Roland Cashel Volume I Part 32

"This is the cattle-market," said Linton, "and I have brought you here because I saw you 'd not close your eyes till that silly affair was settled; and here we are now at Dan h.o.a.re's counting-house, the man of all others to aid us. Follow me; I ought to know the stairs well, in daylight or dark."

Cautiously following his guide, Cashel mounted a half-rotten, creaky stair, which pa.s.sed up between two damp and mildewed walls, and entered a small chamber whose one window looked out in a dirty court. The only furniture consisted of two deal chairs and a table, on which various inscriptions made by penknives betokened the patience and zeal of former visitors.

Linton pa.s.sed on to the end of the chamber, where was a narrow door, but suddenly halted as his eye caught a little slip of paper attached to a sliding panel, and which bore the word "Engaged." "Ha!" cried he, "one here already! You see, early as it is, Dan is at work, discounting and protesting as usual. By the way, I have forgot one essential: he never gives a stamp, and so I must provide one. Wait for me here; there is a place in the neighborhood where they can be had, and I 'll be back presently."

Cashel sat himself down in the cheerless little den, thinking of the many who might have waited there before, in so many frames of anxiety and torturing suspense. His own memory could recall a somewhat similar character in Geiz-heimer, and while he was thus remembering some features of the past he fell into a reverie, forgetting time and place together, the sound of voices from the adjoining room serving rather to lull than arouse his attention. At last a word caught his ear. He started suddenly, and, looking about him for a second, experienced almost a difficulty to remember where he was. Could it be possible, or was it mere fancy? but he believed he heard his name mentioned by some one within that room. Less caring to know how or by whom the name was spoken than if the fact were actually so, he leaned forward on his chair, and bent his ear to listen, when he heard, in a voice louder than had been used before, the following words:--

"It may be all as you say, sir; I won't pretend to throw a doubt upon your words; but, as a mere man of business, I may be permitted to say that this promise, however satisfactory to your friend's feelings, is not worth a sixpence in law. Corrigan asks for a renewal of his lease, and the other says, 'Keep your holding,--don't disturb yourself,'--and there he is, a tenant at will. Now, for the purposes you have in view towards me, that pledge goes for nothing. I cannot renew these bills upon such frail security. If the old man cannot find means to meet them, Leicester must, that's all."

"Leicester is a villain!" cried another and a deeper voice, whose tones seemed not quite strange to Roland's ears. "He has ruined my poor old friend; he will soon leave him houseless, and he threatens to leave him almost friendless too."

"He told me," said the other, "he should certainly claim his daughter, and means to return next summer for that purpose."

"I almost hope poor Con will never live to see that day," said the former, with a heavy sigh.

"Well, to return to our own affair, sir, I tell you frankly, I don't consider Cashel's promise deserving of any consideration. He doubtless means to keep it; that's the very most anybody can say about it. But remember what a life he is leading: he has drawn about thirty thousand out of Latrobe's hands in three months,--no one knows for what. He has got among a set of men who play high, and cannot pay if they lose. Now, his estate is a good one; but it can't last forever. My notion is that the young fellow will end as he began, and become a buccaneer once more."

"He has a long course to run ere that comes," said the other.

"Not so long as you fancy. There are demands upon him from quarters you little suspect, or that, for the moment, he little suspects himself. It would surprise you to hear that he is in Leicester's hands too."

"Roland Cashel--Mr. Cashel--in Leicester's hands! How do you mean?"

Just at this instant Linton's foot was heard ascending the stairs, and Cashel, whose eagerness to hear the remainder became a perfect torture of anxiety, was forced to lose the opportunity.

"What a hunt I have had!" said Linton, as he entered, flushed and weary-looking. "Our amount is rather above the ordinary mark, and I found it almost impossible to procure the stamps. Are you tired waiting?"

"No,--nothing to speak of," said Cashel, confusedly.

"Well, I fancy our friend here has had much more than his share of an audience. I'll see, and unearth him."

And so saying, Linton knocked with his cane at the door. A low murmuring of voices succeeded, the sound of feet followed, and soon after the door was opened, and a small, thin, pale-faced man in black appeared.

"Good morning, Mr. h.o.a.re. Here have we been playing antechamber to your serene highness for full an hour. This is Mr. Roland Cashel, Mr. h.o.a.re, who wishes to make your acquaintance."

The little man turned his quick gray eyes towards Cashel with a most scrutinizing keenness; but, as suddenly withdrawing them, invited both to enter.

"Be seated, gentlemen. Pardon the humble accommodation of this place.

Take a chair, Mr. Linton."

"We want tin, Mr. h.o.a.re," said Linton, slapping his boot with his cane,--"that most universal and vulgar want My friend here desires to raise a sum without having recourse to his agent, and I believe no man can aid in a little secret-service transaction like yourself."

"Is the sum a large one, sir?" said h.o.a.re, addressing Cashel.

"I cannot tell you exactly," said Cashel, in some confusion at the confession of his ignorance. "I fancy it must be close on ten or twelve thousand pounds."

"More like twenty!" cried Linton, coolly. Then, turning to h.o.a.re, he went on: "My friend here is, happily for him, very little skilled in affairs of this kind, and, as his security is about the best that can be offered, he need not buy his experience very dearly. Now just tell us, frankly, how, when, and on what terms he can have this money."

"Money is scarce just now, sir," said h.o.a.re; "but as to securities, Mr.

Cashel's bills are quite sufficient. There is no necessity for any legal expenses whatever. I need not say that the transaction shall be perfectly secret: in fact, I'll keep the bills in my own hands till due."

"There, that's the man I told you he was," cried Linton. "A Croesus in generosity as in gold. I would I were your son, or your son-in-law, h.o.a.re."

"Too much honor, Mr. Linton," said the money-lender, whose slight flush did not betoken a concurrence in his own words. "Now to business,"

continued he, addressing Cashel. "If you favor me with your name on four bills for five thousand each, and the accompanying charges for interest, discount, commission, and so on, I 'll engage that you have this money within the week."

"Could it not be to-morrow? I should like greatly to have the whole off my mind; and as I mean not to play again--"

"Pooh, pooh," said Linton, stopping an explanation he was by no means pleased h.o.a.re should hear; "time enough for resolutions, and time enough for payment too. By the end of the week, h.o.a.re, will do perfectly. You can bring the bills with you to my quarters, say on Sat.u.r.day morning, and we 'll drive over to Mr. Cashel's."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 222]

"Very well. I 'll be punctual. At eleven on Sat.u.r.day expect me. May I bring that little thing of yours for two hundred pounds with it, Mr.

Linton?"

"Of course you may not. Where do you expect me to find money for the debts of last year? My dear h.o.a.re, I have no more memory for such things than I have for the sorrows of childhood."

"Ah, very well, sir, we'll keep it over," said h.o.a.re, smiling.

"Let him bring it," whispered Cashel, "and include it in one of my bills. There's nothing so worrying as an overhanging debt."

"Do you think so?" replied Linton. "Bless me, I never felt that. A life without duns is like a sky without a cloud, very agreeable for a short time, but soon becoming wearisome from very monotony. You grow as sick of uninterrupted blue as ever you did of impending rain and storm. Let me have the landscape effect of light and shadow over existence. The brilliant bits are then ten times as glorious in color, and the dark shadows of one's mortgages only heighten the warmth of the picture. Ask h.o.a.re, there, _he'll_ tell you. I actually cherish my debts."

"Very true, sir; you cannot bear to part with them either."

"Well said, old Moses; the 'interest' they inspire is too strong for one's feelings. But hark! I hear some fresh arrivals without. Another boat-load of the d----d has crossed the Styx."

"Thanks for the simile, sir," said h.o.a.re, smiling faintly,--"on Sat.u.r.day."

"On Sat.u.r.day," repeated Linton.

Cashel lingered as he left the room; a longing desire to speak one word, to ask one question of h.o.a.re--who was this Leicester of whom he spoke?--was uppermost in his mind, and yet he did not dare to own he had heard the words. He could have wished, too, to communicate his thoughts to Linton, but a secret fear told him that perhaps the mystery might be one he would not wish revealed.

"Why so thoughtful, Roland?" said Linton, after traversing some streets in silence. "My friend h.o.a.re has not terrified you?"

"No, I was not thinking of him," said Cashel. "What kind of a character does he bear?"

"Pretty much that of all his cla.s.s. Sharp enough, when sharpness is called for, and seemingly liberal if liberality pays better. To me he has been ever generous. Why, Heaven knows; I suppose the secret will out one of these days. I'm sure I don't ask for it."

Linton's flippancy, for the first time, was distasteful to Cashel. If the school in which he was bred taught little remorse about the sin of incurring debt, it inculcated, however, a manly self-reliance to clear off the enc.u.mbrance by some personal effort, and he by no means sympathized with the cool indifference of Linton's philosophy. Linton, always shrewd enough to know when he had not "made a hit," at once turned the conversation into another channel, by asking at what time Cashel proposed to receive his visitors at Tubbermore.

"Is the honor seriously intended me?" said Cashel, "or is it merely a piece of fashionable quizzing, this promised visit, for I own I scarcely supposed so many fine people would like to encounter the hard usage of such an old ruin as I hear this must be."

"You'll have them to a certainty. I doubt if there will be a single apology. I know at this instant the most urgent solicitations have been employed to procure invitations."

"With all my heart, then," cried Cashel; "only remember the order of the course depends on you. I know nothing of how they ought to be entertained or amused. Take the whole affair into your own hands, and I shall concur in everything."

"Originality is always better than imitation, but still, if one cannot strike out a totally new line, what do you think of taking old Mathews of Johnstown for our model, and invite all our guests with free permission to dine, breakfast, and sup at what hour and in what parties they please? This combines the unbridled freedom of an inn with the hospitality of a country house. Groups form as fancy dictates. New combinations spring up each day,--no fatigue, no _ennui_, can ensue with such endless changes in companionship, and you yourself, instead of the fatiguing duties of a host, are at liberty, like any of your guests, to join this party or that."