Читать книгу Honor of Thieves - Charles John Cutcliffe Wright Hyne - Страница 6

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Mr. Theodore Shelf wanted to drag Onslow off there and then to his own business-room, on the first floor, to discuss further this great project which he had in his head; but Onslow thought fit to remain where he was. Mr. Shelf nodded significantly towards the new-comers, as much as to hint that a third person with them would be distinctly an inconvenient third. Onslow turned to them, cue in hand, and proposed a game of snooker.

“That’s precisely what we came up for,” said Amy Rivers promptly. “Hamilton, get out the balls. Mr. Onslow, will you put the billiard-balls away, so that they don’t get mixed?”

They played and talked merrily. Their conversation turned on the wretched show at the recent Academy, which they agreed was a disgrace to a civilized country; and Onslow made himself interesting over the art of painting in Paris—mural, facial, and on canvas. When he chose he could be very interesting, this man London had nicknamed “The Great Traveler”; and he generally chose, not being ill-natured.

Mr. Theodore Shelf left the billiard-room with a feeling beneath his waistcoat much akin to sea-sickness. First of all, that plain-spoken Patrick Onslow had not over politely hinted that he was a canting hypocrite, and had showed cause for arriving at the conclusion. This was true, but that didn’t make it any the more digestive. And secondly, he himself, in a moment of excitement, had let drop to this same pernicious Onslow (who after all was a comparative stranger) a proposal to make the sum of £500,000 at one coup. True, he had not mentioned the means; but Onslow had at once concluded it was to be gained by robbery, and he (Theodore Shelf) had not denied the impeachment.

Consequently Mr. Shelf went direct to his own room, locked the door, and fortified his nerves with a liberal allowance of brandy. Then he munched a coffee-bean in deference to the blue ribbon on his coat-lapel, replaced the cognac bottle in the inner drawer of his safe, and sat down to think.

If only he understood Onslow, and, better still, knew whether he might trust him, there was a fortune to be had. Yes, a fortune! And it was wanted badly. The great firm of Marmaduke Rivers and Shelf, which called itself “Agents to the Oceanic Steam Transport Co.,” but which really ran the line of steamers which traded under that flag, might look prosperous to the outer eye, and might still rear its head haughtily amongst the first shipping firms of London port. But the man who bragged aloud that he owned it all, from offices to engine-oil, knew otherwise. He had mortgages out in every direction, mortgages so cunningly hidden that only he himself was aware of their vast total. He knew that the firm was rotten—lock, stock, and barrel. He knew that through any one of twenty channels a breakup might come any day; and, following on the heels of that, a smash, which would be none the pleasanter because, from its size and devastating effects, it would live down into history.

He, Theodore Shelf, would assuredly not be in England to face it. Since his commercial barometer had reached “stormy,” and still showed signs of steady descent, he had been transmitting carefully modulated doles to certain South American banks, and had even gone so far as to purchase (under a nom d’escroc) a picturesquely situated estançia on the upper waters of the Rio Paraguay.

There, in case the tempest of bankruptcy broke, the extradition treaties would cease from troubling, and the weary swindler would be at well-fed rest.

But Mr. Theodore Shelf had no lust for this tropical retirement. He liked the powers of his present pinnacle in the City. And that howl of execration from every class of society which would make up his pæan of defeat was an opera that he very naturally shrank from sitting through.

As he thought of these things, he hugged closer to him the wire-haired fox-terrier which sat upon his lap.

“George, old friend,” said Mr. Shelf, “if things do go wrong, I believe you are the only thing living in England which won’t turn against me.”

George slid out a red tongue and licked the angle of Mr. Shelf’s square chin. Then he retired within himself again, and looked sulky. The door had opened, and Mrs. Shelf stood on the mat. There was a profound mutual dislike between George and Mrs. Theodore Shelf.

“You alone, Theodore? I thought Mr. Onslow was here. However, so much the better. I have wanted to speak with you all the morning. Do turn that nasty dog away!”

George was not evicted, and Mr. Shelf inquired curtly what his wife was pleased to want. She seldom invaded this business-room of his, and, when she did, it was for a purpose which he was beginning to abhor. She came to the point at once by handing him a letter, which was mostly in copperplate. He read it through with brief, sour comment.

“H’m! Bank. Your private account overdrawn. That’s the third time this year, Laura. Warning seems to be no use. You are determined to know what ruin tastes like.”

“Ruin, pshaw! You don’t put me off with that silly tale. To begin with, I don’t believe it for an instant; and even if it were true, I’d rather be ruined than retrench. You and I can afford to be candid between ourselves, Theodore. You know perfectly well that we have gained our position in society purely and solely by purchase.”

“To my cost I do know it. But having paid your entrance fee at least eight times over, I think you might be content with an ordinary subscription. The ball last night, for instance——”

“Was necessary. And I couldn’t afford to do the thing otherwise than gorgeously.”

“Gorgeously! Do you think I’m a Crœsus, Laura, to pay for gearing one room with red roses, and another room with pink, and another room with Marshal Niels for fools to flit in during one short night? This morning’s paper informs me that those flowers came by special express from Nice, and cost five hundred pounds.”

“And yet you twit me with extravagance! All the papers have got in that paragraph, as I took care they should; and everybody will read it. Yet the flowers only cost a paltry three hundred pounds, so that in credit I am two hundred to the good, because I have clearly given the ball of the season. Theodore, you are short-sighted; you are a fool to your own profit. By myself I shall make you a baronet this year, and if you had only worked in your own interests half as hard as I have done, you could have entered the House of Lords.”

“Titles,” said Shelf grimly, “for people of our stamp, are only given for direct cash outlay in almshouses, or picture galleries, or political clubs. Before they are bestowed, a Crown censor satisfies himself that one’s financial position is broad and absolutely sound. There are reasons connected with those matters which block you further and further from being ‘milady’ every day.”

Mrs. Shelf shrugged her shoulders in utter unbelief. “Your preaching tendencies cover you like a second skin, Theodore. It seems as if you never drop the conventicle and the pleasure of pointing a moral at one. Believe me, is isn’t a paying speculation, this cant of yours. At the most they would only give you a trumpery knighthood for it. But go your own way, and I’ll go mine. You shall be made in spite of yourself.”

Mrs. Shelf noticed that at this point her husband’s eyes were beginning to glow with dull fury. She objected to scenes; and, dropping the subject, reverted once more to her present needs.

“However, let us stop this wrangle, and come to business. I wish you to see to that impertinent circular from the bank. I have several checks out, and unpresented; I am absolutely compelled to draw others to-day, for trifles which will add up to about a thousand. You will kindly see that they are honored. It is all your own fault, this trumpery worry about nothing. You should not try and screw me down to such a niggardly allowance.”

Shelf stood up, and the dog on his lap leaped hurriedly to the ground growling. “Woman!” he said passionately, “you won’t believe me; but if you will go on in this mad extravagance, you will soon learn for yourself that I am not lying—perhaps very soon. Perhaps to-morrow. When a shameful bankruptcy does come, then you can play your hand as you please. I shall not be here to hinder you any longer. Where shall I go, how I shall lead my new life, who will be my partner, are matters which you will be allowed no finger in. So long as things last here, I shall observe all the conventionalities; and, if you appreciate those, you will find it wise to reconsider your present ways. I tell you candidly that if the firm does go down, not only England, but half the world will ring with its transactions. Marmaduke Rivers and Shelf,” he went on with scowling fury, “were honest, prosperous tradesmen once, before their ways were fouled to find money for your cursed ambition.”

There was a new look on Theodore Shelf’s clean-shaven face which his wife had never seen before, and an evil glint in the eyes which scared her. Irresolutely she moved towards the door and put her fingers upon the handle. Then she drew herself up and stared him up and down with a look of forced contempt. “You will be good enough,” she said coldly, “to attend to the business which brought me here. I am going now to draw the checks I spoke about.”

Shelf looked at her very curiously. “Go,” he said, “and do as you please. You are a determined woman, and, because I am determined myself, I admire your strength of will; but for all that I think I shall murder you before I leave England.”

Mrs. Shelf laughed derisively, but with pale lips; and then she opened the door.

“What fine heroics,” she said. “But thanks for seeing after my balance. I must have that money.”

She passed through the door, closing it gently behind her, and Shelf returned to his armchair.

“George,” he said, as the fox-terrier stood up against his knee, “if that woman were only struck dead to-day, there are two thousand families in England who would rejoice madly if they only knew one-tenth part of what I know. Poor beggars, they have trusted me to the hilt, and she makes me behave to them like a fiend. D’you know, my small animal, I wish very much just now an earthquake or a revolution or something like that would occur, to shuffle matters up. Then if I got killed I should be spared a great deal of worry; and if I didn’t, why I’ve got large hands, and I believe could grab enough in the general scramble to suit even her. As it is, however, with neither earthquake nor revolution probable, I’m a desperate man, ready to take any desperate chance of commercial salvation. Eh, well!” he concluded, as he reached for a paper-block and rested it on George’s back, “worrying myself about the matter won’t improve it. The only thing is to try and keep things running in their present groove.” He broke off and scribbled a Biblical text. “Other men would have been suspected long before this. But my reputation has saved me.” He smiled to himself softly. “What a thing it is to be known as a thoroughly good man!”

He broke off at this point, and applied himself with gusto to writing his sermon for the ensuing Sunday.