“How does Mrs. Landray feel about this?” the lawyer had asked.
“Why, you can fancy, Benson,” and Landray's handsome face wore a look of keen distress. “She does not know yet, she only suspects. Indeed, no one knows but you, and of course, the investors; they have made a point of it that Bush or I go; indeed, a good share of the money comes into the enterprise on condition that one of us takes its direction.”
A humorous twinkle lurked in the tail of the lawyer's grey eyes. He knew it was the Landray honesty rather than the Landray ability, of which the investors wished to assure themselves.
“Rogers is all right,” continued Landray. “But he is not the man to handle such a venture, and then he may give down any day; it's a question in my mind if he lives through the fall and winter here.”
“So Mrs. Landray does not know yet?”
“I don't imagine there is much left to tell her,” said Landray. “It's too bad she's going to feel it as she is. If I could I would willingly make any sacrifice to be relieved of my obligation to go—short of giving up the chance itself to make a fortune. But one of us must go, our own money and money that would not have come into the scheme but for us will be involved. Bush is quite willing to make the trip alone, but I can't let him do that.”
“I cautioned you to avoid committing yourselves,” said Benson, “for I feared this very thing would happen.”
“I know you did,” said Landray ruefully, “but what was I to do? They hung back until we let them think that we were going; it was only then money came in sight.”
And Mr. Benson, who admired a nice sense of honour, considering it the loftiest guide to human action, had concurred in this view of the case; but now, with Virginia Landray's great sad eyes fixed upon him, his ready sympathy all went out to her. He regretted that he had agreed with her husband; he felt, for a brief instant, that the reasonable thing for the latter to do was to abandon the whole project, with credit if he could, without credit if he must; for what did it matter what men said or thought, where her peace of mind was concerned?
“You are Stephen's lawyer,” Mrs. Landray said, “and I suppose he has few secrets from you; perhaps you know more of his plans than he has told me; until now he has had no secrets from me.” She bestowed upon Benson a troubled, questioning glance, then she made an imperious gesture. “You are to tell me quite honestly if he is as hopelessly committed as he thinks to this matter, and to this man, Rogers—I am not to be put off!”