Dalton was extremely pessimistic about the whole matter. It was easy enough to draw up an instrument giving Paul control of Tussock’s money, but no man could be kept straight by anyone but himself. “I have tried it for five years, and I tell you it’s no good. The money part can be arranged, but it’s not a question of money. It’s a question of habit, of inclination, of will power.”
“Come up and see him,” urged Paul.
“No. I’ve no desire to see another wreck.”
“Come. I would like you to draw up this agreement.”
Reluctantly Dalton went with him. It was indeed a strange meeting. The three men spent the night exchanging their life stories and discussing the future.
Paul led the way, giving them as much as he thought necessary of the story of his life.
Dan Tussock followed. An orphan at an early age, he had been brought up in the school of hard knocks and hard work. He had made his own way since he was twelve years of age. He had developed a power of organisation and leadership among men, he had become a money maker, but uneducated and ignorant of the ways of the business world he had been a mark for sharps and sharks and, most of all, with no human ties and responsibilities to steady him, he had been the victim of his own passions, and now at fifty years of age he was a failure.
Dalton’s story was different, but with a like ending. Born of a good Ontario family, after a distinguished university course he had become a student in theology. Gifted with brilliant social parts, a mis-step led him to abandon his theological studies and become a student in law. Again he registered a brilliant success, but again he became a victim of his social qualities. Five years ago he had found it necessary to sever his connection with the firm in Toronto in which he had held a junior partnership and had come to the West, resolved to make a new bid for success in the new country. He had obtained a junior position in the law firm of Gunning & Strong, and for a time did well, but discouragement and loneliness sapped the strength of his resistance, and for the past three years he had been steadily deteriorating until he had become a mere office clerk, “a sort of glorified office boy,” as he himself said, “and headed for hell. In want of a keeper too, begad!” he said, with a bitter laugh. “Better take me on too, Gaspard.”
His words suggested an idea to Dan Tussock. “Right you are, boy!” he cried, sitting upright in bed. “A keeper it is that you want. Let us make a partnership of it. I’ve got my hand on one of the biggest things ever swung on this coast. As I told you, I can organise the work and see it through, but sure as fate I go to pieces when the job is done. Dalton, you’re pretty much in the same fix. You hate your work, there’s nothing in it for you, and you’re going to the devil. Here’s Paul, wanting to make twenty-five thousand and needing a start. I can show him twenty-five thousand dollars, and more, if he ties up to me. What do you say? Let’s make a partnership of it.” And with growing enthusiasm he proceeded to expound his scheme. He had just completed a job out of which he had made several thousand dollars, he had that day made his first payment on a purchase of another tract of wild land which he proposed to clear up and sell as city lots. There was big money in it, if properly handled. The city was growing, building sites were badly needed; he knew he could swing the work and push it through, but on the business end he was always falling down. “And worse than that, with money in my pocket I need a keeper. Dalton, you are a lawyer, and I guess you know your job. You look to me like a worker. Can’t do anything with a lazy man, but you’re not lazy. What you want is something worth while to keep you climbing. You’re a fool like me. You need a keeper like me. Here’s Paul, wanting a job. We’ll give him the job.”
Dalton sat gloomily smoking. “You’re right, Tussock,” he said. “I need a keeper.” He put his face in his hands and groaned. “I’m a fool. I am worse than a fool, I’m a dead failure.”