“Yes. I’ve been thinking of selling a few shares, by the way. As you may suppose, I’ve been spending a good deal just lately—more than my income.”
“You mustn’t sell just now, Peer. They’re—I daresay you’ve seen that they’re down—below par, in fact.”
“What—below par! No, I had no idea of that.”
“Oh, only for the time being, of course. Just a temporary drop. There’s sure to be another run on them soon, and they’ll go up again. But the Khedive has the controlling interest, you know, and he’s rather a ticklish customer. Ferdinand is all for extension—wants to keep on buying up new land—new desert, that is. Irrigation there’s just a question of power—that’s how he looks at it. And of course the bigger the scale of the work the cheaper the power will work out. But the Khedive’s holding back. It may be just a temporary whim—may be all right again to-morrow. But you never know. And if you think Ferdinand’s the man to give in to a cranky Khedive, you’re much mistaken. His idea now is to raise all the capital he can lay hands on, and buy him out! What do you say to that? Buy the Khedive clean out of the company. It’s a large order. And if I were you, old man, as soon as the shares go up again a bit, I’d sell out some of my holding, and put the money into something at home here. After all, there must be plenty of quite useful things to be had here.”
Peer frowned, and sat for a while looking straight before him. “No,” he said at last. “As things stand between Ferdinand Holm and me—well, if either of us goes back on the other, it’s not going to be me.”
“Ah, in that case—I beg your pardon,” said Klaus, and he rose and departed.
The christening was a great occasion, with a houseful of guests, and a great deal of speechmaking. The host was the youngest and gayest of the party. The birth of his son should be celebrated in true Ethiopian fashion, he declared—with bonfires and boating parties.
The moon was hidden that evening behind thick dark clouds, but the boats full of guests glided over the black water to the accompaniment of music and laughter. The young madcap of a lawyer was there, again sitting on the lap of someone else’s wife, and playing a concertina, till people in the farms on shore opened their windows and put their heads out to listen.
Later on the bonfires blazed up all along the lake shore and shone like great flaming suns in the water below. The guests lay on the grass in little groups round picnic suppers, and here and there a couple wandered by themselves, talking in whispers.
Merle and Peer stood together for a moment beside one of the bonfires. Their faces and figures were lit by the red glow; they looked at each other and exchanged a smile. He took her hand and led her outside the circle of light from the fire, and pointed over to their home, with all its windows glowing against the dark.