The White Virgin

“The evening papers, sir.”

Clive caught them up one by one, and pointed out letter and advertisement denying the truth of the rumour, and denouncing it as a financial trick to depreciate the value of the shares.

“But it will not stop the panic,” said Clive sadly. “People will believe the lie, and turn away from the truth. I have given instructions to buy up every share that is offered, but I find that a Mr Wrigley is buying up all he can get.”

“Yes,” said the Major faintly. “I believe he is the man who bought mine.”

“Tchah!” ejaculated Clive. “Yes, it is a conspiracy for certain. There: write a message and send off at once to Dinah. Tell her it is as she believed, only a rumour, and that everything is right.”

“Everything wrong, you mean,” groaned the Major. “How can I write that?”

“Because everything will be all right, sir. You do not think I am going to let my dearest wife’s father suffer for an error of judgment?”

“No, no,” groaned the Major, “I cannot lower – I cannot – God in Heaven! how could I have been such a fool.”

“Because, my dear sir,” said Clive, patting his shoulder affectionately, “you are not quite perfect. There, send the message at once. Poor darling! She must be in agony.”

The Major’s face went down upon his hands.

“Send it – you – you can write – ”

“It shall be in your name then,” said Clive, and he dashed off the missive. “There.” Turning to the Major, he took his hands. “Come, sir, look me in the eyes, and tell me you believe now that I am an honest man.”

“I – I cannot look you in the face, Clive,” murmured the Major huskily. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t humble me any more.”

“Humble you, sir? not I. There, that is all past. Never mind the shares. Why, my dear sir, I have never made any boast of it, but my poor father left me immensely rich, and my tastes are very simple. I am obliged to work for others, and, as I told you, it was his wish that the mine should stand high, and stand high it shall. There, our darling will soon be at rest. You and I will have dinner together here, and enjoy a bottle of the father’s claret. To-morrow morning you shall go down home again. – Yes, what is it?”

“Mr Belton, sir.”

“Show him in directly.”

“A moment. Let me go,” cried the Major.

“No, no, I want you to know Mr Belton, my father’s old solicitor and friend.”

“Here I am, Clive, my boy,” cried the old gentleman, entering mopping his face. “Oh, I thought you were alone.”

“Better than being alone,” said Clive; “this is a very dear friend of mine – Major Gurdon. I want you to know each other.”

“Any friend of Clive Reed’s, sir, is my friend,” said the old lawyer rather stiffly; but there was a look of pleasure in his eyes, as he shook hands with the Major, who greeted him with this touch, for he could not trust himself to speak.

“Sit down, Belton,” said Clive eagerly now. “What news?”

“Shall I – er – ”

“Yes, of course. I have no secrets from Major Gurdon.”

The old lawyer passed his silk handkerchief over his forehead, glanced keenly at the Major, and then went on.

“Well, there is no doubt about one thing: a Mr Wrigley, a scheming, money-lending solicitor – rather shady in reputation, but a man who can command plenty of capital – has been buying up every share he could get hold of.”

“Then it is a conspiracy,” cried Clive.

“Not a doubt about it.”

“Then, what to do next. Surely we can have a prosecution.”

“Humph! What for? Sort of thing often going on in the money market, I believe. What have you got to prosecute about?”

“I?”

“Yes; you haven’t lost. Poor old Praed now, he has something to shout about.”

“But scandal, libel, defamation of the property.”

“Let those who have lost risk a prosecution if they like. So long as I am your legal adviser, my dear boy, I shall devote myself to keeping you out of litigation.”

“But surely you would advise something.”

“Yes. Go back to your mine and make all you can, and be careful not to get into trouble over any underground trespassing.”

“Well, if I go to the west, here is my neighbour. You’ll forgive me, sir?”

“Of course, of course, my boy,” said the Major hurriedly.

Mr Belton looked at him searchingly as he went on.

“The shares will recover their position in time, and the sellers will be pretty angry then, of course. There’s no doubt about the conspiracy, my boy, but don’t you meddle in the matter. We have done all that was necessary to restore confidence. You saw, I suppose, that the letters and advertisements were in the evening papers?”

“Oh yes.”

“They’ll be in all the morning papers, of course.”

“And how long will it be before confidence is restored?”

“Not for long enough, but that will not affect your returns from the mine. But the poor old Doctor; I am sorry that he should have let himself be bitten.”

“A great pity,” said Clive drily; “but never mind that. You will continue to make inquiries.”

“Eh? about the conspiracy? Of course. I have a good man at work – a man who is pretty intimate with the stockbroking set, and I daresay I shall hear more yet.”

“There: now let’s change the subject. You will dine with us to-night, Belton?”

“Well, you see, my dear boy, I – er – ”

“You must,” said Clive decisively. “I go back into the country again directly. I have some letters to write now. Seven punctually.”

“Seven punctually,” said the old lawyer, rising. He was punctual to the minute, and he and the Major got on famously as they chatted over old times, but somehow or other the old gentleman would keep reverting to the losses over the shares sustained by Doctor Praed, with the result that the Major did not enjoy his dinner.