“It was not altogether for charitable purposes that I requested the pleasure of your call. There is business mixed with it. But you, Schwartzbrod, try to place the worst side of yourself before the world. You are really a very generous man. At heart you are; now, you know it.”
“I don’t know anything about it, my lord, and I do not understand the trend of this conversation.”
“Well, I have come to the conclusion that you are one of the most generous men in London. You have done things that I think no other business man in London would attempt. You do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame, as I think the poet said. You’ve been doing me a great benefit, and yet you’ve kept quiet about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I mean Frowningshield and his hundred and fifty men on my gold reef.”
“What!” roared Schwartzbrod, springing to his feet.
“The kidnapping of Mackeller I did not mind. That’s all in the day’s work, and a mining engineer must expect a little rough and tumble in this world.”
“I had nothing to do with that, my lord.”
“No, it was Frowningshield who did it. Am I not saying that you are perfectly blameless? When I learned about the Rajah’s expedition, about the money offered to Captain Simmons, about the compensation that was to be given to Frowningshield, about the running of the ore to Lisbon; when I heard all this, so prejudiced was my brain that I said to myself: ‘Here I’ve caught the biggest thief in the world.’ But when I learned that you had done it, I saw at once what your object was. You were going to smelt that ore without expense to me, take it over in ingots to England, and say, ‘Here, Lord Stranleigh, you’re not half a bad sort of chap. You don’t understand anything about mining or the harsh ways of this world. Here is your gold.’”
Schwartzbrod poured down his throat a liquor glass full of brandy, and collapsed in his chair.