40+ Adventure Novels & Lost World Mysteries in One Premium Edition. Henry Rider Haggard

first, pleasure afterwards--eh?"

      "Yes," said Mr. Cardus, in his soft jerky way. "Business first, pleasure afterwards."

      Mr. de Talor fidgeted his legs about.

      "Well, Cardus, about that mortgage. You are going to give me a little more time, I hope?"

      "On the contrary, Mr. de Talor, the interest being now eight months overdue, I have given my London agents orders to foreclose, for I don't conduct such business myself."

      De Talor turned pale. "Foreclose! Good God, Cardus! It is not possible--on such an old friend too!"

      "Excuse me, it is not only possible, but a fact. Business is business, even where /old friends/ are concerned."

      "But if you foreclose, what is to become of me, Cardus?"

      "That, I imagine, is a matter for your exclusive consideration."

      His visitor gasped, and looked like an unfortunate fish suddenly pulled out of the water.

      "Let us recapitulate the facts. I have at different periods within the last several years lent you sums of money secured on your landed estates at Ceswick's Ness and the neighbourhood, amounting in all"--referring to a paper--"to one hundred and seventy-six thousand five hundred and thirty-eight pounds ten shillings and fourpence; or, reckoning in the overdue interest, to one hundred and seventy-nine thousand and fifty-two pounds eight shillings. That is so, I think."

      "Yes, I suppose so, Cardus."

      "There is no supposition about it. The documents prove it."

      "Well, Cardus?"

      "Well, Mr. de Talor; and now, as you cannot pay, I have instructed my London agents to commence an action in Chancery for the sale of the lands, and to buy in the property. It is a most desirable property."

      "O Cardus, don't be rough on me! I am an old man now, and you led me into this speculation."

      "Mr. de Talor, I also am an old man; if not very old in years, at least as old as Methuselah in heart."

      "I don't understand it all, Cardus."

      "It will give me the greatest pleasure to explain. But to do so I must go back a little. Some ten or twelve years ago, you may remember," he began, sitting down with his back to the light, which struck full on the wretched De Talor's face, "that a firm named Rastrick and Codley took out a patent for a new railway-grease, and set up an establishment in Manchester not far from the famous De Talor house, which was established by your father."

      "Yes, curse them!" groaned De Talor.

      Mr. Cardus smiled.

      "By all means curse them. But what did this enterprising firm do, Mr. de Talor? They set to work and sold a grease superior to the article manufactured by your house, at about eighteen per cent. cheaper. But the De Talor house had the ear of the markets, and the contracts with all the leading lines and Continental firms, and for awhile it seemed as though the new house must go to the wall; and if they had not had considerable capital at command, they must have gone to the wall."

      "Ah, and where did they get it from? That's the mystery," said De Talor.

      "Precisely; that was the mystery. I shall clear it up a little presently. To return. After awhile the buyers began to find that Rastrick and Codley's grease was a better grease and a cheaper grease, and as the contracts lapsed, the companies renewed them, not with the De Talor house, but with the house of Rastrick and Codley. Doubtless you remember."

      Mr. de Talor groaned in acquiescence, and the lawyer continued: "In time this state of affairs produced its natural results--De Talor's house was ruined, and the bulk of the trade fell into the hands of the new firm."

      "Ah, I should just like to know who they really were--the low sneaks!"

      "Would you? I will tell you. The firm of Rastrick and Codley were--Reginald Cardus, solicitor, of Dum's Ness."

      Mr. de Talor struggled out of his chair, looked wildly at the lawyer, and sank down again.

      "You look ill; may I offer you a glass of wine?"

      The wretched man shook his head.

      "Very good. Doubtless you are curious to know how I, a lawyer, and not otherwise connected with Manchester, obtained the monopoly of the grease trade, which is, by the way, at this moment paying very well. I will satisfy your curiosity. I have always had a mania for taking up inventions, quite quietly, and in the names of others. Sometimes I have made money over them, sometimes I have lost; on the whole, I have made largely. But whether I have made or lost, the inventors, as a rule, have never known who was backing them. One day, one lucky day, this railway grease patent was brought to my notice. I took it up and invested fifty thousand in it straight off the reel. Then I invested another fifty thousand. Still your firm cut my throat. I made an effort and invested another fifty thousand. Had I failed, I should then have been a ruined man; I had strained my credit to the utmost. But fortune favours the brave, Mr. de Talor, and I succeeded. It was your firm that failed. I have paid all my debts, and I reckon that the railway-grease concern is worth, after paying liabilities, some two hundred thousand pounds. If you should care to go in for it, Messrs. Rastrick and Codley will, I have no doubt, be most happy to treat with you. It has served its purpose, and is now in the market."

      De Talor looked at him with amazement. He was too upset to speak.

      "So much, Mr. de Talor, for my share in the grease episode. The failure of your firm, or rather its stoppage from loss of trade, left you still a rich man, but only half as rich as you had been. And this, you may remember, made you furious. You could not bear the idea of losing money; you would rather have lost blood from your veins than sovereigns from your purse. When you thought of the grease which had melted in the fire of competition, you could have wept tears of rage. In this plight you came to me to ask advice."

      "Yes; and you told me to speculate."

      "Not quite accurate, Mr. de Talor. I said--I remember the words well--'You are an able man, and understand the money market; why don't you take advantage of these fluctuating times, and recoup yourself for all you have lost?' The prospect of gain tempted you, Mr. de Talor, and you jumped at the idea. You asked me to introduce you to a reliable firm, and I introduced you to Messrs. Campsey and Ash, one of the best in the City."

      "Confound them for a set of rogues!" answered De Talor.

      "Rogues! I am sorry you think so, for I have an interest in their business."

      "Good heavens! what next?" groaned De Talor.

      "Well, notwithstanding the best efforts of Messrs. Campsey and Ash on your behalf, in pursuance of written instructions as you from time to time communicated to them, and to which you can no doubt refer if you please, things went wrong with you, Mr. de Talor, and year by year, when your balance sheet was sent in, you found that you had lost more than you had gained. At last, one unlucky day, about three years ago, you made a plunge against the advice, you may remember, of Messrs. Campsey and Ash, and lost. It was after that, that I began to lend you money. The first loan was for fifty thousand; then came more losses, and more loans, till at length we had reached the present state of affairs."

      "O Cardus, you don't mean to sell me up, do you? What shall I do without money? And think of my daughters: 'ow will they manage without their comforts? Give me time. What makes you so rough on me?"

      Mr. Cardus had been walking up and down the room rapidly. At De Talor's words he stopped, and going to a despatch-box, unlocked it, and drew from a bundle of documents a yellow piece of stamped paper. It was a cancelled bill for ten thousand pounds in the favour of Jonas de Talor, Esquire. This bill he came and held before his visitor's eyes.

      "That, I believe, is your signature," he said quietly, pointing to the receipt written across the bill.

      De Talor turned almost livid with fear, and his lips and hands began to tremble.

      "Where did you get that?" he asked.

      Mr. Cardus regarded him, or rather all round him, with the melancholy black eyes