Five Tales [58]
but they haven't passed it yet. They might prove a breach of trust against me. But I'll diddle them. Keep your pecker up, and get off abroad."
"Yes, yes. I must. I'm very bad. I was going to-morrow. But I don't know, I'm sure, with this hanging over me. My son knowing her makes it worse. He picks up with everybody. He knows this man Ventnor too. And I daren't say anything to Bob. What are you thinking of, Sylvanus? You look very funny!"
Old Heythorp seemed to rouse himself from a sort of coma.
"I want my lunch," he said. "Will you stop and have some?"
Joe Pillin stammered out:
"Lunch! I don't know when I shall eat again. What are you going to do, Sylvanus?"
"Bluff the beggar out of it."
"But suppose you can't?"
"Buy him off. He's one--of my creditors."
Joe Pillin stared at him afresh. "You always had such nerve," he said yearningly. "Do you ever wake up between two and four? I do-- and everything's black."
"Put a good stiff nightcap on, my boy, before going to bed."
"Yes; I sometimes wish I was less temperate. But I couldn't stand it. I'm told your doctor forbids you alcohol."
"He does. That's why I drink it."
Joe Pillin, brooding over the fire, said: "This meeting--d'you think they mean to have it? D'you think this man really knows? If my name gets into the newspapers--" but encountering his old friend's deep little eyes, he stopped. "So you advise me to get off to-morrow, then?"
Old Heythorp nodded.
"Your lunch is served, sir."
Joe Pillin started violently, and rose.
"Well, good-bye, Sylvanus-good-bye! I don't suppose I shall be back till the summer, if I ever come back!" He sank his voice: "I shall rely on you. You won't let them, will you?"
Old Heythorp lifted his hand, and Joe Pillin put into that swollen shaking paw his pale and spindly fingers. "I wish I had your pluck," he said sadly. "Good-bye, Sylvanus," and turning, he passed out.
Old Heythorp thought: 'Poor shaky chap. All to pieces at the first shot!' And, going to his lunch, ate more heavily than usual.
2
Mr. Ventnor, on reaching his office and opening his letters, found, as he had anticipated, one from "that old rascal." Its contents excited in him the need to know his own mind. Fortunately this was not complicated by a sense of dignity--he only had to consider the position with an eye on not being made to look a fool. The point was simply whether he set more store by his money than by his desire for- -er--Justice. If not, he had merely to convene the special meeting, and lay before it the plain fact that Mr. Joseph Pillin, selling his ships for sixty thousand pounds, had just made a settlement of six thousand pounds on a lady whom he did not know, a daughter, ward, or what-not--of the purchasing company's chairman, who had said, moreover, at the general meeting, that he stood or fell by the transaction; he had merely to do this, and demand that an explanation be required from the old man of such a startling coincidence. Convinced that no explanation would hold water, he felt sure that his action would be at once followed by the collapse, if nothing more, of that old image, and the infliction of a nasty slur on old Pillin and his hopeful son. On the other hand, three hundred pounds was money; and, if old Heythorp were to say to him: "What do you want to make this fuss for--here's what I owe you!" could a man of business and the world let his sense of justice--however he might itch to have it satisfied--stand in the way of what was after all also his sense of Justice?--for this money had been owing to him for the deuce of along time. In this dilemma, the words:
"My solicitors will be instructed" were of notable service in helping him to form a decision, for he had a certain dislike of other solicitors, and an intimate knowledge of the law of libel and slander; if by any remote chance there should be a slip between the cup and the lip, Charles Ventnor might be in the soup--a position which he deprecated both by nature and profession. High thinking,
"Yes, yes. I must. I'm very bad. I was going to-morrow. But I don't know, I'm sure, with this hanging over me. My son knowing her makes it worse. He picks up with everybody. He knows this man Ventnor too. And I daren't say anything to Bob. What are you thinking of, Sylvanus? You look very funny!"
Old Heythorp seemed to rouse himself from a sort of coma.
"I want my lunch," he said. "Will you stop and have some?"
Joe Pillin stammered out:
"Lunch! I don't know when I shall eat again. What are you going to do, Sylvanus?"
"Bluff the beggar out of it."
"But suppose you can't?"
"Buy him off. He's one--of my creditors."
Joe Pillin stared at him afresh. "You always had such nerve," he said yearningly. "Do you ever wake up between two and four? I do-- and everything's black."
"Put a good stiff nightcap on, my boy, before going to bed."
"Yes; I sometimes wish I was less temperate. But I couldn't stand it. I'm told your doctor forbids you alcohol."
"He does. That's why I drink it."
Joe Pillin, brooding over the fire, said: "This meeting--d'you think they mean to have it? D'you think this man really knows? If my name gets into the newspapers--" but encountering his old friend's deep little eyes, he stopped. "So you advise me to get off to-morrow, then?"
Old Heythorp nodded.
"Your lunch is served, sir."
Joe Pillin started violently, and rose.
"Well, good-bye, Sylvanus-good-bye! I don't suppose I shall be back till the summer, if I ever come back!" He sank his voice: "I shall rely on you. You won't let them, will you?"
Old Heythorp lifted his hand, and Joe Pillin put into that swollen shaking paw his pale and spindly fingers. "I wish I had your pluck," he said sadly. "Good-bye, Sylvanus," and turning, he passed out.
Old Heythorp thought: 'Poor shaky chap. All to pieces at the first shot!' And, going to his lunch, ate more heavily than usual.
2
Mr. Ventnor, on reaching his office and opening his letters, found, as he had anticipated, one from "that old rascal." Its contents excited in him the need to know his own mind. Fortunately this was not complicated by a sense of dignity--he only had to consider the position with an eye on not being made to look a fool. The point was simply whether he set more store by his money than by his desire for- -er--Justice. If not, he had merely to convene the special meeting, and lay before it the plain fact that Mr. Joseph Pillin, selling his ships for sixty thousand pounds, had just made a settlement of six thousand pounds on a lady whom he did not know, a daughter, ward, or what-not--of the purchasing company's chairman, who had said, moreover, at the general meeting, that he stood or fell by the transaction; he had merely to do this, and demand that an explanation be required from the old man of such a startling coincidence. Convinced that no explanation would hold water, he felt sure that his action would be at once followed by the collapse, if nothing more, of that old image, and the infliction of a nasty slur on old Pillin and his hopeful son. On the other hand, three hundred pounds was money; and, if old Heythorp were to say to him: "What do you want to make this fuss for--here's what I owe you!" could a man of business and the world let his sense of justice--however he might itch to have it satisfied--stand in the way of what was after all also his sense of Justice?--for this money had been owing to him for the deuce of along time. In this dilemma, the words:
"My solicitors will be instructed" were of notable service in helping him to form a decision, for he had a certain dislike of other solicitors, and an intimate knowledge of the law of libel and slander; if by any remote chance there should be a slip between the cup and the lip, Charles Ventnor might be in the soup--a position which he deprecated both by nature and profession. High thinking,