HONOUR BRIGHT
As time passed Sir George Haredale began to think that trouble was
really before him. He had not the least pretence to be a business man.
He had always been prone to take people at their own valuation. He would
never have done anything dishonest or underhanded, and he paid his
fellow-men a similar compliment. He had never counted the cost of
anything, for the simple reason that he had never been taught to. If he
wanted a thing he got it. If he couldn't pay for anything he simply owed
for it. When, from time to time, his creditors grew pressing, he gave
his lawyers instructions to raise another mortgage, and there, so far as
he was concerned, was an end of the whole transaction.
It does not take long, especially with two or three generations of
similar incapacity, seriously to embarrass even so fine an estate as
Haredale Park. The day came at length when Sir George was under the
painful necessity of facing the inevitable, when his worried lawyer told
him a few plain truths, and he realized that his income was barely
sufficient to live upon. Unfortunately, at this crisis, an occasional
run of luck on the turf had relieved the pressure, and it occurred to
Sir George as a brilliant idea that here was a source of permanent
income. Then luck ran steadily against him, as it always does sooner or
later, and at the time Sir George made the acquaintance of Copley he was
literally at his wits' end to know what to do.
It was a misfortune, though a disguised one, that Copley in his
headstrong way should fall in love with May Haredale. He had gone about
his wooing in characteristic fashion, and had recognized that, unless he
were in a position to force the pace, his suit was hopeless. Hence he
had helped Sir George, although he needed every penny he had for
himself. At that time Copley did not see his way to get it all back and
a great deal more. But now he had the consolation of knowing that he
would come out all right, whether May Haredale became his wife or not.
He was playing his game with wonted caution and cunning. In response to
Sir George's note, he pleaded some excuse, and on one pretext or other
kept clear of Haredale Park for the best part of a week. He knew how to
play his fish. He knew that delay was in his favour, and was not going
to spoil his triumph by undue haste.
Sir George was thoroughly frightened. The interview with Messrs.
Absalom's manager came in the light of a revelation to him. He realized
that he was in Copley's power, and that the latter could ruin him
whenever he chose. Not that he expected anything of the kind. He was of
far too sanguine a nature for that, and being a gentleman and a man of
honour he naturally believed the story that Copley was temporarily hard
put to it for the want of money. From that point of view, of course,
Copley was behaving very well. He had not pressed Sir George, nor had he
insisted that the money must be paid. In point of fact, he had not
mentioned the matter at all.
But Messrs. Absalom's manager had been emphatic enough. There was
something in his manner which Sir George did not like. He actually had
no respect for the aristocracy, and spoke as if money were the only
thing in the world that mattered.
"It comes to this, Sir George," he said. "We must ask you to make
arrangements to clear this off in a week. It is business, pure and
simple, and my people want the money. Things are not going well, and we
must look to you to settle this claim."
"Within a week?" Sir George cried. "Impossible!"
The shrewd manager shrugged his shoulders.
"I am sorry to hear you say that, Sir George," he replied. "In that
case, we must take matters into our own hands and sell you up,
including your horses in training. We shall much regret this step, but
necessity will compel us. The best thing you can do is to consult your
solicitors and see if you can raise a loan. Otherwise--well, I think I
have made myself plain."
The man withdrew, leaving Sir George to his own disturbed thoughts. With
his sanguine disposition and lack of business knowledge he still clung
to the idea that Copley would be able to put this matter right. But when
Copley wrote that business called him elsewhere Sir George's vague sense
of alarm began to develop into a perfect nightmare. At the expiration of
a week the first blow fell. A man, shabbily dressed and dingy of aspect,
called to see Sir George and would take no refusal. He stood in the hall
grimly quiet, waiting for the master of the house, who appeared
presently and demanded in his haughtiest manner what the intruder
wanted.
"I am here on behalf of Absalom & Co.," the intruder said. "Fact is, I
represent the sheriff. It is no use blaming me, Sir George. I am only
doing my duty, and it's not so pleasant, at that. But I am here in
possession, and here I am bound by law to stay until this money is paid.
As soon as that is done I shall be only too pleased to go away."
Sir George began to understand the position. He had heard of these
things before, but they had always appeared to be remote enough from
him. This was what was called an execution, and Sir George's dignity
disappeared accordingly.
"This is very awkward," he said. "I had not anticipated anything like
this. How long will you have to stay here?"
"Well, it varies according to circumstances," the man explained. "It all
depends upon what action the plaintiffs take. If they give you an
extension of time I may be here for a month. Sometimes I have been in a
house much longer."
"A month," Sir George exclaimed, "impossible!"
"It may be less than that," the man said. "If they don't give you any
time at all I shall be gone in a week. In the ordinary course of things,
at the expiration of seven days the sheriff will come in and sell
everything."
"Seven days!" Sir George repeated the words over and over again, as if
he were trying to grasp their meaning. He had barely a week to find this
money, and, if it were not forthcoming, everything he had would be
disposed of. He would have to face the world without a penny. He
wondered if these people would take his horses. He wondered whether
their action would injure him in the Derby. But misfortunes never came
singly, and it was possible that the Blenheim colt might not start for
the historic race at all. For the moment everything lay in the hands of
Raymond Copley. Probably he had not the slightest idea that Absalom &
Co. had gone to these lengths. No doubt he would devise a way out of
this disgraceful situation. It was the only chance.
"If you wouldn't mind going away," Sir George said, "and coming back
later in the day, I will see what I can do."
The man smiled broadly.
"Bless you! I couldn't do that," he said. "It would be as much as my
place is worth. I might even get prosecuted, and I've a wife and family
to think of. I dare not stir a step from here, Sir George; indeed, I
dare not. If people treat me well I always try to give as little trouble
as possible, and as yet nobody knows who I am and why I came. I daresay
you can think of some excuse to account for my presence in the house."
It was very humiliating, but there was nothing for it but a mild
conspiracy between the master of Haredale and this grubby representative
of the majesty of the law. Sir George led the way into the library.
"You had better stay here," he said. "I can say you've come down from
London on some business in connexion with the stable. By the way, it is
just as well I should know your name. Oh, Brown, is it? Well, you had
better remain here till I come back, and I can arrange for you to have
your meals in the kitchen. I suppose you won't object to that?"
"I shan't, if the servants don't," Brown said.
"Very good. I am going to see a friend, and shall return as soon as
possible. I suppose if you had a telegram from Absalom calling you back
to London, you would disappear without any trouble."
"Certainly, sir, and very glad to go. I have never been in a big house
like this before, and it makes all the difference. But I'll do my best
to save your servants from knowing who I am and what I am doing at
Haredale Park."
Possibly the speaker had some hope that this complacency would not leave
him poorer than it found him, and, in his sanguine way, Sir George was
already settling in his mind the size of the tip he would give this
fellow after he had seen Copley and made arrangements to get rid of him.
Nevertheless the master of Haredale was really distressed and alarmed as
he made his way across the fields to Seton Manor. Perhaps Copley might
not be back from London till dinner-time. But Copley was there. He was
in the stable-yard talking to Foster as Sir George approached.
"Here he comes," said Foster with a grin. "I thought he wouldn't be very
long. It is any odds that Absalom's man is in possession already. Our
friend looks rather dejected, doesn't he? Now is your time to clinch the
business."
Copley smiled his assent. "I don't think we are likely to have much
trouble with Sir George."