
at the seminary--I know his hours. Here we are then; we're not pretty to
look at: what do you propose to do with us?"
"Nothing in the world, Mr. Finsbury," returned Gideon. "I seem to
understand that this gentleman"--indicating Morris--"is the _fons et
origo_ of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid
through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to
gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you
for that brief."
Michael blushed. "It was the least I could do to let you have some
business," he said. "But there's one thing more. I don't want you to
misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I wish
you would dine with me to-night, and see the creature on his native
heath--say at Verrey's?"
"I have no engagement, Mr. Finsbury," replied Gideon. "I shall be
delighted. But subject to your judgment, can we do nothing for the man
in the cart? I have qualms of conscience."
"Nothing but sympathise," said Michael.
END OF VOL. VII
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CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE,
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