“Good heavens!” gasped Robert.
Cold seemed to shoot to his inmost soul as it flashed upon him that this was a prelude to a confession of impending bankruptcy, and that all this glorious life, all the excitement and the colour and change, were about to vanish into thin air.
“No millionaire!” he stammered.
“No, Robert; I am a billionaire—perhaps the only one in the world. That is what is on my mind, and why I am unhappy sometimes. I feel that I should spend this money—that I should put it in circulation—and yet it is so hard to do it without failing to do good—without doing positive harm. I feel my responsibility deeply. It weighs me down. Am I justified in continuing to live this quiet life when there are so many millions whom I might save and comfort if I could but reach them?”
Robert heaved a long sigh of relief. “Perhaps you take too grave a view of your responsibilities,” he said. “Everybody knows that the good which you have done is immense. What more could you desire? If you really wished to extend your benevolence further, there are organised charities everywhere which would be very glad of your help.”
“I have the names of two hundred and seventy of them,” Haw answered. “You must run your eye over them some time, and see if you can suggest any others. I send my annual mite to each of them. I don't think there is much room for expansion in that direction.”
“Well, really you have done your share, and more than your share. I would settle down to lead a happy life, and think no more of the matter.”
“I could not do that,” Haw answered earnestly. “I have not been singled out to wield this immense power simply in order that I might lead a happy life. I can never believe that. Now, can you not use your imagination, Robert, and devise methods by which a man who has command of—well, let us say, for argument's sake, boundless wealth, could benefit mankind by it, without taking away any one's independence or in any way doing harm?”
“Well, really, now that I come to think of it, it is a very difficult problem,” said Robert.
“Now I will submit a few schemes to you, and you may give me your opinion on them. Supposing that such a man were to buy ten square miles of ground here in Staffordshire, and were to build upon it a neat city, consisting entirely of clean, comfortable little four-roomed houses, furnished in a simple style, with shops and so forth, but no public-houses. Supposing, too, that he were to offer a house free to all the homeless folk, all the tramps, and broken men, and out-of-workers in Great Britain. Then, having collected them together, let him employ them, under fitting superintendence, upon some colossal piece of work which would last for many years, and perhaps be of permanent value to humanity. Give them a good rate of pay, and let their hours of labour be reasonable, and those of recreation be pleasant. Might you not benefit them and benefit humanity at one stroke?”