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A Woman Intervenes

R >> Robert Barr >> A Woman Intervenes




Passing through a pair of swinging doors, his conductor tapped lightly at
a closed one, and then opened it.

'Mr. Kenyon, sir,' he said respectfully, and then closed the door behind
him, leaving John Kenyon standing in a large room somewhat handsomely
furnished, with two desks near the window. From an inner room came the
muffled click, click, click of a type-writer. Seated at one of the desks
was young Longworth, who did not look round as Kenyon was announced. The
elder gentleman, however, arose, and cordially held out his hand.

'How are you, Mr. Kenyon?' he said. 'I am very pleased to meet you again.
The terror of our situation on board that ship does not seem to have left
an indelible mark upon you. You are looking well.'

'Yes,' said John; 'I am very glad to be back in London again.'

'Ah, I imagine we all like to get back. By the way, it was a much more
serious affair than we thought at the time on board the _Caloric_.'

'So I see by the papers.'

'How is your friend? He seemed to take it very badly.'

'Take what badly?' asked John in astonishment.

'Well, he appeared to me, at the time of the accident, to feel very
despondent about our situation.'

'Oh yes, I remember now. Yes, he did feel a little depressed at the time;
but it was not on account of the accident. It was another matter
altogether, which, happily, turned out all right.'

'I am glad of that. By the way, have you made your report to the
directors yet?'

'Yes; we were at a meeting of the directors to-day.'

'Ah, I could not manage to be there. To tell the truth, I have made up my
mind to do nothing with those Ottawa mines. You do not know what action
the Board took in the matter, do you?'

'No, they merely received our report; in fact, they had had the report
before, but there were some questions they desired to ask us, which we
answered apparently to their satisfaction.'

'Who were there? Sir Ropes McKenna was in the chair, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir, he was there.'

'Ah, so I thought. Well, my opinion of him is that he is merely a
guinea-pig--you know what that is? I have made up my mind to have nothing
more to do with the venture, at any rate. And so they were pleased with
your report, were they?'

'They appeared to be. They passed us a vote of thanks, and one or two
of the gentlemen spoke in rather a complimentary manner of what we had
done.'

'I am glad of that. By the way, William, you know Mr. Kenyon, do you
not?'

The young man looked round with an abstracted air, and gazed past, rather
than at, John Kenyon.

'Kenyon, Kenyon,' he said to himself, as if trying to recollect a name
that he had once heard somewhere. 'I really don't----'

'Tut, tut!' said the old man, 'you remember Mr. Kenyon on board the
_Caloric_?'

'Oh, ah, yes; certainly--oh, certainly. How do you do, Mr. Kenyon? I had
forgotten for the moment. I thought I had met you in the City somewhere.
Feeling first-rate after your trip, I hope.' And young Mr. Longworth
fixed his one eyeglass in its place and flashed its glitter on Kenyon.

'I am very well, thanks.'

'That's right. Let me see, your business with the London Syndicate is
concluded now, is it not?'

'Yes, it is done with.'

'Ah, and what are you doing? Have you anything else on hand?'

'Well, that is what I wish to see you about.'

'Really?'

'Yes; I--you remember, perhaps, we had some talk about a mica-mine near
the Ottawa River?'

'On my soul, I don't. You see, the voyage rather--that was on board ship,
I suppose?'

'Yes,' said John, crossing over to the young man's desk and taking a
chair beside him. The old gentleman now turned to his own papers, and
left the two young men to talk together.

'Do you mean to say you don't remember a talk we had on deck once about a
mica-mine?'

Young Longworth looked at him with a puzzled expression, as if he could
not quite make out what he was talking about.

'I remember,' he said, 'your telling me that you had been sent over by
the London Syndicate to see after certain mines there; but I don't
remember anything being said in reference to them.'

'It was not in reference to them at all; it was in reference to another
mine, of which I have secured the option. You will, perhaps, recollect
that your cousin introduced me to you. You seemed to think at the time
that the price at which we were going to offer the mine was too low.'

'By Jove, yes! now I do recollect something about it, when you mention
that. Let me see, how much was it? A million, was it not?'

'No, no' said Kenyon, mopping his brow. He did not at all like the turn
the conversation had taken. 'Not a million, nor anything like that
amount.'

'Ah, I am sorry for that. You see, my uncle and myself rarely touch
anything that is not worth while; and anything under a million would be
hardly worth bothering with, don't you know.'

'I don't think so; it seems to me that something below a million would be
worth spending a little time on; at least, it would be worth _my_ while.'

'That may be very true; but, you see, my uncle takes large interests only
in large businesses.'

'If you remember, Mr. Longworth, your uncle was not mentioned in
connection with this at all. Your cousin seemed to think you might take
some interest in it yourself. You told me, when I said the price at which
we wished to offer the mine was fifty thousand pounds, that the sum was
altogether too small; at least, it left too little margin to divide
amongst three.'

'Well, I think I was perfectly correct in that.'

'And you further said that, if we increased the capital to two hundred
thousand pounds, you would take a share in it with us.'

'Did I say that?'

'Yes. It rested with my partner then. I said I would speak to him about
it, and, if he were willing, I should be. Circumstances occurred which
made it impossible for me to go into details with him on board the ship;
but I have spoken to him to-day at his own office, and he is quite
willing to offer the mine at two hundred thousand pounds, provided the
figures which I have given him show that it will pay a handsome dividend
on that sum.'

'Well, it seems to me that, if the mine is really worth two hundred
thousand pounds, it is a pity to offer it at fifty thousand pounds.
Doesn't it strike you that way?'

'Yes, it does; so I called to see you with reference to it. I wanted to
say that Wentworth will go carefully over the figures I have given him,
and see if there is any mistake about them. If there is not, and if we
find that the mine will bear inflation to two hundred thousand pounds, we
shall be very glad of your aid in the matter, and will divide everything
equally with you. That is to say, each of us will take a third.'

'If I remember rightly, I asked you a question which you did not answer.
I asked you how much you paid for the mine.'

Kenyon was astonished at this peculiar kind of memory, that could forget
a whole conversation, and yet remember accurately one detail of it.
However, he replied:

'Of course, at that time you had not said you would join us. I recognise
that, if you are to be a partner, it is your right to know exactly what
we pay for the mine. I may say that we have not paid for it, but have
merely got an option on it at a certain price, and of course, if we can
sell it for two hundred thousand pounds, we shall have a large amount to
divide. Now, if you think you will go in with us, and do your best to
make this project a success, I will tell you what our option is on the
mica-mine.'

'Well, you see, I can hardly say that I will join you. It is really a
very small matter. There ought not to be any difficulty in floating that
mine on the London market, except that it is hardly worth one's while to
take it up. Still, I should have to know exactly what you are to pay for
the property before I went any further in the matter.'

'Very well, then, I tell you in confidence, and only because I expect
you to become a partner with us, that the amount the mine is offered to
us for is twenty thousand pounds.'

Young Longworth arched his eyeglass.

'It cannot be worth very much if that is all they ask for it.'

'The price they ask for it has really nothing at all to do with the value
of the mine. They do not know the value of it. They are not working it,
even now, so as to bring out all there is in it. They are mining for
mica, and, as I told you, the mineral which they are throwing away is
very much more valuable than all the mica they can get out of the mine.
If it were worked rightly, the mica would pay all expenses, as well as a
good dividend on fifty thousand pounds, while the other mineral would pay
a large dividend on one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, or even two
hundred thousand pounds.'

'I see. And you feel positive that there is enough of this mineral to
hold out for some time?'

'Oh, I am positive of that. There is a whole mountain of it.'

'And do you get the mountain as well as the mine?'

'We get three hundred acres of it, and I think there would be no
difficulty in buying the rest.'

'Well, that would seem to be a good speculation, and I am sure I hope you
will succeed in forming your company. How much money are you prepared to
spend in floating the mine?'

'I have practically nothing at all. My asset, as it were, is the option I
have on the mine.'

'Then, how are you going to pay the preliminary fees, the advertising in
the newspapers, the cost of counsel, and all that? These expenses will
amount to something very heavy in the formation of a company. Of course
you know that.'

'Well, you see, I think that perhaps we can get two or three men to go
into this and form our company quietly, without having any of those heavy
expenses which are necessary in the forming of some companies.'

'My dear sir, when you have been in this business a little longer, you
will be very much wiser. That cannot be done--at least, I do not believe
it can be done. I do not know of its having been done, and if you can do
it, you are a very much cleverer man than I am. Companies are not formed
for nothing in the City of London. You seem to have the vaguest possible
notion about how this sort of thing is managed. I may tell you frankly I
do not think I can go in with you; I have too much else on hand.'

Although Kenyon expected this, he nevertheless felt a grim sense of
defeat as the young man calmly said these words. Then he blurted out:

'If you had no idea of going in with us, why have you asked me certain
questions about the property which I would not have answered if I had not
thought you were going to take an interest in it?'

'My dear sir,' said the other blandly, 'you were at perfect liberty to
answer those questions or not, as you chose. You chose to answer them,
and you have no one to blame but yourself if you are sorry you have
answered them. It really doesn't matter at all to me, as I shall forget
all you have said in a day or two at furthest.'

'Very well; I have nothing more to say except that what I have told you
has been said in confidence.'

'Oh, of course. I shall mention it to nobody.'

'Then I wish you good-day.'

Turning to the elder gentleman, he said:

'Good-day, Mr. Longworth.'

The old man raised his eyes rather abstractedly from the paper he was
reading, and then cordially shook hands with Kenyon.

'If I can do anything,' he said, 'to help you in any matter you have on
hand, I shall be very pleased to do it. I hope to see you succeed.
Good-day, Mr. Kenyon.'

'Good-day, Mr. Longworth.'

And with that the young man found himself again in the outer office, and
shortly afterwards in the busy street, with a keen sense of frustration
upon him. His first move in the direction of forming a company had been a
disastrous failure; and thinking of this, he walked past the Mansion
House and down Cheapside.




CHAPTER XVII.


John Kenyon walked along Cheapside feeling very much downhearted over his
rebuff with Longworth. The pretended forgetfulness of the young man, of
course, he took at its proper value. He, nevertheless, felt very sorry
the interview had been so futile, and, instead of going back to Wentworth
and telling him his experience, he thought it best to walk off a little
of his disappointment first. He was somewhat startled when a man
accosted him; and, glancing up, he saw standing there a tall footman,
arrayed in a drab coat that came down to his heels.

'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the footman, 'but Miss Longworth would
like to speak to you.'

'Miss Longworth!' cried Kenyon, in surprise; 'where is she?'

'She is here in her carriage, sir.'

The carriage had drawn up beside the pavement, and John Kenyon looked
round in confusion to see that Miss Longworth was regarding him and the
footman with an amused air. An elderly woman sat in the carriage opposite
her, while a grave and dignified coachman, attired somewhat similarly to
the footman, kept his place like a seated statue in front. John Kenyon
took off his hat as he approached the young woman, whom he had not seen
since the last day on the steamer.

'How are you, Mr. Kenyon?' said Edith Longworth brightly, holding out her
hand to the young man by her carriage. 'Will you not step in? I want to
talk with you, and I am afraid the police will not allow us to block such
a crowded thoroughfare as Cheapside.'

As she said this, the nimble footman threw open the door of the carriage,
while John, not knowing what to say, stepped inside and took his seat.

'Holborn,' said the young woman to the coachman; then, turning to Kenyon,
she continued: 'Will you not tell me where you are going, so that I may
know where to set you down?'

'To tell the truth,' said John, 'I do not think I was going anywhere.
I am afraid I have not yet got over the delight of being back in
London again, so I sometimes walk along the streets in rather a
purposeless manner.'

'Well, you did not seem delighted when I first caught sight of you. I
thought you looked very dejected, and that gave me courage enough to ask
you to come and talk with me. I said to myself, "There is something wrong
with the mica-mine," and, with a woman's I curiosity, I wanted to know
all about it. Now tell me.'

'There is really very little to tell. We have hardly begun yet.
Wentworth is to-day looking over the figures I gave him, and I have been
making a beginning by seeing some people who I thought might be
interested in the mine.'

'And were they?'

'No; they were not.'

'Then, that was the reason you were looking so distressed.'

'I suppose it was.'

'Well, now, Mr. Kenyon, if you get discouraged after an interview with
the first person you think will be interested in the mine, what will you
do when a dozen or more people refuse to have anything to do with it?'

'I'm sure I do not know. I am afraid I am not the right person to float
a mine on the London market. I am really a student, you see, and flatter
myself I am a man of science. I know what I am about when I am in a
mine, miles away from civilization; but when I get among men, I feel
somehow at a loss. I do not understand them. When a man tells me one
thing to-day, and to-morrow calmly forgets all about it, I confess
it--well, confuses me.'

'Then the man you have seen to-day has forgotten what he told you
yesterday. Is that the case?'

'Yes; that is partly the case.'

'But, Mr. Kenyon, the success of your project is not going to depend upon
what one man says, or two, or three, is it?'

'No; I don't suppose it is.'

'Then, if I were you, I would not feel discouraged because one man has
forgotten. I wish I were acquainted with your one man, and I would make
him ashamed of himself, I think.'

Kenyon flushed as she said this, but made no reply.

The coachman looked round as he came to Holborn, and Miss Longworth
nodded to him; so he went on without stopping into Oxford Street.

'Now, I take a great interest in your mine, Mr. Kenyon, and hope to see
you succeed with it. I wish I could help you, or, rather, I wish you
would be frank with me, and tell me how I can help you. I know a good
deal about City men and their ways, and I think I may be able to give you
some good advice--at least, if you would have the condescension to
consult me.'

Kenyon smiled.

'You are making game of me now, Miss Longworth. Of course, as you said on
board ship, it is but a very small matter.'

'I never said any such thing. When did I say that?'

'You said that fifty thousand pounds was a small matter.'

'Did I? Well, I am like your man who has forgotten; I have forgotten
that. I remember saying something about its being too small an amount
for my father to deal with. Was not that what I said?'

'Yes, I think that was it. It conveyed the idea to my mind that you
thought fifty thousand pounds a trifling sum indeed.'

Edith Longworth laughed.

'What a terrible memory you have! I do not wonder at your City man
forgetting. Are you sure what you told him did not happen longer ago than
yesterday?'

'Yes, it happened some time before.'

'Ah, I thought so; I am afraid it is your own terrible memory, and not
his forgetfulness, that is to blame.'

'Oh, I am not blaming him at all. A man has every right to change his
mind, if he wants to do so.'

'I thought only a woman had that privilege.'

'No; for my part I freely accord it to everybody, only sometimes it is a
little depressing.'

'I can imagine that; in fact, I think no one could be a more undesirable
acquaintance than a man who forgets to-day what he promised yesterday,
especially if anything particular depends upon it. Now, why cannot you
come to our house some evening and have a talk about the mine with my
cousin or my father? My father could give you much valuable advice with
reference to it, and I am anxious that my cousin should help to carry
this project on to success. It is better to talk with them there than at
their office, because they are both so busy during the day that I am
afraid they might not be able to give the time necessary to its I
discussion.'

John Kenyon shook his head.

'I am afraid,' he said, 'that would do no good. I do not think your
cousin cares to have anything to do with the mine.'

'How can you say that? Did he not discuss the matter with you on
board ship?'

'Yes; we had some conversation about it there, but I imagine that--I
really do not think he would care to go any farther with it.'

'Ah, I see,' said Edith Longworth. 'My cousin is the man who "forgot
to-day what he said yesterday."'

'What am I to say, Miss Longworth? I do not want to say "Yes," and I
cannot truthfully say "No."'

'You need say nothing. I know exactly how it has been. So he does not
want to have anything to do with it. What reason did he give?'

'You will not say anything to him about the matter? I should be very
sorry if he thought that I talked to anyone else of my conference
with him.'

'Oh, certainly not; I will say nothing to him at all.'

'He gave no particular reason; he simply seemed to have changed his mind.
But I must say this: he did not appear to be very enthusiastic when I
discussed it with him on board ship.'

'Well, you see, Mr. Kenyon, it rests with me now to maintain the honour
of the Longworth family. Do you want to make all the profit there is to
be made in the mica-mine--that is, yourself and your friend Mr.
Wentworth?'

'How do you mean--"all the profit"?'

'Well, I mean--would you share the profit with anyone?'

'Certainly, if that person could help us to form the company.'

'Very well; it was on that basis you were going to take in my cousin as a
partner, was it not?'

'Yes.'

'Then I should like to share in the profits of the mine if he does not
take an interest in it. If you will let me pay the preliminary expenses
of forming this company, and if you will then give me a share of what you
make, I shall be glad to furnish the money you need at the outset.'

John Kenyon looked at Miss Longworth with a smile.

'You are very ingenious, Miss Longworth, but I can see, in spite of your
way of putting it, that what you propose is merely a form of charity.
Suppose we did not succeed in forming our company, how could we repay you
the money?'

'You would not need to repay the money. I would take that risk. It is a
sort of speculation. If you form the company, then I shall expect a very
large reward for furnishing the funds. It is purely selfishness on my
part. I believe I have a head for business. Women in this country do not
get such chances of developing their business talents as they seem to
have in America. In that country there are women who have made fortunes
for themselves. I believe in your mine, and I am convinced you will
succeed in forming your company. If you or Mr. Wentworth were
capitalists, of course there would be no need of my assistance. If I were
alone, I could not form a company. You and Mr. Wentworth can do what I
cannot do. You can appear before the public and attend to all
preliminaries. On the other hand, I believe I can do what neither of you
can do; that is, I can supply a certain amount of money from time to time
to pay the expenses of forming the company--because a company is not
formed in London for nothing, I assure you. Perhaps you think you have
simply to go and see a sufficient number of people and get your company
formed. I fancy you will find it not so easy as all that. Besides this
business interest I have in it, I have a very friendly interest in Mr.
Wentworth.'

As she said this, she bent over towards John Kenyon, and spoke in a lower
tone of voice:

'Please do not tell him so, because I think that he is a young man who
has possibilities of being conceited.'

'I shall say nothing about it,' said Kenyon dolefully.

'Please do not. By the way, I wish you would give me Mr. Wentworth's
address, so that I may communicate with him if a good idea occurs to me,
or if I find out something of value in forming our company.'

Kenyon took out a card, wrote the address of Wentworth upon it, and
handed it to her.

'Thank you,' she said 'You see, I deeply sympathized with Mr. Wentworth
for what he had to pass through on the steamer.'

'He is very grateful for all you did for him on that occasion,' replied
Kenyon.

'I am glad of that. People, as a general thing, are not grateful for what
their friends do for them. I am glad, therefore, that Mr. Wentworth is an
exception. Well, suppose you talk with him about what I have said, before
you make up your own mind. I shall be quite content with whatever share
of the profits you allow me.'

'Ah, that is not business, Miss Longworth.'

'No, it is not; but I am dealing with you--that is, with Mr.
Wentworth--and I am sure both of you will do what is right. Perhaps it
would be better not to tell him who is to furnish the money. Just say you
have met a friend to-day who offers, for a reasonable share of the
profits, to supply all the money necessary for the preliminary expenses.
You will consult with him about it, will you not?'

'Yes, if it is your wish.'

'Certainly it is my wish; and I also wish you to do it so diplomatically
that you will conceal my name from him more successfully than you
concealed my cousin's name from me this afternoon.'

'I am afraid I am very awkward,' said John, blushing.

'No; you are very honest, that's all. You are not accomplished in the art
of telling what is not true. Now, this is where we live; will you come
in?'

'Thank you, no; I'm afraid not,' said John. 'I must really be going now.'

'Let the coachman take you to your station.'

'No, no, it is not worth the trouble; it is only a step from here.'

'It is no trouble. Which is your station--South Kensington?'

'Yes.'

'Very well. Drive to South Kensington Station, Parker,' she said to the
coachman; and then, running up the steps, she waved her hand in good-bye,
as the carriage turned.

And so John Kenyon, feeling abashed at his own poverty, was driven in
this gorgeous equipage to the Underground Railway station, where he took
the train for the City.

As he stepped from the carriage at South Kensington, young Mr. Longworth
came out of the station on his way home, and was simply dumfounded to see
Kenyon in the Longworths' carriage.

John passed him without noticing who he was, and just as the coachman was
going to start again, Longworth said to him:

'Parker, have you been picking up fares in the street?'

'Oh no, sir,' replied the respectable Parker; 'the young gentleman as
just left us came from the City with Miss Longworth.'

'Did he, indeed? Where did you pick him up, Parker?'

'We picked him up in Cheapside, sir.'

'Ah, indeed;' and with that, muttering some imprecations on the cheek of
Kenyon, he stepped into the carriage and drove home.




CHAPTER XVIII.


George Wentworth was a very much better man than John Kenyon to undertake
the commercial task they hoped to accomplish. Wentworth had mixed with
men, and was not afraid of them. Although he had suffered keenly from the
little episode on the steamer, and although at that trying time he
appeared to but poor advantage so far as an exhibition of courage was
concerned, the reason was largely because the blow had been dealt him by
a woman, and not by a man. If one of Wentworth's fellow-men so far forgot
himself as to make an insulting or cutting remark to him, Wentworth
merely shrugged his shoulders and thought no more about it. On the other
hand, notwithstanding his somewhat cold and calm exterior, John Kenyon
was as sensitive as a child, and a rebuff such as he received from the
Longworths was enough to depress him for a week. He had been a student
all his life, and had not yet learnt the valuable lesson of knowing how
to look at men's actions with an eye to proportion. Wentworth said to
himself that nobody's opinion amounted to very much, but Kenyon knew too
little of his fellows to have arrived at this comforting conclusion.

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