NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE!
Arthur Lisle sat in his chambers with a copy of the current number of
the Law Reports (K.B.D.) before him and with utter discouragement in his
heart. This mood was apt to seize him in the mornings, after the nights
of gaiety which (obeying Mr. Justice Lance's advice) he eagerly sought.
To-day it was intensified by the fact that Bernadette had gone to Paris
for a fortnight. She bade him an affectionate, almost a tender,
farewell, but she went, and was obviously glad to go. Though he asked
nothing from her except to let herself be adored with a dog-like
adoration, a shamefaced wonder that she should be so glad to go hid in
his heart; mightn't she feel the loss of the adoration just a little
more? However there it was. And he had nothing to do. Also he was hard
up. The men he met at his parties had things to do and were doing
them--interesting things that they could talk to women about, things
they were actually doing, not mere hopes and dreams (such as had, not so
long ago, been good enough to talk to Marie Sarradet about). They were
making their marks, or, at least, some money. Talking of money, it was
annoying, indeed humiliating, not being able to ask Bernadette to lunch
at the resorts and in the style to which she was accustomed. He had done
this once, and the same afternoon had suddenly been confronted with an
appalling shininess in the back of his dress-coat; the price of the
lunch would pretty well have paid for a new coat. But there--if you gave
parties you could not have new coats; and what was the good of new coats
unless you could give parties? A vicious circle!
Stagnation! That was what his life was--absolute stagnation. No avenues
opened, there were no prospects. Stagnation and Vacancy--that's what it
was!
A strange contrast is this to the young man at the evening party? Nay,
no contrast at all, but just the other side of him, the complement of
the mood which had pictured Potentates and thrilled over the Reigning
Beauty. The more ardently youth gives one hand to hope, the more
fiercely despair clutches the other.
Suddenly--even as Martin Luther flung his inkpot at Satan--Arthur Lisle
with an oath seized the Law Reports (K.B.D.) and hurled them violently
from him--across the room, with all his force, at this Demon of
Stagnation and towards the door which happened to be opposite. They
struck--not the door--but the waistcoat of Henry who at that moment
opened it. Henry jumped in amazement.
"Beg your pardon, Henry. It slipped from my hand," said Arthur, grinning
in ill-tempered mirth.
"Well, I thought no other gentleman was with you," remarked Henry, whose
ideas of why one should throw books about were obviously limited. "A Mr.
Halliday is here, sir, and wants to know if you'll see him."
"Of course I will. Show him in directly." As Henry went out, Arthur
ejaculated the word "Good!"
Anybody would have been welcome--even Luther's Antagonist himself,
perhaps--to Arthur in that black mood of his. Joe Halliday was a
godsend. He carried cheerfulness with him--not of the order commended by
moralists and bred by patience out of trouble, but rather a spontaneous
hilarity of mind, thanks to which he derided the chances of life, and
paddled his canoe with a laugh through the rapids of fortune. Joe had no
settled means and he scorned any settled occupation. He preferred to
juggle with half a dozen projects, keeping all of them in the air at
once. He had something to sell and something to buy, something to find
or something to get rid of; something had just been invented, or was
just going to be; somebody needed money or somebody had it to invest.
And all the Somebodies and Somethings were supposed to pay a toll to Joe
for interesting himself in the matter. Generally they did; when they
failed to, he paddled gaily on to another venture--Cantabat vacuus. But
on the whole he was successful. The profits, the commissions, the
"turns" came rolling in--and were rolled out again with a festive and
joyous prodigality that took no thought for a morrow which, under the
guidance of an acute and sanguine intelligence, should not have the
smallest difficulty in providing for itself.
He bustled in and threw his hat on Arthur's table. "Morning, old chap.
Sorry to interrupt! I expect you're awfully busy? Yes, I see! I see!
Look at the briefs! Mr. Arthur Lisle--with you the Right Hon. Sir
Richard Finlayson, K.C., M.P.--300 guineas! Whew! Mr. Arthur Lisle--With
you----" He fingered the imaginary briefs, rolling his eyes at Arthur,
and scratching his big hooked nose with the other hand.
"Go to the devil, Joe," said Arthur, smiling, suddenly able to smile, at
the Demon of Stagnation as represented by his empty table. "Have a
cigarette?"
"The subject of my call demands a pipe," and he proceeded to light one.
"Have you got any money, Arthur?"
"I think you're roughly acquainted with the extent of my princely
income."
"Income isn't money. Capital is. Turn your income into capital, and
you've got money!"
"It sounds delightfully simple, and must work well--for a time, Joe."
"I've got a real good thing. No difficulty, no risk--well, none to speak
of. I thought you might like to consider it. I'm letting my friends have
the first chance."
"What is it? Gold, rubber, or a new fastener for umbrellas?" Arthur was
not a stranger to Joe's variegated ventures.
"It's a deal safer than any of those. Did you ever see _Help Me Out
Quickly_?"
"Yes. I saw it at Worcester once. Quite funny!"
"Well, a fellow who put five hundred into _Help Me Out Quickly_ drew
seventeen thousand in eighteen months and is living on it still. Arthur,
I've found a farce compared to which _Help Me Out Quickly_ is like the
Dead March in Saul played by the vicar's wife on a harmonium."
"And you want money to produce it?"
"That's the idea. Two thousand or, if possible, two thousand five
hundred. We could get the Burlington in the autumn--first-rate theatre.
Lots of fun, and mints of money! The thing only wants seeing, doesn't
it?"
"What's the use of talking to me, Joe? I haven't got----"
"We're all of us going in--quite a family affair! Raymond's in it, and
old Pa Sarradet has put a bit in for Marie. And Mildred's governor has
come in; and Amabel has begged a pony of her governor, and put it
in--just for a lark, you know. I'm in--shirt, and boots, and all. We're
all in--well, except Sidney. That chap's got no spunk."
The inference about Arthur, if he did not "come in," was sadly obvious
to himself, though Joe had not in the least meant to convey it. But that
did not much affect him. The idea itself filled him with a sudden, a
delicious, tingle of excitement. Lots of fun and mints of money! Could
there be a programme more attractive? Vacancy and Stagnation could not
live in the presence of that.
"Just for curiosity--how much more do you want, to make it up?" asked
Arthur.
"A thousand." Joe laughed. "Oh, I'm not asking you to put down all that.
Just what you like. Only the more that goes in, the more comes out." He
laughed again joyfully; his prophetic eyes were already beholding the
stream of gold; he seemed to dip that beak of his in it and to drink
deep.
Arthur knew what his income was only too well--also what was his present
balance at the bank. But, of course, his balance at the bank (twenty-six
pounds odd) had nothing to do with the matter. His mind ran back to
_Help Me Out Quickly_. How Mother, and Anna, and he had laughed over it
at Worcester! One or two of the "gags" in it were household words among
them at Malvern to this day. Now Joe's farce was much, much funnier than
_Help Me Out Quickly_.
"I know just the girl for it too," said Joe. "Quite young, awfully
pretty, and a discovery of my own."
"Who is she?"
Joe looked apologetic. "Awfully sorry, old fellow, but the fact is we're
keeping that to ourselves for the present. Of course, if you came in,
it'd be different."
The Law Reports still lay on the floor; Joe Halliday sat on the
table--Sacred Love and Profane, Stern Duty and Alluring Venture.
"I'm putting up five hundred. Be a sport, and cover it!" said Joe.
Something in Arthur Lisle leapt to a tremendous decision--a wild throw
with Fortune. "You can put me down for the thousand you want, Joe," he
said in quite a calm voice.
"Christopher!" Joe ejaculated in amazed admiration. Then a scruple, a
twinge of remorse, seized him for a moment. "That's pretty steep, old
chap--and nothing's an absolute cert!" Temperament triumphed. "Though if
there's one on God's earth we've got it!"
"In for a penny, in for a pound! Nothing venture, nothing have!" cried
Arthur, feeling wonderfully gleeful.
"But, I say, wouldn't you like to read it first?" Conscience's expiring
spark!
"I'd sooner trust your opinion than my own. I may read it later on, but
I'll put down my money first."
"Well, I call you a sport!" Joe was moved and put out his hand. "Well,
here's luck to us!"
Arthur had plunged into deep water, but it did not feel cold. He
suffered no reaction of fear or remorse. He was buoyant of spirit. Life
was alive again.
"Of course I shall have to sell out. I haven't the cash by me," he said,
smiling at the idea. The cash by him indeed! The cash that ought to keep
him, if need be, for six or seven years, pretty near a quarter of all he
had in the world, representing the like important fraction of his
already inadequate income. Why, now the income would be hopelessly
inadequate! His mind was moving quickly. What's the use of trying to
live on an inadequate income? While Joe was yet in the room, Arthur
formed another resolution--to realise and spend, besides Joe's thousand
(as his thoughts called it), another five hundred pounds of his money.
"By the time that's gone," said the rapidly moving mind, "either I shall
have made something or I shall have to chuck this--and thank heaven for
it!"
But all this while, notwithstanding his seething thoughts, he seemed
very calm, gently inhaling his cigarette smoke. Joe thought him the
finest variety of "sport"--the deadly cool plunger. But he also thought
that his friend must be at least a little better off than he had
hitherto supposed--not that he himself, having the same means as Arthur,
would not have risked as much and more without a qualm. But that was his
temper and way of living; he had never credited Arthur with any such
characteristics. However his admiration remained substantially
unchanged; many fellows with tons of money had no spunk.
"May I tell them in Regent's Park?" he asked. "It'll make 'em all sit
up."
"Tell them I'm in with you, but not for how much."
"I shall let 'em know you've done it handsome."
"If you like!" laughed Arthur. "How are they? I haven't seen them just
lately."
"They're all right. You have been a bit of an absentee, haven't you?"
"Yes, I must go one day soon. I say, Joe, who are your stockbrokers?"
Joe supplied him with the name of his firm, and then began to go. But
what with his admiration of Arthur, and his enthusiasm for the farce,
and the beauty and talent of the girl he had discovered, it was, or
seemed, quite a long time before he could be got out of the room. Arthur
wanted him to go, and listened to all his transports with superficial
attention; his real mind was elsewhere. At last Joe did go--triumphant
to the end, already fingering thousands just as, on his entrance, he had
so facetiously fingered Arthur's imaginary briefs. Arthur was left alone
with the Law Reports--still on the floor where they had fallen in
rebound from Henry's waistcoat. Let them lie! If they had not received
notice to quit, they had at least been put very much on their good
behaviour. "Prove you're of some use, or out you go!"--Arthur had
delivered to them his ultimatum.
So much, then, for his Stern Mistress the Law--for her who arrogated the
right to exact so much and in return gave nothing, who claimed all his
days only to consume them in weary waiting, who ate up so much of his
means with her inexorable expenses. She had tried to appease him by
dangling before his eyes the uncertain distant prospect that in the
space of years--some great, almost impossible, number of years--he would
be prosperous--that he would be even as Norton Ward was, with briefs
rolling in, "silk" in view, perhaps a candidature. It seemed all very
remote to Arthur's new impatience. He set his mistress a time-limit. If
within the time that it took him to spend that five hundred pounds--he
did not decide definitely how long it would be--she did something to
redeem her promises, well and good, he would be prepared to give her a
further trial. If not, he would be take himself, with his diminished
income, to fresh woods and pastures new, lying over the Back of Beyond
in some region unexplored and therefore presumed to be fertile and
attractive. He would indeed have no choice about the matter, since the
diminished income would no longer meet her exactions, and yet enable him
to live. A break with the Stern, and hitherto ungrateful, Mistress would
be a matter of compulsion. He was very glad of it.
What of that other--the Mistress of his Fancy, delicate sumptuous Cousin
Bernadette? Vaguely, yet with a true instinct, he felt that she was at
the back of this mood of his and the impulses it inspired. She was the
ultimate cause, Joe Halliday's sanguine suggestions but the occasion.
Had he not outbid Joe's daring with a greater of his own? She it was who
had stirred him to discontent, be it divine or a work of the Devil's;
she it was who braved him to his ventures. She showed him the kingdoms
of the world and the glory of them--or, at least, very tempting glimpses
thereof; would she not herself be his guide through them, conferring on
them thereby a greater glory? In return he was ready enough to fall down
and worship, asking for himself nothing but leave to kneel in the
precincts of the shrine, not touching so much as the hem of her garment.
In response to her beauty, her splendour, the treasure of her
comradeship, he offered a devotion as humble and unselfish as it was
ardent. But he burned to have an offering to lay at her feet--a venture
achieved, the guerdon of a tournament. The smaller vanities worked with
these high-flying sentiments. For her sake he would be comely and
well-equipped, point-de-vice in his accoutrements; not a poor relation,
client, or parasite, but a man of the world--a man of her world--on
equal terms with others in it, however immeasurably below herself. If
she thought him worthy of her favour, others must think him worthy too;
to which end he must cut a proper figure. And that speedily; for a
horrible little fiend, a little fiend clever at pricking young men's
vanity to the quick, had whispered in his ear that, if he went shabby
and betrayed a lack of ready cash, Cousin Bernadette might smile--or be
ashamed. Adoration must not have her soaring wings clipped by a vile
Economy.
All these things had been surging in him--confusedly but to the point of
despair--when he threw the Law Reports across the room and hit Henry in
the waistcoat; he had seemed caught hopelessly in his vicious circle,
victim beyond help to the Demon of Stagnation. Not so strange, then, his
leap for life and freedom, not so mad could seem the risks he took. Joe
Halliday had come at a moment divinely happy for his purpose, and had
found an audacity greater than his own, the audacity of desperation.
Arthur himself wondered not at all at what he had done. But he admired
himself for having done it, and was deliciously excited.
Before he left the Temple--and he left that day for good at one o'clock,
being by no means in the mood to resume the Law Reports--he wrote two
letters. One was to the firm whose name Joe had given him; it requested
them to dispose of so much of his patrimony as would produce the sum of
fifteen hundred pounds. The other was to his mother. Since it contained
some observations on his position and prospects, an extract from it may
usefully be quoted:--
"Since I last wrote, I have been considering what is the wisest thing to
do with regard to the Bar. No work has appeared yet. Of course it's
early days and I am not going to be discouraged too easily. The trouble
is that my necessary expenses are heavier than I anticipated; chambers,
clerk, circuit, etc., eat into my income sadly, and even with the
strictest economy it will, I'm afraid, be necessary to encroach on my
capital. I have always been prepared to do this to some extent,
regarding it as bread cast upon the waters, but it clearly would not be
wise to carry the process too far. I must not exhaust my present
resources unless my prospects clearly warrant it. Of course I shall come
to no hasty decision; we can talk it all over when I'm with you in the
summer. But unless some prospects do appear within a reasonable time, I
should be disposed to turn to something else while I still have enough
capital to secure an opening." ... "You were quite right, dear Mother,
about my calling on the Godfrey Lisles, and I was quite wrong--as usual!
I'm ever so glad I've made friends with them at last. They are both
delightful people, and they've got a charming house. I've been to
several parties there, and have met people who ask me to other houses,
so I'm getting quite gay. Cousin Godfrey is quiet and reserved, but very
kind. Cousin Bernadette is really awfully pretty and jolly, and always
seems glad to see me. She says she's going to launch me in society! I
don't object, only, again, it all costs money. Well, I think it's worth
a little, don't you?"
And there was a postscript: "Don't worry over what I've said about
money. I'm all right for the present, and--_between ourselves_--I've
already something in view--apart from the Bar--which is quite
promising."
"What a wise, prudent, thoughtful boy it is!" said the proud mother.