Part 25 (1/2)
”I'll pay you out for this,” he said, shaking a finger at her. ”Just you wait and see, little lady, if I don't pay you out, with interest!” And he turned and went upstairs, chuckling as he went.
Peer was sitting at the writing-table in his study when Klaus came in.
”I'm just sealing up the letter with the money for Martin Bruvold,”
he said, setting the taper to a stick of sealing wax. ”I've signed it: 'From the shark fishers.'”
”Yes, it was a capital idea of Ferdinand's. What d'you think the poor old fellow'll say when he opens it and the big notes tumble out?”
”I'd like to see his face,” said Peer, as he wrote the address on the envelope.
Klaus dropped into a leather armchair and leaned back comfortably. ”I've been downstairs flirting a little with your wife,” he said. ”Your wife's a wonder, Peer.”
Peer looked at him, and thought of the old days when the heavy-built, clumsy doctor's son had run about after the servant-girls in the town.
He had still something of his old lurching walk, but intercourse with the ladies of many lands had polished him and given lightness and ease to his manner.
”What was I going to say?” Klaus went on. ”Oh yes--our friend Ferdinand's a fine fellow, isn't he?”
”Yes, indeed.”
”I felt yesterday exactly as I used to feel when we three were together in the old days. When I listen to his talk I can't help agreeing with him--and then you begin to speak, and what you say, too, seems to be just what I've been thinking in my inmost soul. Do you think I've become shallow, Peer?”
”Well, your steam ploughs look after themselves, I suppose, and the ladies of your harem don't trouble you overmuch. Do you read at all?”
”Best not say too much about that,” said Klaus with a sigh, and it suddenly struck Peer that his friend's face had grown older and more worn.
”No,” said Klaus again. ”Better not say much about that. But tell me, old fellow--you mustn't mind my asking--has Ferdinand ever spoken to you as his brother . . . or . . .”
Peer flushed hotly. ”No,” he said after a pause.
”No?”
”I owe more to him than to anybody in the world. But whether he regards me as a kinsman or simply as an object for his kindness to wreak itself on is a matter he's always left quite vague.”
”It's just like him. He's a queer fellow. But there's another thing. . .
”Well?” said Peer, looking up.
”It's--er--again it's rather a delicate matter to touch on. I know, of course, that you're in the enviable position of having your fortune invested in the best joint-stock company in the world--”
”Yes; and so are you.”
”Oh, mine's a trifle compared with yours. Have you still the whole of your money in Ferdinand's company?”
”Yes. I've been thinking of selling a few shares, by the way. As you may suppose, I've been spending a good deal just lately--more than my income.”
”You mustn't sell just now, Peer. They're--I daresay you've seen that they're down--below par, in fact.”
”What--below par! No, I had no idea of that.”
”Oh, only for the time being, of course. Just a temporary drop. There's sure to be another run on them soon, and they'll go up again. But the Khedive has the controlling interest, you know, and he's rather a ticklish customer. Ferdinand is all for extension--wants to keep on buying up new land--new desert, that is. Irrigation there's just a question of power--that's how he looks at it. And of course the bigger the scale of the work the cheaper the power will work out. But the Khedive's holding back. It may be just a temporary whim--may be all right again to-morrow. But you never know. And if you think Ferdinand's the man to give in to a cranky Khedive, you're much mistaken. His idea now is to raise all the capital he can lay hands on, and buy him out!