Roden's Corner Part 6

And the two men stood side by side watching the malgamite workers, who now quitted the train and stood huddled together in a dull apathy on the roomy platform.

"But you will soon get them into shape, no doubt," said Cornish, with characteristic optimism. He was essentially of a cla.s.s that has always some one at hand to whom to relegate tasks which it could do more effectually and more quickly for itself. The secret of human happiness is to be dependent upon as few human beings as possible.

"Oh yes! We shall soon get them into shape--the sea air and all that, you know."

Roden looked at his _proteges_ with large, sad eyes, in which there was alike no enthusiasm and no spark of human kindness. Cornish wondered vaguely what he was thinking about. The thoughts were certainly tinged with pessimism, and lacked entirely the blindness of an enthusiasm by which men are urged to endeavour great things for the good of the ma.s.ses, and to make, as far as a practical human perception may discern, huge and hideous mistakes.

"Von Holzen is down below," said Roden, at length. "As soon as he comes up we will draft them off in batches of ten, and pack them into the omnibuses. The luggage can follow. Ah! Here comes Von Holzen. You don't know him, do you?"

"No; I don't know him."

They both went forward to meet a man of medium height, with square shoulders, and a still, clean-shaven face. Otto von Holzen raised his hat, and remained bare-headed while he shook hands.

"The introduction is unnecessary," he said. "We have worked together for many months--you on the other side of the North Sea, and I on this.

And now we have, at all events, something to show for our work."

He had a quick, foreign manner, with a kind smile, and certain vivacity.

This was a different sort of man to Roden--quicker to feel for others, to understand others; capable of greater good, and possibly of greater evil. He glanced at Cornish, nodded sympathetically, and then turned to look at the malgamite makers. These, standing in a group on the platform, holding in their hands their poor belongings, returned the gaze with interest. The train which had brought them steamed out of the station, leaving the malgamite makers gazing in a dull wonder at the three men into whose hands they had committed their lives.

CHAPTER VI.

ON THE DUNES.

"L'indifference est le sommeil du coeur."

The village of Scheveningen, as many know, is built on the sand dunes, and only sheltered from the ocean by a sea-wall. A new Scheveningen has sprung up on this sea-wall--a mere terrace of red brick houses, already faded and weather-worn, which stare forlornly at the shallow sea.

Inland, except where building enterprise has constructed roads and built villas are sand dunes. To the south, beyond the lighthouse, are sand dunes. To the north, more especially and most emphatically, are sand dunes as far as the eye may see. This tract of country is a very desert, where thin maritime gra.s.ses are shaken by the wind, where suggestive spars lie bleaching, where the sand, driven before the breeze like snow, travels to and fro through all the ages.

This afternoon, the dunes presented as forlorn an appearance as it is possible in one's gloomiest moments to conceive. The fog had, indeed, lifted a little, but a fine rain now drove before the wind, freezing as it fell, so that the earth was covered by a thin sheet of ice. The short January day was drawing to its close.

To the north of the waterworks, three hundred yards away from that solitary erection, the curious may find to-day a few low buildings cl.u.s.tering round a water-tower. These buildings are of wood, with roofs of corrugated iron; and when they were newly constructed, not so many years ago, presented a gay enough appearance, with their green shutters and ornamental eaves. The whole was enclosed in a fence of corrugated iron, and approached by a road not too well constructed on its sandy bed.

"We do not want the place to become the object of an excursion for tourists to The Hague," said Roden to Cornish, as they approached the malgamite works in a closed carriage.

Cornish looked out of the window and made no remark. So far as he could see on all sides, there was nothing but sand-hills and grey gra.s.s. The road was a narrow one, and led only to the little cl.u.s.ter of houses within the fence. It was a lonely spot, cut off from all communication with the outer world. Men might pa.s.s within a hundred yards and never know that the malgamite works existed. The carriage drove through the high gateway into the enclosure. There were a number of cottages, two long, low buildings, and the water-tower.

"You see," said Roden, "we have plenty of room to increase our accommodation when there is need of it. But we must go slowly and feel our way. It would never do to fail. We have accommodation here for a couple of hundred workers and their families; but in time we shall have five hundred of them in here--all the malgamite workers in the world."

He broke off with a laugh, and looked round him. There was a ring in his voice suggestive of a keen excitement. Could Percy Roden, after all, be an enthusiast? Cornish glanced at him uneasily. In Cornish's world sincere enthusiasm was so rare that it was never well received.

Roden's manner changed again, however, and he explained the plan of the little village with his usual half-indifferent air.

"These two buildings are the factories," he said. "In them three hundred men can work at once. There we shall build sheds for the storage of the raw material. Here we shall erect a warehouse. But I do not antic.i.p.ate that we shall ever have much malgamite on our hands. We shall turn over our money very quickly."

Cornish listened with the respectful attention which business details receive nowadays from those whose birth and education unfit them for such pursuits. It was obvious that he did not fully understand the terms of which Roden made use; but he tapped his smart boot with his cane, gave a quick nod of the head, and looked intelligently around him. He had a certain respect for Percy Roden, while that philanthropist did not perhaps appear quite at his best in his business moments.

"And do you--and that foreign individual, Mr. Von Holzen--live inside this--zareba?" he asked.

"No; Von Holzen lives as yet in Scheveningen, in a hotel there. And I have taken a small villa on the dunes, with my sister to keep house for me."

"Ah! I did not know you had a sister," said Cornish, still looking about him with intelligent ignorance. "Does she take an interest in the malgamite scheme?"

"Only so far as it affects me," replied Roden. "She is a good sister to me. The house is between the waterworks and the steam-tram station. We will call in on our way back, if you care to."

"I should like nothing better," replied Cornish, conventionally, and they continued their inspection of the little colony. The arrangements were as simple as they were effective. Either Roden or Von Holzen certainly possessed the genius of organization. In one of the cottages a cold collation was set out on two long tables. There was a choice of wines, and notably some bottles of champagne on a side table.

"For the journalists," explained Roden. "I have a number of them coming this afternoon to witness the arrival of the first batch of malgamite makers. There is nothing like judicious advertis.e.m.e.nt. We have invited a number of newspaper correspondents. We give them champagne and pay their expenses. If you will be a little friendly, they would like it immensely. They, of course, know who you are. A little flattery, you understand."

"Flattery and champagne," laughed Cornish--"the two princ.i.p.al ingredients of popularity."

"I have here a number of photographs," continued Roden, "taken by a good man in the neighbourhood. He has thrown in a view of the sea at the back, you see. It is not there; but he has put in the sky and sea from another plate, he tells me, to make a good picture of it. We shall send them to the princ.i.p.al ill.u.s.trated papers."

"And I suppose," said Cornish, with his gay laugh, "that some of the journalists will throw in background also."

"Of course," answered Roden, gravely. "And the sentimentalists will be satisfied. The sentimentalists never stop at providing necessaries; they want to pamper. It will please them immensely to think that the malgamite makers, who have been collected from the slums of the world, have a sea view and every modern luxury."

"We must humour them," said Cornish, practically. "We should not get far without them."

At this moment the sound of wheels made them both turn towards the entrance. It was an omnibus--the best omnibus with the finest horses--which brought the journalists. These gentlemen now descended from the vehicle and came towards the cottage, where Cornish and Roden awaited them. They were what is euphemistically called a little mixed.

Some were too well dressed, others too badly. But all carried themselves with an air that bespoke a consciousness of greatness not unmingled with good-fellowship. The leader, a stout man, shook hands affably with Cornish, who a.s.sumed his best and most gracious manner.

"Aha! Here we are," he said, rubbing his hands together and looking at the champagne.

Then somehow Cornish came to the front and Roden retired into the background. It was Cornish who opened the champagne and poured it into their gla.s.ses. It was Cornish who made the best jokes, and laughed the loudest at the journalistic quips fired off by his companions. Cornish seemed to understand the guests better than did Roden, who was inclined to be stiff towards them. Those who are a.s.sured of their position are not always thinking about it. Men who stand much upon their dignity have not, as a rule, much else to stand upon.

"Here's to you, sir," cried the stout newspaper man, with upraised gla.s.s and a heart full of champagne. "Here's to you--whoever you are.

And now to business. Perhaps you'll trot us round the works."

This Cornish did with much success. He then stood beside the correspondents while the malgamite workers descended from the omnibus and took possession of their new quarters. He provided the journalists with photographs and a short printed account of the malgamite trade, which had been prepared by Von Holzen. It was finally Cornish who packed them into the omnibus in high good humour, and sent them back to The Hague.

"Do not forget the sentiment," he called out after them. "Remember it is a charity."

The malgamite workers were left to the care of Von Holzen, who had made all necessary preparations for their reception.

"You are a cleverer man than I thought you," said Roden to Cornish, as they walked over the dunes together in the dusk towards the Rodens'

house. And it was difficult to say whether Roden was pleased or not.

He did not speak much during the walk, and was evidently wrapped in deep thought.

Cornish was light and inconsequent as usual. "We shall soon raise more money," he said. "We shall have malgamite b.a.l.l.s, and malgamite bazaars, malgamite balloon ascents if that is not flying too high."