Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction, English; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
So he filled up the cheque for £250 and threw it down on the table
before me, saying something about its being a bother to mix up business
with pleasure.
I took the draft, saw that it was correct though rather illegible, and
proceeded to dry it by waving it in the air. As I did so it came into
my mind that I would not touch the money of this successful scamp, won
back from him in such a way.
Yielding to a perhaps foolish impulse, I said:
“Lord Ragnall, this cheque is for a debt which years ago I wrote off as
lost. At luncheon to-day you were talking of a Cottage Hospital for
which you are trying to get up an endowment fund in this neighbourhood,
and in answer to a question from you Sir Junius Fortescue said that he
had not as yet made any subscription to its fund. Will you allow me to
hand you Sir Junius’s subscription—to be entered in his name, if you
please?” And I passed him the cheque, which was drawn to myself or
bearer.
He looked at the amount, and seeing that it was not £5, but £250,
flushed, then asked:
“What do you say to this act of generosity on the part of Mr.
Quatermain, Sir Junius?”
There was no answer, because Sir Junius had gone. I never saw him
again, for years ago the poor man died quite disgraced. His passion for
semi-fraudulent speculations reasserted itself, and he became a
bankrupt in conditions which caused him to leave the country for
America, where he was killed in a railway accident while travelling as
an immigrant. I have heard, however, that he was not asked to shoot at
Ragnall any more.
The cheque was passed to the credit of the Cottage Hospital, but not,
as I had requested, as a subscription from Sir Junius Fortescue. A
couple of years later, indeed, I learned that this sum of money was
used to build a little room in that institution to accommodate sick
children, which room was named the Allan Quatermain ward.
Now, I have told this story of that December shoot because it was the
beginning of my long and close friendship with Ragnall.
When he found that Van Koop had gone away without saying good-bye, Lord
Ragnall made no remark. Only he took my hand and shook it.
I have only to add that, although, except for the element of
competition which entered into it, I enjoyed this day’s shooting very
much indeed, when I came to count up its cost I felt glad that I had
not been asked to any more such entertainments. Here it is, taken from
an old note-book:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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