“She’s in town—at Claridge’s—just now, so you need not write her to Paris. She asked me to call the night before last, and I went,” said Ben. “She wanted to get further instructions regarding a matter about which I wrote her. I dined with her.”
Sam grunted as he turned slightly in his chair.
“Rather undesirable company—eh—Ben?” he exclaimed, with some surprise. “Suppose you were seen by anyone who knows her? And recollect that all Paris knows her. It is scarcely compatible with our standing in the City for you to be seen in her company.”
“My dear Sam, I took very good care not to be seen in her company. I’m not quite a fool. I accepted her invitation with a distinct purpose. I wanted to question her about one of her friends—a man who may in future prove of considerable use to us. He’s, as usual, in love with her, and she can twist him inside out.”
“Ah! any man’s a fool who allows himself to fall under the fascination of a woman’s smiles,” remarked the dry-as-dust old millionaire. “We’ve been wise, Ben, to remain bachelors. It’s the unmarried who taste the good things of this world.”
Benjamin sighed, but said nothing. He, like Sam himself, had had his love-romance years ago, and it still lingered within him, lingered as it does within the heart of every man who has loved a woman that has turned out false and broken her pledge of affection. Ben Statham’s was a sorry story. Before his eyes, even now that thirty years had gone, there often arose the vision of a sweet, pale-faced, slim figure in white muslin, girdled with blue; of green meadows, where the cattle stood knee-deep in the rich grass, and of a cool Scotch glen where the trees overhung the rippling burn and where the trout darted in the pools.
But it had all ended, as many another love-romance has, alas! ended, in the woman forsaking the man who loved her, and in marrying another for his money.
Three years later her husband—the man whom she had wedded because of his position—was in the bankruptcy court, and six months afterwards he had followed her to her grave. But the sweet recollection of her still remained with Ben, and beneath that hard and wizened countenance beat a heart foil of tender memories of a day long since dead.
His brother Samuel’s romance was even more tragic. Nobody knew the story save himself, and it had never passed his lips. The society gossips who so often wrote their tittle-tattle about him never dreamed the strange story of the life of the great financier, nor the extraordinary romance that underlay his marvellous success. What a sensation would be produced if they ever learnt the truth! In those days long ago both of them had been poor, and had suffered in consequence. Now that they were both wealthy, the bitterness of the past still remained with them.
They were discussing another matter, concerning a project for an electric tramway in a Spanish city, the concession for which had been brought to them. They both agreed that the thing would not pay, therefore it was dismissed.