Part 10 (1/2)

”Laura is greatly changed,” Robert answered; ”she has grown much more serious in her ideas.”

”You wait a bit!” sn.i.g.g.e.red his father. ”She is a good girl, is Laura, and she knows what she is about. She's not a girl to let her old dad go to the wall if she can set him right. It's a pretty state of things,” he added bitterly: ”here's my daughter going to marry a man who thinks no more of gold than I used to of gun-metal; and here's my son going about with all the money he cares to ask for to help every ne'er-do-well in Staffords.h.i.+re; and here's their father, who loved them and cared for them, and brought them both up, without money enough very often to buy a bottle of brandy. I don't know what your poor dear mother would have thought of it.”

”You have only to ask for what you want.”

”Yes, as if I were a five-year-old child. But I tell you, Robert, I'll have my rights, and if I can't get them one way I will another. I won't be treated as if I were no one. And there's one thing: if I am to be this man's pa-in-law, I'll want to know something about him and his money first. We may be poor, but we are honest. I'll up to the Hall now, and have it out with him.” He seized his hat and stick and made for the door.

”No, no, father,” cried Robert, catching him by the sleeve. ”You had better leave the matter alone. Mr. Haw is a very sensitive man. He would not like to be examined upon such a point. It might lead to a serious quarrel. I beg that you will not go.”

”I am not to be put off for ever,” snarled the old man, who had been drinking heavily. ”I'll put my foot down now, once and for ever.” He tugged at his sleeve to free himself from his son's grasp.

”At least you shall not go without Laura knowing. I will call her down, and we shall have her opinion.”

”Oh, I don't want to have any scenes,” said McIntyre sulkily, relaxing his efforts. He lived in dread of his daughter, and at his worst moments the mention of her name would serve to restrain him.

”Besides,” said Robert, ”I have not the slightest doubt that Raffles Haw will see the necessity for giving us some sort of explanation before matters go further. He must understand that we have some claim now to be taken into his confidence.”

He had hardly spoken when there was a tap at the door, and the man of whom they were speaking walked in.

”Good-morning, Mr. McIntyre,” said he. ”Robert, would you mind stepping up to the Hall with me? I want to have a little business chat.” He looked serious, like a man who is carrying out something which he has well weighed.

They walked up together with hardly a word on either side. Raffles Haw was absorbed in his own thoughts. Robert felt expectant and nervous, for he knew that something of importance lay before him. The winter had almost pa.s.sed now, and the first young shoots were beginning to peep out timidly in the face of the wind and the rain of an English March. The snows were gone, but the countryside looked bleaker and drearier, all shrouded in the haze from the damp, sodden meadows.

”By the way, Robert,” said Raffles Haw suddenly, as they walked up the Avenue. ”Has your great Roman picture gone to London?”

”I have not finished it yet.”

”But I know that you are a quick worker. You must be nearly at the end of it.”

”No, I am afraid that it has not advanced much since you saw it. For one thing, the light has not been very good.”

Raffles Haw said nothing, but a pained expression flashed over his face.

When they reached the house he led the way through the museum. Two great metal cases were lying on the floor.

”I have a small addition there to the gem collection,” he remarked as he pa.s.sed. ”They only arrived last night, and I have not opened them yet, but I am given to understand from the letters and invoices that there are some fine specimens. We might arrange them this afternoon, if you care to a.s.sist me. Let us go into the smoking-room now.”

He threw himself down into a settee, and motioned Robert into the armchair in front of him.

”Light a cigar,” he said. ”Press the spring if there is any refreshment which you would like. Now, my dear Robert, confess to me in the first place that you have often thought me mad.”

The charge was so direct and so true that the young artist hesitated, hardly knowing how to answer.

”My dear boy, I do not blame you. It was the most natural thing in the world. I should have looked upon anyone as a madman who had talked to me as I have talked to you. But for all that, Robert, you were wrong, and I have never yet in our conversations proposed any scheme which it was not well within my power to carry out. I tell you in all sober earnest that the amount of my income is limited only by my desire, and that all the bankers and financiers combined could not furnish the sums which I can put forward without an effort.”

”I have had ample proof of your immense wealth,” said Robert.

”And you are very naturally curious as to how that wealth was obtained.

Well, I can tell you one thing. The money is perfectly clean. I have robbed no one, cheated no one, sweated no one, ground no one down in the gaining of it. I can read your father's eye, Robert. I can see that he has done me an injustice in this matter. Well, perhaps he is not to be blamed. Perhaps I also might think uncharitable things if I were In his place. But that is why I now give an explanation to you, Robert, and not to him. You, at least, have trusted me, and you have a right, before I become one of your family, to know all that I can tell you. Laura also has trusted me, but I know well that she is content still to trust me.”

”I would not intrude upon your secrets, Mr. Haw,” said Robert, ”but of course I cannot deny that I should be very proud and pleased if you cared to confide them to me.”