Fordham's Feud

Philip nodded.

“Well now, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to advise me.”

“H’m! The case stands thus. The appearance upon the scene of Number 1 has sheered Number 2 off in a deadly huff, which, under the circumstances, it was bound to do. Secondly, the British merchant and his offspring threaten to make themselves particularly disagreeable. Those are the two points upon which we must go to work.”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Now to begin with the first point. Have you squarely explained the whole affair to Miss Wyatt?”

“Don’t I wish she’d give me the chance!” was the vehement reply.

“You must make the chance – by hook or by crook. That’s all I’ve got to say. It is a matter between her and you exclusively, and one in which you must fight entirely to your own hand. Now as to the other, the – er – Glover side of the difficulty. Quite sure you wouldn’t have the girl at any price?”

“Dead certain.”

“That’s so, eh?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, I think you’re right. I wouldn’t myself – if I were you, I mean. How did you manage to get in tow with her?”

“Oh, it was just after that last cruise of ours, about six months ago,” said Philip, in the disgusted tone of a man who realises that he has made a fool of himself and is called upon to face the consequences of his folly. “I ran down to old Glover’s place with some other fellows to a dance, and – well – Edith and I got rather thick. Drifted into it, I suppose?”

“Used to go up the river a good bit, eh? Picnic and spoon on the eyots – and all that sort of thing?”

“Yes.”

“That river’s the very devil for getting fellows into messes of this kind. The rushes and the whispering-trees and the soft murmur of the water, don’t you know —and the champagne in the hamper – all this I suppose combines to work it. Now, did you ever propose to her in definite terms?”

“N-no. Once it struck me she thought I had. It was one evening at a dance. We were sitting out in a corner of the lawn – and the river and the moonlight on the water – ”

“And the champagne,” murmured Fordham. “No; it was sparkling Burgundy. But don’t chaff, old man. Well, I hadn’t really said anything definite. But, you know, a fellow is apt to make rather a fool of himself on such occasions, isn’t he?”

“Oh, very. Now how long was this – this evening when you hadn’t really said anything definite – before we came abroad together?”

“About a month or six weeks.”

“And of course you have corresponded ever since?”

“Up till the time I – er – you know – ”

“Yes, yes, I quite understand. Well now, have you said – written, rather – anything definite in the course of that correspondence?”

“N-no. I don’t think I can have.”

“Would you mind allowing me to judge?”

“I didn’t keep copies of the letters – Oh, I see. Hers you mean! Hang it, old man, I – er – don’t think that would be quite fair to her.”

“Just as you please,” was the perfectly unruffled rejoinder. “By the way, you didn’t perform the pleasing ceremony commonly known as ‘speaking to papa,’ did you?”

“Not I,” said Philip, with alacrity.

“Yet he came here prepared to give you his blessing – and gave it, too, in the most all-embracing fashion?”

“That’s it! That’s just it!” cried Philip, savagely. “It’s a put-up job! Yet what on earth could they want to hook me for? The dear old governor has got years and years to go on yet; and even then he won’t cut up for much, for he’s as poor as Job. Still it looks like a clear case of ‘standing in.’”

“I think it does. As for the motive, the British merchant may have had a fancy to be able to talk about ‘My daughter, Lady Orlebar – ah!’ and added to that you’re a personable dog enough, Phil. He ought to be able to supply the funds to counterbalance the title.”

“There the motive breaks down,” quickly interrupted the other. “Although he cuts great splashes with his entertainments, and is rolling in money, he has the reputation of being the most close-fisted screw extant.”

“Is that so? Ah! now I begin to see a little light. You don’t think he’d come down with a fat settlement?”

“Not the ghost of a chance of it.”

“Good. I think we may defeat him on that count. But let us again be certain on this head. You are sure you wouldn’t take the girl at any price – not if he offers to settle fifty thousand?”

“Not if he offered to settle five hundred thousand. But don’t have any misgivings on that score. He won’t come down with five, you’ll see.”

“Good again,” said Fordham. “Now, are there any other daughters?”

“Three.”

“Sons?”

“Three.”

“Seven in the family. Right. Now, Phil, your line is this. You must put a prohibitive price upon yourself. Tell him straight that you are not going to wreck all your prospects in life for a girl you don’t really care two straws about, and never will, and bring yourself down to beggary into the bargain. You can defeat him on the question of settlements – if you are only firm enough.”

“But isn’t that rather a shady standpoint to take up – eh, Fordham?” said Phil, dubiously. “Not quite one’s form – eh?”

Fordham’s dark brows came nearer together, and there was a sneer in the black, piercing eyes which were fixed on the younger man’s face.

“My dear Phil,” he replied, “if there is a phase of humanity in this latter-day world which invariably lays itself out to be kicked, hustled, jumped upon, bested all round, it is represented by the man whose ‘form’ rises up to bar him fighting the devil with fire. ‘Poor Satan!’ say such fellows as yourself. ‘It really isn’t fair!’ So, by way of equalising the chances, you surrender at discretion, and the enemy of mankind dances upon you ad lib. Here you have got to fight the devil with fire, and you won’t do it, because, forsooth, it is ‘not quite one’s form.’ You are simply the victim of a ‘plant’ – a not very cunningly baited trap – and yet you are going to let the devil – who for present purposes may be taken to mean the paternal Glover – bind you hand and foot for all time. Could ever lunacy be more complete – more hopeless?”

“Well, what shall I tell him?” said Philip, desperately.

“Tell him, in unequivocal terms, to go hang.”

For a few moments Philip said nothing. He sat watching the smoke wreaths from his pipe curling up in blue circles upon the clear mountain air, a puzzled and helpless expression clouding his features. Then at last:

“I say, Fordham.”

“Well?”

“I wish – er – I wish, old chap, you’d pull me through this affair. I mean – er – I wish you’d interview old Glover for me. You’re so cool-headed, and I – well, I get in a rage and lose my nut. Why, this morning the old sinner and I were as nearly as possible coming to fisticuffs. We shouted at and damned each other, but what we said I haven’t the faintest recollection.”