For the Allinson Honor
When Andrew reached the library, his brother-in-law sat at a writing-table on which stood a tall silver lamp. The light fell in a sharply defined circle on the polished floor, which ran back beyond it into shadow. The windows at the western end were open and, for it was not quite dark yet, the long rows of bookcases, dimly visible against the wall, emphasized the spaciousness of the room. The scent of flowers that drifted in was mingled with the smell of a cigar, and as Andrew's footsteps echoed through the room Leonard laid down his pen. The strong light fell upon him, showing his thin face and tall, spare figure. His hair receded somewhat from his high forehead, and he had the colorless complexion of a man who lives much indoors; but his eyes were singularly penetrating. Dressed with fastidious neatness he had an air of elegance and, by comparison, made Andrew, who was of robuster build, look heavy and awkward.
"I'm glad of an excuse for stopping," he said. "Will you sit down and smoke?"
"What are you doing? I thought you came here for a rest," said Andrew, lighting a cigarette.
"The firm is a hard task-master, and it's difficult to get a few minutes undisturbed in town. That's why I brought these papers down. Writing a prospectus is a business which demands both caution and imagination. Would you like to see the draft?"
"I thought a boundless optimism was the most essential thing," Andrew replied, taking the paper handed him. "You're moderate," he continued when he had read it. "Ten per cent. is all you promise, though as far as my experience goes, twenty's the more usual thing."
"Allinson's does not promise more than it can fulfill."
"That's true and quite in accordance with my views. Until lately, however, prospectuses were very much out of our line."
Leonard was surprised and annoyed. Andrew was associating himself with the business in an unusual manner; although he had a right to do so.
"If there's anything you wish to ask, I shall be glad to explain it."
"These underwritten shares – I suppose you're letting the fellows have them below par? Is that because you expect any difficulty in getting the money?"
"No; any project we're connected with will be taken up. Still, when you launch a good thing, it's policy to let a few members of the ring in at bottom and give them a share of the pickings."
Andrew frowned.
"It sounds like a bribe. But these pickings? They must come out of the shareholders' pockets."
"In the end, they do."
"Though I'm not a business man, it seems to me that capital put into shafts and reducing plant stands a fair chance of being productive. That spent in starting the concern is largely wasted."
"We are spending less than usual. May I ask what your idea of the object of floating a company is?"
"Mine would be the expectation of getting a good dividend on the stock I took in it."
Leonard looked amused.
"Excellent, so far as it goes; but there's sometimes a little more than that."
Andrew sat silent a while. Then he said:
"I gather that this new scheme will be subscribed for because Allinson's guarantees it."
"It's impossible to guarantee a mining scheme, but, in a sense, you're right. The firm's name will count."
"Well," said Andrew, "I'd like to go to Canada and take some share in starting things – you see, I know the country. Then, as I suppose some of my money will be put into the business, you might, perhaps, make me a director. I'd be of no use in London, but I might do something in Canada."
Leonard was surprised, but the suggestion pleased him. The name of Andrew Allinson would have its influence on investors.
"It is not a bad idea," he said. "We'll see what can be done."
Andrew then changed the subject.
"How's business generally?"
"Pretty fair; we have made some profitable ventures in South America. You will remember my bringing Señor Piñola down? We made some money out of him."
"How?" Andrew asked without much interest. "The fellow had a dash of the nigger or Indian in him."
"He was Dictator Valhermosa's secret agent."
"Then you supported Valhermosa's administration during the unsuccessful revolution?"
"We did. They wanted to re-arm the troops quietly in preparation; Piñola came over to buy new rifles and machine-guns, and as he couldn't pay ready money we arranged the matter. There was a risk, but we got some valuable concessions as security, and turned them over afterward to a German syndicate on excellent terms."
Andrew's face was grim when he looked up.
"And I gave Piñola two days' shooting instead of pitching him into the nearest bog! To think of Allinson's backing that brute Valhermosa is somewhat of a shock."
"What do you know about him?"
"A good deal. Warren, the naturalist who was with me in Canada, spent some time in his country and has friends there. He used to talk about the things he'd seen, and the memory of his stories makes me savage yet, because I believe them. I have other acquaintances who have lived in parts of the world that business men don't often reach. If you don't know how rubber's collected and minerals are worked in countries where there's a subject native population, you'd better not find out." Andrew broke into a harsh laugh.
"You didn't suspect that while the firm helped the Dictator, I, its sleeping partner, gave Warren a check for the rebels, and I'd like to think that every cartridge my money bought accounted for one of the brutes who flog women to death and burn Indians at the stake when the revenue falls off."
Leonard looked grieved.
"I'm sorry to hear this; though it's possible that Warren was exaggerating. Anyway, we're out of it now. The deal was a matter of business – we couldn't be expected to know what was being done in the back-country, and after all it's no concern of ours."
Lighting another cigarette, Andrew smoked half of it in silence.
"The thing will hardly bear speaking of," he said finally; "and the fault is partly mine for not taking the interest in the firm I should have done."
He paused and looked Leonard steadily in the face.
"From what I've heard, those concessions may be good for another two or three years; and then, when Valhermosa's victims revolt again, if Allinson's can take any hand in the matter, it will be on the other side. Now we'll let the subject drop."
Leonard acquiesced with a tolerant gesture, though he was disconcerted by Andrew's tone. It implied that his opinions would have to be considered in the future.
"By the way," Leonard said, "there's a matter I must mention, though it's delicate. I saw Judson this morning and he grumbled about the liberality you have shown of late."
"Judson's niggardliness has lost me one or two good tenants."
"It's possible; but he told me that you had let The Firs to Mrs. Olcott for ten pounds less than he could easily have obtained. As he's a talkative fellow and nothing is kept secret here, do you think you were wise in letting her have the place below its value?"
"You have been given a hint, Leonard. What do you know about Mrs. Olcott?"
"Nothing. The point is that nobody else seems to know anything. I merely wished to suggest that it might be well to be more cautious."
The color crept into Andrew's face.
"The next time you hear Mrs. Olcott mentioned you may say that her husband is a friend of mine; that he served with credit as captain through the recent war; and that he now holds a government post in West Africa, though the climate compelled him to leave his wife at home. Now, would you like a game of pool?"
Leonard said that he would be busy for a while, and when Andrew went out he leaned back in his chair to think. On the death of Andrew's father, he had been left in control of the business, though, as he had not brought much capital into the firm, his share of the profits was not large. There was a good deal to be paid over to members of the family and, getting tired of slow and steady progress, he had of late launched out into bold speculations.
Since his first advancement he had looked on his brother-in-law as an obstacle in his way, and had quietly strengthened his own position. He had made Andrew's brief business experience distasteful to him, by seeing that the young man was kept busy at monotonous tasks that he could take no interest in. Afterward, when Andrew retired from the counting-house, he had missed no opportunity for suggesting that he was right in doing so, because he was obviously unfitted for a commercial career. Now and then he went farther and hinted that the young man was not gifted with much intelligence. It was, however, done cleverly; nobody realized that the impression that Andrew was something of a fool had originated with his brother-in-law, but in time it was generally held. This promised to make Leonard's position safer, because the firm was a family one, and though Andrew held a good deal of the capital, his opinion would not have much weight with his relatives.
Nevertheless, to some extent, Leonard was honest in what he had done. Andrew was undoubtedly not clever and Leonard believed that for him to have any say in matters would be detrimental to the firm. Now that he was inclined to assert his rights, it would be well to send him to Canada. This implied some risk, as there were matters connected with the mine which Leonard preferred to conceal, but it was unlikely that Andrew would make any undesirable discovery. However, as Andrew's inaptitude for business was taken for granted, it might be wise to give the family a reason for entrusting him with the post, and Leonard thought it could be supplied by making the most of his acquaintance with Mrs. Olcott. Having arrived at this conclusion, he dismissed the matter and busied himself with the prospectus.
CHAPTER III
A COUNCIL
Hot sunshine flooded the Ghyllside lawn, but there was a belt of shadow beneath a copper beech, where a family group had gathered. Leonard sat in a basket-chair, talking to Mrs. Fenwood, an elderly widow with an austere expression; his wife and Gertrude Wannop were whispering over their teacups; Wannop, red-faced and burly, stood beside Robert Allinson, a solemn-looking clergyman.
"We have been here half an hour and not a word has been said yet upon the subject everybody's itching to talk about. We're a decorous lot," Wannop remarked, surveying the others with amusement. "Personally, I should be glad if we were allowed to go home without its being broached. It's hardly the thing to discuss Andrew's shortcomings round his table."
"There are times when it's a duty to overcome one's delicacy," Robert replied. "If I have been correctly informed, the matter demands attention. Hitherto the Allinsons have never given their neighbors cause to criticize their conduct."
"None of them? I seem to remember – "
"None of them," Robert interposed firmly. "There was once a malicious story about Arthur, but I am glad to say it was disproved. But this Mrs. Olcott, whom I haven't seen – I suppose she's attractive?"
Wannop smiled.
"Distinctly so; what's more, she has a forlorn and pathetic air which is highly fetching. Still, I'm convinced that there's no harm in her."
"A married woman living apart from her husband!" Robert exclaimed severely. "I understand that Andrew is at her house now, and I must confess that after walking some distance I feel hurt at his not being here to receive us."
"He didn't know you were coming," Wannop pointed out, and added with a roguish air: "We have all been young and I don't suppose you used to look the other way when you met a pretty girl; but I'll go bail Andrew only visits her out of charity. However, if you are determined to have your say, you may as well begin and get it over."
Robert left him and addressed Leonard in a formal tone.
"I am told that Andrew is going out to assist in the development of the new mine and wishes to be made a director. As a relative and a shareholder, may I ask if you consider him fit for the post?"
Leonard had been waiting for an opening, and he welcomed the inquiry.
"Andrew has every right to demand the position, which I could not refuse." He paused, for the next suggestion must be skilfully conveyed. "As it happens, his abilities hardly enter into the question. It is merely needful that we should have a representative on the spot to whom we can send instructions, and I dare say he will get a good deal of the fishing and shooting he enjoys. All matters of importance will be decided in London."
"Then I take it that his inexperience and inaptitude can do the company no harm?"
Leonard was grateful to him for so plainly expressing his meaning.
"Oh, no! Besides, I imagine that the change will be beneficial in several ways."
Glancing at the others, he knew that he had said enough. It would have been difficult for any of the family to cite a remark of his in open disparagement of his brother-in-law, though he had cunningly fostered their disbelief in him. His wife, however, was endowed with courage as well as candor.
"There is nothing to be gained by shutting one's eyes to the truth," she observed. "We all know that Andrew's visits to this woman are being talked about. What is more serious is that he induced her to come here, and let her have The Firs on purely nominal terms."
"Is it so bad as that?" Mrs. Fenwood, with a shocked look, turned to the clergyman, as if begging him to deal with the painful situation.
"The thing must be stopped; nipped in the bud," said Robert firmly. "I agree with Leonard that our infatuated relative should be sent to Canada at once."
Wannop smiled.
"It strikes me as fortunate that Andrew is willing to go."
"It's a favorable sign," said Mrs. Fenwood. "He may be struggling against the creature's influence, in which case it's our duty to assist him."
"That wasn't what I meant. I've a suspicion that we have fallen into a habit of underestimating Andrew's abilities and determination." Wannop looked hard at Leonard. "You are going to put him into a position of responsibility and teach him to use his power. Are you prepared for the possible consequences?"
Nobody paid much attention to this, and Leonard after a moment's hesitation dismissed the matter. The Allinsons regarded Wannop as a thoughtless person whose moral code was somewhat lax. Nevertheless, he was shrewd and had read Andrew's character better than Leonard.
"If Andrew ever wishes to have his say in business matters, I should have neither the desire nor the authority to object," Leonard said.
"Then we may rest assured that everything will be done to facilitate his departure for Canada," Robert said decidedly. "There is only another point – I wonder whether Mrs. Olcott could by any means be induced to leave the neighborhood."
Wannop's eyes sparkled angrily. He was easy-going, but there was a chivalrous vein in him.
"It would be wiser to leave the hatching of the plot until Andrew has sailed!" he said indignantly.
"Plot is not the right word; and you are mistaken if you imagine that any fear of Andrew's displeasure would deter me in a matter of duty. With the welfare of the parish at heart – "
Wannop checked him.
"Duty's a good deal easier when it chimes with one's inclinations; and the welfare of the parish isn't threatened by Mrs. Olcott. There are, however, one or two abuses you could put your finger on to-morrow if you liked, though I dare say it would get you into trouble."
Robert reddened and Mrs. Wannop made her husband a peremptory sign to stop.
"I think we needn't talk about the matter any more," she said. "It is decided that Andrew shall be sent to Canada."
They changed the subject, and a few minutes later Wannop left them. Crossing the lawn, he met Hilda in a shrubbery walk.
"Where have you been?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since we came."
"Florence found me an errand that kept me out of the way," said Hilda pointedly. "Now what have you and the others been talking about?"
"I mustn't betray a confidence," answered Wannop with twinkling eyes. "Still, I dare say you can guess."
"Of course! They were discussing my erring brother. Aren't they silly?"
"I think so. It's curious that you and I, whose opinions don't count for much, should venture to differ with the rest."
Hilda gave him a grateful glance.
"But we are the ones who see most clearly. I have always felt that you are to be trusted."
He made her a humorous bow.
"I must try to deserve such confidence."
"Don't be foolish; this is serious. They mean well, but they're all wrong about Andrew. Of course, I make fun of him now and then, but I'm very fond of him. It's a mistake to think he's stupid; and Leonard's responsible for it."
"I'll admit that something of the kind has occurred to me," Wannop said.
Hilda hesitated.
"Well," she said, "I have never had much confidence in Leonard, though the others think him perfect. I've an idea that all along he has been gently pushing Andrew aside, making him look silly, and undermining the influence he ought to have. Now he's sending him to Canada – I very much wonder why? He has some reason."
Wannop started.
"My dear, your suspicions go a trifle farther than mine. You may be right, though it's not nice to think so. But where does all this lead?"
"Andrew may need supporters who don't altogether believe in the immaculate Leonard some day. I think, if needful, he could count on us."
"And on nobody else?"
"Not until the others understood; and it would be hard to make them see."
"Uncommonly hard," Wannop admitted. "Well, Hilda, you and I will be allies. We can conspire together unsuspected, because we are the two who are not supposed to count – you because you're too young and charming; I because I haven't the fine moral fastidiousness and air of distinction that marks the Allinsons. But I'll let you into a secret – Gertrude's wavering in her ideas about Andrew: I'm perverting her."
"There's something I'd better tell you. I met Mrs. Olcott half an hour ago and I stopped and spoke. I like her – there isn't the least reason why I shouldn't – and I'm sorry for her. I know she feels being left alone, and we're going to be friends. Now if the others should try to make things unpleasant?"
"I imagine Robert means mischief."
"I was afraid of it," said Hilda. "Of course, he's as silly and unable to see things properly as an owl in daylight, but solemn stupid people often pass for being wise, and he might do harm. If he tries, can you stop him? I know Andrew would like it."
Wannop made a sign of rather dubious assent.
"As I'm unromantically stout, getting elderly, and devoid of personal charm, I might perhaps venture to interfere in this matter. After all, there's a sense in which Andrew is undoubtedly to blame. Why do you let him go to The Firs so often?"
"If I should give him a hint that people are talking, it would only make him angry. You know he really is slow at understanding now and then."
They strolled back to the party, which soon afterward broke up, for although Hilda begged them to wait for dinner nobody seemed anxious to meet Andrew. When they had gone, Hilda turned to Leonard with a smile.
"Had an interesting talk?" she asked. "You all looked so serious that I was afraid to join you."
Leonard glanced at her sharply.
"As you grow older you'll find that there are matters which can't be treated humorously."
"It's possible," Hilda agreed. "Still, that remark is too much in Robert's style. Improving conversation is apt to get tiresome."
She moved away and Leonard watched her with thoughtful eyes. He believed he enjoyed her sisters' confidence, but he was doubtful of Hilda.
Three weeks later Andrew sailed, and soon after he had done so Wannop called one afternoon at The Firs, where he was received by Mrs. Olcott in the garden. He thought she looked harassed, but he had expected this.
"I believe you have met my wife," he began, taking the canvas chair she indicated.
"Yes," said Mrs. Olcott. "She called on me and, if I remember right, stayed five minutes."
This was not encouraging.
"You know my sister-in-law, Hilda, better?" Wannop ventured.
Mrs. Olcott's expression softened.
"That is true; I have reason to be grateful to her."
"Hilda is a very nice girl. I verily believe that we are fond of each other, and as I am more than double her age, she now and then favors me with her confidence. In fact, she suggested that I might be able to help you out of a difficulty."
His hostess studied him carefully. He was burly and looked hot after his walk, but he had a reassuring smile and his red face seemed to indicate good-nature. She thought that he could be trusted.
"It's about the house," she said. "I don't know where else to go and it looks as if I might be turned out."
That this should distress her hinted at some degree of poverty, and Wannop felt compassionate. She was young and inexperienced, and had been coldly treated by her neighbors.
"How is that?" he asked.
After a moment of irresolution Mrs. Olcott decided to tell him.
"Mr. Allinson arranged about the house. Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed this, but when he was wounded in the war my husband carried him out of reach of the Boer fire."
"Ah! Andrew ought to have made that clear. But won't you go on with the explanation?"
"Mr. Allinson told me that no papers were needed, I was to pay the rent to a man called Judson. He came here and said that there had been some mistake. The rent was ten pounds more and I must share the cost of the alterations, while the field adjoining, which must go with The Firs, would be another extra. When I declared I couldn't pay all this he said I was undoubtedly liable, but he could find another tenant who would take the house off my hands."
"I see a clerical finger in this pie," said Wannop half aloud, and smiled at his hostess. "I beg your pardon. I suppose you didn't know that this is Andrew Allinson's house."
Mrs. Olcott started and colored.
"I did not know. But if it is, I can't understand why his agent – "
"Somebody is back of him. Now we had better be candid. I venture to believe you can confide in me."
"What proof can I have of that? You are a connection of the Allinsons, who seem bent on persecuting me. Have they sent you here?"
"Hilda did," Wannop replied with quiet good-humor. "Perhaps I had better say that on some points she and I are not quite in accord with the rest of the family. I suppose Andrew promised your husband to look after you until his return?"
Mrs. Olcott agreed, for her suspicions about his errand had vanished. Wannop mused for a few moments.
"I think you should stay here and fight it out until he comes back," he said. "After all, your neighbors are honest as far as they see, and you'll find them ready to make amends."
Mrs. Olcott's eyes sparkled, but she hesitated.
"I'm afraid I can't hold out. They have attacked me where I'm weakest."
"Will you leave the matter of the house to me? It can be put right."
"Why are you willing to take the trouble?"
Wannop laughed.
"For one thing, I enjoy putting a spoke in the parson's wheel; for another, Andrew made you a promise, and the Allinsons like to keep their word."
He got up and held out his hand.
"I'll have a talk with Mr. Judson. Show your courage and hold your ground. You'll be glad you did so by and by."
The next morning Wannop called at the agent's office in a neighboring town. He was shown into a dingy room, where an elderly man with spectacles received him with deference.
"I've been looking into accounts, Judson," Wannop began abruptly. "After deducting your commission and the cost of the repairs you agreed to, I find that the return on my property for the past year is small. Now I met Maxwell the other day and he hinted that it might be managed to better advantage."
The agent looked alarmed.
"I understood you didn't wish to put the screw on your tenants; and it isn't good policy."
"No," said Wannop; "I want to be fair. I don't think Andrew Allinson would wish any undue pressure put on his tenants either. As we talk over things now and then, I know his views."
Judson pondered this without answering, and Wannop resumed:
"My business and Andrew's should be worth a good deal to you, though Maxwell seemed to think that both could be improved."