There was just one drop of alloy in the perfect contentment with which
the Marquis contemplated his new prospects, and that was contained in a
telephone message from Mr. Wadham, Junior, which he received upon the
afternoon of David's call upon the Duchess.
"I must apologise for troubling your lordship," Mr. Wadham began. "I
know your objection to the telephone, but in this instance it was quite
impossible to send a message."
"I accept your apology and am listening," the Marquis declared
graciously. "Be so good as to speak quite slowly, and don't mumble."
Mr. Wadham, Junior, cleared his throat before continuing. He was a
little proud of his voice, although its rise and fall was perhaps more
satisfactory from the point of view of a Chancery Court than from one
who expected to gather the sense of every syllable.
"I am ringing up your lordship," he continued, "concerning the large
batch of shares in the Pluto Oil Company of Arizona, which you
entrusted to us for safe keeping, and for deposit with the bank against
the advance required last Monday."
"I can hear you perfectly," the Marquis acknowledged suavely. "Pray
continue."
"Your lordship's bankers sent for me this morning," Mr. Wadham went on,
"in connection with these shares. They thought it their duty to point
out, either through us or by communication with you direct, that
according to the advice of a most reliable broker, their commercial
value is practically nil."
"Is what?" the Marquis demanded.
"Nil--nix--not worth a cent," Mr. Wadham, Junior, proclaimed
emphatically.
The Marquis, in that slang phraseology which he would have been the
first to decry, never turned a hair. He had not the least intention,
moreover, of permitting his interlocutor at the other end of the
telephone even a momentary sensation of triumph.
"You can present my compliments to the manager," he said, "and tell him
that the value of the shares in question does not concern either him or
his brokers. In any case, they could not possibly have any information
concerning the company, as it is only just registered and has not yet
commenced operations. You understand me, Mr. Wadham?"
"Perfectly, your lordship," was the smooth reply. "The fact remains,
however, that the brokers do know something about the company and the
persons interested in it, and that knowledge, I regret to say, is most
unfavourable. We felt it our duty, therefore, to pass on these facts."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you for your anxieties on my behalf," the
Marquis declared. "My legal interests are, I am quite sure, safe in
your hands. My financial affairs--my outside financial affairs, that
is to say--I prefer to keep under my own control. I might remind you
that these shares are supported, and came into my hands, in fact,
through the agency of Mr. David Thain, the great financier."
There was a moment's pause.
"I had not forgotten the fact," Mr. Wadham admitted diffidently, "and
it certainly seems improbable that Mr. Thain would introduce a risky
investment to your lordship within a few weeks of his arrival in this
country. At the same time, we feel compelled, of course, to bring to
your notice the broker's report."
"Quite so," the Marquis acquiesced. "Kindly let the people concerned
know that I am acting in this matter upon special information.
Good-day, Mr. Wadham. My compliments to your father."
So the conversation terminated, but the Marquis for the remainder of
that day felt as though just the shadow of a cloud rested upon his
happiness. Twice he stared at the address of David's rooms, which
occupied a prominent place upon his study table, but on both occasions
he resisted the impulse to seek him out and obtain the reassurance he
needed. He buried himself instead in a Review.
Letitia came in to see him on the way back from her aunt's tea party.
The Marquis carefully made a note of his place and laid down his
periodical.
"You found your aunt well, I trust, dear?"
"Oh, she was all right," Letitia replied. "She had an irritating lot
of callers there, though."
Her father nodded sympathetically.
"The extraordinary habit which people in our rank of life seem to have
developed lately for making friends outside their own sphere is making
Society very difficult," he declared. "Members of our own family are,
I am afraid, amongst the transgressors. Whom did you meet this
afternoon?"
Letitia mentioned a few names listlessly.
"And Mr. Thain," she concluded.
Her father betrayed his interest.
"Mr. Thain was there, eh? I understood that he was much averse to
paying calls."
"He looked as though he had been roped in," Letitia observed, "and aunt
was all over herself, apologising to him for having other people there.
She wanted to consult him, it seems, about something or other, and she
turned him over to me until she was ready."
"And you," the Marquis enquired, with questioning sympathy, "were
perhaps bored?"
"Not bored, exactly--rather irritated! I think I am like you, in some
respects, father," Letitia went on, smoothing out her gloves. "I
prefer to find my intimates within the circle of our own relatives and
connections. A person like Mr. Thain in some way disturbs me."
"That," the Marquis regretted, "is unfortunate, as he is likely to be
our neighbour at Mandeleys."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, it is of no consequence," she replied. "I shall never feel the
slightest compunction in anything I might do or say to him. If he pays
more for Broomleys than it is worth, he has the advantage of our
countenance, which I imagine, to a person in his position, makes the
bargain equal. Mr. Thain does not seem to me to be one of those men
who would part with anything unless he got some return."
"Money, nowadays," the Marquis reflected, pressing the tips of his
fingers together, "is a marvellously revitalising influence. People
whose social position is almost, if not quite equal to our own, have
even taken it into the family through marriage."
Letitia's very charming mouth twitched. Her lips parted, and she
laughed softly. Nothing amused her more than this extraordinary
blindness of her father to actual facts--such, for instance, as the
Lees' woollen mills!
"I do hope," she remarked, "that you are not thinking of offering me
up, dad, on the altar of the God of Dollars?"
"My dear child," the Marquis protested, "I can truthfully and proudly
say that I am acquainted with no young woman of your position in
connection with whom such a suggestion would be more sacrilegious. I
have sometimes hoped," he went on, "that matters were already on the
eve of settlement in another direction."
"I don't know, I'm sure," Letitia answered thoughtfully. "I sometimes
think that I have a great many more feelings, dad, than the sole
remaining daughter of the Right Honourable Reginald Thursford, Marquis
of Mandeleys, ought to possess. The fact is, there are times when I
can't stand Charlie anywhere near me, and as to discussing any subject
of reasonable interest, well, he can only see anything from his own
point of view, and that is always wrong."
"You and he, then," the Marquis observed, "appear to share--or rather
to possess every essential for domestic happiness. The constant
propinquity in which married people of the middle and lower classes are
forced to live is no doubt responsible, in many cases, for the early
termination of their domestic happiness."
"I always thought the middle classes were horribly virtuous," Letitia
yawned. "However!--Thursday night, dad. You are dining out, aren't
you?"
"Thursday night," the Marquis repeated, telling for the hundredth time,
with bland ease, the falsehood which had almost ceased to have even the
intention to deceive. "Yes, I dine at my club to-night, dear."
She bent over and kissed his forehead.
"Remember, my dear," he enjoined, "that I do not wish you to develop
any feelings of positive dislike towards Mr. Thain. Such people have
their uses in the world. We must not forget that."
Letitia laughed at him understandingly, but she closed the door in
silence.