DEATH COMETH SOON OR LATE: 35+ Mystery & Revenge Tales. Robert Barr

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ scenery. He knew men in a business way, of course, and doubtless each of them had a home in the suburbs somewhere, but he could not take a business man by the shoulders and say to him, "Invite me to your house; I am lonely; I want to know people."

      If he got such an invitation, he would not know what to do with himself. He was familiar with the counting-room and its language, but the drawing-room was an unexplored country to him, where an unknown tongue was spoken. On the road to wealth he had missed something, and it was now too late to go back for it. Only the day before, he had heard one of the clerks, who did not know he was within earshot, allude to him as "the old man." He felt as young as ever he did, but the phrase, so lightly spoken, made him catch his breath.

      As he was now walking through the park, and away from the busy streets, he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his grizzled hair, looking at his hand when he had done so, as if the grey, like wet paint, might have come off. He thought of a girl he knew once, who perhaps would have married him if he had asked her, as he was tempted to do. But that had always been the mistake of the Denhams. They had all married young except himself, and so sunk deeper into the mire of poverty, pressed down by a rapidly-increasing progeny. The girl had married a baker, he remembered. Yes, that was a long time ago. The clerk was not far wrong when he called him an old man. Suddenly, another girl arose before his mental vision—a modern girl—very different indeed to the one who married the baker. She was the only woman in the world with whom he was on speaking terms, and he knew her merely because her light and nimble fingers played the business sonata of one note on his office typewriter. Miss Gale was pretty, of course— all typewriter girls are—and it was generally understood in the office that she belonged to a good family who had come down in the world. Her somewhat independent air deepened this conviction and kept the clerks at a distance. She was a sensible girl who realized that the typewriter paid better than the piano, and accordingly turned the expertness of her white fingers to the former instrument. Richard Denham sat down upon a park bench. "Why not?" he asked himself. There was no reason against it except that he felt he had not the courage. Nevertheless, he formed a desperate resolution.

      Next day, business went on as usual. Letters were answered, and the time arrived when Miss Gale came in to see if he had any further commands that day. Denham hesitated. He felt vaguely that a business office was not the proper place for a proposal; yet he knew he would be at a disadvantage anywhere else. In the first place, he had no plausible excuse for calling upon the young woman at home, and, in the second place, he knew if he once got there he would be stricken dumb. It must either be at his office or nowhere.

      "Sit down a moment, Miss Gale," he said at last; "I wanted to consult you about a matter—about a business matter."

      Miss Gale seated herself, and automatically placed on her knee the shorthand writing-pad ready to take down his instructions. She looked up at him expectantly. Denham, in an embarrassed manner, ran his fingers through his hair.

      "I am thinking," he began, "of taking a partner. The business is very prosperous now. In fact, it has been so for some time."

      "Yes?" said Miss Gale interrogatively.

      "Yes. I think I should have a partner. It is about that I wanted to speak to you."

      "Don't you think it would be better to consult with Mr. Rogers? He knows more about business than I. But perhaps it is Mr. Rogers who is to be the partner?"

      "No, it is not Rogers. Rogers is a good man. But—it is not Rogers."

      "Then I think in an important matter like this Mr. Rogers, or someone who knows the business as thoroughly as he does, would be able to give you advice that would be of some value."

      "I don't want advice exactly. I have made up my mind to have a partner, if the partner is willing."

      Denham mopped his brow. It was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated.

      "Is it, then, a question of the capital the partner is to bring in?" asked Miss Gale, anxious to help him.

      "No, no. I don't wish any capital. I have enough for both. And the business is very prosperous, Miss Gale—and—and has been."

      The young woman raised her eyebrows in surprise.

      "You surely don't intend to share the profits with a partner who brings no capital into the business?"

      "Yes—yes, I do. You see, as I said, I have no need for more capital."

      "Oh, if that is the case, I think you should consult Mr. Rogers before you commit yourself."

      "But Rogers wouldn't understand."

      "I'm afraid I don't understand either. It seems to me a foolish thing to do—that is, if you want my advice."

      "Oh, yes, I want it. But it isn't as foolish as you think. I should have had a partner long ago. That is where I made the mistake. I've made up my mind on that."

      "Then I don't see that I can be of any use—if your mind is already made up."

      "Oh, yes, you can. I'm a little afraid that my offer may not be accepted."

      "It is sure to be, if the man has any sense. No fear of such an offer being refused! Offers like that are not to be had every day. It will be accepted."

      "Do you really think so, Miss Gale? I am glad that is your opinion. Now, what I wanted to consult you about, is the form of the offer. I would like to put it—well—delicately, you know, so that it would not be refused, nor give offence."

      "I see. You want me to write a letter to him?"

      "Exactly, exactly," cried Denham with some relief. He had not thought of sending a letter before. Now, he wondered why he had not thought of it. It was so evidently the best way out of a situation that was extremely disconcerting.

      "Have you spoken to him about it?"

      "To him? What him?"

      "To your future partner, about the proposal?"

      "No, no. Oh, no. That is—I have spoken to nobody but you."

      "And you are determined not to speak to Mr. Rogers before you write?"

      "Certainly not. It's none of Roger's business."

      "Oh, very well," said Miss Gale shortly, bending over her writing-pad.

      It was evident that her opinion of Denham's wisdom was steadily lowering. Suddenly, she looked up.

      "How much shall I say the annual profits are? Or do you want that mentioned?"

      "I—I don't think I would mention that. You see, I don't wish this arrangement to be carried out on a monetary basis—not altogether."

      "On what basis then?"

      "Well—I can hardly say. On a personal basis, perhaps. I rather hope that the person—that my partner—would, you know, like to be associated with me."

      "On a friendly basis, do you mean?" asked Miss Gale, mercilessly.

      "Certainly. Friendly, of course—and perhaps more than that."

      Miss Gale looked up at him with a certain СКАЧАТЬ