Read Ebook: Mortomley's Estate: A Novel. Vol. 2 (of 3) by Riddell J H Mrs

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1207 lines and 48600 words, and 25 pages

y has been your bosom friend it seems to me. Certainly, had he asked my advice a few years ago, we four would not have had the arrangement of his destiny to-day. And as for bosom friends," he added in a lower tone, "a businessman has none, and no friends either for that matter. Such luxuries are not for us."

"Do, for heaven's sake, let us keep to the matter in hand," exclaimed Mr. Benning. "Will you name an accountant or shall I?"

The manager looked at Mr. Kleinwort, and then once again the German led his, so good friend, out of the room.

Mr. Benning watched the pair till the door closed behind them, and then turning to Mr. Werner, said,

"Will you allow me to ask you one question? How does it happen so astute a man as you has anything to do with St. Vedast Wharf?"

"Trade, like poverty, makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows," was the reply.

"That is very true; but why are you mixing yourself up with this man Mortomley?"

Mr. Werner paused a moment before he answered, and a dull red streak appeared on each side his face, while he hesitated about his answer.

Then he looked his interlocutor straight in the eyes and said,

"Because I want to keep Forde at St. Vedast Wharf for another twelvemonth."

Mr. Benning, between his teeth, gave vent to a low but most unlawyer-like whistle.

"That's it, is it," he commented.

"That is it," agreed Mr. Werner.

"And Kleinwort ditto?" said the lawyer, inquiringly.

"So far as I know," was the reply.

Then observed Mr. Benning,

"I am infinitely obliged by your frankness. I could not see my way before, but I think I can discern daylight now."

"It must be through a very dark tunnel then," remarked Mr. Werner bitterly.

"We must keep Mortomley's business moving."

"That is what Kleinwort says, but I confess I do not see how it is to be done."

"Where there is a will there is always a way," was the calm rejoinder. "Well, gentlemen," he added, as Mr. Kleinwort returned leading his friend with him. "Have you found a suitable man; because if not, I must."

"Yes, yes," answered Kleinwort irritably, for he and Mr. Forde had been arguing a little hotly over the trustee question. "Do you happen to know one very good man, one true dear Christian who makes long prayers, and has snow hair hanging loose, and wears a white neckhandkerchief so pure and faultless--"

"What is his name?" interrupted Mr. Benning.

"Asherill," answered Mr. Forde.

"You mean the old humbug in Salisbury House I suppose," commented Mr. Benning, after a moment's pause. "Well, I don't know but that he might serve our purpose as well as any one if he will undertake the business. But you know, in spite of its sheep's clothing, what a cunning old wolf it is. He understands it behoves him to be careful, and he is. Give him a straightforward case, however small, and he is satisfied.

"'No, no, thank you, my dear kind friend, very much, but I have my prejudices, foolish no doubt, but insurmountable. Other men have not those prejudices, and will do your work better--far better. Thank you so very, very much. Good-bye. God bless you.'"

It was not in Kleinwort--who always loved hearing one Englishmen ridicule or anathematize another--to refrain from laughing at the foregoing sentence which the lawyer delivered with a solemn pomposity Mr. Asherill himself might have envied, and even Mr. Werner smiled at the imitation. But Mr. Forde, who could never see a joke unless he chanced to be easy in his mind, which of late was an event of infrequent occurrence, looked upon Kleinwort's merriment as unseemly, and telling him not to be an ass, took up the broken thread of conversation by remarking,

"I do not think Asherill will make any objection in this case. In the first place there is nothing doubtful about the transaction, and in the second place Mr. Samuel Witney, who is--in religion--a friend of his, and who has often done him a good turn, happens to be one of our directors."

"I should not feel inclined to place much dependence on either fact," said Mr. Benning. "But as I suppose you understand your own business--let us try Asherill. I have to attend a meeting of creditors, and shall not be able to see him to-day; but you," turning to Messrs. Kleinwort and Werner, "had better do so, and take a note from me at the same time."

"I have got my own business to attend to," remarked Mr. Werner.

"And so have I in most good truth," echoed Kleinwort piteously.

"Well, attend to your own and Mortomley's also for to-day. After that I promise you shall be troubled no more about Mortomley or his estate." So spoke Mr. Benning, and his words recommended themselves to Henry Werner.

"On that understanding," he said, "I will do what you wish."

"I must stay here till twelve," pleaded Kleinwort. "After that, any time, anywhere."

"I will be here at quarter past twelve;" and having made this appointment, Mr. Werner bade good morning to the lawyer and the manager, and ran down the stone stairs leading from Kleinwort's office as if the plague had been after him.

"There is nothing more to say I suppose," nervously suggested Mr. Forde as the lawyer buttoned up his coat, and requested the loan of an umbrella.

"We are going to have a nasty day," he remarked. "I will send the umbrella back directly I get to my place. No. I don't think there is anything more to say. I understand the position, and hope everything may go on satisfactorily."

Mr. Forde buttoned up his coat, walked to the window, looked out at the sky, which was by this time leaden, and at the rain, which had begun to come down in good earnest. Then he grasped his umbrella, and after saying, "I shall wait at the wharf till I see you, Kleinwort," heaved a weary sigh, and departed likewise.

"My dear, dear friend, how I should like to keep you waiting there for me, for ever," soliloquised Kleinwort, in his native tongue, which was a very cruel speech, inasmuch as if Mr. Forde had any strong belief, it was a faith in Kleinwort's personal attachment to himself.

In moments of confidence indeed he had told those far-seeing friends whose confidence in the German was of that description which objects to trust a man out of its sight, "I dare say he is a little thief, but I am quite sure of one thing; he may swindle other people, but he will never let in ME." A touching proof of the simplicity some persons are able to retain in spite of their knowledge of the wickedness of their fellow-creatures. Faith is perhaps the worst commodity with which to set up in business in the City, since it is so seldom justified by works.

When Mr. Werner returned to keep his appointment he found Mr. Kleinwort, his coat off, a huge cigar in his mouth, busily engaged in writing letters.

"Just one, two minutes," he said, "then I am yours to command. Sit down."

"No; thank you. I will wait for you outside. I wonder what you think I am made of if you expect me to breathe in this atmosphere."

And he walked on to the landing, where Kleinwort soon joined him.

"I must have some brandy," remarked that gentleman. "I am worn out, exhausted, faint. Look at me," and he held up his hands, which were shaking, and pointed to his cheeks, which were livid.

Mr. Werner did look at him, though with little apparent pleasure in the operation.

"Have what you want, then," he said. "Can't you get it there?" and he pointed to a place on the opposite side of the street where bottles were ranged conspicuously against the window-glass.

"There! My good Werner, of what are your thoughts made? The spirits there sold are so bad no water was never no worse."

"I should not have thought you a judge of the quality of any water except soda-water," answered Werner grimly.

"Ah!" was the reply; "but you are English. You have inherited nothing good, imaginative, poetic, from your father's fatherland."

"If by that you mean I have no knowledge of the quality of every tap in the metropolis, you are right, and, what is more, I do not want to have anything to do with poetry or imagination if either assumes that particular development."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet