LISLE COMES TO THE RESCUE
A few days after his interview with Bella, Lisle overtook Millicent as she was walking up a wooded dale. She looked around with a smile when he joined her and they fell into friendly talk. There were points on which they differed, but a sense of mutual appreciation was steadily growing stronger between them. Presently Lisle happened to mention the Marples, and Millicent glanced at him thoughtfully. She knew that he met Bella at their house.
“You have seen a good deal of these people, one way or another,” she remarked.
“These people? Aren’t you a little prejudiced against them?”
“I suppose I am,” Millicent confessed.
“Then won’t you give me the reason? Your point of view isn’t always clear to an outsider.”
“I’ll try to be lucid. I don’t so much object to Marple as I do to what he stands for; I mean to modern tendency.”
“That’s as involved as ever.”
The girl showed a little good-humored impatience. She did not care to supply the explanation—it was against her instincts—and she was inclined to wonder why she should do so merely because the man had asked for it.
“Well,” she said, “the feudal system isn’t dead, and I believe that what is best in it need never disappear altogether. Of course, it had its drawbacks, but I think it was better than the commercialism that is replacing it. It recognized obligations on both sides, and there is a danger of forgetting them; the new people often fail to realize them at all. Marple—I’m using him as an example—bought the land for what he could get out of it.”
“About three per cent., he told me. It isn’t a great inducement.”
Millicent made a half-disdainful gesture.
“He gets a great deal more—sport, a status, friends and standing, and a means of suitably entertaining them. That, I suppose, is one reason why the return in money from purely agricultural land is so small.”
“Then is it wrong for a business man to buy these things, if he can pay for them?”
“Oh, no! But he must take up the duties attached to his purchase. When you buy land, human lives go with it. They’re still largely in the landlord’s hands. Of course, we have legislation which has curtailed the land-owner’s former powers, but it’s a soulless, mechanical thing that can never really take the place of direct personal interest.”
She stopped and glanced back down the winding dale. Here and there smooth pastures climbed the slopes that shut it in, but over part of them ranged mighty oaks, still almost green. Beyond these, beeches tinted with brown and crimson glowed against the dusky foliage of spruces and silver-firs.
“One needs wisdom, love of the soil and all that lives on it, and perhaps patience most of all,” she resumed. “These woods are an example. They are not natural like your forests—every tree has been carefully planted and as it grew the young sheltering wood about it carefully thinned out. Then as the trunks gained in size it was necessary to choose with care and cut. With the oaks it’s a work of generations, planting for one’s great-grandchildren, and the point that is suggested most clearly is the continuity of interest that should exist between the men who use the spade and ax and the men who own and plan. It is not a little thing that the third and fourth generations should complete the task, when a mutual toleration and dependence is handed down.”
Lisle was conscious of a curious stirring of his feelings as he listened to her. She was tall and finely proportioned, endowed with a calm and gracious dignity which was nevertheless, he thought, in keeping with a sanguine and virile nature. This girl was one of the fairest and most precious products of the soil she loved.
“It’s a pity in many ways that the Gladwyne property didn’t come to you,” he observed.
Her expression changed and he spread out one hand deprecatingly.
“That’s another blunder of mine. I haven’t acquired your people’s unfailing caution yet, but I only meant—”
“Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t tell me what you did mean.”
Lisle nodded. He felt that he had deserved the rebuke, as the truth of his assertion could not be admitted without disparaging Gladwyne. She would allow nothing to the latter’s discredit to be said by a stranger, but it was unpleasant to think that she regarded him as one. He changed the subject.
“You mentioned that landlord and laborer had a joint interest in the soil, and that’s undoubtedly right,” he said. “The point where trouble arises is, of course, over the division of the yield. The former’s share is obvious, but nowadays plowman and forester want more than their fathers seem to have been satisfied with. I don’t think you can blame them—in Canada they get more.”
“I’ll give you an instance to show why one can’t treat them very liberally. When my brother got possession he spent a great deal of money—it was left him by his mother and didn’t come out of the land—in draining, improvements, and rebuilding homesteads and cottages, besides freely giving his time and care. For a number of years he got no return at all, and part of the expenditure will always be unproductive. It isn’t a solitary case.”
They went on together through the shadowy, crimson-tinted dale until Millicent stopped at the gate of a field-road.
“I am going to one of the cottages yonder,” she explained. “I expect Nasmyth on Wednesday evening. Are you coming with him?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to Marple’s. You see, I promised.”
“Promised Marple?”
He was learning to understand her, for though she showed no marked sign of displeasure he knew that she was not gratified.
“No,” he answered; “Miss Crestwick.”
She did not speak, but there was something in her manner that hinted at disdainful amusement.
“I think you’re hardly fair to her,” he said.
“It’s possible,” Millicent replied carelessly. “Does it matter?”
“Well,” he broke out with some warmth, “the girl hasn’t such an easy time among you; and one can only respect her for the way she stands by her brother.”
“Have you anything to say in his favor?”
“It would be pretty difficult,” admitted Lisle. “But you can’t blame his sister for that.”
“I don’t think I’ve shown any desire to do so,” she retorted.
Lisle knit his brows.
“You people are rather curious in your ideas. Now, here’s a lonely girl who’s pluckily trying to look after that senseless lad, and not a one of you can spare her a word of sympathy, because she doesn’t run on the same stereotyped lines as you do. Can you help only the people who will conform?”
Millicent let this pass, and after an indifferent word or two she turned away. Before she reached home, however, she met Nasmyth.
“Why don’t you keep Mr. Lisle out of those Marples’ hands?” she asked him.
“In the first place, I’m not sure that I could do so; in the second, I don’t see why I should try,” Nasmyth replied. “On the whole, considering that he’s a Western miner, I don’t think he’s running a serious risk. Perhaps I might hint that Bella Crestwick’s hardly likely to consider him as big enough game.”
“Don’t be coarse!” Millicent paused. “But he spoke hotly in her defense.”
“After all,” responded Nasmyth, “I shouldn’t wonder if she deserves it; but it has no significance. You see, he’s a rather chivalrous person.”
Millicent flashed a quick glance at him, but his face was expressionless.
“What did he say?” he asked.
“I don’t remember exactly: he hinted that we were narrow-minded and uncharitable.”
Nasmyth laughed.
“I almost think there’s some truth in it. I’ve seen you a little severe on those outside the fold.”
“A man’s charity is apt to be influenced by a pretty face,” Millicent retorted.
“I’ll admit it,” replied Nasmyth dryly. “But I can’t undertake to determine how far that fact has any bearing on this particular instance.”
Millicent talked about something else, but she was annoyed with herself when the question Nasmyth had raised once more obtruded itself on her attention during the evening.
On Wednesday Lisle walked over to Marple’s house, because he had promised to go, though he would much rather have spent an hour or two with Nasmyth and Millicent in the latter’s drawing-room. He had no opportunity for any private speech with Bella, but she flung him a grateful glance as he came in. He waited patiently and followed her brother here and there, but he could not secure a word with him alone.
Some time had passed when, escaping from a group engaged in what struck him as particularly stupid badinage, he sauntered toward the billiard-room, struggling with a feeling of irritation. He was generally good-humored and tolerant rather than hypercritical, but the somewhat senseless hilarity of Marple’s guests was beginning to jar on him. A burst of laughter which he thought had been provoked by one of Bella’s sallies followed him down the corridor, but when he quietly opened the door the billiard-room was empty except for a group of three in one corner. He stopped just inside the threshold, glancing at them, and it was evident that they had not heard his approach.
Wreaths of cigar smoke drifted about the room; the light of the shaded lamps fell upon the men seated on a lounge, and their expressions and attitudes were significant. Gladwyne leaned back languidly graceful; Batley, a burlier figure, was talking, his eyes fixed on Crestwick; and the lad sat upright, looking eager. Batley appeared to be discussing the principles of operating on the stock exchange.
“It’s obvious,” he said, “that there’s very little to be made by waiting until any particular stock becomes a popular favorite—the premium equalizes the profit and sometimes does away with it. The essential thing is to take hold at the beginning, when the shares are more or less in disfavor and can be picked up cheap.”
Lisle stood still—he was in the shadow—watching the lad, who now showed signs of uncertainty.
“I dropped a good deal of money the last time I tried it,” he protested. “The trouble is that if you come in when the company’s starting, you can’t form an accurate idea of how it ought to go.”
“Exactly,” replied Batley. “You can rarely be quite sure. What you need is sound judgment, the sense to recognize a good thing when you see it, pluck, and the sporting instinct—you must be ready to back your opinion and take a risk. It’s only the necessity for that kind of thing which makes it a fine game.”
He broke off, looking up, and as Lisle strolled forward with a glance at Crestwick, he saw Batley’s genial expression change. It was evident that the idea of being credited with the qualities mentioned appealed to the lad, and Lisle realized that Batley was wishing him far away. He had, however, no intention of withdrawing, and taking out a cigar he chose a cue and awkwardly proceeded to practise a shot.
“This,” he said nonchalantly, “is an amusement I never had time to learn, and I really came along for a quiet smoke. Don’t let me disturb you.”
He saw Crestwick’s look and understood what was in the lad’s mind. It was incomprehensible to the latter that a man should boldly confess his ignorance of a game of high repute. Batley, however, seeing that the intruder intended to remain, returned to the attack, and though he spoke in a lower voice Lisle caught part of his remarks and decided that he was cleverly playing upon Crestwick’s raw belief in himself. This roused the Canadian to indignation, though it was directed against Gladwyne rather than his companion. Batley, he thought, was to some extent an adventurer, one engaged in a hazardous business at which he could not always win, and he had some desirable qualities—good-humor, liberality, coolness and daring. The well-bred gentleman who served as his decoy, however, possessed none of these redeeming characteristics. His part was merely despicable; there was only meanness beneath his polished exterior.
“It certainly looks promising,” Lisle heard Crestwick say; “you have pretty well convinced me that it can’t go wrong.”
“I can’t see any serious risk,” declared Batley. “That, in the case of mining stock, is as far as I’d care to go. On the other hand, there’s every prospect of a surprising change in the value of the shares as soon as the results of the first reduction of ore come out. I can only add that I’m a holder and I got you the offer of the shares as a favor from a friend who’s behind the scenes. Don’t take them unless you feel inclined.”
This was a slip, as Lisle recognized. It is not in human nature to dispose of a commodity that will shortly increase in value. Crestwick, however, obviously failed to notice this; Lisle thought the idea of getting on to the inside track appealed to his vanity.
“It’s a curious name they’ve given the mine,” commented the lad, repeating it. “What does it mean?”
Lisle started, for he recognized the name, and it offered him a lead. Strolling toward the group, he leaned against the table.
“I can tell you that,” he said. “It’s an Indian word for a river gorge. I went up it not long ago.”
“Then,” exclaimed Crestwick, “I suppose you know the mine?”
Lisle glanced at the others. Their eyes were fixed upon him, Batley’s steadily, Gladwyne’s with a hint of uneasiness. It was, he felt, a remarkable piece of good fortune that had given him control of the situation.
“Yes,” he answered carelessly, “I know the mine.”
“I’m thinking of taking shares in it,” Crestwick informed him.
“Well,” said Lisle, “that wouldn’t be wise.”
Gladwyne leaned farther back in his seat, as if to disassociate himself from the discussion, which was what the Canadian had expected from him; but Batley, who was of more resolute fiber, showed fight. His appearance became aggressive, his face hardened, and there was a snap in his eyes.
“You have made a serious allegation in a rather startling way, Mr. Lisle. As I’ve an interest in the company in question, I must ask you to explain.”
“Then I’d advise you to get rid of your interest as soon as possible; that is, so long as you don’t sell out to Crestwick, who’s a friend of mine.”
Batley’s face began to redden, and Lisle, looking around at the sound of a footstep, saw Marple standing a pace or two away. He was a fussy, bustling man, and he raised his hand in expostulation.
“Was that last called for, or quite the thing, Lisle?” he asked.
Batley turned to Gladwyne, as if for support, and the latter assumed his finest air.
“I think there can be only one opinion on that point,” he declared.
Lisle’s eyes gleamed with an amusement that was stronger than his indignation. That Gladwyne should expect this gravely delivered decision to have any marked effect tickled him.
“Well,” he replied, “I’m ready to stand by what I said, and I’ll add that if I had any shares I’d give them away to anybody who would register as their owner before the next call is made.”
“I understood there wouldn’t be a call for a long while,” Crestwick broke in.
“Then whoever told you so must have been misinformed,” Lisle rejoined.
“Are you casting any doubt upon my honor?” Batley demanded in a bellicose voice.
“I don’t think so; anyway, so long as you don’t rule out my suggestion. Still, I’m willing to leave Gladwyne to decide the point. He seems to understand these delicate matters.”
Marple, looking distressed and irresolute, broke in before Gladwyne had a chance to reply.
“Do you know much about mining, Lisle?”
Lisle laughed.
“I’ve had opportunities for learning something, as prospector, locator of alluvial claims and holder of an interest in one or two comparatively prosperous companies.”
He leaned forward and touched Crestwick’s shoulder.
“Come along, Jim, and I’ll give you one or two particulars that should decide you.”
Somewhat to his astonishment, the lad rose and rather sheepishly followed him. There was an awkward silence for a few moments after they left the room; then Marple turned to his guests.
“I can’t undertake to say whether Lisle was justified or not,” he began. “I’m sorry, however, that anything of this nature should have happened in my house.”
“So am I,” said Gladwyne with gracious condescension. “There is, of course, one obvious remedy.”
Marple raised his hands in expostulation. He liked Lisle, and Gladwyne was a distinguished guest. Batley seemed to find his confusion amusing.
“I think the only thing we can do is to let the matter drop,” he suggested. “These fellows from the wilds are primitive—one can’t expect too much. The correct feeling or delicacy of expression we’d look for among ourselves is hardly in their line.”
Marple was mollified, and he fell in with Batley’s suggestion that they should try a game.
In the meanwhile, Crestwick looked around at his companion as they went down the corridor.
“I believe I owe you some thanks,” he admitted. “I like the way you headed off Batley—I think he meant to turn savage at first—and I wouldn’t have been willing to draw in Gladwyne, as you did. He has a way of crushing you with a look.”
“It’s merely a sign that you deserve it,” Lisle laughed. “You take too many things for granted in this country. Test another man’s assumption of superiority before you agree with it, and you’ll sometimes be astonished to find out what it’s really founded on. And now we’d better join those people who’re singing.”