CAI RENOUNCES.
If this thing had happened--?
After Fancy left him Cai dropped into his armchair, and sat for a long
while staring at the paper ornament with which Mrs Bowldler had
decorated his summer hearth. It consisted of a cascade of paper
shavings with a frontage of paper roses and tinsel foliage, and was
remarkable not only for its own sake but because Mrs Bowldler had chosen
to display the roses upside down. But though Cai stared at it hard, he
observed it not.
For some minutes his mind refused to work beyond the catastrophe.
"If _it_ had happened--if 'Bias had indeed lost all his money. . . ."
He arose, lit a pipe, and dropped back into his chair.
It may be that the tobacco clarified his brain. . . . Of a sudden the
child's words recurred and wrote themselves upon it, and stood out, as
if traced in fire--"_He went to master for your sake, because you was
his friend and he had such a belief in you._"
Ay, that was true, and in a flash it lit up a new pathway, down which he
followed the thought in the child's mind only to lose it and stand
aghast at his own reflections.
''Bias went to Rogers through his belief in me.'
--'I did not encourage him. On the other hand, I said nothing to hinder
him.'
--'Yet, afterwards and in practice, I did encourage him, going to Rogers
with him and discussing our investments together.'
--'In a dozen investments we acted as partners.'
--'He was my friend, and in those days entirely open with me. He let me
read all his character. I knew him to be strict in paying his debts,
uneasy if he owed a sixpence, yet careless in details of business, and
trustful as a child.'
--'Then this quarrel sprang up between us, and I let him go his way.
I had no right to do that, having led him so far. In a sense, he has
gone on trusting me; that is, he has gone on trusting Rogers for my
sake. To be quit of responsibility, I should have given him fair
warning.
--'I ought to have gone to him and said, "Look here; Rogers is a friend
of mine, and known to me from childhood. There's honesty in him, but
'tis like streaks in bacon; and for some reason or another he chooses
that all his dealin's with me shall keep to the honest streak. If you
ask me how I know this, 'twouldn't be easy to answer: I _do_ know it,
and I trust him as I'd trust myself, a'most. But Rogers isn't a man for
everyone's money, and there's many as don't scruple to call him a knave.
He hasn't known you from a child, and you haven't known him. You'll be
safe in putting it that what he's done honest for you he's done as my
friend--"'
Here Cai was seized by a new apprehension.
--'Ay, and--the devil take it!--I've let Rogers see, lately, that 'Bias
and I had dissolved partnership and burnt the papers! 'Twouldn't take
more than that to persuade Rogers he was quit of the old obligation
towards 'Bias--himself in difficulties too, and 'Bias's money under his
hand.'
--'Good Lord! . . . Suppose the fellow even allowed to himself that he
was _helping_ me! If Mrs Bosenna--?'
At this point Cai came to a full stop, appalled. Be it repeated that
neither he nor 'Bias had wooed Mrs Bosenna for her wealth; nor until now
had her wealth presented itself to either save in comfortable
after-thought.
Cai sat very still for a while. Then drawing quickly at his pipe, he
found that it was smoked out. He arose to tap the bowl upon the bars of
the grate. But they were masked and muffled by Mrs Bowldler's screen of
shavings, and he wandered to the open window to knock out the ashes upon
the slate ledge. Returning to the fireplace, he reached out a hand for
the tobacco-jar, but arrested it, and laying his pipe down on the table,
did something clean contrary to habit.
He went to the cupboard, fetched out decanter, water-jug, and glass, and
mixed himself a stiff brandy-and-water.
"Hullo!" said a voice outside the window. "I didn' know as you indulged
between meals."
It was Mr Philp, staring in.
"I heard you tappin' on the window-ledge, and I thought maybe you had
caught sight o' me," suggested Mr Philp.
"But I hadn't," said Cai, somewhat confused.
"I said to myself, 'He's beckonin' me in for a chat': and no wonder if
'tis true what they're tellin' down in the town."
"Well, I wasn't," said Cai, gulping his brandy-and-water hardily.
"But what are they tellin'?"
"There's some," mused Mr Philp, "as don't approve of solitary drinkin'.
Narrow-minded bodies _I_ call 'em. When a man is in luck's way, who's
to blame his fillin' a glass to it--though some o' course prefers to
call in their naybours; an' _that's_ a good old custom too."
Cai ignored the hint. "What are they tellin' down in the town?"
"All sorts o' things, from mirth to mournin'. They say, for instance,
as you and the Widow have fixed it all up to be married this side o'
Jubilee."
"That's a lie, anyway."
"And others will have it as the engagement's broken off by reason of
your losin' all your money in Johnny Rogers's smash?"
"And that," said Cai, "is just as true as the other. But who says that
Rogers has gone smash?"
"Everyone. I tackled Tabb upon the subject this mornin', and he couldn'
deny it. The man's clean scat. He's been speckilatin' for years:
I always looked for this to be the end, and when they told me the
_Saltypool_ wasn't insured, why, I drew my conclusions. As I was sayin'
to Cap'n Hunken just now--"
"Eh? . . . Where is he?"
"Who?"
"'Bias Hunken. You said as you been speakin' with him--"
"Ay, to be sure, over his garden wall. I looked over and saw him
weedin' among the rose-bushes, an' pulled up to give him the time o'
day."
"You didn' tell him about the _Saltypool?_"
"As it happens, that's just what I did. He'd heard she was lost, but
he'd no notion Rogers hadn't taken out an insurance on her, and he
seemed quite fetched aback over it."
"The devil!"
"I'm sorry you feel like that about him. As I was tellin' him, when I
heard your tap here at the window--"
"But I don't--and I wasn' tappin' for you, either."
"Appears not," said Mr Philp, with a glance at the empty glass in Cai's
hand.
"Where is he? Still in the garden, d'ye say?"
"Ay: somewheres down by the summer-house. Says _I_, when I heard you
tappin', 'That's Cap'n Hocken,' says I, 'signallin' me to come an wish
him joy, an' maybe to join him in a drink over his luck. And why not?'
says I. 'Stranger things have happened.'"
"You'll excuse me. . . . If he's in his garden, I want a chat with him."
Cai hurried out to the front door.
"Maybe you'd like me to go with you," suggested Mr Philp, ready for him.
"Maybe I'd like nothin' of the sort," snapped Cai. "Why should I?"
"Well, if you ask _me_, he didn' seem in the best o' tempers, and it
might come handy to take along a witness."
"No, thank'ee," said Cai with some asperity. "You just run along and
annoy somebody else."
He descended the garden, to find 'Bias at the door of his summer-house,
seated, and puffing great clouds of tobacco-smoke.
"Good evenin'!"
"Good evenin'," responded 'Bias in a tone none too hospitable.
"You don't mind my havin' a word with you?"
"Not if you'll make it short."
"I've just come from Philp. He's been tellin' you about the
_Saltypool_, it seems."
"Well?"
"She was uninsured."
"And on top o' that, the fools overloaded her."
"And 'tis a serious thing for Rogers."
"Ruination, Philp tells me--that's if you choose to believe Philp."
"I've better information than Philp's, I'm sorry to say."
"Whose?"
"Fancy Tabb's."
"She didn' tell me so when I saw her to-day."--(And good reason for why,
thought Cai.)--"Still, if she told you, you may lay there's some truth
in it. That child don't speak at random. I don't see, though, as it
makes much difference, up _or_ down?"
"No difference?"
"I didn' say 'no difference.' I said 'not much.' Ruination's not much
to a man already down with a stroke."
"Oh, . . . _him?_" said Cai. "To tell the truth, I wasn't thinkin'
about Rogers, not at this moment."
"No?" queried 'Bias sourly. "Then maybe I'm doin' you an injustice.
I thought you might be pushin' your way in here to suggest our doin'
something for the poor chap." Before Cai had well recovered from this,
'Bias went on, "And if so, I'd have answered you that I didn' intend to
be any such fool."
"I--I'm afraid," owned Cai, "my thought wasn' anything like so
unselfish. It concerned you and me, rather."
"Thinkin' of me, was you?" 'Bias stuffed down the tobacco in his pipe
with his forefinger. "I reckon that's no game, Caius Hocken, to be
takin' up again after all these months; and I warn you to drop it, for
'tis dangerous."
Whatever his faults, Cai did not lack courage. "I don't care a cuss for
threats, as you might know by this time. What I owe I pay,--and there's
my trouble. I introduced you to Rogers, didn't I?"
"That's true," agreed 'Bias slowly. "What of it?"
"Why, that I'm in a way responsible that you took your affairs to him."
"Not a bit."
"But it follows. Surely you must see--"
"No, I don't. I ain't a child, and I'll trouble you not to hang about
here suggestin' it. I didn' trust Rogers till I saw for myself he was a
good man o' business and the very sort I wanted. He sarved me, well
enough; and, well or ill, I don't complain to you."
"See here, 'Bias," said Cai desperately. "You may take this tone with
me if you choose. But you don't choke me off by it, and you'll have to
drop it sooner or later. I was your friend, back along--let's start
with that."
"And a nice friend you proved!"
"Let's start with _that_, then," pursued Cai eagerly--so eagerly that
'Bias stared willy-nilly, lifting his eye-brows. "Put it, if you
please, that I was your friend and misled you to trust in Rogers, that
you lost money by it--"
"Who said so?"
"I say so. Put it at the lowest--that you sunk a hundred pound' in the
_Saltypool_--"
"Eh?"
"In the _Saltypool_--" Cai met his stare and nodded. "And not your own
money, neither. Mrs Bosenna--"
'Bias started and laid down his pipe. "Drop that!" he interjected with
a growl.
"Nay, you don't frighten _me_," answered Cai valiantly. "We're goin' to
talk a lot of Mrs Bosenna, afore we've done. Present point is, she gave
you a hundred pound, to invest for her. She gave me the like."
"What!" 'Bias clutched both arms of his chair in the act of rising.
But Cai held up a hand.
"Steady! She gave me the like. . . . You handed the money over to
Rogers, and close on fifteen per cent he was makin' on it--in the
_Saltypool_."
"Who--who told you?"
"Wait! I did the like. . . . Seven pounds eight-and-four was my
dividend, whatever yours may have been--eh? You may call it a--a
coincidence, 'Bias Hunken: but some would say as our minds worked on the
same lines even when--even when--" Cai seemed to swallow something in
his throat. "Anyhow, the money's gone, and we'll have to make it good."
"Well, I should hope so!"
"I'll see to _that_, 'Bias--whatever happens."
"So will I, o' course." 'Bias turned to refill his pipe.
Cai was watching him narrowly. "Happen that mightn't be none too easy,"
he suggested.
"Why so?"
"Heark'n to me now: I got something more serious to tell. The Lord send
we may be mistaken, but--supposin' as Rogers has played the rogue?"
'Bias, not at all discomposed, went on filling his pipe. "I see what
you're drivin' at," said he. "'Tis the same tale Philp was chantin' just
now, over the wall; how that Rogers had lost his own money and ours as
well, and 'twas in everybody's mouth. Which I say to you what I said to
him: ''Tis the old story,' I says, 'let a man be down on his back, and
every cur'll fly at him.'"
"But suppose 'twas true? . . . Did Rogers ever show the bonds and papers
for your money?"
"'Course he did. Showed me every one as they came in, and seemed to
make a point of it. 'Made me count 'em over, some time back.
'Wouldn' let me off 'till I'd checked 'em, tied 'em up in a parcel,
docketed 'em, sealed 'em, and the Lord knows what beside. Very dry
work. I claimed a glass o' grog after it."
"And then you took 'em away?" asked Cai with a sudden hope.
"Not I. For one thing, they're vallyble, and I don't keep a safe.
I put 'em back in the old man's--top shelf--alongside o' yours."
Cai groaned. "They're missin' then!"
"Who told you?"
"The child--Fancy Tabb."
'Bias looked serious. "Why didn' she come to me, I wonder?"
"I reckon--knowing what friends we'd been--she left it to me to break
the news."
"I won't believe it," declared 'Bias slowly. But he sat staring
straight at the horizon, and after each puff at the pipe Cai could hear
him breathing hard.
"The child's not given to lyin'. And yet I don't see--Rogers bein'
helpless to open the safe on his own account. At the worst 'tis a bad
job for ye, 'Bias."
"Eh? . . . 'Means sellin' up an' startin' afresh: that's all--always
supposin' there's jobs to be found, at our age. I don't know as there
wouldn't be consolations. This here life ashore isn't all I fancied
it."
Now Cai had in mind a great renunciation: but unfortunately he could not
for the moment discover any way to broach it. He played to gain time,
therefore, awaiting opportunity.
"As for getting a job," he suggested, "there's no need to be downcast;
no need at all. If the worst came to the worst, there's the _Hannah
Hoo_, f'r instance, and a providence she never found a buyer."
"Ay, to be sure--I'd forgot the bark'nteen."
"Come!" said Cai with a quick smile, playing up towards his grand
_coup_. "What would you say to shippin' aboard the _Hannah Hoo?_"
"What?--as mate under _you_? . . . I'd say," answered 'Bias slowly,
"as I'd see you damned first."
"But"--Cai stared at him in bewilderment--"who was proposin' any such
thing? As skipper I thought o' you--what elst? Leastways--"
"And you?"
"Me? . . . But why? There's no call for _me_ goin' to sea again."
"Ah, to be sure," said 'Bias bitterly, "I was forgettin'. You'll stay
ashore and make up your losses by marryin'!"
"But I haven't _had_ any losses!" stammered Cai. "Not beyond the
hundred pound in the _Saltypool_. . . . Didn't I make that plain?"
"No, you didn't." 'Bias laid down his pipe. "Are you standin' there
and tellin' me that _your_ papers are all right and safe?"
"To be sure they are. Rogers handed 'em over to me, and I took 'em home
and locked 'em in my strong-box--it may be four months ago."
"Ay, that would be about the time. . . . Well, I congratulate you," said
'Bias, with deepening bitterness of accent. "The luck's yours, every
way, and that there's no denyin'."
"Wait a bit, though. You haven't heard me finish."
"Well?"
"Since this news came I've been thinkin' pretty hard over one or two
things . . . over our difference, f'r instance, an' the cause of it.
To be plain, I want a word with you about--well, about Mrs Bosenna."
"Stow that," growled 'Bias. "If you've come here to crow--"
"The Lord knows I've not come here to crow. . . . I've come to tell you,
as man to man, that I don't hold 'twas a pretty trick she played us over
them two hundreds. You may see it different, and I hope you do.
I don't bear her no grudge, you understand? . . . But if you've still a
mind to her, and she've a mind to you, I stand out from this moment, and
wish 'ee luck!"
'Bias stood up, stiff with wrath.
"And the Lord knows, Cai Hocken, how at this moment I keep my hands off
you! . . . Wasn't it bad enough before, but you must stand patronisin'
there, offerin' me what you don't want? First I'm to ship in your
sarvice, eh? When that won't do, I'm to marry the woman you've no use
for? And there was a time I called 'ee friend! Hell! if you must
poison this garden, poison it by yourself! Let me get out o' this.
Stand aside, please, ere I say worse to 'ee!"
He strode by, and up the garden path in the gathering twilight.
Poor 'Bias!
Poor Cai, too! His renunciation had cost him no small struggle, and he
had meant it nobly; but for certain he had bungled it woefully.
His heart was sore for his friend: the sorer because there was now no
way left to help. The one door to help--reconcilement--was closed and
bolted! closed through his own clumsiness.
It had cost him much, a while ago--an hour or two ago, no more--to
resign his pretensions to Mrs Bosenna's hand. The queer thing was how
little--the resolutions once taken--Mrs Bosenna counted. It was 'Bias
he had lost.
As he sat and smoked, that night, in face of Mrs Bowldler's fire-screen,
staring at its absurd decorations, it was after 'Bias that his thoughts
harked--always back, and after 'Bias--retracing old friendship
faithfully as a hound seeking back to his master.
'Bias would never think well of him again. As a friend, 'Bias was lost,
had gone out of his life. . . . So be it! Yet there remained a 'Bias in
need of help, though stubborn to reject it: a 'Bias to be saved somehow,
in spite of himself, an unforgiving 'Bias, yet still to be rescued.
Cai smoked six pipes that night, pondering the problem. He was aroused
by the sound of the clock in the hall striking eleven. Before retiring
to bed he had a mind to run through his parcel of bonds and securities
on the chance--since he and 'Bias had made many small investments by
consent and in common--of finding some hint of possible salvage.
His strong-box stood in a recess by the chimnney-breast. A stuffed
gannet in a glass case surmounted it--a present from 'Bias, who had shot
the bird. The bird's life-like eye (of yellow glass) seemed to watch
him as he thrust the key into the lock.
He took out the parcel, laid it on the table under the lamp, and--with
scarcely a glance at the docket as he untied the tape--spread out the
papers with his palm much as a card-player spreads wide a pack of cards
before cutting. . . . He picked up a bond, opened it, ran his eye over
the superscription and tossed it aside.
So he did with a second--a third--a fourth.
On a sudden, as he took up the fifth and, before opening it, glanced at
the writing on the outside, his gaze stiffened. He sat upright.
After a moment or two he unfolded the paper. His eyes sought and found
two words--the name "Tobias Hunken."
He turned the papers over again. Still the name not his--"Tobias
Hunken!"
He pushed the paper from him, and timorously, as a man possessed by
superstitious awe, put out his fingers and drew forward under the
lamplight the four documents already cast aside.
The name on each was the same. The bonds belonged to 'Bias.
By mistake, those months ago, he had carried them off and locked them up
for his own.
Should he arouse 'Bias to-night and tell him of the good news?
He gathered up the bonds in his hand, went to the front door, unbarred
it, and stepped out into the roadway. Not a light showed anywhere in
the next house.
Cai stepped back, barred the door, and sought his chamber, after putting
out the lamp. He slept as soundly as a child.