“I think I’ll turn that job over to you, Mr. Mac-keller. You’ll be my plea-receiver. I dislike having my emotions worked upon. They tell me that a harrowing of the emotions causes wrinkles and sallowness, and I’m particularly careful of my complexion. Both you and your son seem to have neglected these simple precautions, for your complexions are irretrievably ruined; yours through leading a hard-hearted life in the city, and his by yachting on the river Paraboola.”
“Paramakaboo,” corrected young Mackeller.
“Thanks, so it is. How should we make the first move toward gathering in those shares which do not exist?”
“I suggest,” replied the elder man, “that you should formally demand that the president of the company and the board of directors turn over to you all the papers and belongings of the company, also its balance at the bank, also the resignations of the president and each of the directors. Give them legal notice that no check is to be drawn upon the bank account.”
“How much money do you suppose is left in the bank?”
The younger man answered.
“They have chartered the tramp steamer Rajah, which now lies at Southampton. I was in charge of its fitting out. A few thousand pounds have been spent in surface-mining machinery, in provisions, and in corrugated iron for the building of shelters for the engineering staff and workmen. It was not the intention at first to erect a smelting furnace at the mine, but to load the ship with ore, and send her back to England. I returned to London from Southampton, when my father telegraphed to me about the crisis in the affairs of the company. I had spent less than five thousand pounds, so there should be forty or forty-five thousand pounds in the bank.”
“I suppose,” suggested his lordship, in a tone of supreme indifference, “that they have probably drawn the whole amount out by this time, and perhaps have divided it among the immaculate seven.”
“In that case,” replied the elder, “they will be forced to account for every penny of it.”
The conference was here interrupted by a gentle knock at the door, and one of the club servants, entering, presented a card to Lord Stran-leigh, which bore the words, “Jacob Hahn; Hahn and Lewishon, Solicitors, Frankfort Buildings, Bucklersbury.”