Allan and the Holy Flower. H. Rider Haggard

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СКАЧАТЬ this moment Mr. Primrose, who, leaning over his desk, was engaged in animated conversation with an excited knot of orchid fanciers, looked up:

      “Oh! there you are, Mr. Somers,” he said. “In the name of all this company let me congratulate you on having become the owner of the matchless ‘Odontoglossum Pavo’ for what, under all the circumstances, I consider the quite moderate price of £2,300.”

      Really that young man took it very well. He shivered slightly and turned a little pale, that is all. Woodden rocked to and fro like a tree about to fall. I and my tin box collapsed together in the corner. Yes, I was so surprised that my legs seemed to give way under me. People began to talk, but above the hum of the conversation I heard young Somers say in a low voice:

      “Woodden, you’re a born fool.” Also the answer: “That’s what my mother always told me, master, and she ought to know if anyone did. But what’s wrong now? I obeyed orders and bought ‘O. Paving.’ ”

      “Yes. Don’t bother, my good fellow, it’s my fault, not yours. I’m the born fool. But heavens above! how am I to face this?” Then, recovering himself, he strolled up to the rostrum and said a few words to the auctioneer. Mr. Primrose nodded, and I heard him answer:

      “Oh, that will be all right, sir, don’t bother. We can’t expect an account like this to be settled in a minute. A month hence will do.”

      Then he went on with the sale.

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      SIR ALEXANDER AND STEPHEN

      It was just at this moment that I saw standing by me a fine-looking, stout man with a square, grey beard and a handsome, but not very good-tempered face. He was looking about him as one does who finds himself in a place to which he is not accustomed.

      “Perhaps you could tell me, sir,” he said to me, “whether a gentleman called Mr. Somers is in this room. I am rather short-sighted and there are a great many people.”

      “Yes,” I answered, “he has just bought the wonderful orchid called ‘Odontoglossum Pavo.’ That is what they are all talking about.”

      “Oh, has he? Has he indeed? And pray what did he pay for the article?”

      “A huge sum,” I answered. “I thought it was two thousand three hundred shillings, but it appears it was £2,300.”

      The handsome, elderly gentleman grew very red in the face, so red that I thought he was going to have a fit. For a few moments he breathed heavily.

      “A rival collector,” I thought to myself, and went on with the story which, it occurred to me, might interest him.

      “You see, the young gentleman was called away to an interview with his father. I heard him instruct his gardener, a man named Woodden, to buy the plant at any price.”

      “At any price! Indeed. Very interesting; continue, sir.”

      “Well, the gardener bought it, that’s all, after tremendous competition. Look, there he is packing it up. Whether his master meant him to go as far as he did I rather doubt. But here he comes. If you know him——”

      The youthful Mr. Somers, looking a little pale and distrait, strolled up apparently to speak to me; his hands were in his pockets and an unlighted cigar was in his mouth. His eyes fell upon the elderly gentleman, a sight that caused him to shape his lips as though to whistle and drop the cigar.

      “Hullo, father,” he said in his pleasant voice. “I got your message and have been looking for you, but never thought that I should find you here. Orchids aren’t much in your line, are they?”

      “Didn’t you, indeed!” replied his parent in a choked voice. “No, I haven’t much use for—this stinking rubbish,” and he waved his umbrella at the beautiful flowers. “But it seems that you have, Stephen. This little gentlemen here tells me you have just bought a very fine specimen.”

      “I must apologize,” I broke in, addressing Mr. Somers. “I had not the slightest idea that this—big gentleman,” here the son smiled faintly, “was your intimate relation.”

      “Oh! pray don’t, Mr. Quatermain. Why should you not speak of what will be in all the papers. Yes, father, I have bought a very fine specimen, the finest known, or at least Woodden has on my behalf, while I was hunting for you, which comes to the same thing.”

      “Indeed, Stephen, and what did you pay for this flower? I have heard a figure, but think that there must be some mistake.”

      “I don’t know what you heard, father, but it seems to have been knocked down to me at £2,300. It’s a lot more than I can find, indeed, and I was going to ask you to lend me the money for the sake of the family credit, if not for my own. But we can talk about that afterwards.”

      “Yes, Stephen, we can talk of that afterwards. In fact, as there is no time like the present, we will talk of it now. Come to my office. And, sir” (this was to me) “as you seem to know something of the circumstances, I will ask you to come also; and you too, Blockhead” (this was to Woodden, who just then approached with the plant).

      Now, of course, I might have refused an invitation conveyed in such a manner. But, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. I wanted to see the thing out; also to put in a word for young Somers, if I got the chance. So we all departed from that room, followed by a titter of amusement from those of the company who had overheard the conversation. In the street stood a splendid carriage and pair; a powdered footman opened its door. With a ferocious bow Sir Alexander motioned to me to enter, which I did, taking one of the back seats as it gave more room for my tin case. Then came Mr. Stephen, then Woodden bundled in holding the precious plant in front of him like a wand of office, and last of all, Sir Alexander, having seen us safe, entered also.

      “Where to, sir?” asked the footman.

      “Office,” he snapped, and we started.

      Four disappointed relatives in a funeral coach could not have been more silent. Our feelings seemed to be too deep for words. Sir Alexander, however, did make one remark and to me. It was:

      “If you will remove the corner of that infernal tin box of yours from my ribs I shall be obliged to you, sir.”

      “Your pardon,” I exclaimed, and in my efforts to be accommodating, dropped it on his toe. I will not repeat the remark he made, but I may explain that he was gouty. His son suddenly became afflicted with a sense of the absurdity of the situation. He kicked me on the shin, he even dared to wink, and then began to swell visibly with suppressed laughter. I was in agony, for if he had exploded I do not know what would have happened. Fortunately, at this moment the carriage stopped at the door of a fine office. Without waiting for the footman Mr. Stephen bundled out and vanished into the building—I suppose to laugh in safety. Then I descended with the tin case; then, by command, followed Woodden with the flower, and lastly came Sir Alexander.

      “Stop here,” he said to the coachman; “I shan’t be long. Be so good as to follow me, Mr. What’s-your-name, and you, too, Gardener.”

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