Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
The crisis at the African fields was even more acute than had been
anticipated by the conspirators. Nothing approaching to it had ever
been known in South Africa before. Diamonds went steadily down in value
until they were selling at a price which no dealer would have believed
possible, and the sale of claims reached such a climax that men were
glad to get rid of them for the mere price of the plant and machinery
erected at them. The offices of the various dealers at Kimberley were
besieged night and day by an importunate crowd of miners, who were
willing to sell at any price in order to save something from the general
ruin which they imagined was about to come upon the industry. Some,
more long-headed or more desperate than their neighbours, continued to
work their claims and to keep the stones which they found until prices
might be better. As fresh mails came from the Cape, however, each
confirming and amplifying the ominous news, these independent workers
grew fewer and more faint-hearted, for their boys had to be paid each
week, and where was the money to come from with which to pay them?
The dealers, too, began to take the alarm, and the most tempting offers
would hardly induce them to give hard cash in exchange for stones which
might prove to be a drug in the market. Everywhere there was misery and
stagnation.
Ezra Girdlestone was not slow to take advantage of this state of things,
but he was too cunning to do so in a manner which might call attention
to himself or his movements. In his wanderings he had come across an
outcast named Farintosh, a man who had once been a clergyman and a
master of arts of Trinity College, Dublin, but who was now a broken-down
gambler with a slender purse and a still more slender conscience.
He still retained a plausible manner and an engaging address, and these
qualities first recommended him to the notice of the young merchant.
A couple of days after the receipt of the news from Europe, Ezra sent
for this fellow and sat with him for some time on the verandah of the
hotel, talking over the situation.
"You see, Farintosh," he remarked, "it might be a false alarm, might it
not?"
The ex-clergyman nodded. He was a man of few words.
"If it should be, it would be an excellent thing for those who buy now."
Farintosh nodded once again.
"Of course," Ezra continued, "it looks as if the thing was beyond all
doubt. My experience has taught me, however, that there is nothing so
uncertain as a certainty. That's what makes me think of speculating
over this. If I lose it won't hurt me much, and I might win. I came
out here more for the sake of seeing a little of the world than anything
else, but now that this has turned up I'll have a shy at it."
"Quite so," said Farintosh, rubbing his hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account