The Flying Boat Part 4

"All right, old man," said his friend, determinedly cheerful, "but aren't you going the pace rather?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Errington hotly, his old resentment at restraint flaming forth.

"Well, it's no affair of mine, of course, but it's a pity, don't you think, to let that fellow Reinhardt get the whip hand of you?"

"Confound you, why are you always girding at Reinhardt? What's he done to you? Anybody would think he's an ogre, waiting to crunch my bones, to hear you talk." He ignored the fact that for months Burroughs had not once opened his mouth on the subject. "What's a fellow to do if he can't enjoy a harmless game? It's all straight; you don't suppose I'd play with sharpers; and one can't always win. You don't want me to shirk it when I lose, I suppose? I tell you what it is: you're getting mean and miserly; you're afraid you won't get your beastly money back."

"You know me better than that, Pidge," said Burroughs quietly. "You're a bit off colour, old chap. Here's your hundred; pay me when you like."

If Errington had obeyed his impulse at that moment he would have apologized to Burroughs, and renounced Reinhardt and all his works once and for ever. But shame, the sense of being in the wrong, false pride, and above all the gambler's perpetual hope of success, tied his tongue, and the precious moment slipped away.

Burroughs was very much surprised to get his money back within a few days--before, as he knew, Errington had received any further remittances from Shanghai.

"Much obliged, Moley," Errington said as he laid the notes beside his friend's plate one morning.

Burroughs glanced up, but Errington would not meet his eye; so with a "Thanks, old man!" as casual as Errington's own remark, he put the notes into his pocket and began cheerfully to talk shop. But he was much disturbed in mind. If his chum had won the money, it would encourage him to go on gambling. If he had not won it, how had he obtained it so soon? Burroughs hoped with all his heart that he had not borrowed of Reinhardt or any other German of the set. It was bad enough that Reinhardt should entice his subordinate to play at all; and the low opinion that Burroughs held of him fell still lower.

He would have been even more perturbed had he known the real source of Errington's money. Restive under the disapproval, of which he was conscious, though Burroughs never again uttered it, the lad was foolish enough to apply to the Chinese money-lenders. They were ready to oblige a young Englishman, and fixed their interest to match the risk, as they said: which meant that they would squeeze as much as possible out of him by working on his fears of exposure and disgrace.

The nightly card-parties went on, and Errington became a constant attendant. There grew up a constraint between the two friends.

Burroughs was anxious and worried, and could not help showing it.

Errington, in his own worried state of mind, was annoyed at his friend's manner, all the more because he knew very well that he himself was in the wrong. His high spirits gave way to moodiness and irritability, and after a time he avoided Burroughs. It was a trying position for both of them, inmates of one lodging. They saw less and less of each other, and when they could not but meet, what conversation pa.s.sed between them was almost confined to business matters.

Naturally the affairs of the few Europeans in the town were freely discussed by their native servants and their cronies. Vague rumours came to Burroughs' ears, after a long round, of what went on at Reinhardt's card-parties. It appeared that Reinhardt himself was frequently the winner when the stakes were high, and Burroughs became less and less tolerant of a man who ought to have been particularly scrupulous in keeping his subordinate out of mischief. Reinhardt was always very polite and pleasant when he met Burroughs, but on more than one occasion the latter was rude to him. There were no half measures with Burroughs.

One day, talking shop because they seemed to have now no other common topic, Burroughs mentioned to Errington that he was negotiating a very large transaction with a Chinese broker, and stated the terms on which the consignment of goods was to change hands. Errington congratulated him on the prospect of doing a good stroke of business, and the subject dropped.

Next day, however, at the last moment, the negotiations fell through, to Burroughs' great annoyance. It was a loss to his branch, and incidentally to himself, for both he and Errington had a small interest in the turnover of their branches, as well as a salary. He was also vexed at having mentioned the matter to Errington, when it was so unlike him to talk about things that were still uncertain.

What was his surprise and irritation a few days later to hear from his comprador that the transaction in which he had failed had been completed by Errington, who had overbid him.

"Nonsense! Absolute rot!" he said to the man, feeling indignant on his friend's behalf.

The comprador spread out his hands deprecatingly and said--

"Allo lightee savvy all same, sah. Ma.s.s' Ellington he go buy all jolly lot."

"Shut up; I don't believe it."

The Chinaman shrugged: surely his master was very short this morning!

But he said no more. Two days after, however, he brought Burroughs the order for the goods, written on the official paper of Ehrlich Sohne, and signed with Errington's initials. At this, even a friend of long standing might well be staggered. Burroughs remembered that his chum had been looking more and more worried of late. He came to breakfast with a pale face and weary eyes, and the look of a man who had not slept. Could it be that, in his urgent need of money, he had fallen to the temptation of s.n.a.t.c.hing this business out of the hands of the other house? If it had been Reinhardt, Burroughs would not have been at all surprised; but that Errington had taken advantage of the information casually given him to steal a march on his friend was inconceivable.

Burroughs knew perfectly well that at the time when negotiations were in progress with him, Feng Wai, the Chinese merchant, had made no overtures to the German firm, so that there was no question of the firms being played off against each other. Besides, it had always been an understanding between the two old school-fellows that, a price having once been named, each should abide by it.

The position was unendurable to Burroughs, who at once stepped over to Errington's office, and walked, as he had always been accustomed to do, though not frequently of late, straight into his room. Once, Errington would have sprung up from his seat with a hearty word of greeting: now he remained sitting, with a look of embarra.s.sment.

"I say, Pidge," began Burroughs, trying to speak in an ordinary tone, "what's this I hear about Feng Wai doing better with you than with me?

I told you, you remember, that I had practically concluded the deal."

Burroughs was but a poor actor, and his manner, rather than his tone, told Errington that he was labouring under some strong feeling. Nervous and irritable as he was, Errington at once took offence.

"I shouldn't listen to gossip, if I were you," he said; "next time come straight to me."

"As it happens, I have come straight to you as soon as I had seen with my own eyes what I wouldn't believe when I heard it. I don't want any more information than your signature."

"Look here, do you mean to be offensive, or can't you help it? Say straight out that you think I've gone behind your back, if you do think it."

"Well then, if you want it straight, you shall have it," said Burroughs, losing his temper. "I've seen your order, signed with your initials.

After our agreement it would have been bad enough if I'd said nothing to you; but having myself given you the terms, in confidence, as I supposed----"

"That's enough!" cried Errington, springing up, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You've been looking accusations against me for months past, and I've had enough of it. You always had the makings of a fine prig. Until you beg my pardon, I swear I'll have nothing more to do with you."

And flinging out of the office, he slammed the door behind him.

Burroughs was as much hurt as enraged. This was the first serious row between them since their early school-days. But he was not inclined to apologize. He felt that he had asked for information in a perfectly civil way; and though, in his heart, he could not help suspecting that there was possibly some mistake, the sarcasm of his old friend had wounded him too bitterly for him to hold out the olive branch.

When he went home to the chummery, the gravity of the quarrel was proved by the fact that Errington had removed all his personal belongings.

"Where's Mr. Errington?" he asked of Chin Tai, his servant.

"He gone wailo Ma.s.s' Leinhadt," said the man, grinning. He was glad to have seen the back of Lo San, Errington's man.

And next morning, when Lo San brought an envelope containing a remittance for the entire amount that Errington owed him, Burroughs felt still more deeply incensed. To repay him with money borrowed from the German seemed the finishing stroke to their old friendship. In the old days, a quiet talk would have set matters right instantly; but the previous coolness between them, due to Errington's gambling, rendered that course now impossible.

The explanation was exceedingly simple. Errington had received an inquiry from Feng Wai immediately after he had heard from Burroughs of the negotiation in progress. He had quoted exactly the same terms, and the bargain was struck. But the Chinaman found that, the rates having gone up slightly, he was unable to supply the goods, and went to the office to ask to be released from his contract. It happened that Errington was out at the time, but Reinhardt was there. Scenting a chance of raising a difference between the two friends, Reinhardt agreed to give the enhanced price, merely altering the figures in the contract note, taking care to make the new figures as like Errington's as possible. The Chinese merchant is usually as good as his word; but Feng Wai had had only a verbal understanding with Burroughs, and thought himself justified in concluding the transaction at the higher price.

Reinhardt stipulated that the extra price should not be disclosed; but Burroughs' comprador often got information through private channels, and it was not long before he was aware of the terms of the bargain.

The appearance of Errington at his bungalow that evening, in a towering rage, told Reinhardt that his scheme had succeeded, but he was scarcely prepared for the completeness of the breach between the friends. He owed Burroughs the grudge which a mean and dishonourable man often owes a more honourable one for no other reason than that he is more honourable.

He was now anxious that Errington should not discover the change of price, for he knew that, if he heard of it, he would at once seek to put himself right with his friend. Errington was too angry at first to give any explanation of the quarrel; but presently he said--

"What's all this tosh about outbidding Burroughs with Feng Wai? Nothing in it, is there?"

"Of course not. You initialled ze contract yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Ze invoice will prove it: I show you zat to-morrow when we go to ze office."

Before night he had made a private arrangement with Feng Wai that the goods should be invoiced at the original price, and that the difference should be made up by Reinhardt himself. His intention was to recoup himself by an adjustment in his private ledger under what an Englishman would call "squeeze." The invoice, consequently, satisfied Errington that there was no foundation for Burroughs' suspicion, and he nourished a deep resentment against his old friend for harbouring it. Reinhardt was, of course, careful to file the altered contract note among his private papers: to alter the figures back again could hardly be done so neatly as to escape the notice of one so keen as Errington.

Thus Errington became an inmate of Reinhardt's house, and the breach between the two friends widened. In a place where there is only a small community of white men, a disagreement of this kind is at once set right, or it becomes far more acute. With Errington, the mere idea that he could be suspected by his friend of such a trick as he had accused him of rankled more and more as time went on. He found himself harbouring bitter thoughts, not only of him, but of Mr. Ting; for in his perverted state of mind he was ready to listen to Reinhardt's suggestions that the Chinaman had profited by his father's losses, and was actually enjoying a wealth which, if right were done, would be his own.

By and by his bitterness of spirit was if possible aggravated by the suspicion that Reinhardt cheated at cards. Being more continuously in the German's company, he noticed little things, slight manifestations of character, which had before escaped him. He watched his host more and more carefully, and though he was unable to bring the matter home to him, he grew at length almost convinced that Reinhardt was a swindler.

This, coming upon the loss of his friend, which in his better moments he felt deeply, so worked upon him that he found his situation unendurable, and applied to his firm for a transfer still farther up the river. The managers at first hesitated, but his threat to resign unless his application was granted, coupled with reports of his business apt.i.tude from all with whom he had come in contact, produced the result he desired. Rather than lose his services, the firm put him in charge of a small sub-branch at Chia-ling Fu.

CHAPTER VI