Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) (604 page)

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)
3.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“It would certainly be an oversight,” said Robert, who was keenly alive to the comical side of the question. Raffles Haw, however, in deadly earnest, sat scratching away at his map with his blue pencil.

“Here is a point where we might be of some little use. If we cut through from Batoum to the Kura River we might tap the trade of the Caspian, and open up communication with all the rivers which run into it. You notice that they include a considerable tract of country. Then, again, I think that we might venture upon a little cutting between Beirut, on the Mediterranean, and the upper waters of the Euphrates, which would lead us into the Persian Gulf. Those are one or two of the more obvious canals which might knit the human race into a closer whole.”

“Your plans are certainly stupendous,” said Robert, uncertain whether to laugh or to be awe-struck. “You will cease to be a man, and become one of the great forces of Nature, altering, moulding, and improving.”

“That is precisely the view which I take of myself. That is why I feel my responsibility so acutely.”

“But surely if you will do all this you may rest. It is a considerable programme.”

“Not at all. I am a patriotic Briton, and I should like to do something to leave my name in the annals of my country. I should prefer, however, to do it after my own death, as anything in the shape of publicity and honour is very offensive to me. I have, therefore, put by eight hundred million in a place which shall be duly mentioned in my will, which I propose to devote to paying off the National Debt. I cannot see that any harm could arise from its extinction.”

Robert sat staring, struck dumb by the audacity of the strange man’s words.

“Then there is the heating of the soil. There is room for improvement there. You have no doubt read of the immense yields which have resulted in Jersey and elsewhere, from the running of hot-water pipes through the soil. The crops are trebled and quadrupled. I would propose to try the experiment upon a larger scale. We might possibly reserve the Isle of Man to serve as a pumping and heating station. The main pipes would run to England, Ireland, and Scotland, where they would subdivide rapidly until they formed a network two feet deep under the whole country. A pipe at distances of a yard would suffice for every purpose.”

“I am afraid,” suggested Robert, “that the water which left the Isle of Man warm might lose a little of its virtue before it reached Caithness, for example.”

“There need not be any difficulty there. Every few miles a furnace might be arranged to keep up the temperature. These are a few of my plans for the future, Robert, and I shall want the co-operation of disinterested men like yourself in all of them. But how brightly the sun shines, and how sweet the countryside looks! The world is very beautiful, and I should like to leave it happier than I found it. Let us walk out together, Robert, and you will tell me of any fresh cases where I may be of assistance.”

CHAPTER IX. A NEW DEPARTURE
.

 

Whatever good Mr. Raffles Haw’s wealth did to the world, there could be no doubt that there were cases where it did harm. The very contemplation and thought of it had upon many a disturbing and mischievous effect. Especially was this the case with the old gunmaker. From being merely a querulous and grasping man, he had now become bitter, brooding, and dangerous. Week by week, as he saw the tide of wealth flow as it were through his very house without being able to divert the smallest rill to nourish his own fortunes, he became more wolfish and more hungry-eyed. He spoke less of his own wrongs, but he brooded more, and would stand for hours on Tamfield Hill looking down at the great palace beneath, as a thirst-stricken man might gaze at the desert mirage.

He had worked, and peeped, and pried, too, until there were points upon which he knew more than either his son or his daughter.

“I suppose that you still don’t know where your friend gets his money?” he remarked to Robert one morning, as they walked together through the village.

“No, father, I do not. I only know that he spends it very well.”

“Well!” snarled the old man. “Yes, very well! He has helped every tramp and slut and worthless vagabond over the countryside, but he will not advance a pound, even on the best security, to help a respectable business man to fight against misfortune.”

“My dear father, I really cannot argue with you about it,” said Robert. “I have already told you more than once what I think. Mr. Haw’s object is to help those who are destitute. He looks upon us as his equals, and would not presume to patronise us, or to act as if we could not help ourselves. It would be a humiliation to us to take his money.”

“Pshaw! Besides, it is only a question of an advance, and advances are made every day among business men. How can you talk such nonsense, Robert?”

Early as it was, his son could see from his excited, quarrelsome manner that the old man had been drinking. The habit had grown upon him of late, and it was seldom now that he was entirely sober.

“Mr. Raffles Haw is the best judge,” said Robert coldly. “If he earns the money, he has a right to spend it as he likes.”

“And how does he earn it? You don’t know, Robert. You don’t know that you aren’t aiding and abetting a felony when you help him to fritter it away. Was ever so much money earned in an honest fashion? I tell you there never was. I tell you, also, that lumps of gold are no more to that man than chunks of coal to the miners over yonder. He could build his house of them and think nothing of it.”

“I know that he is very rich, father. I think, however, that he has an extravagant way of talking sometimes, and that his imagination carries him away. I have heard him talk of plans which the richest man upon earth could not possibly hope to carry through.”

“Don’t you make any mistake, my son. Your poor old father isn’t quite a fool, though he is only an honest broken merchant.” He looked up sideways at his son with a wink and a most unpleasant leer. “Where there’s money I can smell it. There’s money there, and heaps of it. It’s my belief that he is the richest man in the world, though how he came to be so I should not like to guarantee. I’m not quite blind yet, Robert. Have you seen the weekly waggon?”

“The weekly waggon!”

“Yes, Robert. You see I can find some news for you yet. It is due this morning. Every Saturday morning you will see the waggon come in. Why, here it is now, as I am a living man, coming round the curve.”

Robert glanced back and saw a great heavy waggon drawn by two strong horses lumbering slowly along the road which led to the New Hall. From the efforts of the animals and its slow pace the contents seemed to be of great weight.

“Just you wait here,” old McIntyre cried, plucking at his son’s sleeve with his thin bony hand. “Wait here and see it pass. Then we will watch what becomes of it.”

They stood by the side of the road until it came abreast of them. The waggon was covered with tarpaulin sheetings in front and at the sides, but behind some glimpse could be caught of the contents. They consisted, as far as Robert could see, of a number of packets of the same shape, each about two feet long and six inches high, arranged symmetrically upon the top of each other. Each packet was surrounded by a covering of coarse sacking.

“What do you think of that?” asked old McIntyre triumphantly as the load creaked past.

“Why, father? What do you make of it?”

“I have watched it, Robert — I have watched it every Saturday, and I had my chance of looking a little deeper into it. You remember the day when the elm blew down, and the road was blocked until they could saw it in two. That was on a Saturday, and the waggon came to a stand until they could clear a way for it. I was there, Robert, and I saw my chance. I strolled behind the waggon, and I placed my hands upon one of those packets. They look small, do they not? It would take a strong man to lift one. They are heavy, Robert, heavy, and hard with the hardness of metal. I tell you, boy, that that waggon is loaded with gold.”

“Gold!”

“With solid bars of gold, Robert. But come into the plantation and we shall see what becomes of it.”

They passed through the lodge gates, behind the waggon, and then wandered off among the fir-trees until they gained a spot where they could command a view. The load had halted, not in front of the house, but at the door of the out-building with the chimney. A staff of stablemen and footmen were in readiness, who proceeded to swiftly unload and to carry the packages through the door. It was the first time that Robert had ever seen any one save the master of the house enter the laboratory. No sign was seen of him now, however, and in half an hour the contents had all been safely stored and the waggon had driven briskly away.

“I cannot understand it, father,” said Robert thoughtfully, as they resumed their walk. “Supposing that your supposition is correct, who would send him such quantities of gold, and where could it come from?”

“Ha, you have to come to the old man after all!” chuckled his companion. “I can see the little game. It is clear enough to me. There are two of them in it, you understand. The other one gets the gold. Never mind how, but we will hope that there is no harm. Let us suppose, for example, that they have found a marvellous mine, where you can just shovel it out like clay from a pit. Well, then, he sends it on to this one, and he has his furnaces and his chemicals, and he refines and purifies it and makes it fit to sell. That’s my explanation of it, Robert. Eh, has the old man put his finger on it?”

“But if that were true, father, the gold must go back again.”

“So it does, Robert, but a little at a time. Ha, ha! I’ve had my eyes open, you see. Every night it goes down in a small cart, and is sent on to London by the 7.40. Not in bars this time, but done up in iron-bound chests. I’ve seen them, boy, and I’ve had this hand upon them.”

“Well,” said the young man thoughtfully, “maybe you are right. It is possible that you are right.”

While father and son were prying into his secrets, Raffles Haw had found his way to Elmdene, where Laura sat reading the Queen by the fire.

“I am so sorry,” she said, throwing down her paper and springing to her feet. “They are all out except me. But I am sure that they won’t be long. I expect Robert every moment.”

“I would rather speak with you alone,” answered Raffles Haw quietly. “Pray sit down, for I wanted to have a little chat with you.”

Laura resumed her seat with a flush upon her cheeks and a quickening of the breath. She turned her face away and gazed into the fire; but there was a sparkle in her eyes which was not caught from the leaping flames.

“Do you remember the first time that we met, Miss McIntyre?” he asked, standing on the rug and looking down at her dark hair, and the beautifully feminine curve of her ivory neck.

“As if it were yesterday,” she answered in her sweet mellow tones.

“Then you must also remember the wild words that I said when we parted. It was very foolish of me. I am sure that I am most sorry if I frightened or disturbed you, but I have been a very solitary man for a long time, and I have dropped into a bad habit of thinking aloud. Your voice, your face, your manner, were all so like my ideal of a true woman, loving, faithful, and sympathetic, that I could not help wondering whether, if I were a poor man, I might ever hope to win the affection of such a one.”

“Your good opinion, Mr. Raffles Haw, is very dear to me,” said Laura. “I assure you that I was not frightened, and that there is no need to apologise for what was really a compliment.”

“Since then I have found,” he continued, “that all that I had read upon your face was true. That your mind is indeed that of the true woman, full of the noblest and sweetest qualities which human nature can aspire to. You know that I am a man of fortune, but I wish you to dismiss that consideration from your mind. Do you think from what you know of my character that you could be happy as my wife, Laura?”

She made no answer, but still sat with her head turned away and her sparkling eyes fixed upon the fire. One little foot from under her skirt tapped nervously upon the rug.

“It is only right that you should know a little more about me before you decide. There is, however, little to know. I am an orphan, and, as far as I know, without a relation upon earth. My father was a respectable man, a country surgeon in Wales, and he brought me up to his own profession. Before I had passed my examinations, however, he died and left me a small annuity. I had conceived a great liking for the subjects of chemistry and electricity, and instead of going on with my medical work I devoted myself entirely to these studies, and eventually built myself a laboratory where I could follow out my own researches. At about this time I came into a very large sum of money, so large as to make me feel that a vast responsibility rested upon me in the use which I made of it. After some thought I determined to build a large house in a quiet part of the country, not too far from a great centre. There I could be in touch with the world, and yet would have quiet and leisure to mature the schemes which were in my head. As it chanced, I chose Tamfield as my site. All that remains now is to carry out the plans which I have made, and to endeavour to lighten the earth of some of the misery and injustice which weigh it down. I again ask you, Laura, will you throw in your lot with mine, and help me in the life’s work which lies before me?”

Laura looked up at him, at his stringy figure, his pale face, his keen, yet gentle eyes. Somehow as she looked there seemed to form itself beside him some shadow of Hector Spurling, the manly features, the clear, firm mouth, the frank manner. Now, in the very moment of her triumph, it sprang clearly up in her mind how at the hour of their ruin he had stood firmly by them, and had loved the penniless girl as tenderly as the heiress to fortune. That last embrace at the door, too, came back to her, and she felt his lips warm upon her own.

“I am very much honoured, Mr. Haw,” she stammered, “but this is so sudden. I have not had time to think. I do not know what to say.”

“Do not let me hurry you,” he cried earnestly. “I beg that you will think well over it. I shall come again for my answer. When shall I come? Tonight?”

“Yes, come tonight.”

“Then, adieu. Believe me that I think more highly of you for your hesitation. I shall live in hope.” He raised her hand to his lips, and left her to her own thoughts.

But what those thoughts were did not long remain in doubt. Dimmer and dimmer grew the vision of the distant sailor face, clearer and clearer the image of the vast palace, of the queenly power, of the diamonds, the gold, the ambitious future. It all lay at her feet, waiting to be picked up. How could she have hesitated, even for a moment? She rose, and, walking over to her desk, she took out a sheet of paper and an envelope. The latter she addressed to Lieutenant Spurling, H.M.S.
Active
, Gibraltar. The note cost some little trouble, but at last she got it worded to her mind.

  
“Dear Hector,” she said—”I am convinced that your father has

  
never
        
entirely approved of our engagement, otherwise he

  
would not have thrown obstacles in the way of our marriage.

  
I am sure, too, that since my poor father’s misfortune it is

  
only your own sense of honour and feeling of duty which have

  
kept you true to me, and that you would have done infinitely

  
better had you never seen me.
 
I cannot bear, Hector, to allow

  
you to imperil your future for my sake, and I have determined,

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)
3.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Next Continent by Issui Ogawa
Axel (Ride Series Book 3) by O'Brien, Megan
The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons by Barbara Mariconda
Baby Benefits by Emily McKay
Starfist: Firestorm by David Sherman; Dan Cragg
Ladybird by Grace Livingston Hill
Secretary on Demand by Cathy Williams
The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman by Katherine Garbera
Lizard Tales by Ron Shirley