“’Pon me conscience, now ye’re the first set of men I ever yet clapped eyes on that made a fuss about taking money when it was offered to ’em!” exclaimed the Hon. Captain O’Brien, surprised into a stronger brogue than he had yet allowed to appear. “Sure, now, by the time we’ve tunnelled under the whole of Arabia Pethreea, and flung our Britannia-metal tubular bridge across the Persian Gulf, we’ll find money growing pretty tight with us.”
“As there seems some difference of opinion on the point,” returned Mr. Bonus Nugget, “I would suggest that we summon a general meeting of all the directors, and appoint a managing committee to decide such matters for the future.”
This proposition was agreed to nem. con., and a day having been fixed for their next meeting, D’Almayne began:—
“In my capacity as secretary, I have to call your attention to one point before this meeting breaks up. I have, in accordance with a resolution passed at the last board, gone into the current outlay, and find that to pay the engineers now surveying the portion of the line already decided on, and other expenses which I will not detain you by enumerating, the account at our bankers is overdrawn. I would propose, therefore, that two of the directors should sign a cheque for £3000, to be placed to the company’s credit.”
“Better say five,” interposed Nugget; “it don’t do to be overdrawing our account; I’ve known a trifle like that ruin a speculation as promising even as the present one. Don’t let this occur again, D’Almayne; I can let you have money at any moment, as you are well aware.”
“Ya! ya! or I, vin you please; you must not starve him for no accounts,” chimed in the Belgian capitalist.
“Certainly, £5000 should be paid in at once,” observed Mr. Crane, producing a cheque-book. “I shall have much pleasure in advancing the sum, if you gentlemen will sanction my so doing.”
This both Nugget and the Belgian protested against, each urging their claims as originators of the scheme; but O’Brien silenced their opposition, and settled the matter by exclaiming in his off-hand manner—
“Let Mr. Crane have his way, sir!—he’s a fine fellow entirely—a liberal and enlightened man he is—one of the merchant princes of this great counthry; and though I’d the misfortune to be born an aristocrat myself, I’ve no class bigotry about me. I admire a true Briton when I meet with one; and whoever wishes to bully and browbeat that Briton in my presence, must do it some time when Terence O’Brien isn’t there to stand up for him. Shake hands, Mr. Crane—I’m proud to know you. Take this pen and write, sir! Browbeat a man like that, indeed!—’pon my conscience, what next I wonder!”
And so, under cover of the Captain’s blustering, Mr. Crane signed a cheque for £5000, for which D’Almayne gave him a receipt in the name of the company; then bowing to his co-directors, and exchanging a word or two aside with D’Almayne, he departed. As the sound of his retreating footsteps died away in the distance, D’Almayne, quietly pocketing the cheque, observed—