"Tut-tut-tut! I'm sorry. But I need not ask you any questions. Your
face shows that you have heard the rumour."
"Heard the cursed rumour? Yes, sir," cried the Major indignantly. "How
can you have the heart to take the matter so lightly?"
"Lightly? Why not? I am only sorry that it should worry my friends."
"Clive Reed!" cried the Major, bringing his fist down so heavily upon
the table that the pens leaped out of the tray; "this may be a slight
matter to a mining adventurer who lives by gambling, but do you grasp
the fact that it is utter ruin to me and my child?"
"My dear sir, no, I do not; and as soon as I found out what was the
matter, I sent off a telegram, and paid for a horse messenger to ride
over and set you at your ease."
"Set me at my ease!" cried the Major, tugging the end of his great
moustache into his mouth and gnawing it. "How can a man, sir, be at his
ease who has lost his all--who sees his child brought to penury?"
"My dear sir," began Clive.
"Silence, sir!" cried the Major, giving vent to the pent-up wrath which
had been gathering. "Silence! Hear what I have to say. I received you
at my home, believing you to be an honourable man--a gentleman. I did
not draw back when I found that my poor child had been won over by your
insidious ways, and I was weak enough to let you draw me into this
cursed whirlpool, and persuade me to embark my little capital to be
swept down to destruction."
"Did I, sir?" said Clive quietly.
"No: I will be just, even in my despair. That was my own doing, for I
was blinded by your representations of wealth to come. I know: I was a
fool and a madman, and I am justly punished: but I did think, sir, that
you would have met me differently to this. It is a trifle perhaps to
you speculators, you mining gamblers. Your way of living here in this
house shows that a few thousands more or less are not of much
consequence to you."
There was a look of grave sympathy in Clive's face as he listened
patiently to the angry visitor's words: and twice over he made an effort
to speak, but the Major furiously silenced him.
"Let me finish, sir," he cried, speaking now almost incoherently, his
face flushed, and the veins in his temples knotted. "I came here, sir,
meaning to speak a few grave words of reproach--to tell you of the
contempt with which you have inspired me; but--but--I--but I--oh, curse
it all, sir, how could you let me fall into this pit--how could you come
to me and win my confidence--my poor child's confidence, and behave like
a scoundrel to one who met you from the beginning as a friend?"
He ceased, and Clive rose from his chair, crossed to where he had thrown
himself down, and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Major Gurdon--father,--what have I ever done to make you think me such
a scoundrel?"
"Don't--don't speak to me," cried the Major hoarsely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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