XXVII

Another month had gone, and the end of all things was approaching.

"Jane," said Marsden, "we're beat. We'd better own it. We are beat to

the world. It's no good going on."

"What do you mean?"

It was a dull and depressing afternoon--the sky obscured by heavy

clouds, a little rain falling at intervals,--so dark in the room behind

the glass that Mrs. Marsden was compelled to switch on the electric

light above the American desk. She had turned in her chair, and was

watching her husband's face intently; and the light from the lamp showed

that her own face had become extraordinarily pale.

"It's no good, Jane. You must see it just the same as I do. We're

done--and the only thing is to consider how we are to escape a smash."

Then he told her that Bence had offered to buy them out. Bence was ready

to swallow them whole. Bence was prepared to give them a fair price for

their entire property--long lease of the premises, stock, fittings,

assets, the complete bag of tricks. He would take it over as a still

going concern, with all its debts and liabilities. If they accepted

Bence's offer, they would merely have to put the money in their pockets,

and could wash their hands of a bitterly bad job.

"Don't talk so loud. Someone may hear you."

"No," he said, "there's no one outside, except Miss O'Donnell; and you

can hear her machine--so she can't be eavesdropping.... I'll give you

my reasons for saying it's a fair price."

"Yes, please do.... You haven't mentioned the amount yet."

"I'm coming to it. I want to prepare your mind. Of course I don't know

how it will strike you."...

"Go on, please."

"First of all, I'll say I'm certain it's more than we should get from

anyone else. I've gone to the root of everything. I have worked it out

with plain figures.... Well, then--Bence will give six thousand pounds."

"No, I won't accept the offer."

"It would be three thousand apiece."

"I refuse to agree to the sale."

"It will be ready money, you know--paid on the nail."

"Richard, I can't agree to it."

"Why not? Of course I know I can't jump you into it. I don't want to do

so. I simply want to persuade you that it's our only course."

Then he began to argue and plead with her. He said that he considered it

would be madness obstinately to decline such an opportunity, and she

ought really to be grateful to him for cutting the knot of their

difficulties. He explained that only two days after Bence's memorable

visit, he had gone across the road and reopened negotiations on a wider

scale. He owned that he had at first resented the approach of Bence as a

gross insult; he had felt disposed to kick Bence; but _afterwards_,

calmly thinking it over, he had come to the conclusion that Bence--"if

properly, handled"--might eventually prove their best friend. In this

softer, calmer mood, he had made a return call on Bence--had handled him

magnificently, had bluffed him and jollied him, had slowly but surely

screwed him up to make a splendid and a firm offer.

"But, Richard, supposing that we were to sell the business, what would

happen to you?"

"I should go away--to California. I'm sick of this stinking town. It's

played out for me. At Mallingbridge I'm a dead-beat--people don't

believe in me--I've no real friends. But I should do all right out

West--and I want a decent climate. Between you and me and the post, I

funk another English winter."

"Do you mean that you want to desert me altogether?"

"Jane, what's the use of asking me that? You and I have got to the end

of our tether, haven't we? What good can I do sticking here any longer?

I can't help you--I can't help myself. We're done. You'd far wiser

divide what we can grab from Bence, and let me go."

"But to a person of your tastes and habits, three thousand pounds is not

an inexhaustible sum. Do you think that, as your entire capital, it

would be enough for you?"

"Yes, I do," he said eagerly. "Life is cheaper out there. In that lovely

climate one doesn't want to binge up. There aren't the same temptations.

I should turn over a new leaf--put the brake on--make a fresh start."

"And should I never see you again?"

"Oh, I don't say that. No--of course I should come back. I don't see

what real difference it would make to you. We're a semi-detached couple,

as it is."

"Yes, but not quite detached."

"Well, you'd let me go on a little longer string. That's all about it;"

and he laughed good-humouredly. He believed that he would soon overcome

her opposition. "I never meant any total severance, you know. We should

be like the swells--Mrs. Marsden is residing at Mallingbridge; Mr.

Marsden has gone to the Pacific Coast for the winter. We'd put it in the

paper, if you liked."

"I see that you are very keen to close with--with Mr. Bence's

proposal."

"Yes, I am--and I honestly believe you ought to be just as keen."

And again he extolled his personal merit in screwing up the proposer.

Bence had pointed out that if he quietly waited until Thompson & Marsden

were forced as bankrupts to put up their shutters, he would buy all he

wanted at a much lower price. The premises, and the premises only, were

what Bence wanted. After a bankruptcy he could buy the lease at the

market price, and not have to give a penny for anything else. Bence said

his offer was extravagantly liberal; but he frankly admitted that he

felt in a hurry to clear up the street, and make it neat and tidy. He

would therefore fork out thus handsomely to avoid delay.

"He said we were doing the street _harm_, Jane. And, upon my word, I

couldn't deny that. I've often told Mears we have got to look more like

a funeral than anything else."

"And you wish us to be decently buried?"

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders in the utmost good-humour. He felt

sure now that she would yield; and with increasing eagerness he urged

her to adopt his views.

"Very well," she said at last. "It is your wish?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then on one condition," and she spoke in a hard, matter-of-fact

voice,--"on _one_ condition, I'll consent."

"What's your condition?"

"When we wind up our business relations, we must wind up all our other

relations.... It must be a total severance--I am using your own

word--and no half measures. When you leave Mallingbridge you must leave

it forever. You must undertake--bind yourself never to set foot in it

again."

"Oh, I say."

"You must execute a deed of separation."

He seemed greatly surprised; and for a little while hesitated, as if

unable to express his thoughts.

"Look here, Jane.... You're talking big, old lady. What next?... Deed of

separation! That's a very large order."

"You are taking freedom for yourself. You must give me freedom."

"Oh, no, you overdo that line," he said slowly. "I told you I would come

back--some day or other. Yet now you take up this high and mighty

tone--as though I had given you the right to cut me adrift altogether."

"Ah! I understand. You thought you'd have _your_ three thousand to

spend, and _my_ three thousand to fall back upon. Then again I refuse

the offer."

"Don't be hasty--and don't impute bad motives where none exist. No, you

have struck me all of a heap by what you demand. I wasn't prepared for

it--and it wants a bit of thought, before I can say yes or no."

And he began to bargain about the deed of separation. He had seen an

unexpected chance, and he meant to make the most of it.

"Let's be business-like, Jane. If I renounce all claims on you

forever--if I agree to make a formal renunciation,--well, surely that's

worth _something_ to you?"

"Do you mean, worth money? Are you asking me to pay you?"

"I want to start a new life out there--and I shall need all the money I

can get. You told me so, yourself--three thou. is devilish little to

face the world on."

"Yes," she said quietly, "and with another person dependent on you."

"What do you say?"

"I say, you are not going alone.... We must think of your companion, as

well as of yourself."

"Jane, you're hard on me."

"Am I?"

And the bargaining went on.

Finally they came to terms. She was to give him half her share, in

exchange for absolute freedom. He would thus have four thousand five

hundred pounds as initial impetus for his new career.

"Do you say _done_ to that?"

"Yes," she replied coldly and firmly, "I say done."

He sat down, drew out a dirty handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. His

argumentative efforts had made him warm; but he smiled contentedly. He

considered that "in the circs." it was a jolly good bargain.

"Dick," and her voice suddenly softened. "Have you thought what _I_ am

to do? Fifteen hundred pounds isn't much for _me_--to start a new life

with."

"You have money of your own.... I am certain that you have a tidy

nest-egg still."

"If I were to tell you that I hadn't another penny in the world?"

"I shouldn't believe it."

"If I convinced you that it was literally true, would it make any

difference to you?"

"I don't follow."

"Would you still take half my share from me?"

"What's the good of talking about it?" And he looked at her

thoughtfully. "Jane, the devil is driving me. I'm not the man I was. I

funk dangers. My health is broken.... You'll be all right. You have

friends. I have none. It's vital to me to know that we--that I shall

have enough to rub along with out there."

Mrs. Marsden said no more.

"Yes, you'll be all right, old girl. Never fear!" And he got up, and

stretched himself. "But I say! We've been jawing such a deuce of a time

that it'll be too late to do anything to-day, unless we look sharp....

Will you give me a letter to Hyde & Collins, saying you accept?"

"No, I'll go there, and tell them by word of mouth."

"May I go with you?"

"No, that's unnecessary."

"But you _will_ go, Jane? I mean, at once. You do intend to go--and no

rot?"

"I have told you I am going."

"Yes, but hurry up then. They don't keep open all night."

"I'll tell them within an hour."

Within an hour she had spoken to Mr. Bence's solicitors and gone on to

the office of Mr. Prentice.

"Now," she said to her old friend, "you see me in my need. The time has

come. Help me with all your power."

Then very rapidly she told him all that had happened.

"So there goes the end of an old song," said Mr. Prentice. "Mind you, I

don't tell you that you are doing wrong. It may be--probably it

_is_--the only thing to do.... Six thousand pounds!" It was obvious that

Mr. Prentice had been astonished by the largeness of this sum. But he

would not admit the fact. He spoke cautiously.

"It is more than anyone else would have given."

"Possibly! But I might have got you better terms from Bence. Let me take

up the negotiations now. If he will give as much as six thousand, he may

give more."

"No, I have told Hyde & Collins that we accept."

"That was premature. But you referred them to me?"

"No. I told them to prepare the conveyance at once."

"But--good gracious--they can't act for both sides."

"Of course they can. It will save time--it will save money. There is no

difficulty _there_. We sell all we have. A child could carry it

through."

"Oh, but really, I don't know. Your interests must be guarded."

"No, no." She was nervous and excited, and she spoke piteously and yet

irritably. "I have instructed them. They must attend to the sale. And

_you_ must attend to the deed of separation. Concentrate your mind--all

your mind on it.... Don't you understand, don't you see that this is

everything and the sale is nothing?"

"No, I don't see that at all."

"It is what I have been praying for night and day--it is my escape. And

he is granting it to me of his own consent--he consents to give me

unmolested freedom."

And she implored Mr. Prentice to use his skill and sagacity to their

uttermost extent.

"I want it to be a renunciation of all possible claims. It must be

absolutely clear that this is the end of our partnership."

"Oh, as to that," said Mr. Prentice, "the partnership ends automatically

with the sale of the business."

"But put it in the deed--explicitly. Make him surrender every

claim--even if it seems to you only the shadow of a claim."

Then, without saying that she was to pay a price for Marsden's

acquiescence, she repeated the agreed conditions of the separation. She

became agitated when Mr. Prentice assured her that he would easily draft

the deed.

"No, don't treat it as an easy task. Get counsel's opinion--the best

counsel. Spare no expense--in this case. It is life and death to me....

Oh, Mr. Prentice, don't fail me _now_. Make the deed strong--make it so

binding that he can never slip out of it."

"I won't fail you," said Mr. Prentice earnestly. "We'll make your deed

as strong--as effective--as is humanly possible--a deed that the Courts

will be far more inclined to support than to upset."

"Yes, yes," she said, as if now satisfied. "That's all I ask for--as

strong as is humanly possible."