The Buccaneer Farmer Part 44

"Two thousand pounds is a large sum," he said. "I don't know yet if I can lend it you."

Gerald gave him a steady look. His face was haggard and the sweat ran down his forehead. It was obvious that he was desperate.

"If you hope to marry my sister, you had better help me out."

"I haven't much ground for thinking your sister will agree," Thorn rejoined with some dryness. "Anyhow, it's doubtful if your influence would go far with her, if that is what you mean."

"It is not what I mean," Gerald answered in a hoa.r.s.e voice. "I have given you a useful hint. You can spare two thousand pounds, and if you let me have the money, you'll be glad you did."

"I must think about it. You can call me up on the telephone at noon to-morrow."

Gerald hesitated, and then made an abrupt movement as a man came into the room. The latter crossed the floor and Gerald got up.

"Very well," he said, and went off.

Soon after Gerald had gone, the man Thorn had met in the hall came in and he asked: "Do you know anything about _Ermentrudes_, Norton? I suppose they're mining shares?"

"I wouldn't advise you to invest," the other replied. "The company has seldom paid a dividend, but not long since a rumor got about that a new shaft had bottomed on rich ore." He paused and shrugged. "n.o.body knows how such tales are started, but they appeal to optimistic outsiders who like to think they've got a secret tip. Anyhow, there was some reckless buying by people who expected developments at the shareholders' meeting.

They were disappointed, and are knocking prices down by their anxiety to sell out."

Thorn thanked him and began to think. He wondered where Gerald had managed to get two thousand pounds, since he imagined that n.o.body would lend him the sum. He did not know much about banking, but it was possible that Gerald had used his employers' money, hoping to replace it before he was found out. Then, since two thousand pounds, used for a margin, would cover a large number of shares, it looked as if Gerald had lost part of the sum by previous speculations. While he pondered, the man whose entry had seemed to disturb Gerald came to his table and sat down opposite.

"You obviously know young Osborn," he remarked.

Thorn said nothing for a moment or two. Hallam was not a public money-lender, but sometimes negotiated private loans for extravagant young men about town. One meets such people now and then at smart London clubs, and Thorn imagined the fellow could throw some light on Gerald's difficulties.

"We come from the same neighborhood," he replied.

"His father is a large landowner, I believe?"

"He has some land," said Thorn, who began to see his way. He had not yet decided to help Gerald, but if he did, his help must be made as valuable as possible. "The rents are low and the estate is enc.u.mbered," he resumed. "On the whole, I don't think you would consider it good security."

"Thank you for the hint. Osborn looked as if he had got a jar."

"I think he had. He bought some shares that have gone down sharply, and since he's a bank-clerk I expect the loss is a serious thing for him."

Hallam nodded carelessly. "No doubt! Do you know a man called Askew?"

"I know something about him. He owns a farm in the dale and has recently spent some money on improvements, although it's doubtful if he'll get much return. I can't tell you if he has any more or not, but imagine he's not worth your bothering about. Besides, he's not the man I'd expect to get into debt."

"Mr. Askew has not been trying to borrow," Hallam answered with a smile.

"Well, I promised to meet a friend and mustn't stop."

He went away and Thorn sat still, pondering. The other men went out by and by and the room was quiet except for the rumble of traffic in the street and the rattle of an electric fan. A waiter pulled down a blind to shut out a bright sunbeam and Thorn found the shade and softened noises from outside helpful to thought.

Gerald had used money belonging to the bank and borrowed from Hallam in order to pay it back; although Thorn could not see what had persuaded the latter to lend. It was strange, certainly, that Hallam had inquired about Askew, but in the meantime he could let this go. Gerald was threatened by a danger money could avert, and Thorn could help. If he did help, it would give him a claim to Osborn's grat.i.tude, although he could not tell how far this would influence Grace. The Osborns cherished the old-fas.h.i.+oned traditions of their cla.s.s, and anything that touched one touched all. Grace, however, was modern and rebellious, and Thorn knew she did not like him much. He was not afraid to risk his money, but he must not waste an opportunity he might not get again, and the opportunity could be used in one of two ways.

He could free Gerald from his entanglements and, using no pressure, leave her parents' grat.i.tude to work on Grace. This was the proper line and would enable him to play a generous part; had he been younger, he would not have hesitated, but he saw a risk. He was beginning to look old and unless Grace married him soon, must give her up. The other line, although not attractive, promised greater security. Before he helped he must state his terms and force Osborn to agree. Grace could not struggle, because her refusal would involve the family in Gerald's disgrace. Thorn saw the plan had drawbacks, but Grace was young and, if he indulged and petted her, she would, no doubt, get to like him and forget his hardness. He had heard of marriages made like this that turned out happily.

For a time he sat with his brows knitted and his mouth set. He would have liked to be generous, but he loved the girl and could not force himself to run the risk of losing her. Nevertheless, he honestly tried, and afterwards remembered with strange distinctness the soft rattle of the electric fan and the dull roll of traffic that throbbed in the quiet room while he fought the losing fight. The sunbeam the waiter had shut out crept on to another window and shone on the fluted pillars before he got up. His face was very hard, for he had chosen his line and knew he must take it without doubt or pity.

Going down to the hall, he called up Gerald's branch bank. A clerk who was working late replied that Mr. Osborn had gone.

"I know," said Thorn, giving his name. "Make a note to tell him he need not call on me to-morrow. I find I am unable to do what he requires."

"Very well," said the clerk. "I'll give him the message in the morning."

Thorn rang the bell and, leaving the box, asked for a railway guide.

There was nothing to be gained by stopping in London and he looked up the best train for the north.

CHAPTER VII

GERALD'S RETURN

Thorn went home and waited, confident that Osborn would presently send for him. The estate was heavily mortgaged, Osborn had no rich friends, and when the blow fell would look to Thorn for the aid n.o.body else could give. In the meantime, Osborn, enjoying a short relief from financial strain, squandered in personal extravagance part of the sum he had borrowed, and then set drainers, carpenters, and builders to work. He liked spending and now tried to persuade himself that the money he was laying out would give him some return. It ought to last until he had finished the renovations his tenants demanded, and although difficulties might arise afterwards, he would wait until they did. Indeed, his wife and daughter found him better humored than he had been for long.

Then, one evening when the hay was harvested and the corn was ripening, his satisfaction was rudely banished. Grace had gone to the lodge with a message and stopped for a few minutes by the gate. The evening was calm and one side of the placid tarn glittered in the light; the other was dark, and soft blue shadows covered the fells behind. She heard the languid splash of ripples on the stones and the murmur of a beck in a distant ghyll. A strange restful tranquillity brooded over the dale.

Grace felt the calm soothing, for her thoughts were not a little disturbed. She had met Thorn in the afternoon and noted a puzzling change in his manner. So far, she had been able to check his cautious advances, but she now remarked a new confidence that seemed to indicate he had some power in reserve. She admitted that she might have imagined this, but it troubled her.

Afterwards she had met Kit and the comfort the meeting gave her had forced her to think. Their friends.h.i.+p had gone far; in fact, it had reached a point friends.h.i.+p could not pa.s.s. Kit was not yet her lover, but she thought he waited for a sign that she would acknowledge him when he made his claim. She liked Kit; she had not met a man she liked so much.

This, however, did not imply that she was willing to marry him. Although she now and then rebelled against conventions, she had inherited some of Osborn's prejudices, and her mother sprang from old-fas.h.i.+oned land-owning stock. Kit belonged to another cla.s.s; the life he led was different. She had been taught to enjoy cultivated idleness, broken by outdoor sports and social amus.e.m.e.nts; but Kit was a worker, farming for money and resolved to make his efforts pay. His wife must help and Grace did not know if this daunted her or not.

Moreover, if she married Kit, she must quarrel with her parents. She knew what Osborn thought about him. Had she been sure she loved Kit, the choice would have been easier, but although she blushed as she mused, this was too much to own. Yet he loved her, and after all--

She let the matter go and looked up, for there were steps in the shadowy road. Then a figure came into the fading light, and she started and ran to the gate.

"Gerald!" she exclaimed. "Why have you come home?"

"Somehow you don't feel flattered when people ask you why you came,"

Gerald rejoined with a forced smile. "It rather indicates surprise than satisfaction."

"I am surprised," Grace admitted, trying to hide her vague alarm. "We did not expect you. How did you getaway?"

"I took a week's leave. I haven't been very fit."

Grace gave him a sharp glance and thought he looked ill. His face was pinched, his eyes were furtive, and his mouth was slack.

"What has been the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing very much," Gerald replied. "Mental strain, I expect. Managing a bank is a big job and I'm not used to responsibility."

It looked as if his carelessness cost him an effort and Grace said nothing. When they reached the house Gerald resumed: "You'll hear all about it later. Is the chief at home?"

Grace nodded. They had seldom called Osborn father, but chief and head of the clan, and she thought it significant that Gerald used the name he often falteringly employed after boyish escapades. She began to feel that there was something wrong.