A Civil Contract

tell him to!”

“So I had supposed! But I’m sadly ignorant: I had also supposed that my man of business would have shown the door to anyone — even my father-in-law! — who came to tell him what to do with my affairs!”

“Well, so he did, in a manner of speaking!” said Mr Chawleigh, keeping his temper. “Now, don’t fly into your high ropes, my lord! We ain’t after anything but your good, Wimmering and me, nor he never had any intention of acting arbitrary. But he’s a deep old file, and he knows, if you don’t, what’s the worth of a nudge from Jonathan Chawleigh, and a mighty poor man of business he’d be if he didn’t pay heed to it, and act according! Why, if I’d waited to drum it into your head, without a word spoken to Wimmering, it would have been too late to do anything by the time I’d done it, and you’d told Wimmering — which likely you’d have made a mull of, you having no more understanding of business than a babe unborn!”

Adam’s anger cooled a little. “Very well, and what is it that must be done?”

“Sell, of course! Sell, my lord, and at the best price you can get! If it can be done — if it ain’t too late already — you’ll suffer a loss, same as I have myself, but you’ll save yourself from ruin! It’ll be bad, and I don’t deny it, but see if I don’t put you in the way of making a recover presently! But there’s no time to be lost: once the news is made known there’ll be no selling the stock, not if you was to offer it at a grig! Forty-nine was all I got for mine, and they was standing at fifty-seven and a half when the jobbers closed their books! Eh, it don’t bear thinking of! A bubble-merchant, that’s what they’ll be calling me!”

He sounded so tragic that Adam might have supposed that he was facing ruin had he not had every reason to think that however large a part of his private fortune had been invested in the Funds it represented only a tithe of his enormous wealth. He said: “I’m afraid I don’t perfectly understand, sir. How am I to sell my shares if there’s no dealing being done?”

“You leave that to Wimmering!” said Mr Chawleigh. “He’ll know how to do the thing, never you fear! What’s more, he’s ready and anxious to do it, the moment you say the word. He’ll be here to wait on you first thing tomorrow morning, and you’ll find he’ll advise you the same as I have.”

He glanced shrewdly at Adam. “Well, he did so when that Bonaparte first broke out again, didn’t he?”

Adam nodded. Mr Wimmering had written to him in March, venturing to suggest that in view of the uncertain political situation it might be wise for his lordship to consider the advisability of realizing his holding in Government stock, but he had not considered it either advisable or proper to do so, and had replied quite unequivocally.

“Eh, if you’d only listened to him!” mourned Mr Chawleigh, shaking his head.

Adam looked at him thoughtfully. It was plainly a waste of tune to attempt to persuade him that a strategic withdrawal was not a rout: civilians were always cast into panic by a retreat, just as they were wildly elated by quite minor victories. So he refrained from telling Mr Chawleigh that his own confidence was unshaken, and tried instead to discover the exact nature of the news which had been whispered in his ear. It was not easy to do this, but by the time the neat dinner had been disposed of, and Mr Chawleigh took his leave, Adam had formed his own conclusions. It was certain that hostilities had begun; it seemed fairly certain that Napoleon, so far from being a spent force, had moved with all his former, disconcerting rapidity. It was possible that Wellington had been taken by surprise, and had been obliged to oppose the enemy with only his advance troops: it sounded like that; and it sounded too as if the action had been fought on ground not of his choosing. In which case, he would certainly retreat; and no doubt the flocks of pleasure-seeking visitors to Brussels would take fright immediately, and make for the coast. It was more difficult to assess the probable extent of the Prussian reverse. Adam had never seen the Prussians in action, but he knew the Hanoverian troops well, and he thought that if the Prussians were at all like the men of the King’s German Legion there would be little fear that they would run away, even if they had suffered a repulse. Mr Chawleigh talked as though Napoleon had smashed that army; Adam thought this unlikely, because the Allied Army had also been engaged, which meant that Napoleon must have been fighting on two fronts.

He allowed Mr Chawleigh to leave him in the belief that he meant to follow his advice. It was useless to argue with him; that would only lead to a quarrel. Besides, the poor man was already in a stew of anxiety: probably some of his many trading ventures would be badly affected by a French victory.

Thinking about it, weighing it in his mind,  Adam knew that he was not going to try to sell his stock. Mr Chawleigh had done so at a loss, and he seemed to think that the price was rapidly sinking. To sell would be wantonly to diminish his principal, and he would certainly do no such thing: running shy merely because the Allied Army had clashed disadvantageously with the enemy, and had fallen back, perhaps to better ground, almost certainly to maintain communications with the Prussians.

Sipping a last glass of brandy before going to bed, remembering the years of his military service, confidence grew in him. There had been plenty of retreats, but no lost battles under Douro’s command: not one!

He thought, regretfully, that it was a pity he hadn’t sold his stock at the beginning of March, when Wimmering had advised it. Had he done so, he would now have had a large sum at his disposal, and might have bought again, making a handsome profit.

He set hisempty glass down suddenly. The idly reflective expression in his eyes altered; he sat staring intently straight before him, his eyes now bright and hard between slightly narrowed lids. A queer little smile began to play around his mouth; he drew a breath like a sigh, and got up, pouring more brandy into his glass. He stood for quite some time, swirling the brandy round, watching it but not thinking about it. The ghost of a laugh shook him; he tossed off the brandy, set the glass down again, and went off to bed.

Chapter XXV

He had just finished breakfast when Mr Wimmering was brought up to the parlour on the following morning. Wimmering was looking grave, but he said that he was very glad to see my lord.

“I’m extremely glad to see you,” replied Adam. “I need your advice and your services.”

“Your lordship knows that both are at your disposal.”

“I’m obliged to you. Sit down! Now, tell me, Wimmering, what, by your reckoning, am I worth? How much credit will Drummond allow me?”

Mr Wimmering’s jaw dropped; he gazed blankly at Adam, and said feebly: “Credit? Drummond?”

“I don’t want to go to the Jews unless I must.”

“Go to the — But, my lord — ! You cannot have run into debt? I beg your pardon! But I had not the smallest suspicion — ”

“No, no, I haven’t run into debt!” Adam said. “But I’m in urgent need of ready money — as large a sum as I can contrive to raise! Immediately!”

Wimmering felt a little faint. At any other hour of the day he would have concluded that his client had been imbibing too freely, and was half-sprung. He wondered if Mr Chawleigh’s news had temporarily turned his brain. He bore no appearance of being either drunk or unhinged, but it had struck Wimmering as soon as he had entered the room that he was looking unlike himself. There was a tautness about him Wimmering had never before noticed; his eyes, usually so cool, were strangely bright; and the smile hovering at the corners of his mouth held a disquieting hint of recklessness. Wimmering was at a loss to interpret these signs, never having been privileged to see his noble client in command of a Forlorn Hope.

“Well?” Adam said impatiently.

Wimmering pulled himself together, saying firmly: “My lord, before I enter upon that question, may I respectfully remind you that there is a far more urgent matter awaiting your attention? If you have seen Mr Chawleigh it must be unnecessary for me to tell you that there is no time to be lost in empowering me to dispose of your stock.”

“Oh, I’m not selling!” Adam said cheerfully. “I beg pardon! Of course you supposed that that was why I needed you! No, I’m buying.”

“Buying?” gasped Wimmering, turning quite pale. “You’re not serious, my lord?”

“I’m perfectly serious — and perfectly sane as well, I promise you. No, don’t repeat Mr Chawleigh’s Banbury story to me! I’ve heard it once, and I don’t wish to hear it again! My father-in-law is an excellent man, but he has not the smallest understanding of military matters. As far as I can discover, word of a retreat has reached the City, brought by some agent, who had heard that the Prussians had been cut up a trifle, that we had retired, and who no