Messrs. Wadham, Son and Dickson were not habited in luxury. Theirs was
one of those old-fashioned suites of offices in Lincoln's Inn, where
the passages are of stone, the doors of painted deal, and a general air
of bareness and discomfort prevails. The Marquis, who was a rare
visitor, followed the directions of a hand painted upon the wall and
found himself in what was termed, an enquiry office. A small boy tore
himself away with apparent regret from the study of a pile of
documents, and turned a little wearily towards the caller.
"I desire," the Marquis announced, "to see Mr. Wadham, Senior, or to
confer at once with any member of the firm who may be disengaged."
The small boy was hugely impressed. He glanced at the long row of
black boxes along the wall and a premonition of the truth began to dawn
upon him.
"What name, sir?" he enquired.
"The Marquis of Mandeleys."
The office boy swung open a wicket gate and pointed to the hard remains
of a horsehair stuffed easy-chair. The Marquis eyed it curiously--and
remained standing. His messenger thereupon departed, exhibiting a rare
and unlegal haste. He returned breathless, in fact, from his mission,
closely followed by Mr. Wadham, Junior.
"This is quite an honour, your lordship," the latter said, hastily
withdrawing his hand as he became aware of a certain rigidity in his
visitor's demeanour. "My father is disengaged. Let me show you the
way to his room."
"I should be obliged," the Marquis assented.
Mr. Wadham, Senior, was an excellent replica of his son, a little
fatter, a little rosier and a little more verbose. He rose from behind
his desk and bowed twice as his distinguished client entered. The
Marquis indicated to Mr. Wadham, Junior, the chair upon which he
proposed to sit, and waited while it was wheeled up to the side of the
desk. Then he withdrew his gloves in leisurely fashion and extended
his hand to the older man, who clasped it reverently.
"Your lordship pays us a rare honour," Mr. Wadham, Senior, observed.
"I should have preferred," the Marquis said, with some emphasis, "that
circumstances had not rendered my visit to-day necessary."
The head of the firm nodded sympathetically.
"You will bear in mind," he begged, "our advice concerning these recent
actions."
"Your advice was, without doubt, legally good," his visitor replied,
"but it scarcely took into account circumstances outside the legal
point of view. However, I am not here to discuss those actions, which
I understand are now finally disposed of."
"Quite finally, I fear, your lordship."
"I find myself," the Marquis continued sternly, "in the painful
position of having to prefer a complaint against your firm."
"I am very sorry--very sorry indeed," Mr. Wadham murmured.
"I discovered yesterday afternoon, entirely by accident, that the
allowance which you have my instructions to make to Miss Hannaway has
not been paid for the last two quarters."
"Through no neglect of ours, I assure your lordship," Mr. Wadham
insisted gravely. "You will remember that we wrote to you last
October, pointing out that the yield from the estates was insufficient,
without the help of the bank, to meet the interest on the mortgages,
and that, amongst other claims which we were obliged to leave over, we
should be unable to forward the usual cheque to the young lady in
question."
The Marquis cleared his throat and tapped with his long forefingers
upon the desk. It was a curious circumstance that, although both Mr.
Wadham, Senior, and Junior had done more than their duty towards their
distinguished client, each had at that moment the feeling of a criminal.
"You are, I believe, perfectly well aware, Mr. Wadham," the Marquis
declared, "that I never read your letters."
Mr. Wadham, Senior, coughed. His son thrust both hands into his
trousers pockets. The statement was unanswerable.
"I was therefore," the Marquis continued severely, "in complete
ignorance of your failure to carry out my instructions."
Mr. Wadham, Junior, less affected than his father by tradition, and
priding himself more upon that negligible gift of common sense,
interposed respectfully but firmly.
"We can scarcely be responsible," he pointed out, "for your lordship's
indisposition to read letters containing business information of
importance."
The Marquis changed his position slightly and looked at the speaker.
Mr. Wadham, Junior, became during the next few seconds profoundly
impressed with the irrelevance, almost the impertinence of his words.
"I should have imagined," the former said severely, "that my habits are
well-known to the members of a firm whose connection with my family is
almost historical."
"We should have waited upon your lordship," Mr. Wadham, Senior,
admitted. "But with reference to the case of this young lady, not
hearing from your lordship, we wrote to her, very politely, indicating
the great difficulties which we had to face in the management of the
Mandeleys estates, owing to the abnormal agricultural depression, and
we promised to send her a cheque as soon as such a step became
possible. In reply we heard from her--a most ladylike and reasonable
letter it was--stating that owing to recent literary successes, and to
your lordship's generosity through so many years, she was only too glad
of the opportunity to beg us to cease from forwarding the quarterly
amount as hitherto. Under those circumstances, we have devoted such
small sums of money as have come into our hands to more vital purposes."
"I suppose it did not occur to you," the Marquis observed, "that I am
the person to decide what is or is not vital in the disposition of my
own moneys."
"That is a fact which we should not presume to dispute," the lawyer
admitted, "but I should like to point out that, on the next occasion
when we had a little money in hand, your household steward, Mr.
Harrison, was here in urgent need of a thousand pounds for the payment
of domestic bills connected with the establishment in Grosvenor Square."
"It appears to me," the Marquis said, with a trace of irritability in
his tone, "that the greater part of my income goes in paying bills."
The complaint was one which for the moment left Mr. Wadham speechless.
He was vaguely conscious that an adequate reply existed, but it eluded
him. His son, who had adopted the attitude of being outside the
discussion, was engaged in an abortive attempt to appear as much at
ease in his own office as this client of theirs certainly was.
"I will discuss the matter of Miss Hannaway's future allowance with
that young lady, and let you know the result," the Marquis announced.
"In the meantime, how do we stand for ready money?"
"Ready money, your lordship!" his interlocutor gasped.
"Precisely," the Marquis assented. "It is, I believe, a few days after
the period when my tenants usually pay their rents."
"Your lordship," Mr. Wadham said, speaking with every attempt at
gravity, "if every one of your tenants paid their full rent and brought
it into this office at the present moment, we should still be unable to
pay the interest on the mortgages due next month, without further
advances from the bank."
"These mortgages," the Marquis remarked thoughtfully, "are a nuisance."
So self-evident a fact seemed to leave little room for comment or
denial. The Marquis frowned a little more severely and withdrew his
forefingers from the desk.
"Figures, I fear, only confuse me," he confessed, "but for the sake of
curiosity, what do my quarterly rents amount to?"
"Between seven and eight thousand pounds, according to deductions, your
lordship," was the prompt reply. "That sum I presume will be coming in
from your agent, Mr. Merridrew, within the course of a few days. The
interest upon the mortgages amounts to perhaps a thousand pounds less
than that sum. That thousand pounds, I may be permitted to point out
to your lordship, is all that remains for the carrying on of your
Grosvenor Square establishment, and for such disbursements as are
necessary at Mandeleys."
"It is shameful," the Marquis declared severely, "that any one should
be allowed to anticipate their income in this way. Mortgages are most
vicious institutions."
Mr. Wadham coughed.
"Your lordship's expenditure, some ten or fifteen years ago, rendered
them first necessary. After that there was the unfortunate speculation
in the tin mines--"
"That will do, Mr. Wadham," his client interrupted. "All I desire to
know from you further is a statement of the approximate sum required to
clear off the mortgages upon the Mandeleys estates?"
Mr. Wadham, Senior, looked a little startled. His son stopped
whistling under his breath and leaned forward in his chair.
"Clear off the mortgages," he repeated.
"Precisely!"
"The exact figures," was the somewhat hesitating pronouncement, "would
require a quarter of an hour's study, but I should say that a sum of
two hundred and twenty thousand pounds would be required."
"I have not a head for figures," the Marquis acknowledged gravely, "but
the amount seems trifling. I shall wish you good-day now, gentlemen.
Two hundred and twenty thousand, I think you said, Mr. Wadham?"
"That is as near the amount as possible," the lawyer admitted.
The Marquis drew on his gloves, a sign that he did not intend to honour
his adviser with any familiar form of farewell. He inclined his head
slightly to Mr. Wadham, and more slightly still to Mr. Wadham, Junior,
who was holding open the door. The small boy, who was on the alert,
escorted him to the front steps, and received with delight a gracious
word of thanks for his attentions. So the Marquis took his departure.
Mr. Wadham, Junior, closed the door and threw himself into the chair
which had been occupied by their distinguished client. There was a
faint perfume of lavender water remaining in the atmosphere. His eyes
wandered around the further rows of tin boxes which encumbered the wall.
"I suppose," he murmured, "it's a great thing to have a Marquis for
one's client."
"I suppose it is," Mr. Wadham, Senior, assented gloomily.
"Father, do you ever feel at ease with him?" his son asked curiously.
"Do you ever feel as though you were talking to a real human being, of
the same flesh and blood as yourself?"
"Never for a single moment," was the vigorous reply. "If I felt like
that, John, do you know what I should do? No? Well, then, I'll tell
you. I should have those tin boxes taken out, one by one, and stacked
in the hall. I should say to him, as plainly as I am saying it to
you--'We lose money every year by your business, Marquis. We've had
our turn. Try some one else--and go to the Devil!'"
"But you couldn't do it!" Mr. Wadham, Junior, observed disconsolately.
"I couldn't," his father agreed, with a note of subdued melancholy in
his tone.