The Outcry: -1911

'But how can I know how much unless I find out what he'll take?' The great collector's spirit had, in spite of its volume, clearly not reached its limit of expansion. 'Is he crazily waiting for the thing to be proved not what Mr. Crimble claims?'

'No, he's waiting for nothing—since he holds that claim demolished by Pappendick's tremendous negative, which you wrote to tell him of.'

Vast, undeveloped and suddenly grave, Mr. Bender's countenance showed like a barren tract under a black cloud. 'I wrote to report, fair and square, on Pap-pendick, but to tell him I'd take the picture just the same, negative and all.'

'Ah, but take it in that way not for what it is but for what it isn't.'

'We know nothing about what it 'isn't,'' said Mr. Bender, 'after all that has happened—we've only learned a little better every day what it is.'

'You mean,' his companion asked, 'the biggest bone of artistic contention——?'

'Yes,'—he took it from her—'the biggest that has been thrown into the arena for quite a while. I guess I can do with it for that.'

Lady Sandgate, on this, after a moment, renewed her personal advance; it was as if she had now made sure of the soundness of her main bridge. 'Well, if it's the biggest bone I won't touch it; I'll leave it to be mauled by my betters. But since his lordship has asked me to name a price, dear Mr. Bender, I'll name one—and as you prefer big prices I'll try to make it suit you. Only it won't be for the portrait of a person nobody is agreed about. The whole world is agreed, you know, about my great-grandmother.'

'Oh, shucks, Lady Sandgate!'—and her visitor turned from her with the hunch of overcharged shoulders.

But she apparently felt that she held him, or at least that even if such a conviction might be fatuous she must now put it to the touch. 'You've been delivered into my hands—too charmingly; and you won't really pretend that you don't recognise that and in fact rather like it.'

He faced about to her again as to a case of coolness unparalleled—though indeed with a quick lapse of real interest in the question of whether he had been artfully practised upon; an indifference to bad debts or peculation like that of some huge hotel or other business involving a margin for waste. He could afford, he could work waste too, clearly—and what was it, that term, you might have felt him ask, but a mean measure, anyway? quite as the 'artful,' opposed to his larger game, would be the hiding and pouncing of children at play. 'Do I gather that those uncanny words of his were just meant to put me off?' he inquired. And then as she but boldly and smilingly shrugged, repudiating responsibility, 'Look here, Lady Sandgate, ain't you honestly going to help me?' he pursued.

This engaged her sincerity without affecting her gaiety. 'Mr. Bender, Mr. Bender, I'll help you if you'll help me!'

'You'll really get me something from him to go on with?'

'I'll get you something from him to go on with.'

'That's all I ask—to get that. Then I can move the way I want. But without it I'm held up.'

'You shall have it,' she replied, 'if I in turn may look to you for a trifle on account.'

'Well,' he dryly gloomed at her, 'what do you call a trifle?'

'I mean'—she waited but an instant—'what you would feel as one.'

'That won't do. You haven't the least idea, Lady Sandgate,' he earnestly said, 'how I feel at these foolish times. I've never got used to them yet.'

'Ah, don't you understand,' she pressed, 'that if I give you an advantage I'm completely at your mercy?'

'Well, what mercy,' he groaned, 'do you deserve?'

She waited a little, brightly composed—then she indicated her inner shrine, the whereabouts of her precious picture. 'Go and look at her again and you'll see.'

His protest was large, but so, after a moment, was his compliance—his heavy advance upon the other room, from just within the doorway of which the great Lawrence was serenely visible. Mr. Bender gave it his eyes once more—though after the fashion verily of a man for whom it had now no freshness of a glamour, no shade of a secret; then he came back to his hostess. 'Do you call giving me an advantage squeezing me by your sweet modesty for less than I may possibly bear?'

'How can I say fairer,' she returned, 'than that, with my backing about the other picture, which I've passed you my word for, thrown in, I'll resign myself to whatever you may be disposed—characteristically!—to give for this one.'

'If it's a question of resignation,' said Mr. Bender, 'you mean of course what I may be disposed— characteristically!—not to give.'

She played on him for an instant all her radiance. 'Yes then, you dear sharp rich thing!'

'And you take in, I assume,' he pursued, 'that I'm just going to lean on you, for what I want, with the full weight of a determined man.'

'Well,' she laughed, 'I promise you I'll thoroughly obey the direction of your pressure.'

'All right then!' And he stopped before her, in his unrest, monumentally pledged, yet still more massively immeasurable. 'How'll you have it?'

She bristled as with all the possible beautiful choices; then she shed her selection as a heaving fruit-tree might have dropped some round ripeness. It was for her friend to pick up his plum and his privilege. 'Will you write a cheque?'

'Yes, if you want it right away.' To which, however, he added, clapping vainly a breast-pocket: 'But my cheque-book's down in my car.'