That night after supper Robert McIntyre
poured forth all that he had seen to his father and
to his sister. So full was he of the one subject
that it was a relief to him to share his knowledge
with others. Rather for his own sake, then, than
for theirs he depicted vividly all the marvels which
he had seen; the profusion of wealth, the regal treasure-house
of gems, the gold, the marble, the extraordinary devices,
the absolute lavishness and complete disregard for
money which was shown in every detail. For an
hour he pictured with glowing words all the wonders
which had been shown him, and ended with some pride
by describing the request which Mr. Raffles Haw had
made, and the complete confidence which he had placed
in him.
His words had a very different effect
upon his two listeners. Old McIntyre leaned back
in his chair with a bitter smile upon his lips, his
thin face crinkled into a thousand puckers, and his
small eyes shining with envy and greed. His lean
yellow hand upon the table was clenched until the
knuckles gleamed white in the lamplight. Laura,
on the other hand, leaned forward, her lips parted,
drinking in her brother’s words with a glow
of colour upon either cheek. It seemed to Robert,
as he glanced from one to the other of them, that
he had never seen his father look so evil, or his
sister so beautiful.
“Who is the fellow, then?”
asked the old man after a considerable pause.
“I hope he got all this in an honest fashion.
Five millions in jewels, you say. Good gracious
me! Ready to give it away, too, but afraid of
pauperising any one. You can tell him, Robert,
that you know of one very deserving case which has
not the slightest objection to being pauperised.”
“But who can he possibly be,
Robert?” cried Laura. “Haw cannot
be his real name. He must be some disguised prince,
or perhaps a king in exile. Oh, I should have
loved to have seen those diamonds and the emeralds!
I always think that emeralds suit dark people best.
You must tell me again all about that museum, Robert.”
“I don’t think that he
is anything more than he pretends to be,” her
brother answered. “He has the plain, quiet
manners of an ordinary middle-class Englishman.
There was no particular polish that I could see.
He knew a little about books and pictures, just enough
to appreciate them, but nothing more. No, I fancy
that he is a man quite in our own position of life,
who has in some way inherited a vast sum. Of
course it is difficult for me to form an estimate,
but I should judge that what I saw to-day house,
pictures, jewels, books, and so on could
never have been bought under twenty millions, and I
am sure that that figure is entirely an under-statement.”
“I never knew but one Haw,”
said old McIntyre, drumming his fingers on the table;
“he was a foreman in my pin-fire cartridge-case
department. But he was an elderly single man.
Well, I hope he got it all honestly. I hope the
money is clean.”
“And really, really, he is coming
to see us!” cried Laura, clapping her hands.
“Oh, when do you think he will come, Robert?
Do give me warning. Do you think it will be to-morrow?”
“I am sure I cannot say.”
“I should so love to see him.
I don’t know when I have been so interested.”
“Why, you have a letter there,”
remarked Robert. “From Hector, too, by
the foreign stamp. How is he?”
“It only came this evening.
I have not opened it yet. To tell the truth,
I have been so interested in your story that I had
forgotten all about it. Poor old Hector!
It is from Madeira.” She glanced rapidly
over the four pages of straggling writing in the young
sailor’s bold schoolboyish hand. “Oh,
he is all right,” she said. “They
had a gale on the way out, and that sort of thing,
but he is all right now. He thinks he may be
back by March. I wonder whether your new friend
will come to-morrow your knight of the
enchanted Castle.”
“Hardly so soon, I should fancy.”
“If he should be looking about
for an investment. Robert,” said the father,
“you won’t forget to tell him what a fine
opening there is now in the gun trade. With my
knowledge, and a few thousands at my back, I could
bring him in his thirty per cent. as regular as the
bank. After all, he must lay out his money somehow.
He cannot sink it all in books and precious stones.
I am sure that I could give him the highest references.”
“It may be a long time before
he comes, father,” said Robert coldly; “and
when he does I am afraid that I can hardly use his
friendship as a means of advancing your interest.”
“We are his equals, father,”
cried Laura with spirit. “Would you put
us on the footing of beggars? He would think
we cared for him only for his money. I wonder
that you should think of such a thing.”
“If I had not thought of such
things where would your education have been, miss?”
retorted the angry old man; and Robert stole quietly
away to his room, whence amid his canvases he could
still hear the hoarse voice and the clear in their
never-ending family jangle. More and more sordid
seemed the surroundings of his life, and more and more
to be valued the peace which money can buy.
Breakfast had hardly been cleared
in the morning, and Robert had not yet ascended to
his work, when there came a timid tapping at the door,
and there was Raffles Haw on the mat outside.
Robert ran out and welcomed him with all cordiality.
“I am afraid that I am a very
early visitor,” he said apologetically; “but
I often take a walk after breakfast.” He
had no traces of work upon him now, but was trim and
neat with a dark suit, and carefully brushed hair.
“You spoke yesterday of your work. Perhaps,
early as it is, you would allow me the privilege of
looking over your studio?”
“Pray step in, Mr. Haw,”
cried Robert, all in a flutter at this advance from
so munificent a patron of art; “I should be only
too happy to show you such little work as I have on
hand, though, indeed, I am almost afraid when I think
how familiar you are with some of the greatest masterpieces.
Allow me to introduce you to my father and to my sister
Laura.”
Old McIntyre bowed low and rubbed
his thin hands together; but the young lady gave a
gasp of surprise, and stared with widely-opened eyes
at the millionaire. Maw stepped forward, however,
and shook her quietly by the hand,
“I expected to find that it
was you,” he said. “I have already
met your sister, Mr. McIntyre, on the very first day
that I came here. We took shelter in a shed from
a snowstorm, and had quite a pleasant little chat.”
“I had no notion that I was
speaking to the owner of the Hall,” said Laura
in some confusion. “How funnily things turn
out, to be sure!”
“I had often wondered who it
was that I spoke to, but it was only yesterday that
I discovered. What a sweet little place you have
here! It must be charming in summer. Why,
if it were not for this hill my windows would look
straight across at yours.”
“Yes, and we should see all
your beautiful plantations,” said Laura, standing
beside him in the window. “I was wishing
only yesterday that the hill was not there.”
“Really! I shall be happy
to have it removed for you if you would like it.”
“Good gracious!” cried
Laura. “Why, where would you put it?”
“Oh, they could run it along
the line and dump it anywhere. It is not much
of a hill. A few thousand men with proper machinery,
and a line of rails brought right up to them could
easily dispose of it in a few months.”
“And the poor vicar’s house?” Laura
asked, laughing.
“I think that might be got over.
We could run him up a facsimile, which would, perhaps,
be more convenient to him. Your brother will tell
you that I am quite an expert at the designing of
houses. But, seriously, if you think it would
be an improvement I will see what can be done.”
“Not for the world, Mr. Haw.
Why, I should be a traitor to the whole village if
I were to encourage such a scheme. The hill is
the one thing which gives Tamfield the slightest individuality.
It would be the height of selfishness to sacrifice
it in order to improve the view from Elmdene.”
“It is a little box of a place
this, Mr. Haw,” said old McIntyre. “I
should think you must feel quite stifled in it after
your grand mansion, of which my son tells me such
wonders. But we were not always accustomed to
this sort of thing, Mr. Haw. Humble as I stand
here, there was a time, and not so long ago, when
I could write as many figures on a cheque as any gunmaker
in Birmingham. It was ”
“He is a dear discontented old
papa,” cried Laura, throwing her arm round him
in a caressing manner. He gave a sharp squeak
and a grimace of pain, which he endeavoured to hide
by an outbreak of painfully artificial coughing.
“Shall we go upstairs?”
said Robert hurriedly, anxious to divert his guest’s
attention from this little domestic incident.
“My studio is the real atelier, for it is right
up under the tiles. I shall lead the way, if
you will have the kindness to follow me.”
Leaving Laura and Mr. McIntyre, they
went up together to the workroom. Mr. Haw stood
long in front of the “Signing of Magna Charta,”
and the “Murder of Thomas a Becket,” screwing
up his eyes and twitching nervously at his beard,
while Robert stood by in anxious expectancy.
“And how much are these?” asked Raffles
Haw at last.
“I priced them at a hundred apiece when I sent
them to London.”
“Then the best I can wish you
is that the day may come when you would gladly give
ten times the sum to have them back again. I am
sure that there are great possibilities in you, and
I see that in grouping and in boldness of design you
have already achieved much. But your drawing,
if you will excuse my saying so, is just a little
crude, and your colouring perhaps a trifle thin.
Now, I will make a bargain with you, Mr. McIntyre,
if you will consent to it. I know that money has
no charms for you, but still, as you said when I first
met you, a man must live. I shall buy these two
canvases from you at the price which you name, subject
to the condition that you may always have them back
again by repaying the same sum.”
“You are really very kind.”
Robert hardly knew whether to be delighted at having
sold his pictures or humiliated at the frank criticism
of the buyer.
“May I write a cheque at once?”
said Raffles Haw. “Here is pen and ink.
So! I shall send a couple of footmen down for
them in the afternoon. Well, I shall keep them
in trust for you. I dare say that when you are
famous they will be of value as specimens of your early
manner.”
“I am sure that I am extremely
obliged to you, Mr. Haw,” said the young artist,
placing the cheque in his notebook. He glanced
at it as he folded it up, in the vague hope that perhaps
this man of whims had assessed his pictures at a higher
rate than he had named. The figures, however,
were exact. Robert began dimly to perceive that
there were drawbacks as well as advantages to the
reputation of a money-scorner, which he had gained
by a few chance words, prompted rather by the reaction
against his father’s than by his own real convictions.
“I hope, Miss McIntyre,”
said Raffles Haw, when they had descended to the sitting-room
once more, “that you will do me the honour of
coming to see the little curiosities which I have
gathered together. Your brother will, I am sure,
escort you up; or perhaps Mr. McIntyre would care to
come?”
“I shall be delighted to come,
Mr. Haw,” cried Laura, with her sweetest smile.
“A good deal of my time just now is taken up
in looking after the poor people, who find the cold
weather very trying.” Robert raised his
eyebrows, for it was the first he had heard of his
sister’s missions of mercy, but Mr. Raffles
Haw nodded approvingly. “Robert was telling
us of your wonderful hot-houses. I am sure I
wish I could transport the whole parish into one of
them, and give them a good warm.”
“Nothing would be easier, but
I am afraid that they might find it a little trying
when they came out again. I have one house which
is only just finished. Your brother has not seen
it yet, but I think it is the best of them all.
It represents an Indian jungle, and is hot enough in
all conscience.”
“I shall so look forward to
seeing it,” cried Laura, clasping her hands.
“It has been one of the dreams of my life to
see India. I have read so much of it, the temples,
the forests, the great rivers, and the tigers.
Why, you would hardly believe it, but I have never
seen a tiger except in a picture.”
“That can easily be set right,”
said Raffles Haw, with his quiet smile. “Would
you care to see one?”
“Oh, immensely.”
“I will have one sent down.
Let me see, it is nearly twelve o’clock.
I can get a wire to Liverpool by one. There is
a man there who deals in such things. I should
think he would be due to-morrow morning. Well,
I shall look forward to seeing you all before very
long. I have rather outstayed my time, for I
am a man of routine, and I always put in a certain
number of hours in my laboratory.” He shook
hands cordially with them all, and lighting his pipe
at the doorstep, strolled off upon his way.
“Well, what do you think of
him now?” asked Robert, as they watched his
black figure against the white snow.
“I think that he is no more
fit to be trusted with all that money than a child,”
cried the old man. “It made me positively
sick to hear him talk of moving hills and buying tigers,
and such-like nonsense, when there are honest men
without a business, and great businesses starving for
a little capital. It’s unchristian that’s
what I call it.”
“I think he is most delightful,
Robert,” said Laura. “Remember, you
have promised to take us up to the Hall. And
he evidently wishes us to go soon. Don’t
you think we might go this afternoon?”
“I hardly think that, Laura.
You leave it in my hands, and I will arrange it all.
And now I must get to work, for the light is so very
short on these winter days.”
That night Robert McIntyre had gone
to bed, and was dozing off when a hand plucked at
his shoulder, and he started up to find his sister
in some white drapery, with a shawl thrown over her
shoulders, standing beside him in the moonlight.
“Robert, dear,” she whispered,
stooping over him, “there was something I wanted
to ask you, but papa was always in the way. You
will do something to please me, won’t you, Robert?”
“Of course, Laura. What is it?”
“I do so hate having my affairs
talked over, dear. If Mr. Raffles Haw says anything
to you about me, or asks any questions, please don’t
say anything about Hector. You won’t, will
you, Robert, for the sake of your little sister?”
“No; not unless you wish it.”
“There is a dear good brother.”
She stooped over him and kissed him tenderly.
It was a rare thing for Laura to show
any emotion, and her brother marvelled sleepily over
it until he relapsed into his interrupted doze.