“Ah!” said Mrs. Vansittart, looking into the fire; “and who is Herr von Holzen?”
Roden paused for a moment, and the lady, looking half indifferently into the fire, noticed the hesitation.
“Oh, he is a scientist—a professor at one of the universities over here, I believe. At all events, he is a very clever fellow—analytical chemist and all that, you know. It is he who has made the discovery upon which we are working. He has always been interested in malgamite, and he has now found out how it may be manufactured without injury to the workers. Malgamite, you understand, is an essential in the manufacture of paper, and the world will never require less paper than it does now, but more. Look at the tons that pass through the post-offices daily. Paper-making is one of the great industries of the world, and without malgamite, paper cannot be made at a profit to-day.”
Roden seemed to have his subject at his fingers' ends, and if he spoke without enthusiasm, the reason was probably that he had so often said the same thing before.
“I am much interested,” said Mrs. Vansittart, in her half-foreign way, which was rather pleasing. “Tell me more about it.”
“The malgamite makers,” went on Roden, willingly enough, “are fortunately but few in numbers and they are experts. They are to be found in twos and threes in manufacturing cities—Amsterdam, Gothenburg, Leith, New York, and even Barcelona. Of course there are a number in England. Our scheme, briefly, is to collect these men together, to build a manufactory and houses for them—to form them, in fact, into a close corporation, and then supply the world with malgamite.”
“It is a great scheme, Mr. Roden.”
“Yes, it is a great scheme; and it is, I think, laid upon the right lines. These people require to be saved from themselves. As they now exist, they are well paid. They are engaged in a deadly industry, and know it. There is nothing more demoralizing to human nature than this knowledge. They have a short and what they take to be a merry life.” The tired—looking man paused and spread out his hands in a gesture of careless scorn. He had almost allowed himself to lapse into enthusiasm. “There is no reason,” he went on, “why they should not become a happy and respectable community. The first thing we shall have to teach them is that their industry is comparatively harmless, as it will undoubtedly be with Von Holzen's new process. The rest will, I think, come naturally. Altered circumstances will alter the people themselves.”
“And where do you intend to build this manufactory?” inquired Mrs. Vansittart, to whom was vouch-safed that rare knowledge of the fine line that is to be drawn between a kindly interest and a vulgar curiosity. The two are nearer than is usually suspected.
“Here in Holland,” was the reply. “I have almost decided on the spot—on the dunes to the north of Scheveningen. That is why I am staying at The Hague. There are many reasons why this coast is suitable. We shall be in touch with the canal system, and we shall have a direct outfall to the sea for our refuse, which is necessary. I shall have to live in The Hague—my sister and I.”