The beginning of the ‘last scene of all, that ends, or may end, this strange eventful history,’ is the winding-up proceedings. A joint-stock Company once formed, can only be dissolved by means of ‘winding-up.’ The general grounds for winding-up may be stated as follows: whenever the Company passes a special resolution to that effect—whenever business is not commenced within a year from the incorporation of the Company, or when business is suspended for one year—whenever the members are reduced below the legal number of seven—whenever the Company is unable to pay its lawful debts—and lastly, whenever the Court deems it just and equitable that the Company should be wound-up. The liquidating or winding-up is generally a tedious process; but it will not be necessary to detail here the varied forms of procedure which come under that head. What has been here set down is simply the A B C of the subject, the varied ramifications of which cover a deal of ground, and occasionally run into many dark thickets, some of them dangerous to creditors, some to directors, but nearly all to shareholders. These last ought always to walk warily, and never, if possible, without full knowledge and the best procurable advice of stockbrokers, bankers, lawyers, and others versed in the mysteries and risks of speculation, whether ‘limited’ or otherwise.
BY MEAD AND STREAM.
CHAPTER XLVI.—DOWNHILL.
After that dumb leave-taking of Madge at the station, Philip returned to his chambers, passing through the human torrent of Cheapside without any sense of sound, touch, or feeling. The room in which she had so lately stood looked desolate somehow; and yet her visit was like an ill-remembered dream. Only the plaintive voice with the faint ‘Good-bye’ haunted his ears. The sound was still in them, move where he would.
He tried to shake off the stupor which had fastened upon him as the natural result of narcotics, overstrained nerves, and want of sleep. One clear idea remained to him: so far as Madge was concerned, he had acted as a man ought to act in his circumstances. Dick Crawshay would speedily satisfy her on that score. There was a tinge of bitterness in this reflection; and the bitterness brought a gleam of light, although not sufficient yet to dispel the confused shadows of his brain. It sufficed, however, to make him aware that it was Wrentham’s vague whisperings about Beecham, and Madge’s strange association with that person, which had urged him to act so harshly. For after all, there was no reason why he should not work his way out of the mess and win sufficient means to make Madge content, however far the position might be below that in which he would like to place her. But the haunting voice echoed its ‘Good-bye,’ and it seemed as if he had put away the love which might have sustained him in this time of trial. ‘What a fool, what a fool!’ And he paced the floor restlessly, repeating that melancholy confession.
He wished Wrentham would come back, so that he might discuss the state of affairs again, and obtain explanations of certain items in the accounts he had gone over during the night. There he was at last, and something particular must have happened to make him knock so violently.
He threw open the door, and Mr Shield entered in his hurried blustering way, bringing with him a mixed aroma of brandy and gin. His bushy beard and whiskers were tangled, and his somewhat bloodshot eyes stared fiercely into space.
‘Pretty mess—horrible mess,’ he muttered in his jerky manner, as he forced his way into the room and flung his huge form on the couch; ‘and I can’t get you out of it. I’m in a mess too.’
The surprise at the appearance of Shield, his rough manner, and the announcement he made, roused Philip most effectually from his own morbid broodings.
‘You in a mess, sir—I do not understand.’ In his bewilderment, he omitted the welcome which he would have given at any other time, and did not even express surprise that Shield should have answered his letter in person.