“Not worth saving? My dear Leonard! it is colossal—colossal!”
Leonard is still mystified, whenever he thinks of it, by this abrupt change of front. What did he mean?
“I am immediately going back to Australia to put things on a right footing.”
“Oh! You have made a Company in the City after all!”
“No,” he replied with decision. “The City has had its chance and has refused its opportunity. I leave the City to lament its own short-sighted refusal. I am sorry for the City. I now return to Australia. The firm of Barlow Brothers may rise conspicuous and colossal, or it may continue to be a purveyor of sardines and blacking, or it may go smash.”
At this point his eye fell upon a letter. It was one of the documents in the Case; in fact, it was the letter from Australia which came with John Dunning’s memorandum. By accident it had not been put away with the rest. He read the superscription on the seal: “John Dunning’s Sons.”
“John Dunning’s Sons?” he asked. “John Dunning’s Sons?”
“It’s an old story. Your grandfather helped John Dunning in early life.” Leonard took out the letter. “His family write to express the gratitude—a post-mortem gratitude—of the late John Dunning to the family generally. Would you like to read it?”
Uncle Fred read it. His jovial face became grave—even austere in thoughtfulness. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket.
“By your leave,” he said. “My dear boy, the Dunnings are the richest people in the colony. I am a made man. Their gratitude simply warms my heart. It inspires once more the old youthful belief in human nature. With this letter—with this introduction—Barlow Brothers vanish. Damn the sardine boxes! Fred Campaigne returns to Australia, and Fortune smiles. My boy, farewell. With this letter in my pocket, I start to-morrow.”