XV
As Sir Ralph Said, “Business Is Business”
T. B. Smith walked into his outer office.
“Any news of Mr. Pretherston?” he asked.
“No, sir,” was the reply.
“Any news of Barr?”
“No, sir.”
T. B. clicked his lips impatiently.
“Who’s looking after them?”
“Detective-sergeant Grey, sir,” was the reply. “You know we traced him as far as Pinham Heights. After that he seems to have been lost sight of.”
“Have you notified the chief constables of Hampshire, Sussex and Surrey?” asked T. B.
“That has been done, sir,” said the officer. “The local constabulary are making a search.”
T. B. bit his lips.
“I can understand Mr. Pretherston going,” he said, “but what has happened to Barr?”
His subordinate very wisely offered no solution.
There were other anxious enquirers. Moya Felton had called that morning. Sir Ralph had made two visits to headquarters though it was doubtful whether his anxiety was in any way associated with the well being of Michael Pretherston.
“I think Michael will find the gang,” said T. B., “though he may be too late to get the gold.”
“What do I want the gang for?” demanded Sir Ralph wrathfully. “Will the government give me £2,800,000 for them? The gang can go to the devil so far as I am concerned. I want the gold.”
“You may get neither,” said T. B.; “at any rate, it ought to be very pleasing to you, Sir Ralph, that Michael Pretherston is risking his life to recover your property.”
“Isn’t he paid to do it?” demanded Sir Ralph. “Isn’t that the job of a policeman? By Gad! Commissioner, one would imagine that Pretherston was doing something out of the common! I take risks every day of my life.”
“If you could see my mind,” said T. B. Smith suavely, “you would realize that you are taking the biggest risk you have taken today. I advise you to go home and get into a calmer frame of mind.”
“When shall I hear anything?” asked the truculent baronet.
“Whenever you are within earshot,” snapped the Commissioner. “Show Sir Ralph out, constable.”
Lord Flanborough did not obtrude his enquiries. He was so far reconciled to Moya that he could discuss the matter dispassionately, without reference to the mésalliance which threatened his family.
“I think on the whole, Moya,” he said, “I had better not see Ralph. After all, business is business and friends are friends; but I disclaim all responsibility for that gold after it left the ship. It is Ralph’s business entirely and I simply won’t accept his suggestion that I share his responsibility to the slightest degree.”
“Will he have to bear the loss?”
“Well, partially bear the loss. A portion will be borne by the underwriters. Ralph, I am afraid, is a very mean man. I hate saying anything about my friends but Ralph is really economical to a point of meanness. I advised him to insure the gold and, to save a beggarly premium, he only insured half of it. I am very sorry for him,” he shook his head mournfully as a symbol of his sympathy. “I am very, very sorry for him, but I think it is better that we do not meet until this business matter is completely settled. On the whole,” he added thoughtfully, “perhaps it is better that your engagement with Ralph is broken off. He has said some very unkind things about you, Moya, which aroused my anger. I do not think you have been wise but I cannot allow any person to discuss you uncharitably.”
If the truth be told, Sir Ralph had said very little about the girl and very much about his lordship, whom he had accused of deliberately evading his responsibilities. This was at the one interview which they had had. It pleased Lord Flanborough to pose as a devoted father, but he did not deceive anybody but himself, for Moya had had a first hand account of the interview from Ralph who had asked her to use her influence to bring about a change in Lord Flanborough’s attitude.
It was the day after the disappearance of Michael Pretherston and Sir Ralph’s nerves were a little shaky. It was unfortunate in the circumstances that he had decided that afternoon to make a call upon the man who, a week before, he had fondly believed was to be his father-in-law. Lord Flanborough had not taken the precaution of warning his servants that he was not at home to Sir Ralph, so he had nobody to blame but himself when the door of his study was flung violently open that afternoon and Ralph Sapson stalked in.
“My dear Sapson,” stammered his lordship, flabbergasted by the unexpectedness of the visit. “Pray, do sit down.”
“I am not going to sit down. I tell you I am not going to sit down,” roared, rather than said, Ralph.
“Let me close the door,” said his lordship in alarm. “My dear man, please remember—”
“I remember nothing except that I am on the brink of ruin. That is what it means. I am on the brink of ruin,” said Ralph, violently thumping the desk. “It is going to cost me a million and a half, and you must bear your share, Flanborough! You are responsible. If it had not been for your infernal daughter this would not have occurred.”
“My daughter,” said Lord Flanborough and feeling himself on perfectly safe ground he could speak with hauteur, “is not a matter for discussion and if you cannot speak respectfully of her, I beg you to leave this room.”
“If it had not been for your daughter we should have remembered to send Griggs back.”
“I am not in charge of the railway,” said his lordship with mock humility. “I cannot order engine-drivers to return to Seahampton. Be reasonable, Sapson!”
“You have got to bear your share,” said the other doggedly, “you are morally responsible. I wish I had never thought of bringing your infernal ships to Seahampton.”
He was haggard and drawn of face. In two days he seemed to have shrunk so that his usually well-fitting clothes hung on him loosely.
“Everything can be discussed in a quiet businesslike way,” said Lord Flanborough. “I am very sorry that you have this loss. It is by no means certain that it is a loss, but business is business—you cannot expect me to shoulder your responsibilities, my dear friend.”
“It is your responsibility as well as mine,” stormed Ralph, jumping up from his chair and advancing upon the little man who stepped cautiously backward, “and I insist upon your accepting your share.”
“Which would amount to?” suggested his lordship.
“About seven hundred thousand pounds,” growled the other.
“Seven hundred thousand pounds! Impossible!” said Lord Flanborough emphatically.
Ralph turned livid.
“If you don’t,” he hissed, thumping his palm with his fist, “if you don’t—”
At that moment help came in the shape of Moya. She nodded coolly to Sir Ralph and crossed the room to her father.
“There is no news of Michael,” she said.
“Dear me,” sighed his lordship.
“Michael!” sneered Ralph. “There is no news of the money! That’s the important thing, Moya!”
“We are not on the ‘Moya’ terms any more, Sir Ralph,” she said quietly.
“Rub it in,” groaned the man.
“I don’t want to rub it in. We all have our troubles, but some of us bear them less courageously than others. It won’t ruin you if you do lose all this money. You know you are enormously rich.”
“I am not going to lose,” said Sir Ralph doggedly; “your father has to bear his share.”
“If father is responsible he will bear his share,” said the girl, “but it is not by any means certain that he is responsible, is it, papa?”
“Certainly not,” said Lord Flanborough, placing a table between himself and his infuriated partner.
There was a tap at the door and Sibble came in, somewhat furtively.
He looked mysteriously at Moya and she went to him.
“What is it, Sibble?” she asked.
“There’s a man to see you, miss,” he said. “I think it is something very special.”
“To see me? Who is he?”
“I don’t know who he is, miss, but he has a very special message for you.”
She went out into the hall. A respectable looking man stood hat in hand. By his thick coat she thought at first he was an omnibus driver. In a sense, she was right.
“Are you Lady Moya Felton, madame?”
“Yes,” said the girl.
He handed her a card. She took it. It was a business card announcing that Messrs. Acton and Arkwright, contractors, were prepared to remove anything from machinery to furniture and that they had a “larger number of motor lorries than any other firm doing business in the south of England.”
“I am afraid there is a mistake,” she said. “I didn’t send for you.”
“No, miss, we’ve brought the goods.”
“The goods?” she said puzzled.
He led the way to the door.
Lining one side of the street and stretching from the house to the corner of Gaspard Place were ten motor lorries.
“Here’s the name.”
He turned the card over.
“Lord Flanborough, Felton House, Grosvenor Avenue,” said the man reading it over her shoulder.
“Have you any letter?”
“No, miss, these are all the instructions I had. I was told to bring the chemicals to his lordship and ask for you.”
“Chemicals?” she said.
Her father had followed her to the door.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This man has brought some chemicals for you.”
“Oh, nonsense, there is some mistake,” said Lord Flanborough. “I am not a chemist.”
He went down the steps with the girl to the first lorry. She looked inside and apparently it was empty.
“What is it you have brought?” she asked in surprise.
“There they are, miss, on the floor.”
And then she saw a number of packages wrapped in sacking.
“They’re pretty heavy,” said the man, “considering their size.”
She reached out her hand and tried to draw one toward her. It defied her efforts. Lord Flanborough tried and succeeded in moving it. Something in its shape startled him.
“Have you a knife?” he asked the man.
The contractor produced a big clasp knife and opened it.
“Be careful, my lord,” he warned, “they’re dangerous—”
But Lord Flanborough had ripped the canvas package and exposed a dull yellow ingot. He dropped the knife and stepped back.
“How many wagons are there?” he asked huskily.
“Ten, sir. They’ve all got the same number of packages—and are we to take them to the Docks?”
Lord Flanborough made a rapid calculation.
“Take them into the basement and put them into the coal cellar,” he said and went up the steps two at a time and back into his study.
Sir Ralph was still waiting. The rudeness of his host neither increased nor decreased his irritation.
Lord Flanborough stepped up to him briskly.
“Look here, Sapson,” he said. “What responsibility do you want me to bear in the matter of this gold?”
“I want you to bear half.”
“I will do more than that,” said his lordship. “I will assume the whole responsibility for two hundred thousand pounds.”
Ralph swung round.
“You will?” he said incredulously.
“I will.”
“Done,” said Sir Ralph and pulled out his cheque book.
He wrote quickly and nervously but quite legibly enough and handed the slip to Lord Flanborough, what time his lordship was writing with more leisure but no less excitement on the other side of the table.
“There’s your cheque,” said Sir Ralph.
“And there’s my note freeing you from responsibility,” said his lordship.
“I am sorry I have been so unpleasant,” said the baronet wiping his steaming brow, “but you will understand.”
“I quite understand,” said Lord Flanborough.
“Business is business,” said Ralph.
“Business is business,” repeated his lordship and folding the cheque slipped it into his pocket.