Bones in London

CHAPTER V

A CINEMA PICTURE

Mr. Augustus Tibbetts, called "Bones," made money by sheer luck – hemade more by sheer artistic judgment. That is a fact which an oldfriend sensed a very short time after he had renewed his acquaintancewith his sometime subordinate.

Yet Bones had the curious habit of making money in quite a differentway from that which he planned – as, for example, in the matter of thegreat oil amalgamation. In these days of aeroplane travel, when it isnext to impossible to watch the comings and goings of importantindividuals, or even to get wind of directors' meetings, the City isapt to be a little jumpy, and to respond to wild rumours in a fashionextremely trying to the nerves of conservative brokers.

There were rumours of a fusion of interests between the Franco-PersianOil Company and the Petroleum Consolidated – rumours which set theshares of both concerns jumping up and down like two badly trainedjazzers. The directorate of both companies expressed their surprisethat a credulous public could accept such stories, and both M. Jorris, the emperor of the Franco-Persian block, and George Y. Walters, theprince regent of the "Petco," denied indignantly that any amalgamationwas even dreamt of.

Before these denials came along Bones had plunged into the oil market, making one of the few flutters which stand as interrogation marksagainst his wisdom and foresight.

He did not lose; rather, he was the winner by his adventure. Theextent of his immediate gains he inscribed in his private ledger; hisultimate and bigger balance he entered under a head which had nothingto do with the oil gamble – which was just like Bones, as Hamiltonsubsequently remarked.

Hamilton was staying with Sanders – late Commissioner of a certain groupof Territories – and Bones was the subject of conversation one morningat breakfast.

The third at the table was an exceedingly pretty girl, whom the maid called "Madame," and who opened several letters addressed to "Mrs.

Sanders," but who in days not long past had been known as Patricia

Hamilton.

"Bones is wonderful," said Sanders, "truly wonderful! A man I know inthe City tells me that most of the things he touches turn up trumps.And it isn't luck or chance. Bones is developing a queer businesssense."

Hamilton nodded.

"It is his romantic soul which gets him there," he said. "Bones willnot look at a proposition which hasn't something fantastical behind it.He doesn't know much about business, but he's a regular whale onadventure. I've been studying him for the past month, and I'mbeginning to sense his method. If he sees a logical and happy end tothe romantic side of any new business, he takes it on. He simplycarries the business through on the back of a dream."

The girl looked up from the coffee-pot she was handling.

"Have you made up your mind, dear?"

"About going in with Bones?" Hamilton smiled. "No, not yet. Bones isfrantically insistent, has had a beautiful new Sheraton desk placed inhis office, and says that I'm the influence he wants, but – "

He shook his head.

"I think I understand," said Sanders. "You feel that he is doing itall out of sheer generosity and kindness. That would be like Bones.But isn't there a chance that what he says is true – that he does want acorrective influence?"

"Maybe that is so," said Captain Hamilton doubtfully. "And thenthere's the money. I don't mind investing my little lot, but it wouldworry me to see Bones pretending that all the losses of the firm cameout of his share, and a big slice of the profits going into mine."

"I shouldn't let that worry you," said his sister quietly. "Bones istoo nice-minded to do anything so crude. Of course, your money isnothing compared with Bones's fortune, but why don't you join him onthe understanding that the capital of the Company should be – Howmuch would you put in?

"Four thousand."

"Well, make the capital eight thousand. Bones could always lend the

Company money. Debentures – isn't that the word?"

Sanders smiled in her face.

"You're a remarkable lady," he said. "From where on earth did you getyour ideas on finance?"

She went red.

"I lunched with Bones yesterday," she said. "And here is the post."

"Silence, babbler," said Hamilton. "Before we go any farther, whatabout this matter of partnership you were discussing with Patricia?"

The maid distributed the letters. One was addressed:

"Captin Captian Hamilton, D.S.O."

"From Bones," said Hamilton unnecessarily, and Bones's letter claimedfirst attention. It was a frantic and an ecstatic epistle, heavilyunderlined and exclaimed.

"Dear old old Ham," it ran, "you simply must join me in magnifficantnew sceme sheme plan! Wonderfull prophits profets! The mostextraordiny chance for a fortune…"

"For Heaven's sake, what's this?" asked Hamilton, handing the letteracross to his sister and indicating an illegible line. "It looks like'a bad girl's leg' to me."

"My dear!" said the shocked Mrs. Sanders, and studied the vilecaligraphy. "It certainly does look like that," she admitted, "and – I see! 'Legacy' is the word."

"A bad girl's legacy is the titel of the play story picture" (Bonesnever crossed anything out). "There's a studyo at Tunbridge and twocameras and a fellow awfully nice fellow who understands it. A pot ofmoney the story can be improve improved imensely. Come in it dear oldman —magnifficant chance. See me at office eariliest earilestealiest possible time.

"Thine in art for art sake,

"BONES."

"From which I gather that Bones is taking a header into the cinemabusiness," said Sanders. "What do you say, Hamilton?"

Hamilton thought a while.

"I'll see Bones," he said.

He arrived in Town soon after ten, but Bones had been at his office twohours earlier, for the fever of the new enterprise was upon him, andhis desk was piled high with notes, memoranda, price lists and tradepublications. (Bones, in his fine rage of construction, flew to thetechnical journals as young authors fly to the Thesaurus.)

As Hamilton entered the office, Bones glared up.

"A chair," said the young man peremptorily. "No time to be lost, dearold artist. Time is on the wing, the light is fadin', an' if we wantto put this jolly old country – God bless it! – in the forefront – "

Bones put down his pen and leant back in his chair.

"Ham," he said, "I had a bit of a pow-pow with your sacred and saintedsister, bless her jolly old heart. That's where the idea arose. Areyou on?"

"I'm on," said Hamilton, and there was a moving scene. Bones shook hishands and spoke broken English.

"There's your perfectly twee little desk, dear old officer," he said, pointing to a massive piece of furniture facing his own. "And there'sonly one matter to be settled."

He was obviously uncomfortable, and Hamilton would have reached for hischeque-book, only he knew his Bones much better than to suppose thatsuch a sordid matter as finance could cause his agitation.

"Ham," said Bones, clearing his throat and speaking with an effort,"old comrade of a hundred gallant encounters, and dear old friend – "