Part 4 (1/2)

”All right, old man,” said his friend, determinedly cheerful, ”but aren't you going the pace rather?”

”What do you mean?” demanded Errington hotly, his old resentment at restraint flaming forth.

”Well, it's no affair of mine, of course, but it's a pity, don't you think, to let that fellow Reinhardt get the whip hand of you?”

”Confound you, why are you always girding at Reinhardt? What's he done to you? Anybody would think he's an ogre, waiting to crunch my bones, to hear you talk.” He ignored the fact that for months Burroughs had not once opened his mouth on the subject. ”What's a fellow to do if he can't enjoy a harmless game? It's all straight; you don't suppose I'd play with sharpers; and one can't always win. You don't want me to s.h.i.+rk it when I lose, I suppose? I tell you what it is: you're getting mean and miserly; you're afraid you won't get your beastly money back.”

”You know me better than that, Pidge,” said Burroughs quietly. ”You're a bit off colour, old chap. Here's your hundred; pay me when you like.”

If Errington had obeyed his impulse at that moment he would have apologized to Burroughs, and renounced Reinhardt and all his works once and for ever. But shame, the sense of being in the wrong, false pride, and above all the gambler's perpetual hope of success, tied his tongue, and the precious moment slipped away.

Burroughs was very much surprised to get his money back within a few days--before, as he knew, Errington had received any further remittances from Shanghai.

”Much obliged, Moley,” Errington said as he laid the notes beside his friend's plate one morning.

Burroughs glanced up, but Errington would not meet his eye; so with a ”Thanks, old man!” as casual as Errington's own remark, he put the notes into his pocket and began cheerfully to talk shop. But he was much disturbed in mind. If his chum had won the money, it would encourage him to go on gambling. If he had not won it, how had he obtained it so soon? Burroughs hoped with all his heart that he had not borrowed of Reinhardt or any other German of the set. It was bad enough that Reinhardt should entice his subordinate to play at all; and the low opinion that Burroughs held of him fell still lower.

He would have been even more perturbed had he known the real source of Errington's money. Restive under the disapproval, of which he was conscious, though Burroughs never again uttered it, the lad was foolish enough to apply to the Chinese money-lenders. They were ready to oblige a young Englishman, and fixed their interest to match the risk, as they said: which meant that they would squeeze as much as possible out of him by working on his fears of exposure and disgrace.

The nightly card-parties went on, and Errington became a constant attendant. There grew up a constraint between the two friends.

Burroughs was anxious and worried, and could not help showing it.

Errington, in his own worried state of mind, was annoyed at his friend's manner, all the more because he knew very well that he himself was in the wrong. His high spirits gave way to moodiness and irritability, and after a time he avoided Burroughs. It was a trying position for both of them, inmates of one lodging. They saw less and less of each other, and when they could not but meet, what conversation pa.s.sed between them was almost confined to business matters.

Naturally the affairs of the few Europeans in the town were freely discussed by their native servants and their cronies. Vague rumours came to Burroughs' ears, after a long round, of what went on at Reinhardt's card-parties. It appeared that Reinhardt himself was frequently the winner when the stakes were high, and Burroughs became less and less tolerant of a man who ought to have been particularly scrupulous in keeping his subordinate out of mischief. Reinhardt was always very polite and pleasant when he met Burroughs, but on more than one occasion the latter was rude to him. There were no half measures with Burroughs.

One day, talking shop because they seemed to have now no other common topic, Burroughs mentioned to Errington that he was negotiating a very large transaction with a Chinese broker, and stated the terms on which the consignment of goods was to change hands. Errington congratulated him on the prospect of doing a good stroke of business, and the subject dropped.

Next day, however, at the last moment, the negotiations fell through, to Burroughs' great annoyance. It was a loss to his branch, and incidentally to himself, for both he and Errington had a small interest in the turnover of their branches, as well as a salary. He was also vexed at having mentioned the matter to Errington, when it was so unlike him to talk about things that were still uncertain.

What was his surprise and irritation a few days later to hear from his comprador that the transaction in which he had failed had been completed by Errington, who had overbid him.

”Nonsense! Absolute rot!” he said to the man, feeling indignant on his friend's behalf.

The comprador spread out his hands deprecatingly and said--

”Allo lightee savvy all same, sah. Ma.s.s' Ellington he go buy all jolly lot.”

”Shut up; I don't believe it.”

The Chinaman shrugged: surely his master was very short this morning!

But he said no more. Two days after, however, he brought Burroughs the order for the goods, written on the official paper of Ehrlich Sohne, and signed with Errington's initials. At this, even a friend of long standing might well be staggered. Burroughs remembered that his chum had been looking more and more worried of late. He came to breakfast with a pale face and weary eyes, and the look of a man who had not slept. Could it be that, in his urgent need of money, he had fallen to the temptation of s.n.a.t.c.hing this business out of the hands of the other house? If it had been Reinhardt, Burroughs would not have been at all surprised; but that Errington had taken advantage of the information casually given him to steal a march on his friend was inconceivable.

Burroughs knew perfectly well that at the time when negotiations were in progress with him, Feng Wai, the Chinese merchant, had made no overtures to the German firm, so that there was no question of the firms being played off against each other. Besides, it had always been an understanding between the two old school-fellows that, a price having once been named, each should abide by it.

The position was unendurable to Burroughs, who at once stepped over to Errington's office, and walked, as he had always been accustomed to do, though not frequently of late, straight into his room. Once, Errington would have sprung up from his seat with a hearty word of greeting: now he remained sitting, with a look of embarra.s.sment.

”I say, Pidge,” began Burroughs, trying to speak in an ordinary tone, ”what's this I hear about Feng Wai doing better with you than with me?

I told you, you remember, that I had practically concluded the deal.”