“Yes, he is a very clever man—a genius, I think. He rises to each difficulty without any effort, and every day shows me new evidence of his foresight. He has done more than you think in the malgamite works. His share of the work has been greater than anybody knows. I am only the financier, you understand. I know about bookkeeping and about—money—how it should be handled—that is all.”
“You are too modest, I think,” said Mrs. Vansittart, gravely. “You forget that the scheme was yours; you forget all that you did in London.”
“Yes—while Von Holzen was doing more here. He had the more difficult task to perform. Of course I did my share in getting the thing up. It would be foolish to deny that. I suppose I have a head on my shoulders, like other people.” And Mr. Percy Roden, with his hand at his moustache, smiled a somewhat fatuous smile. He thought, perhaps, that a woman will love a man the more for being a good man of business.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Vansittart, softly.
“But I should like Von Holzen to have his due,” said Roden, rather grandly. “He has done wonders, and no one quite realizes that except perhaps Cornish.”
“Indeed! Does Mr. Cornish give Herr von Holzen his due, then?”
“Cornish does his best to upset Von Holzen's plans at every turn. He does not understand business at all. When that sort of man goes into business he invariably gets into trouble. He has what I suppose he calls scruples. It comes, I imagine, from not having been brought up to it.” Roden spoke rather hotly. He was of a jealous disposition, and disliked Mrs. Vansittart's attitude towards Cornish. “But he is no match for Von Holzen,” he continued, “as he will find to his cost. Von Holzen is not the sort of man to stand any kind of interference.”
“Ah?” said Mrs. Vansittart again, in the slightly questioning and indifferent manner with which she received all defence of Otto von Holzen, and which had the effect of urging Roden to further explanation.
“He is not a man I should care to cross myself,” he said, determined to secure Mrs. Vansittart's full attention. “He has the whole of the malgamiters at his beck and call, and is pretty powerful, I can tell you. They are a desperate set of fellows; men engaged in a dangerous industry do not wear kid gloves.”
Mrs. Vansittart was watching him across the low tea-table; for Roden rarely looked at his interlocutor. He had more of her attention than he perhaps suspected.