Part 11 (2/2)

The capture of Matheson was, in fact, the most notable achievement of his career. Beyond that, he had done little but ornament the Boards of companies with his name; manage his estate (through an agent) with a mixture of cross conservatism and despotic benevolence; and shoot, hunt and fish with impeccable ”good form.” He was typical of that very large cla.s.s of leisured landowner in whose creed good form is next above G.o.dliness.

”Yes, Clifford has his head screwed on right,” he said.

”Before he left for Canada,” continued Larssen, ”he managed to gouge me for a tidy extra in shares for you and for Mrs Matheson.”

Olive had been markedly listless, heavy-eyed and abstracted during the course of the dinner, a point which Larssen had noted with some puzzlement. His mind had worked over the reasons for it without arriving at any definite conclusion. But now, at this unexpected announcement, her eyes lighted up greedily.

”For me!” she exclaimed. ”That's more than I expected from Clifford.”

The s.h.i.+powner reached to take out some papers from his breast-pocket, then stopped. ”I was forgetting. I oughtn't to be talking shop over the dinner-table.”

Sir Francis made an inarticulate noise which was a kind of tribute to the fetish of good form. He wanted to hear more, but did not want to ask to hear more.

”Please go on,” said Olive. ”Talk business now just as much as you like.

Unless, of course, you'd rather not discuss details while I'm here.”

”I'd sooner talk business with you present, Mrs Matheson. I think a wife has every right to be her husband's business partner. I think it's good for both sides. When my dear wife was with me, we were share-and-share partners.” He paused for a moment, then continued: ”Here's the draft scheme for the flotation.”

He held out a paper between Sir Francis and Olive, and Sir Francis took it and read it over with an air of concentrated, conscious wisdom--the air he carefully donned at Board meetings, together with a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez.

”Clifford will be Chairman,” explained Larssen. ”You and Lord St Aubyn and Carleton-Wingate are the men I want for the other Directors. I, as vendor, join the Board after allotment.”

”Where's the point about shares for me?” asked Sir Francis, reading on.

”That doesn't appear in the prospectus, of course. A private arrangement between Clifford and myself. Here's the memorandum.”

This he handed to Olive, who nodded her head with pleasure as she read it through, her father looking over her shoulder.

”Keep it,” said Larssen as she made to hand it back. ”Keep it till your husband returns from Canada.”

”When did he say he will be back?”

”It's very uncertain. He doesn't know himself. It's a delicate matter to handle--very delicate. That's why he went himself to Montreal.”

”He wired me that he's travelling under an a.s.sumed name.”

”Very prudent,” commented Larssen.

”I don't quite like it,” murmured Sir Francis. ”Not the right thing, you know.”

Larssen did not answer, but Olive rejoined sharply: ”What does it matter if it helps to get the flotation off and make money?”

”Well, perhaps so. Still----”

”Can you fix up St Aubyn and Carleton-Wingate?” asked Larssen.

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