The House With the Green Shutters (15 page)

"I see," said Wilson. "Before he knows what's coming, we're to provide
work for Gourlay at the lower rate, both to put money in our own pocket
and prevent him competing for the better business."

"You've summed it to the nines," said Gibson.

"Yes," said Wilson blankly, "but how on earth are
we
to provide work
for him?"

Gibson leaned forward a second time and tapped Wilson on the knee.

"Have you never considered what a chance for building there's in that
holm of yours?" he asked. "You've a fortune there, lying undeveloped."

That was the point to which Cunning Johnny had been leading all the
time. He cared as little for Wilson as for Gourlay; all he wanted was a
contract for covering Wilson's holm with jerry-built houses, and a good
commission on the year's carrying. It was for this he evolved the
conspiracy to cripple Gourlay.

Wilson's thoughts went to and fro like the shuttle of a weaver. He
blinked in rapidity of thinking, and stole shifty glances at his
comrade. He tugged his moustache and said "Imphm" many times. Then his
eyes went off in their long preoccupied stare, and the sound of the
breath, coming heavy through his nostrils, was audible in the quiet
room. Wilson was one of the men whom you hear thinking.

"I see," he said slowly. "You mean to bind Gourlay to cart building
material to my holm at the present price of work. You'll bind him in
general terms so that he canna suspect, till the time comes, who in
particular he's to work for. In the meantime I'll be free to offer for
the Company's business at the higher price."

"That's the size o't," said Gibson.

Wilson was staggered by the rapid combinations of the scheme. But
Cunning Johnny had him in the toils. The plan he proposed stole about
the grocer's every weakness, and tugged his inclinations to consent. It
was very important, he considered, that he, and no other, should obtain
this contract, which was both valuable in itself and an earnest of other
business in the future. And Gibson's scheme got Gourlay, the only
possible rival, out of the way. For it was not possible for Gourlay to
put more than twelve horses on the road, and if he thought he had
secured a good contract already, he would never dream of applying for
another. Then, Wilson's malice was gratified by the thought that
Gourlay, who hated him, should have to serve, as helper and underling,
in a scheme for his aggrandizement. That would take down his pride for
him! And the commercial imagination, so strong in Wilson, was inflamed
by the vision of himself as a wealthy houseowner which Gibson put before
him. Cunning Johnny knew all this when he broached the scheme—he
foresaw the pull of it on Wilson's nature. Yet Wilson hesitated. He did
not like to give himself to Gibson quite so rapidly.

"You go fast, Mr. Gibson," said he. "Faith, you go fast. This is a big
affair, and needs to be looked at for a while."

"Fast!" cried Gibson. "Damn it, we have no time to waste. We maun act on
the spur of the moment."

"I'll have to borrow money," said Wilson slowly; "and it's verra dear at
the present time."

"It was never worth more in Barbie than it is at the present time. Man,
don't ye see the chance you're neglecting? Don't ye see what it means?
There's thousands lying at your back door if ye'll only reach to pick
them up. Yes, thousands. Thousands, I'm telling ye—thousands!"

Wilson saw himself provost and plutocrat. Yet was he cautious.

"
You
'll do well by the scheme," he said tartly, "if you get the sole
contract for building these premises of mine, and a fat commission on
the carrying forbye."

"Can you carry the scheme without me?" said Gibson. "A word from me to
Goudie means a heap." There was a veiled threat in the remark.

"Oh, we'll come to terms," said the other. "But how will you manage
Gourlay?"

"Aha!" said Gibson, "I'll come in handy for that, you'll discover.
There's been a backset in Barbie for the last year—things went owre
quick at the start and were followed by a wee lull; but it's only for a
time, sir—it's only for a time. Hows'ever, it and you thegither have
damaged Gourlay: he's both short o' work and scarce o' cash, as I found
to my cost when I asked him for my siller! So when I offer him a big
contract for carting stones atween the quarry and the town foot, he'll
swallow it without question. I'll insert a clause that he must deliver
the stuff at such places as I direct within four hundred yards of the
Cross, in ainy direction—for I've several jobs near the Cross, doan't
ye see, and how's he to know that yours is one o' them? Man, it's easy
to bamboozle an ass like Gourlay! Besides, he'll think my principals
have trusted me to let the carrying to ainy one I like, and, as I let it
to him, he'll fancy I'm on his side, doan't ye see? He'll never jalouse
that I mean to diddle him. In the meantime we'll spread the news that
you're meaning to build on a big scale upon your own land; we'll have
the ground levelled, the foundations dug, and the drains and everything
seen to. Now, it'll never occur to Gourlay, in the present slackness o'
trade, that you would contract wi' another man to cart your material,
and go hunting for other work yoursell. That'll throw him off the scent
till the time comes to put his nose on't. When the Company advertise for
estimates he canna compete wi' you, because he's pre-engaged to me; and
he'll think you're out o't too, because you're busy wi' your own woark.
You'll be free to nip the eight shillings. Then we'll force him to
fulfill his bargain and cart for us at six."

"If he refuses?" said Wilson.

"I'll have the contract stamped and signed in the presence of
witnesses," said Gibson. "Not that that's necessary, I believe, but a
double knot's aye the safest."

Wilson looked at him with admiration.

"Gosh, Mr. Gibson," he cried, "you're a warmer! Ye deserve your name. Ye
ken what the folk ca' you?"

"Oh yes," said Gibson complacently. "I'm quite proud o' the
description."

"I've my ain craw to pick wi' Gourlay," he went on. "He was damned
ill-bred yestreen when I asked him to settle my account, and talked
about extortion. But bide a wee, bide a wee! I'll enjoy the look on his
face when he sees himself forced to carry for you, at a rate lower than
the market price."

When Gibson approached Gourlay on the following day he was full of
laments about the poor state of trade.

"Ay," said he, "the grand railway they boasted o' hasna done muckle for
the town!"

"Atwell ay," quoth Gourlay with pompous wisdom; "they'll maybe find, or
a's by, that the auld way wasna the warst way. There was to be a great
boom, as they ca't, but I see few signs o't."

"I see few signs o't either," said Gibson, "it's the slackest time for
the last twa years."

Gourlay grunted his assent.

"But I've a grand job for ye, for a' that," said Gibson, slapping his
hands. "What do ye say to the feck of a year's carting tweesht the
quarry and the town foot?"

"I might consider that," said Gourlay, "if the terms were good."

"Six shillins," said Gibson, and went on in solemn protest: "In the
present state o' trade, doan't ye see, I couldna give a penny more."
Gourlay, who had denounced the present state of trade even now, was
prevented by his own words from asking for a penny more.

"At the town foot, you say?" he asked.

"I've several jobs thereaway," Gibson explained hurriedly, "and you must
agree to deliver stuff ainy place I want it within four hundred yards o'
the Cross. It's all one to you, of course," he went on, "seeing you're
paid by the day."

"Oh, it's all one to me," said Gourlay.

Peter Riney and the new "orra" man were called in to witness the
agreement. Cunning Johnny had made it as cunning as he could.

"We may as well put a stamp on't," said he. "A stamp costs little, and
means a heap."

"You're damned particular the day," cried Gourlay in a sudden heat.

"Oh, nothing more than my usual, nothing more than my usual," said
Gibson blandly. "Good-morning, Mr. Gourlay," and he made for the door,
buttoning the charter of his dear revenge in the inside pocket of his
coat. Gourlay ignored him.

When Gibson got out he turned to the House with the Green Shutters, and
"Curse you!" said he; "you may refuse to answer me the day, but wait
till this day eight weeks. You'll be roaring than."

On that day eight weeks Gourlay received a letter from Gibson requiring
him to hold himself in readiness to deliver stone, lime, baulks of
timber, and iron girders in Mr. Wilson's holm, in terms of his
agreement, and in accordance with the orders to be given him from day to
day. He was apprised that a couple of carts of lime and seven loads of
stone were needed on the morrow.

He went down the street with grinding jaws, the letter crushed to a
white pellet in his hand. It would have gone ill with Gibson had he met
him. Gourlay could not tell why, or to what purpose, he marched on and
on with forward staring eyes. He only knew vaguely that the anger drove
him.

When he came to the Cross a long string of carts was filing from the
Skeighan Road, and passing across to the street leading Fleckie-ward. He
knew them to be Wilson's. The Deacon was there, of course, hobbling on
his thin shanks, and cocking his eye to see everything that happened.

"What does this mean?" Gourlay asked him, though he loathed the Deacon.

"Oh, haven't ye heard?" quoth the Deacon blithely. "That's the stuff for
the new mining village out the Fleckie Road. Wilson has nabbed the
contract for the carting. They're saying it was Gibson's influence wi'
Goudie that helped him to the getting o't."

Amid his storm of anger at the trick, Gourlay was conscious of a sudden
pity for himself, as for a man most unfairly worsted. He realized for a
moment his own inefficiency as a business man, in conflict with
cleverer rivals, and felt sorry to be thus handicapped by nature. Though
wrath was uppermost, the other feeling was revealed, showing itself by a
gulping in the throat and a rapid blinking of the eyes. The Deacon
marked the signs of his chagrin.

"Man!" he reported to the bodies, "but Gourlay was cut to the quick. His
face showed how gunkit he was. Oh, but he was chawed. I saw his breist
give the great heave."

"Were ye no sorry?" cried the baker.

"Thorry, hi!" laughed the Deacon. "Oh, I was thorry, to be sure," he
lisped, "but I didna thyow't. I'm glad to thay I've a grand control of
my emotionth. Not like thum folk we know of," he added slyly, giving the
baker a "good one."

All next day Gibson's masons waited for their building material in
Wilson's holm. But none came. And all day seven of Gourlay's horses
champed idly in their stalls.

Barbie had a weekly market now, and, as it happened, that was the day it
fell on. At two in the afternoon Gourlay was standing on the gravel
outside the Red Lion, trying to look wise over a sample of grain which a
farmer had poured upon his great palm. Gibson approached with false
voice and smile.

"Gosh, Mr. Gourlay!" he cried protestingly, "have ye forgotten whatna
day it is? Ye havena gi'en my men a ton o' stuff to gang on wi'."

To the farmer's dismay his fine sample of grain was scattered on the
gravel by a convulsive movement of Gourlay's arm. As Gourlay turned on
his enemy, his face was frightfully distorted; all his brow seemed
gathered in a knot above his nose, and he gaped on his words, yet ground
them out like a labouring mill, each word solid as plug shot.

"I'll see Wil-son ... and Gib-son ... and every other man's son ...
frying in hell," he said slowly, "ere a horse o' mine draws a stane o'
Wilson's property. Be damned to ye, but there's your answer!"

Gibson's cunning deserted him for once. He put his hand on Gourlay's
shoulder in pretended friendly remonstrance.

"Take your hand off my shouther!" said Gourlay, in a voice the tense
quietness of which should have warned Gibson to forbear.

But he actually shook Gourlay with a feigned playfulness.

Next instant he was high in air; for a moment the hobnails in the soles
of his boots gleamed vivid to the sun; then Gourlay sent him flying
through the big window of the Red Lion, right on to the middle of the
great table where the market-folk were drinking.

For a minute he lay stunned and bleeding among the broken crockery, in a
circle of white faces and startled cries.

Gourlay's face appeared at the jagged rent, his eyes narrowed to
fiercely gleaming points, a hard, triumphant devilry playing round his
black lips. "You damned treacherous rat!" he cried, "that's the game
John Gourlay can play wi' a thing like you."

Gibson rose from the ruin on the table and came bleeding to the window,
his grin a
rictus
of wrath, his green teeth wolfish with anger.

"By God, Gourlay," he screamed, "I'll make you pay for this; I'll fight
you through a' the law courts in Breetain, but you'll implement your
bond."

"Damn you for a measled swine! would you grunt at me?" cried Gourlay,
and made to go at him through the window. Though he could not reach him,
Gibson quailed at his look. He shook his fist in impotent wrath, and
spat threats of justice through his green teeth.

"To hell wi' your law-wers!" cried Gourlay. "I'd throttle ye like the
dog you are on the floor o' the House o' Lords."

But that day was to cost him dear. Ere six months passed he was cast in
damages and costs for a breach of contract aggravated by assault. He
appealed, of course. He was not to be done; he would show the dogs what
he thought of them.

In those days it came to pass that Wilson sent his son to the High
School of Skeighan—even James, the red-haired one, with the squint in
his eye. Whereupon Gourlay sent
his
son to the High School of Skeighan
too, of course, to be upsides with Wilson. If Wilson could afford to
send his boy to a distant and expensive school, then, by the Lord, so
could he! And it also came to pass that James, the son of James the
grocer, took many prizes; but John, the son of John, took no prizes.
Whereat there were ructions in the House of Gourlay.