‘Arbitration,’ replied the American. ‘There is only one thing to do, and that is compromise. Even supposing our friends only get half, surely that is better than nothing. It’s the easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to say to the lady: “Miss Wakefield, Mr Morton left you his money. You cannot find the money. Mrs Seaton knows where it is. The money, we admit, is yours, though in justice it should belong to her. In a word, my dear lady, divide;”’ and Mr Slimm leant back in his chair whistling a little air from Princess Ida, as if the whole thing was settled to the satisfaction of all parties.
Mr Carver looked at him as a connoisseur eyes a bad copy of an old master. ‘Mr Slimm, I presume you have never seen the lady?’
Mr Slimm shook his head.
‘I thought not,’ continued Mr Carver. ‘You have been all over the world, and in the course of your rambles I presume you have seen the Sphinx?—Very good. Now, I do not suppose it ever struck you as a good idea to interview that curiosity, or to sit down before its stony charms with a view to learning its past history and the date of its birth.—No? The idea is too absurd; but I may venture to say, without exceeding the bounds of professional caution, that you are just as likely to get any display of emotion from Miss Wakefield—and indeed, the wonderful stone is much the more pleasant object’——
‘But she is not so very awful, Mr Carver,’ Eleanor interposed.
‘My dear, I know she is not endowed with venomous fangs, though she has the wisdom of the serpent. I am prepared to do anything for you in any shape or form, but I do draw the line at Miss Wakefield. As regards interviewing her upon such a subject, I must respectfully but firmly decline.’
‘Surely you don’t object to such a course being taken?’ Edgar asked eagerly. ‘There is no particular harm in it.’
‘On the contrary, I think it is the right course to adopt; but I do not propose to be the victim,’ said Mr Carver drily. ‘If any one in this select company has some evil to atone for, and wants a peculiarly torturing penance, let him undertake the task.’
Felix looked at Mr Bates; Edgar looked at his wife, and each waited politely and considerately for the others to speak. It is not often one meets such pure disregard of self in this grasping world. However, the task must be done; and as Mr Carver disclaimed it, and Bates had no interest in the affair, moreover, Eleanor not being expected to volunteer, manifestly the work lay before the American, Edgar, or Felix.
The American, like another Curtius, was prepared to fling himself into the gulf. With characteristic and national modesty, he merely waited, willing to yield the van of battle; but the delicacy of the others left him no alternative. He volunteered to go.