The Orange Girl

'I cannot tell him, Sir. There is, however, more. This concerns you, Mr. Will. Yesterday in the afternoon Mr. Probus came to the counting-house. He came for the interest on his money. Mr. Matthew told him, shortly, that it was not convenient to pay him. Mr. Probus humbly explained that he had need of the money for his own occasions. Now Mr. Matthew had been drinking; he often goes to the tavern of a forenoon and returns with a red face and heavy shoulders. Perhaps yesterday he had been drinking more than was usual with him. Otherwise, he might not have been so plain-spoken with his creditor. "Mr. Probus," he said, "it is time to speak the truth with you. I cannot pay you the interest of your money – either to-day or at any other time."

'"Cannot … cannot … pay? Mr. Halliday, what do you mean?"

'"I say, Sir, that I cannot pay your interest … and that your principal, the money you lent me – yes – your £25,000 – is gone. You'll never get a penny of it," and then he laughed scornfully. I heard Mr. Probus's step as he sprang to his feet, I heard him strike the table with his open hand. His face I could not see.

'"Sir," he cried, "explain. Where is my money?"

'"Gone, I say. Everything is gone. Your money; my money; all that I could raise – my ships are sold; the business is gone: the creditors are gathering. Probus, I shall be a bankrupt in less than three months. I have worked it out; I can play one against the other, but only for three months. Then the House must be bankrupt."

'"The House – bankrupt? – this House – Halliday Brothers? You had a hundred thousand of your own when you succeeded. You had credit: you had a noble fleet: and a great business. And there's your father's money in the business as well. It can't be gone."

'"It is gone – I tell you – all gone – my money, Probus —integer vitae– that's gone: and your money, old Scelerisque Probus. That's gone too. All gone – all gone." To be sure he was three parts drunk. I heard Mr. Probus groan and sink back into his chair. Then he got up again. "Tell me," he said again, "tell me, you poor drivelling drunken devil – I'll kill you if you laugh. Tell me, where is the money gone?"

'"I don't know," his voice was thick with drink, "I don't know. It's all gone. Everything's gone."

'"I lent you the money to put into the business – it must be in the business still."

'"It never was in the business. I tell you, Probus – it's all gone."

'There was silence for a few minutes. Then Mr. Probus said softly, "Mr. Halliday, we are old friends – tell me that you have only been playing off a joke upon me. You are a little disguised in liquor. I can pass over this accident. The money is in the business, you know; in this fine old business, where you put it when you borrowed it."

'"It's all gone – all gone," he repeated. "Man, why won't you believe? I tell you that everything is gone. Make me a bankrupt at once, and you will share with the creditors: oh! yes, you will be very lucky: you will divide between you the furniture of the counting-house and the empty casks on the Quay."

'Then Mr. Probus began to curse and to swear, and to threaten. He would throw Mr. Matthew into prison and keep him there all his life: he would prosecute him at the Old Bailey: he called him thief, scoundrel, villain: Mr. Matthew laughed in his drunken mood. He would not explain how the money was lost: he only repeated that it was gone – all gone.

'Mr. Will – I know that he was speaking the truth. I had seen things done – you cannot hide things from an old accountant who keeps the books: cargoes sold at a sacrifice for ready money: ships sold: our splendid fleet thrown away: there were six tall vessels in the West India trade: one was cast away: the underwriters paid for her. Where is that money? Where are the other five ships? Sold. Where is that money? Our coffers are empty: there is no running cash at the Bank: the wharf is deserted: clerks are dismissed: creditors are put off. I know that what Mr. Matthew said was true: but for the life of me I cannot tell what he has done with the money unless he has thrown it into the river.

'Then I think that Mr. Matthew took more drink, for he made no more reply, and Mr. Probus, after calling him hog and beast and other names of like significance, left him.

'When he came out of the counting-house he was like one possessed of a devil: his face distorted: his eyes blood-shot: his lips moving: his hands trembling. Sir, although he is a villain I felt sorry for him. He has lost all that he cared for: all that he valued: and since he is now old, and can make no more money, he has lost perhaps his means of livelihood.'

Ramage paused. Alice brought him a glass of beer, her own home-brewed. Thus refreshed, he presently went on again.

'After two days Probus came again to the counting-house. Mr. Matthew was sober.

'"Probus," he said, "I told you the other day when I was drunk what I should have kept from you if I was sober. However, now you know what I told you was the truth."

'"Is it all true?"

'"It is all true. Everything is gone."

'"But how – how – how?" I heard his lamentable cry and I could imagine his arm waving about.

'"This way and that way. Enough that it is all gone."

'"Mr. Matthew," I think he sat down because he groaned – which a man cannot do properly – that is to say movingly, unless he is sitting – "I have been thinking – Good God! of what else could I think? You can keep yourself afloat for three months more, you say – Heavens! Halliday Brothers to go in three months! And my money! Where – where – where has it gone?"

'"In about three months – or may be sooner, the end must come."

'"Mr. Matthew," he lowered his voice, "there is one chance left – one chance – I may get back my money – by that one chance."

'"What chance? The money is all gone."

'"If we can make your cousin part with his chance of the succession, we can raise money on it before the bankruptcy – we can divide it between us."

'"Put it out of your thoughts. My cousin is the most obstinate self-willed brute that ever lived. You couldn't bend him with the King's Bench Prison. You cannot bend him now."

'"I will try again. He is still poor. He plays the fiddle at some wretched gardens I believe. He lives where he did before – I know where to find him. I will try again. If I succeed we could raise say £50,000 upon the succession, it should be more but you are both young. Let me see, that will be £40,000 for me; £6,000 interest due to me: that makes £46,000 for me and £4,000 for you."

'"No, friend Probus. You have lent me £25,000. That you shall take and no more. If you are not content with that you shall have none. Remember that the money must be raised by me for my own use, not by you. Get him to sign if you can – and you shall have back all your money, but without any interest. If you think you are going to get all this money for yourself, let me tell you that you are mistaken."

'Mr. Matthew can be as hard as – as your father, sometimes. He was hard now. Well, the pair wrangled over these terms for a long time. At last it was arranged that if Mr. Probus can persuade you to sign the paper which he is to bring you he is to take £25,000 and interest on that and not on the alleged £40,000, at 15 per cent. And Mr. Matthew is to pay you the sum required to buy out. When they had completed this arrangement Mr. Probus started another line of discourse. Now listen to this, Mr. Will, because it concerns you very closely.

'"If," he said, "your cousin were to die – actually to die – "

'"He won't die. I wish he would."

'"I said – If he were to die – you would then immediately take over £100,000 together with the interest at 5 per cent. already accumulated for three years, namely, about £115,000. That would put all square again. You could get back some of your ships and your credit."

'"What's the use? Man, I have told you – my cousin is a selfish, unfeeling, obstinate Brute. He won't die."

'"I said. If he were to die. That is what I said. If he were to die."

'Then there was silence for a space.

'"Probus," said Mr. Matthew, "I believe you are a devil. Tell me what you mean. We can't make him die by wishing."

'"I was only supposing: If he were to die – strange things have happened – would you be disposed to let me take the half of that money – say £55,000?"

'"If he were to die," Mr. Matthew repeated. "Have you heard, by accident, that he is ill? Has he taken small-pox, or gaol fever? I did hear that was gaol fever in Newgate some time ago."

'"No: on the contrary, I believe that he is in perfect health at present. Still, he might die. Anybody may die, you know."

'"Why do you say that he may die?"

'"I only put the case. Anybody may die. What do you say about my proposal?"

'"You call it a proposal – Man – you look like a murderer – are you going to murder him?"

'"Certainly not. Well – what do you say?"

'"Well – if you are not going to murder him, what do you mean?"

'"Men die of many complaints, besides murder. Some men get themselves into the clutches of the law – "'

When Ramage said this, I became suddenly aware of a great gulf opening at my feet with a prospect of danger such as I had never before contemplated. I thought that the man might swear upon me some crime of which I was innocent and so bring it home to me by a diabolical artifice that I should be accused, found guilty, and executed. I reeled and turned pale.

Alice caught my hand. 'Have faith, my dear,' she said.