Читать книгу Harvey Garrard's Crime - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 6

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Mr. Chalmer, the well-known accountant to the leather and kindred trades, lived in a country house in Essex, cultivated orchids and came to town each morning by the nine thirty-seven. On the morning after Harvey Garrard's visit to Bermondsey he was met at the office by so urgent a message that, without even stopping to open his letters, he hastened to keep the somewhat peremptory appointment suggested. He was ushered into the very imposing but dreary-looking private office where Harvey was awaiting him, expecting to be welcomed by a somewhat dissipated-looking young roué, a typical example of the leisured class which he half despised and half secretly admired. Instead he found himself greeted a little curtly by a clean-shaven, keen-eyed man of youthful middle age, who was obviously in perfect physical condition, and who seemed to have nothing whatever in common with the world to which the absentee member of this famous firm was supposed to belong.

"I am sorry that I was in Bristol on business yesterday," he apologised. "I came directly I got your note this morning."

"I understood that you were away," Harvey replied, waving his visitor to a seat. "I am much obliged for your promptness this morning. I have sent for you, Mr. Chalmer," he continued, "because I find myself suddenly confronted with a very difficult position. I am not a man of business. I understand nothing of figures. What is your opinion as to the present financial position of my firm?"

Mr. Chalmer coughed. This was plain speaking with a vengeance.

"You have doubtless already realised, Mr. Garrard," he said, "that the firm has met with severe losses."

"I have realised that," Harvey acknowledged. "There have also been what I presume one must call defalcations on the part of Mr. Armitage. There was nothing in the deed of partnership, which I was examining last evening, entitling him to overdraw to the extent of nearly a hundred thousand pounds."

"Nothing whatever," the accountant assented. "A most irregular proceeding."

"And this hundred thousand pounds, I understand, figures in our last balance sheet as an asset."

"It is amongst the book debts, I believe," Mr. Chalmer admitted. "I remonstrated seriously with Mr. Armitage on this point. He insisted, however, that he would be returning the money almost immediately, and looking at the matter in that light it was impossible to exclude it from the assets."

"I see," Harvey commented drily. "There is another point connected with the balance sheet of which I desire to speak to you," he added, indicating the document which lay stretched out before him. "You have a note here that the stock has been taken by the firm and that you accept no responsibility with regard to its valuation."

"That is quite usual," the other concurred, adjusting a pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses and looking over the document for a moment. "We accountants can only put together the figures which are given to us. If people choose to wilfully deceive themselves by inflating the value of their assets, we cannot prevent them."

"I see," Harvey murmured. "It comes to this then: that unless the principals of a firm are entirely honest, a balance sheet is not worth the paper it is written upon."

Mr. Chalmer puffed out his chest a little. His clients seldom indulged in such plain language and he was inclined to resent the attitude of this stranger who upon his first appearance in the world of affairs was tilting against tradition.

"There are cases," he explained, "when a firm is publishing its figures for the purpose of attracting capital, for instance—when with the aid of experts the stock itself is verified and any irregular book debt of such a character as Mr. Armitage's would be mentioned in detail. This, however, is not the custom in the ordinary yearly balance sheets of established firms who are not incorporated."

"Incorporated?" Harvey queried.

"An incorporated business," the accountant explained, "would be a limited liability company whose accounts must be published for the information of shareholders."

Harvey nodded.

"I understand," he observed. "Well, according to this balance sheet, Mr. Chalmer, the capital of the firm should be approximately two hundred thousand pounds—that is to say the balance of assets over liabilities amount to that sum. Should you consider that to be a fair statement of the condition of affairs?"

"I certainly should not," Mr. Chalmer acknowledged. "In the first place, Mr. Armitage's personal estate, to the great surprise of everyone, is practically non-existent, and the whole of the hundred thousand pounds owing by him to the firm may now be written off as a dead loss. In the second place the stock there is announced—we insisted upon that—as being taken at cost price. Markets are to-day something like twenty per cent. lower."

Harvey produced his pencil and made a few calculations.

"That would mean," he pointed out, "a loss of about eighty thousand pounds on the stock and a hundred thousand off the book debts. Those two amounts together practically wipe out the capital."

"Most regrettable, but true," Mr. Chalmer acquiesced. Harvey pushed the balance sheet away from him. "To pass on," he continued, "to the imminent and serious side of the situation—my real reason for wishing to see you without any delay—the Bank have absolutely refused to increase our overdraft and we need eighty thousand pounds to meet our acceptances due tomorrow."

Mr. Chalmer's expression became very grave. "Dear me, dear me!" he exclaimed. "This is a very serious situation—very serious indeed."

"What am I to do?" Harvey demanded.

The accountant scratched a ponderous chin. Already the advice which he was intending to offer was forming in his mind.

"Every effort has been made to collect such amounts as may be due to the firm, I presume?" he suggested.

"You shall hear for yourself what Mr. Greatorex, the cashier, has to say to that," Harvey replied, pressing his finger upon the bell.

Mr. Greatorex, who presently put in an appearance, had very little helpful to say. He explained that he had been through the ledgers twice during the last week, had drawn bills wherever possible until there remained barely seven or eight thousand pounds in the books, a considerable portion of which amount was not due. Harvey listened and dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

"That is the situation, Mr. Chalmer," he wound up. "Have you any advice to give me or further suggestions to make?"

The accountant spoke with due solemnity.

"Bearing in mind the fact, Mr. Garrard," he said, "that the balance sheet does not in any way correctly represent the firm's position, and that there is no one left at the head of affairs capable of making those radical changes of policy which are evidently necessary, I am driven to the conclusion that there is only one honourable and straightforward course for you to take—deeply distasteful though I am sure it must be. I suggest that you instruct me to call a meeting of your creditors to consider the position."

Harvey made no immediate reply. His eyes seemed to have become drawn by some involuntary force towards the central one of the line of oil paintings upon the wall. For a moment his face lost its new hardness. It was almost as though he were appealing to the dead for advice—appealing against this dread sentence of disaster. His companion, on the other hand, although he did his best to conceal the fact, was already beginning to find an amazing piquancy in the situation. The failure of Garrard & Garrard would be the great sensation of the year and he, himself, the central figure. He saw himself besieged by questioners and visitors day after day. It would be an event without precedent in the annals of the trade—a firm, whose capital a few years ago had amounted to a million pounds and whose credit had been and still was unassailable, compelled to meet its creditors! He found himself already composing the first unctuous paragraph of the circular he should send out. His speculations were disturbed by a new ring in Harvey Garrard's somewhat drawling tone.

"That is a course, Mr. Chalmer," he said, "which I shall only consider as a last emergency. You can suggest, I gather, no means by which such a sum as eighty thousand pounds could possibly be raised before to-morrow afternoon?"

"I most certainly cannot," was the decided reply. "If your own Bank are unwilling to finance you further, it is scarcely likely that an outside loan would be possible."

"In that case," Harvey concluded, "I will not detain you any longer. I must try to work out my own salvation."

Mr. Chalmer smiled weakly as he rose to his feet. It was a disappointing sequel to their conversation, but the final result was after all inevitable.

"You will be a financial genius indeed, Mr. Garrard," he said, "if you are able to raise eighty thousand pounds before four o'clock to-morrow. Of course if the present crisis could be tided over, there is just a chance that with skilful manipulation of the figures—an honest manipulation I mean—a company might be floated. The name of Garrard would carry great weight upon the prospectus."

"That might become a subject for later conversation," Harvey remarked. "The immediate question, however, is to provide for to-morrow's engagements."

"That of course is the great difficulty," the other assented, as he shook hands. "I regret very much that I am absolutely powerless to assist you in this matter. Unless you have outside friends who would help, I know of no means of raising such a sum in the time."

Harvey rang the bell.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Chalmer," he insisted, dismissing him with a little nod, "it must be done."

At half-past three o'clock that afternoon, Harvey left the head offices of his Bank, after an interview by appointment with two of the Directors, and walked down Lombard Street with unseeing eyes. They had treated him kindly enough, these men whose lives seemed to be steeped in figures, who sat in an atmosphere of money and precision. Their attitude, however, was entirely hopeless. Argument with them was from the first impossible. They seemed indeed to have made up their minds beforehand even what phrases to use in rejecting his proposal. One of them, the senior, had wound up with a suggestion which Harvey heard for the second time that day with revulsion.

"From what I can gather, Mr. Garrard," he had said, leaning back in his chair, "your firm is in the unfortunate position of having no one left of sufficient experience—er—no one left likely to conduct its affairs to a successful issue. I tender you the advice with great reluctance—especially as our Bank would be amongst your largest creditors—but I honestly believe that in the interests of everyone you would do well to place your affairs in the hands of a Receiver."

At that Harvey Garrard had prepared to take his leave.

"It is a course which I shall only adopt as a last extremity," he told them.

"We quite understand your reluctance, Mr. Garrard," the junior of the two Directors had said, with a certain amount of sympathy in his tone, "but you must remember that you yourself will not be held personally responsible for the mistakes which have been made in your absence by those directing the destinies of your firm."

"My reluctance does not spring from personal consideration at all," Harvey had replied shortly, as he had picked up his hat and wished them good-afternoon. . . .

A certain amount of indecision had assailed him as he reached Old Broad Street, and three times he walked past the offices outside which a brass plate denoted that Herbert Fardale & Co. transacted business as bankers and financial agents. Finally, however, he entered. Years ago as a very juvenile captain he had led his men across a shell-swept stretch of wire entanglements with fewer apprehensions and more exultantly. Nevertheless, he enquired for Mr. Fardale in his ordinary tone and received, with self-assured graciousness, the almost over-exuberant welcome of the man whom he had come to visit.

"Jolly good of you to look me up," Fardale declared, secretly immensely flattered. "Try one of these cigars. No, I forgot, you only smoke cigarettes. There you are—Benson and Hedges' best. Make yourself at home. When did you get back?"

"Only two days ago. The firm wired for me. One of my partners died unexpectedly."

"Gad, I forgot that you had anything to do with business at all," the other continued. "One of the best-known firms in the City, yours, although I didn't even know that you still had an interest."

"I am a partner—in fact, the sole surviving partner," Harvey confided. "To tell you the truth, it was on a matter of business I came in to see you."

Mr. Fardale leaned back in his chair and shook with laughter. He was a large man, clumsy of build, with a pale, almost pasty complexion, keen dark eyes and an unpleasant, but forcible mouth. He was dressed with almost too scrupulous care and his manner was a little too ingratiating to be absolutely natural.

"Capital!" he exclaimed. "You, the Beau Brummel of the Riviera, with a leather business to look after! Gad, that's fine! Still, you'd need some of those profits if you had many seasons like this last one. They touched you up a bit at Cannes, didn't they?"

"I lost for me quite heavily," Harvey admitted.

"Never mind, you had your best season at polo," the other reminded him consolingly. "I never saw you play a better game. If you'd been three or four years younger they couldn't have kept you out of the English team."

"I haven't come to talk about the Riviera or sport," Harvey said quietly. "As I told you a moment ago, I have come to put a business proposition before you."

"What the devil do you know about business?" Mr. Fardale chuckled.

"Not much, I admit, but I intend to learn," was the curt reply. "I have come back to find no one at the head of affairs and to find, too, that the business seems to have been allowed to drift on of its own accord for the last few years. I have made up my mind to take hold and to do my best to pull it round."

"You?" the other exclaimed. "My dear fellow, you'll never be able to stick Bermondsey every day. You'll be bored to death."

"It isn't a question of being bored or not," Harvey observed, with an undernote of irritation in his tone. "It has become a matter of necessity. In the meantime, however, I am confronted with an unexpected difficulty. My late partner has used up all the firm's available resources and we apparently need eighty thousand pounds to meet our engagements to-morrow."

It is probable that Herbert Fardale had never been so completely surprised in his life. In the first place, like many others, he had always looked upon the firm of Garrard & Garrard as one of the wealthiest in their particular line of business. In the second place, he had never seriously associated Harvey directly or indirectly with the world of commerce. He had seen him the intimate of the Princes of the world, favoured by Royalty, accepted in the innermost circles of society on the Riviera, had been thankful for his occasional notice, and proud to claim acquaintance with him. The present situation seemed entirely incredible.

"God bless my soul!" he faltered.

"I have just been to see two of the Directors of my Bank," Harvey continued. "We owe them a great deal of money already and they decline to increase the overdraft. I have no knowledge of how one raises money in an emergency like this, but I remembered that you were said to be at the back of a great many financial enterprises and to always have funds at your command. I called to ask, therefore, if you could assist me."

The words were spoken at last and spoken calmly enough. No one but Harvey Garrard himself knew what they had cost him—knew the bitter humiliation which sat like a pain in his heart.

"Incredible!" Fardale exclaimed. "I—I scarcely know what to say, Garrard. Eighty thousand pounds! It's an immense sum."

"Is it? I thought you dealt in much larger sums every week."

Fardale avoided that view of the subject.

"I don't mind admitting, Garrard," he said, "that you've knocked me endways. I always looked upon that firm of yours down in the City as a sort of gold mine."

"In my father's and grandfather's time it undoubtedly was," Harvey rejoined. "Since then the management seems to have been in bad hands."

"Have you any balance sheet or anything of that sort?" Fardale asked, a little diffidently.

"There is one," the other admitted, "but it scarcely represents the true position of affairs. It shows a balance to the good of about two hundred thousand pounds. The assets, however, include a bad debt of a hundred thousand pounds and the stock is considerably over-valued."

"You are frank at any rate," Fardale observed.

"None of my predecessors ever found it necessary to tell falsehoods to make money," Harvey answered coldly. "If I continue with the business I shall endeavour to restore their methods."

"Well, I'm sure I wish you every luck," the financier declared. "I—well, so far as I am concerned, this sort of thing is rather out of my line. I advance a little money sometimes, but it's always upon security. I'm afraid there's no way you and I could come together on this affair. If your Bank is handled properly, they ought to see you through it."

"You wouldn't like to be security to my Bank for, say, half the amount?" Harvey proposed. "An adequate consideration could of course be arranged."

"I'd rather not, old chap," Fardale confessed, with exuberant cordiality. "It isn't that I haven't any amount of confidence in you personally, and that sort of thing, but—you will forgive my saying so—you don't know any more about business than the man in the moon. Trade's bad all over the world, too. If you take my advice you'll cut your loss and get out. Let the others who've had the plums bear the brunt of it."

"I think I've had a fair share of the plums myself," Harvey pointed out. "I've been drawing ten thousand a year regularly and this year a great deal more."

"That chap Armitage was a bit of a flyer," Fardale ventured.

"Armitage is dead," was the grave rejoinder.

There was a moment's silence. Harvey rose to his feet.

"Well," he said, "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"My dear fellow, don't mention it," the other begged. "Money's a bit tight just now or we might have been able to fix something up, although it's quite outside my line. I hope your wife is well."

"Very well indeed, thanks."

"Drop in and see me any time you're passing," Fardale invited, as he escorted his visitor to the door, "and as for the business, don't you worry. I should leave it alone and let your cashier or some of them take it on. It's bound to come all right. Why, hang it all—Garrard & Garrard! As good as the Bank of England! You're a lucky chap to still have an interest."

"Am I?" Harvey speculated, as he held up his stick to hail a taxi.