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Basil and Annette. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
Читать онлайн.Название Basil and Annette
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Автор произведения Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
"Undoubtedly. Instructions must come from you."
"Claims are pouring in, you say. Can you tell me to what amount?"
"As far as we have received them; there are more to be presented you understand."
"Yes."
"Plainly, then," said the lawyer, "the property your father has left will not be sufficient to meet his debts."
"They must be paid, however." The lawyer inclined his head.
"Yes," said Basil, rising and pacing the room in his excitement, "they must be paid. No stigma must rest upon my father's memory. Some of the claims may be contested, you say? In justice?"
"Legally," replied the lawyer.
"I ask you again," said Basil. "In justice?"
The lawyer, declining to commit himself, made no reply.
"At least," said Basil, "you can answer me this question. My father owes the money?"
"Yes, my dear sir, he owes the money."
"Then it must be paid. Do you not see that it must be paid? No man shall have the power of uttering one word against him."
"But," said the lawyer, eyeing the young man as he would have eyed a psychological puzzle, "if the estate left by your father is not sufficient to satisfy all these claims, what is to be done?"
"I have money of my own-my mother's fortune-of which you have the particulars."
"Yes, we can give you all the information you require, and it requires but your signature to a few documents, already prepared, my dear sir, to place you in possession of this very handsome inheritance."
"You can probably tell me the amount of it."
"Almost to a farthing. It is invested in the safest securities, realisable at an hour's notice, and it amounts to," – the lawyer took some papers from a japanned box and ran his eye over them-"it amounts to not less than twenty-three thousand pounds."
"Will that," asked Basil, "with my father's estate, satisfy in full the claims which are pouring in?"
"But my dear sir," expostulated the lawyer, with a look of astonishment.
Basil would not allow him to conclude. "I have to repeat some of my questions, it seems," he said. "Will this fortune, which is realisable in an hour, satisfy in full the claims of my father's creditors?"
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and replied briefly, "More than satisfy them."
"Then the matter is settled," said Basil. "I empower you to collect the whole of these claims to the uttermost farthing; to convert the securities which are mine into money; to prepare a complete balance sheet, and to pay my father's creditors in full, with as little delay as possible."
"I am to accept these instructions as definite and decisive?"
"As definite and decisive!"
"They shall be followed and carried out with as little delay as possible. I must trouble you to call here at three o'clock this afternoon to sign the necessary papers."
"I will be punctual. Good morning; and I am greatly obliged to you."
"Good morning, my dear sir," said the lawyer, adding under his breath, "and I am greatly astonished at you."
At three o'clock that afternoon Basil called again at the lawyer's office, and signed "the necessary papers," and went away with a light heart and a smiling face. Within a month the affair was concluded, his father's estate was realised, and his father's creditor's paid in full. There remained to him then, out of his mother's fortune, the sum of three thousand pounds.
He was perfectly happy and contented. Long before the business was finally settled he had realised what his father meant by his last few written words: "My dear Basil, – The honour of my name is in your hands. Your loving father." To good hands indeed had the honour of a dead man's name been entrusted. Basil had preserved it unsullied, unblemished.
He took no credit for it; he had fulfilled a sacred trust. It was simply a duty performed.
"Now," he said to himself; "I will go and see my uncle."
But while he was preparing to start he received a letter from that gentleman, which will explain why the visit was never paid.
"Nephew Basil" (the letter ran), "I have received news of your mad proceedings since your return home. No person in his sober senses would have acted as you have done. The greater portion of the claims made against your father's estate could have been legally and successfully contested, and even in what remained a sharp lawyer could have obtained a substantial abatement. This view, as I understand, was presented to you by an able firm of solicitors, but you rejected it, and chose to play the fool. Now, I do not care to have dealings with a fool.
"I might have pardoned you for sacrificing your father's estate to satisfy these claims, but I will not pardon you for sacrificing the fortune your mother left you. It proves to me that it is not safe to entrust money to you, and I have decided to put mine to better use than to leave it to you. Accept this intimation as my ultimatum. It is the last letter you will ever receive from me, and you will never see me again. Therefore you need not go to the trouble of coming my way. My house is not open to you. All the good counsel I have given you has been thrown away. You might have told me at the time and I should have saved my breath and my patience. Good-bye, foolish nephew.
He was angry enough to add a postscript:
"As you are so fond of paying debts for which you are not responsible, what do you say to considering the money I have given you from time to time as one, and handing it back? You can do as you please about it. I can make no legal demand for it, but I gave it to you under the impression that you were not exactly an idiot. It amounts to quite fourteen hundred pounds. If I had it I would put it out at good interest."
To state that Basil was not hurt by this letter would be to state what is not true. He had an affection for the old fellow, and he was greatly pained to think that all was over between them; but he was not in the least disturbed by the old man's arguments. He had done what was right; of this he was sure. But the letter stung Basil as well as hurt him. There was a bitter twang in his uncle's remark that he could make no legal demand for the money he had given his nephew. "He shall have it back," said Basil, "every farthing of it." Then he was seized with an expensive fit of humour. His uncle had spoken of interest. He would prove that he was not a whit less independent than the old fellow himself. He made some lame and ridiculous calculations of interest at five per cent, per annum, and arrived at the sum of two thousand pounds and a few pence. He got a draft for the amount, and inclosed it in the following note: -
"All right, my dear uncle. Here is your money back again, with interest added. If it is not enough interest, let me know, and I will send you more. Good-bye, and good luck to you.
This last debt paid, Basil had barely a thousand pounds left. He did not hear from his uncle again.
Now, what was he to do? He was without profession or trade, and did not feel equal for any kind of service he saw around, even if it was offered to him. "I think," he said, "I will travel a little more." He did so, and was prudent enough to travel in an economic spirit but his money went fast enough for all that. At the end of a year and a half he had in his purse exactly one hundred pounds. Was he dashed? Not a bit. But he knew that something must be done. "I will go to Australia," he said. The project exalted him. He glowed, he rubbed his hands, he was in a whirl of pleasant excitement. He would be in a new land, in a land of adventure, in a land of romance. There he would be all right, of course. Not a doubt of it. As for his empty purse-and it was pretty well empty by the time he had paid for his passage and a few necessary odds and ends-he scarcely gave it a thought. Was he not going to Australia, the poor man's El Dorado? So he set forth in a sailing vessel, and enjoyed the passage immensely, and landed in Sydney as happy as a king. The fairy harbour, the most beautiful in all the wide world,