I
"We got to make a fight for it," said my uncle. "We got to face the music!"
I remember that even at the sight of him I had a sense of impending calamity. He sat under the electric light with the shadow of his hair making bars down his face. He looked shrunken, and as though his skin had suddenly got loose and yellow. The decorations of the room seemed to have lost freshness, and outside the blinds were up--there was not so much fog as a dun darkness. One saw the dingy outlines of the chimneys opposite quite distinctly, and then a sky of such brown as only London can display.
"I saw a placard," I said: "'More Ponderevity.'"
"That's Boom," he said. "Boom and his damned newspapers. He's trying to fight me down. Ever since I offered to buy the Daily Decorator he's been at me. And he thinks consolidating Do Ut cut down the ads. He wants everything, damn him! He's got no sense of dealing. I'd like to bash his face!"
"Well," I said, "what's to be done?"
"Keep going," said my uncle.
"I'll smash Boom yet," he said, with sudden savagery.
"Nothing else?" I asked.
"We got to keep going. There's a scare on. Did you notice the rooms? Half the people out there this morning are reporters.
And if I talk they touch it up!... They didn't used to touch things up! Now they put in character touches--insulting you.
Don't know what journalism's coming to. It's all Boom's doing."
He cursed Lord Boom with considerable imaginative vigour.
"Well," said I, "what can he do?"
"Shove us up against time, George; make money tight for us. We been handling a lot of money--and he tightens us up."
"We're sound?"
"Oh, we're sound, George. Trust me for that! But all the same--There's such a lot of imagination in these things.... We're sound enough. That's not it."
He blew. "Damn Boom!" he said, and his eyes over his glasses met mine defiantly.
"We can't, I suppose, run close hauled for a bitstop expenditure?"
"Where?"
"Well,--Crest Hill"
"What!" he shouted. "Me stop Crest Hill for Boom!" He waved a fist as if to hit his inkpot, and controlled himself with difficulty. He spoke at last in a reasonable voice. "If I did," he said, "he'd kick up a fuss. It's no good, even if I wanted to. Everybody's watching the place. If I was to stop building we'd be down in a week."
He had an idea. "I wish I could do something to start a strike or something. No such luck. Treat those workmen a sight too well. No, sink or swim, Crest Hill goes on until we're under water."
I began to ask questions and irritated him instantly.
"Oh, dash these explanations, George!" he cried; "You only make things look rottener than they are. It's your way. It isn't a case of figures. We're all right--there's only one thing we got to do."
"Yes?"
"Show value, George. That's where this quap comes in; that's why I fell in so readily with what you brought to me week before last. Here we are, we got our option on the perfect filament, and all we want's canadium. Nobody knows there's more canadium in the world than will go on the edge of a sixpence except me and you. Nobody has an idee the perfect filament's more than just a bit of theorising. Fifty tons of quap and we'd turn that bit of theorising into something. We'd make the lamp trade sit on its tail and howl. We'd put Ediswan and all of 'em into a parcel withour last year's trousers and a hat, and swap 'em off for a pot ofgeraniums. See? We'd do it through Business Organisations, and there you are! See? Capern's Patent Filament!
The Ideal and the Real! George, we'll do it! We'll bring it off! And then we'll give such a facer to Boom, he'll think for fifty years. He's laying up for our London and African meeting.
Let him. He can turn the whole paper on to us. He says the Business Organisations shares aren't worth fifty-two and we quote 'em at eighty-four. Well, here we are gettin' ready for him--loading our gun."
His pose was triumphant.
"Yes," I said, "that's all right. But I can't help thinking where should we be if we hadn't just by accident got Capern's Perfect Filament. Because, you know it was an accident--my buying up that."
He crumpled up his nose into an expression of impatient distaste at my unreasonableness.
"And after all, the meeting's in June, and you haven't begun to get the quap! After all, we've still got to load our gun."
"They start on Toosday."
"Have they got the brig?"
"They've got a brig."
"Gordon-Nasmyth!" I doubted.
"Safe as a bank," he said. "More I see of that man the more I like him. All I wish is we'd got a steamer instead of a sailing ship"
"And," I went on, "you seem to overlook what used to weigh with us a bit. This canadium side of the business and the Capern chance has rushed you off your legs. After all--it's stealing, and in its way an international outrage. They've got two gunboats on the coast."
I jumped up and went and stared out at the fog.
"And, by Jove, it's about our only chance! I didn't dream."
I turned on him. "I've been up in the air," I said.
"Heaven knows where I haven't been. And here's our only chance--and you give it to that adventurous lunatic to play in his own way--in a brig!"
"Well, you had a voice--"
"I wish I'd been in this before. We ought to have run out a steamer to Lagos or one of those West Coast places and done it from there. Fancy a brig in the channel at this time of year, if it blows southwest!"
"I dessay you'd have shoved it, George. Still you know, George.... I believe in him."
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I believe in him, too. In a way. Still--"
We took up a telegram that was lying on his desk and opened it.
His face became a livid yellow. He put the flimsy paper down with a slow, reluctant movement and took off his glasses.
"George," he said, "the luck's against us."
"What?"
He grimaced with his mouth--in the queerest way at the telegram.
"That."
I took it up and read:
"Motor smash compound fracture of the leg gordon nasmyth what price mordet now"
For a moment neither of us spoke.
"That's all right," I said at last.
"Eh?" said my uncle.
"I'M going. I'll get that quap or bust."
II
I had a ridiculous persuasion that I was "saving the situation."
