A Yellow God: An Idol of Africa. Генри Райдер Хаггард

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СКАЧАТЬ bowed Major Vernon through its rather grimy doorway. Within, a small boy in a kind of box asked his business, and when he heard his name, said that the “Guvnor” had sent down word that he was go up at once—third floor, first to the right and second to the left. So up he went, and when he reached the indicated locality was taken possession of by a worried-looking clerk who had evidently been waiting for him, and almost thrust through a door to find himself in a big, worn, untidy room. At a huge desk in this room sat an elderly man, also big, worn, and untidy-looking, who waved a long slip of galley-proof in his hand, and was engaged in scolding a sub-editor.

      “Who is that?” he said, wheeling round. “I’m busy, can’t see anyone.”

      “I beg your pardon,” answered the Major with humility, “your people told me to come up. My name is Alan Vernon.”

      “Oh! I remember. Sit down for a moment, will you, and—Mr. Thomas, oblige me by taking away this rot and rewriting it entirely in the sense I have outlined.”

      Mr. Thomas snatched his rejected copy and vanished through another door, whereon his chief remarked in an audible voice:

      “That man is a perfect fool. Lucky I thought to look at his stuff. Well, he is no worse than the rest, in this weary world,” and he burst into a hearty laugh and swung his chair round, adding, “Now then, Alan, what is it? I have a quarter of an hour at your service. Why, bless me! I was forgetting that it’s more than a dozen years since we met; you were still a boy then, and now you have left the army with a D.S.O. and gratuity, and turned financier, which I think wouldn’t have pleased your old father. Come, sit down here and let us talk.”

      “I didn’t leave the army, Mr. Jackson,” answered his visitor; “it left me; I was invalided out. They said I should never get my health back after that last go of fever, but I did.”

      “Ah! bad luck, very bad luck, just at the beginning of what should have been a big career, for I know they thought highly of you at the War Office, that is, if they can think. Well, you have grown into a fine-looking fellow, like your father, very, and someone else too,” and he sighed, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. “But you don’t remember her; she was before your time. Now let us get to business; there’s no time for reminiscences in this office. What is it, Alan, for like other people I suppose that you want something?”

      “It is about that Sahara flotation, Mr. Jackson,” he began rather doubtfully.

      The old editor’s face darkened. “The Sahara flotation! That accursed——” and he ceased abruptly. “What have you, of all people in the world, got to do with it? Oh! I remember. Someone told me that you had gone into partnership with Aylward the company promoter, and that little beast, Champers-Haswell, who really is the clever one. Well, set it out, set it out.”

      “It seems, Mr. Jackson, that The Judge has refused not only our article, but also the advertisement of the company. I don’t know much about this side of the affair myself, but Sir Robert asked me if I would come round and see if things couldn’t be arranged.”

      “You mean that the man sent you to try and work on me because he knew that I used to be intimate with your family. Well, it is a poor errand and will have a poor end. You can’t—no one on earth can, while I sit in this chair, not even my proprietors.”

      There was silence broken at last by Alan, who remarked awkwardly:

      “If that is so, I must not take up your time any longer.”

      “I said that I would give you a quarter of an hour, and you have only been here four minutes. Now, Alan Vernon, tell me as your father’s old friend, why you have gone to herd with these gilded swine?”

      There was something so earnest about the man’s question that it did not even occur to his visitor to resent its roughness.

      “Of course it is not original,” he answered, “but I had this idea about flooding the Desert; I spent a furlough up there a few years ago and employed my time in making some rough surveys. Then I was obliged to leave the Service and went down to Yarleys after my father’s death—it’s mine now, you know, but worth nothing except a shooting rent, which just pays for the repairs. There I met Champers-Haswell, who lives near and is a kind of distant cousin of mine—my mother was a Champers—and happened to mention the thing to him. He took it up at once and introduced me to Aylward, and the end of it was, that they offered me a partnership with a small share in the business, because they said I was just the man they wanted.”

      “Just the man they wanted,” repeated the editor after him. “Yes, the last of the Vernons, an engineer with an old name in his county, a clean record and plenty of ability. Yes, you would be just the man they wanted. And you accepted?”

      “Yes. I was on my beam ends with nothing to do; I wanted to make some money. You see Yarleys has been in the family for over five hundred years, and it seemed hard to have to sell it. Also—also——” and he paused.

      “Ever meet Barbara Champers?” asked Mr. Jackson inconsequently. “I did once. Wonderfully nice girl, and very good-looking too. But of course you know her, and she is her uncle’s ward, and their place isn’t far off Yarleys, you say. Must be a connection of yours also.”

      Major Vernon started a little at the name and his face seemed to redden.

      “Yes,” he said, “I have met her and she is a connection.”

      “Will be a big heiress one day, I think,” went on Mr. Jackson, “unless old Haswell makes off with her money. I think Aylward knows that; at any rate he was hanging about when I saw her.”

      Vernon started again, this time very perceptibly.

      “Very natural—your going into the business, I mean, under all the circumstances,” went on Mr. Jackson. “But now, if you will take my advice, you’ll go out of it as soon as you can.”

      “Why?”

      “Because, Alan Vernon, I am sure you don’t want to see your name dragged in the dirt, any more than I do.” He fumbled in a drawer and produced a typewritten document. “Take that,” he said, “and study it at your leisure. It’s a sketch of the financial career of Messrs. Aylward and Champers-Haswell, also of the companies which they have promoted and been connected with, and what has happened to them and to those who invested in them. A man got it out for me yesterday and I’m going to use it. As regards this Sahara business, you think it all right, and so it may be from an engineering point of view, but you will never live to sail upon that sea which the British public is going to be asked to find so many millions to make. Look here. We have only three minutes more, so I will come to the point at once. It’s Turkish territory, isn’t it, and putting aside everything else, the security for the whole thing is a Firman from the Sultan?”

      “Yes, Sir Robert Aylward and Haswell procured it in Constantinople. I have seen the document.”

      “Indeed, and are you well acquainted with the Sultan’s signature? I know when they were there last autumn that potentate was very ill——”

      “You mean——” said Major Vernon, looking up.

      “I mean, Alan, that I like not the security. I won’t say any more, as there is a law of libel in this land. But The Judge has certain sources of information. It may be that no protest will be made at once, for baksheesh can stop it for a while, but sooner or later the protest or repudiation will СКАЧАТЬ