Chapter Nineteen
In the drawing room at Yewtree
Lodge1, the whole Fortescue family was as-
sembled. Percival Fortescue, leaning against the mantelpiece, was ad-
“It’s all very well,” said Percival. “But the whole position is most unsatis-
factory. The police come and go and don’t tell us anything. One supposes
they’re pursuing some line of research. In the meantime everything’s at a
standstill. One can’t make plans, one can’t arrange things for the future.”
“It’s all so inconsiderate,” said Jennifer. “And so stupid.”
“There still seems to be this ban against anyone leaving the house,” went
on Percival. “Still, I think among ourselves we might discuss future plans.
What about you, Elaine? I gather you’re going to marry—what’s-his-name
—Gerald Wright? Have you any idea when?”
“As soon as possible,” said Elaine.
Percival frowned.
“You mean, in about six months’ time?”
“No, I don’t. Why should we wait six months?”
“I think it would be more decent,” said Percival.
“Rubbish,” said Elaine. “A month. That’s the longest we’ll wait.”
“Well, it’s for you to say,” said Percival. “And what are your plans when
you are married, if you have any?”
“We’re thinking of starting a school.”
Percival shook his head.
of domestic labour, the difficulty of getting an adequate teaching staff—
really, Elaine, it sounds all right. But I should think twice about it if I were
you.”
“We have thought. Gerald feels that the whole future of this country lies
in right education.”
“I am seeing Mr. Billingsley the day after tomorrow,” said Percival.
“We’ve got to go into various questions of finance. He was suggesting that
you might like to make this money that’s been left to you by Father into a
trust for yourself and your children. It’s a very sound thing to do
nowadays.”
“I don’t want to do that,” said Elaine. “We shall need the money to start
up our school. There’s a very suitable house we’ve heard of for sale. It’s in
Cornwall. Beautiful grounds and quite a good house. It would have to be
built onto a good deal—several wings added.”
“You mean—you mean you’re going to take all your money out of the
business? Really, Elaine, I don’t think you’re wise.”
“Much wiser to take it out than leave it in, I should say,” said Elaine.
“Businesses are going phut all over the place. You said yourself, Val, be-
fore5 Father died, that things were getting into a pretty bad state.”
“One says that sort of thing,” said Percival
vaguely6, “but I must say,
Elaine, to take out all your capital and sink it in the buying, equipping and
running of a school is crazy. If it’s not a success, look what happens?
You’re left without a penny.”
“It will be a success,” said Elaine,
doggedly7.
agingly. “Have a crack at it, Elaine. In my opinion it’ll be a damned odd
sort of school, but it’s what you want to do—you and Gerald. If you do lose
your money you’ll at any rate have had the satisfaction of doing what you
wanted to do.”
“Just what one might have expected you to say, Lance,” said Percival,
acidly.
“I know, I know,” said Lance. “I’m the spendthrift
prodigal10 son. But I still
think I’ve had more fun out of life than you have, Percy, old boy.”
“It depends on what you call fun,” said Percival coldly. “Which brings us
to your own plans, Lance. I suppose you’ll be off again back to Kenya—or
Canada—or climbing Mount Everest or something fairly fantastic?”
“Now what makes you think that?” said Lance.
“Well, you’ve never had much use for a stay-at-home life in England,
have you?”
“One changes as one gets older,” said Lance. “One settles down. D’you
know, Percy my boy, I’m quite looking forward to having a crack at being
a sober business man.”
“Do you mean… .”
“I mean I’m coming into the firm with you, old boy.” Lance grinned.
“Oh, you’re the senior partner, of course. You’ve got the lion’s share. I’m
only a very junior partner. But I have got a holding in it that gives me the
right to be in on things, doesn’t it?”
“Well—yes—of course, if you put it that way. But I can assure you, my
dear boy, you’ll be very, very bored.”
“I wonder now. I don’t believe I shall be bored.”
Percival frowned.
“You don’t seriously mean, Lance, that you’re coming into the busi-
ness?”
“Having a finger in the pie? Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing.”
Percival shook his head.
“Things are in a very bad way, you know. You’ll find that out. It’s going
to be about all we can do to pay out Elaine her share, if she insists on hav-
ing it paid out.”
“There you are, Elaine,” said Lance. “You see how wise you were to in-
sist on grabbing your money while it’s still there to grab.”
“Really, Lance,” Percival spoke angrily, “these jokes of yours are in bad
taste.”
“I do think, Lance, you might be more careful what you say,” said Jen-
nifer.
Sitting a little way away near the window, Pat studied them one by one.
If this was what Lance had meant by twisting Percival’s tail, she could see
that he was achieving his object. Percival’s neat impassivity was quite
“Are you serious, Lance?”
“Dead serious.”
“It won’t work, you know. You’ll soon get fed up.”
“Not me. Think what a lovely change it’ll be for me. A city office, typists
coming and going. I shall have a blonde secretary like Miss Grosvenor—is
it Grosvenor? I suppose you’ve snaffled her. But I shall get one just like
her. ‘Yes, Mr. Lancelot; no, Mr. Lancelot. Your tea, Mr. Lancelot.’ ”
“Oh, don’t play the fool,” snapped Percival.
“Why are you so angry, my dear brother? Don’t you look forward to
having me sharing your city cares?”
“You haven’t the least conception of the mess everything’s in.”
“No. You’ll have to put me wise to all that.”
“First you’ve got to understand that for the last six months—no, more, a
year, Father’s not been himself. He’s done the most incredibly foolish
things, financially. Sold out good stock, acquired various wildcat holdings.
Sometimes he’s really thrown away money hand over fist. Just, one might
say, for the fun of spending it.”
“In fact,” said Lance, “it’s just as well for the family that he had taxine in
his tea.”
“That’s a very ugly way of putting it, but in essence you’re quite right.
It’s about the only thing that saved us from
bankruptcy12. But we shall have
to be extremely conservative and go very cautiously for a bit.”
Lance shook his head.
“I don’t agree with you. Caution never does anyone any good. You must
take a few risks, strike out. You must go for something big.”
“I don’t agree,” said Percy. “Caution and economy. Those are our watch-
words.”
“Not mine,” said Lance.
“You’re only the junior partner, remember,” said Percival.
“All right, all right. But I’ve got a little say-so all the same.”
“It’s no good, Lance. I’m fond of you and all that—”
“Are you?” Lance interpolated. Percival did not appear to hear him.
“… but I really don’t think we’re going to pull together at all. Our out-
looks are totally different.”
“That may be an advantage,” said Lance.
“The only sensible thing,” said Percival, “is to dissolve the
partnership14.”
“You’re going to buy me out—is that the idea?”
“My dear boy, it’s the only sensible thing to do, with our ideas so differ-
ent.”
“If you find it hard to pay Elaine out her
legacy15, how are you going to
manage to pay me my share?”
“Well, I didn’t mean in cash,” said Percival. “We could—er—divide up
the holdings.”
“With you keeping the gilt-edged and me taking the worst of the specu-
lative off you, I suppose?”
“They seem to be what you prefer,” said Percival.
Lance grinned suddenly.
“You’re right in a way, Percy, old boy. But I can’t indulge my own taste
Both men looked towards her. Pat opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Whatever game Lance was playing, it was best that she should not inter-
fere. That Lance was driving at something special, she was quite sure, but
she was still a little uncertain as to what his actual object was.
“Line ’em up, Percy,” said Lance, laughing. “Bogus Diamond Mines, Inac-
as big a fool as I look?”
Percival said:
“Of course, some of these holdings are highly
speculative20, but remem-
ber, they may turn out immensely valuable.”
“Changed your
tune21, haven’t you?” said Lance, grinning. “Going to offer
me father’s latest wildcat acquisition as well as the old Blackbird Mine and
things of that kind. By the way, has the
inspector22 been asking you about
this Blackbird Mine?”
Percival frowned.
“Yes, he did. I can’t imagine what he wanted to know about it. I couldn’t
tell him much. You and I were children at the time. I just remember
vaguely that Father went out there and came back saying the whole thing
was no good.”
“What was it—a gold mine?”
“I believe so. Father came back pretty certain that there was no gold
there. And, mind you, he wasn’t the sort of man to be mistaken.”
“Who got him into it? A man called MacKenzie, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. MacKenzie died out there.”
“MacKenzie died out there,” said Lance thoughtfully. “Wasn’t there a
terrific scene? I seem to remember … Mrs. MacKenzie, wasn’t it? Came
accused him, if I remember rightly, of murdering her husband.”
“Really,” said Percival repressively. “I can’t
recollect25 anything of the
kind.”
“I remember it, though,” said Lance. “I was a good bit younger than you,
of course. Perhaps that’s why it appealed to me. As a child it struck me as
full of drama. Where was Blackbird? West Africa wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I must look up the
concession18 sometime,” said Lance, “when I’m at the
office.”
“You can be quite sure,” said Percival, “that Father made no mistake. If
he came back saying there was no gold, there was no gold.”
“You’re probably right there,” said Lance. “Poor Mrs. MacKenzie. I won-
der what happened to her and to those two kids she brought along. Funny
—they must be grown-up by now.”
分享到: