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IX. Mr Pallard Wins
Heavily
Gladys Callander was
preparing to make an afternoon call when the grind
of motorcar wheels on the gravelled drive took her to the window.
Before the
house was a strange car, and alighting therefrom was a man who was no
stranger,
for it was her erratic cousin. She hurried
downstairs to meet him, angry with herself that his coming
should bring the blood to her face and make her heart beat faster. He was waiting in
the drawing-room. "Have you got time
for a little chat?" he asked quickly, and
seeing that she hesitated, "It's rather important," he urged,
"and I shan't keep you more than half an hour." "Come into the
garden," she said. They walked a little
way before he spoke. "You know Lord
Pinlow, of course," he said. What made her
make the reply she did, she could never afterwards understand. "Oh, yes, I am
engaged to be married to him." It was not
true; she knew it was not true when she said it, but she said it. He stopped, and
looked at her gravely, his lips tight, his eyebrows
drawn level in a frown. "I'm sorry," he said. Then he looked past
her and seemed to be thinking. "None the less," he
went on after awhile, "I've got to
say what I have to say: Pinlow and his friends have got your father in
a nice
mess." "My father?" she
asked in alarm. "Your father," he
repeated grimly. "But how?" "Speculation," said
Brian. "He's been investing in a
pretty unholy mining share. Pinlow is in it. It wasn't a big rig;
Pinlow had a
respectable parcel to unload, and he unloaded them upon your innocent
parent." "But what does that
mean?" "It means that
unless a miracle happens your father will lose more
money than it is good for any man to lose. I went to him yesterday to
persuade
him to sell. I'm afraid I wasn't any too tactful." "I don't quite
understand," she said. "Has my father
been making unwise investments?" "That's a nice way
of putting it," he replied smilingly.
"I tried to get him to drop them, but, acting on the advice of of
your
fiancι" she winced "he resolved to hold his stock." "And now?" Brian shrugged his
shoulders. "Now the shares he
bought at six pounds he won't be able to sell
at three. I tried to hold 'em up, but as soon as I put 'em to six he
bought
again." She was deep in
troubled thought. "Will he lose much?"
she asked. "That depends
entirely upon when he sells and what he holds. My
information is that he has about twenty thousand shares if he loses
three
pounds a share he will lose sixty thousand pounds." The girl went white. "You don't mean
that? Why, father couldn't afford to lose as much.
I I don't know much about his business, but I know that much. It
would ruin
us." Brian nodded his
head slowly. "So I think," he
said. "Now I'll tell you why I've come
down. To the man who can hold, and afford to hold, Beitjesfonteins,
they are
not a bad investment, always providing one can get rid of the present
board. I
am willing to buy your father's interest at the price he paid. If I go
into the
market to buy them, I shall probably be getting Pinlow's and his
'precious
friends'. As the stock stands to-day, and with the information I have
about
your father's holdings, I should say that he stands to lose about
forty-five
thousand pounds." She shook her head. "No," she said
quietly, "that would mean that the loss
would fall on you." "I know that," he
interrupted, "but so far as I am
concerned the loss would not concern me and I would take jolly good
care that
I lost nothing. Now the question is, have you sufficient influence with
your
father to induce him to sell to me?" "I have no
influence," she said sadly. "Father would be
very angry if he knew that I had any communication with you; he would
be
furious if he knew the nature of the communication." They had reached the
little belt of pine wood that lies behind Hill
View, and she turned. "Then it's pretty
hopeless," he said, and she inclined her
head. "You mustn't think
that I'm not grateful, and I half know that
what you have said about Lord Pinlow is true. I am sure that man has an
evil
influence " A look of amazement
on his face stopped her. For a moment she looked
around to see what had caused it, then blushed scarlet as she
remembered. "You said you were
engaged to Pinlow," he said slowly. She was a picture of
pretty confusion as she stood there twisting her
handkerchief in her hand. "I I am not
exactly engaged," she faltered. "He has
asked father, and I have said I would sooner marry a a sweep, and
father was
very annoyed and I loathe Lord Pinlow " "I see," said Brian
wisely. "You hate Pinlow like the
dickens, and you'll never marry him; but otherwise you're engaged to
him." They both laughed
together, and then suddenly, before she knew what had
happened, Brian's arms were round her waist, and Brian's lips were
pressing
hers. She made the
faintest resistance, murmured only a little at his
temerity, and lay a passive and a happy creature in his strong arms. "All this is very
wrong," she found courage to say at last. "It would never
occur to me," he confessed; but she gently
disengaged herself. "This is not what
you came to talk about," she smiled. "I'm not so sure,"
he protested. "I had an idea that I
might screw my courage to the point." "I really must go
back to the house; let me go, dear." But it was a long
time before they wended their way slowly back again. "I shall make an
attempt to see your father," he said.
"I suppose he'll be very annoyed. I mustn't kiss you in front of the
chauffeur ... Perhaps if I come into the house you would give me a cup
of
tea?" She shook hands with
him hastily. "I have given you
enough to-day," she said demurely, and took
a safe farewell of him from the top of the steps. Brian sped back to
town, singing all the way, to the scandal of his
respectable chauffeur. He reached
Knightsbridge to find his broker waiting for him. Burton was
being entertained by the doctor with a sketchy dissertation on
appendicitis. "Don't go, Ernest,"
said Brian, "there's nothing you
can't know. Well, Burton, how is the great stock?" "Down to nothing,"
said the broker. "Your little
adventure has cost you a couple of thousand pounds. I sold all I could,
but
practically there is no market." "Have you found out
anything about Pinlow?" "He's in it; they
say in the City that he has cleared a small
fortune." "Um!" said Brian.
"What say my scouts?" A dozen telegrams
lay awaiting Brian on the table. He opened the first.
It ran: "mildam came a good
gallop to-day; looks like another trial. she
is wonderfully well and a beautiful mover. carr." Carr was the name of
the watcher that Pallard had sent to report on his
rival's progress. He opened the second. "pinlow's
man laid your horse to lose him six thousand." The wire was from
his agent at one of the big clubs. The next wire was
from his trainer, and was to the effect that Grey
Timothy was well. He picked up the
next telegram. "look
out for pinlow, he's got you taped. caggley." "Ernest," inquired
Brian, looking up, "you are
acquainted with the argot of this village; what does 'taped' mean?" "It means 'marked
down'," said the doctor, as he read the
telegram. "Got me marked down,
has he?" said the other grimly. He looked at his
watch. "I've a man coming
to see me in ten minutes," he said.
"You fellows can clear out into the billiard-room when he comes.
Burton,
do you know the editor of the Market Review?" "Yes, a man named
Garson." "Straight?" "Absolutely too
straight; he's fairly poor." "That's a healthy
sign," said Brian thoughtfully. When Garson called,
Brian was alone. After a formal exchange of
greetings, Brian came to the point. "Mr Garson, I have
asked you to see me on a matter which I regard
as important. I am a very busy man, and I am not going to beat about
the bush.
I want you to attack Beitjesfonteins the board, the management, the
general
business. I will put you in possession of the facts more facts than
you
possess perhaps." "It is curious you
should ask that," said the editor.
"The fact is, I have already got an article in type attacking the
company.
You know, of course, that the story of the discovery of a new leader
was a
lie?" "I shouldn't be
surprised at anything," said the young man.
"Now, I want you to make your article strong in fact, libellous." The editor shook his
head doubtfully. "I own the paper,"
he said, "and it isn't a very paying
property as it is a libel would ruin me." "I'll indemnify you
against all loss in that direction," said
Brian, "and I will give you a cheque for five hundred pounds on account
is
it a bargain?" "It is a bargain,"
said the other, after a few seconds'
hesitation. "You will tell me, of course, your own object in attacking
the
stock?" "I will tell you as
much as it is necessary for you to know,"
smiled Brian. And this he did in
as few words as possible. The interview was a short
one it was shortened by the arrival of a telegram. Brian opened it and
read the contents; then, as Mr Garson took his
leave, he went to the telephone. He put through a number. "Is that the Vicfort
Club?" he asked. "Yes? Will you tell
Mr Levinger I wish to speak to him?" In a moment the
voice of his commission agent came through. "That you,
Levinger?" he demanded. "It is me Pallard
speaking. What is the best you can get Grey Timothy?" "There are plenty of
eights," said the voice. "Get me another
thousand on at the best price you can get,"
said Brian; "and lay me Mildam to lose five thousand." He heard the click
of the receiver as Levinger hung it up, then he
returned to the table and read the telegram again. "mildam is coughing.
carr," it ran. "Now, Pinlow," he said, half to himself, "I think this will annoy you." |