Jacob's Ladder

CHAPTER IX

The opportunity for an explanation between Jacob and his fellow speculators speedily presented itself. Amongst his letters, on the following morning, Jacob found a somewhat pompous little note from Dane Montague, inviting him to lunch at the Milan at half-past one. Littleham, supremely uncomfortable in a new suit of clothes, was the other guest, and champagne was served before the three men had well taken their places.

“A celebration, eh?” Jacob observed, as he bowed to his two hosts.

Mr. Montague cleared his throat.

“Our meeting might almost be considered in that light,” he admitted. “Yesterday afternoon we sold the last plot of land on the Cropstone Wood Estate.”

“Capital!” Jacob exclaimed. “Full price?”

“Sixpence a yard over.”

Jacob nodded approval.

“By the bye,” he said, “I see that the Water Company is getting on very well with its connections. They must have several hundred men at work there.”

Mr. Montague appeared a little startled.

“Well, well! At any rate we shall be able to keep our word. Electric light and water will be ready for every house as it is built.”

“That reminds me of a question I was going to ask you,” Jacob went on. “What price are we going to charge for the electric light?”

“What price?” Montague murmured, balancing a knife upon his forefinger and watching it meditatively.

“The Company’ll have to fix that amongst themselves,” Littleham declared brusquely.

“One or two of the people who’ve bought plots have made enquiries,” Jacob continued, without noticing the last speaker. “I think they’ve begun to realise that they’re pretty well at our mercy – or rather at the mercy of the Company.”

“Well, that’s not our business, anyway,” Montague replied evasively. “I dare say it will be rather an expensive affair, connecting them all up.”

Jacob smiled knowingly.

“No need for us to bluff one another,” he remarked, dropping his voice a little. “We all three know what’s in front of those unfortunate tenants. Serves ’em right for trying to buy the land too cheap. By the bye, Montague, there’s no mistake about that option?”

Mr. Montague coughed.

“None at all,” he answered.

“When do you want my share of the purchase money?”

Mr. Dane Montague and his friend exchanged surreptitious glances.

“Presently … presently,” the former replied. “The option doesn’t expire for two months yet. But there is another little matter concerning which Littleham and I have a proposition to make to you.”

“Go ahead,” Jacob invited.

“Every plot of land on the Cropstone Wood Estate has now been sold,” Montague continued. “The purchase price provided by you was twenty thousand pounds. The land has been sold for thirty-five thousand, of which sum twenty per cent has been received.”

“Precisely,” Jacob agreed. “We have fifteen thousand pounds, less expenses and interest, to divide between the three of us as the money comes in.”

“In the ordinary course of events,” Mr. Montague proceeded, “it will no doubt be a year at least before the depositors will have paid up in full and a correct balance can be arrived at. Now Littleham and I are scarcely in your position. We need to turn our money over quickly. We therefore make to you the following proposition. Let the accounts be made out at once, allow six per cent interest upon all sums still owing from depositors, give us a cheque for the whole amount of our shares on that basis, and Littleham and I are willing to pay you five hundred pounds each for the accommodation.”

“A dissolution of partnership, in fact?”

“Precisely,” Montague assented.

“There’s the taking over of the Electric Light and Water Company,” Jacob remarked reflectively. “I suppose you want that kept entirely separate.”

Montague coughed.

“Entirely,” he agreed.

“Supposing some of the purchasers should fail to make good their deposits?”

“Then the deposit would belong to you,” Montague pointed out, “and the land could be resold elsewhere.”

“Plenty of applicants for the land still,” Littleham interposed gruffly.

Jacob sipped his champagne and found it excellent.

“Very well,” he assented, “make it fifteen hundred between you and I’ll take the whole thing over.”…

Mr. Montague and his companion sat for an hour over another bottle of wine after their guest had departed. The faces of both were flushed and their voices were a little husky, but they were filled with the complacency of men who have come out on the right side of a deal. Only Mr. Montague, every now and then, gave voice to some faint regret.

“He’s such a prize mug, James,” he said. “It seems a shame we couldn’t have handled him for something bigger.”

“What are you grumbling at?” Mr. Littleham replied, letting loose another button of his waistcoat. “We’re getting four thou apiece profit on the sale of the land, and he’s standing the racket for all of ’em who don’t pay up, and there’ll be a good few more of them than he fancies. Then by this time next week we can take up our option on the Cropstone Wood, Water and Electric Light Company, and if Mr. Jacob Pratt thinks he’s in on that deal, he’s making the mistake of his life. I ain’t surprised so much at the land purchasers,” the builder went on reflectively. “They’re all the same. They buy a plot of land, and they think the Lord will send them gas and water and that sort of thing, and that the price is fixed by Act of Parliament and they can’t be diddled. But a man like Pratt, laying out the money he has, and simply knowing that there was a water and electric light plant on which you and I had an option, and imagining we should take him in without an agreement or even a letter – take him in on a proposition likely to pay at least thirty per cent – well, it’s a fair knockout!”

“We ought to have made our fortunes out of a jay like that,” Mr. Montague agreed, with a shade of sadness in his tone.

About a fortnight later, two very agitated looking visitors burst precipitately into Jacob’s outer office. Mr. Montague’s complexion was of that pasty hue described as chalky white. He was breathing heavily, and he had lost all that nice precision of speech intended to convey the suggestion that in his leisure hours he was a man of culture. Mr. Littleham was still more out of breath. His necktie had disappeared around his neck, and beads of perspiration were standing out upon his forehead.

“Where’s the guv’nor?” Mr. Montague almost shouted.

“Boss in?” Mr. Littleham demanded simultaneously.

Dauncey rose from his seat and eyed the visitors coldly.

“Have you an appointment with Mr. Pratt?” he asked.

“Appointment be damned!” the builder began. “We want – ”

“Look here,” Mr. Montague interrupted, the methods of his race asserting themselves in his persuasive tone, “it is most important that we should see Mr. Pratt at once.”

“Nothing wrong Cropstone way, is there?” Dauncey enquired. “I thought you were out of that now.”

“Is the guv’nor in or isn’t he?” Littleham demanded, mopping his forehead.

Dauncey spoke through an office telephone, and after a very brief delay threw open the door of the private office and ushered in the two callers. Jacob looked up from some papers as they entered and stared at them a little blankly.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “I thought we’d parted company for a time.”

Littleham, usually the silent partner, asserted himself then. He pushed the trembling Montague to one side and stood squarely before the desk.

“Look here, Pratt,” he demanded, “have you bought the Cropstone Wood, Water and Electric Light Company?”

“Certainly I have,” Jacob replied. “What about it?”

“When?”

“Oh, within a few days of your first coming to me.”

“Within a few days?” Mr. Montague almost shrieked.

Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and glanced with a momentary satisfaction at his well-polished brown shoes and white gaiters.

“My good friends,” he said, “you could scarcely expect me to put down twenty thousand pounds for land, without making arrangements for the water supply and lighting? I went into the matter with a local solicitor and found that, as the Company was practically moribund, the best way was to buy it outright. I am going to incorporate it with the Cropstone Wood Estates and make one concern.”

“You bought the Water Company behind our backs and never said a word about it?” Montague demanded thickly.

“Why on earth should I say anything to you?” Jacob retorted.

“We had an option ourselves!” Littleham thundered, striking the desk with his clenched fist.

“I remember your telling me so,” Jacob observed. “I also remember your telling me that it had another two months to run, whereas it expires to-morrow. What I don’t seem to remember, though, is your asking me for my share of the contributing money.”

Jacob had never appeared more guileless. The two men became speechless in the face of his bland equanimity. Then Montague cleared his throat.

“Come, come,” he remonstrated, “no need for any of us to lose our tempers. Let us sit down and discuss this little matter like gentlemen. I am quite sure Mr. Pratt will do the square thing. I propose that we adjourn to the Milan. A bottle of the old sort, eh, Pratt?”

Jacob leaned back in his chair, his finger tips pressed together, and shook his head sorrowfully.

“I do not think,” he said, “that I shall ever drink with either of you again. You entered into a conspiracy behind my back to keep the Cropstone Wood, Water and Electric Light Company in your joint possession, your scheme being to make use of the old charter the company possessed and to charge outrageous prices for the water and lighting. With that in view, you relieved yourselves of your interest in the land at some sacrifice, expecting to land me with the whole estate, and leaving me to bear the whole brunt of the complaints and the failure of the depositors to carry out their purchases. That, I believe, is a fair outline of your scheme, Messrs. Montague and Littleham – elaborated, mark you, after you had mentioned the matter of the water and the lighting to me, on your first visit, and pointed out the additional source of profit. You relied, I presume, either on my blind confidence in you or my bad memory.”

“I can assure you, Pratt,” Mr. Montague began piteously, —

“Damn!” his confederate ejaculated with fervour.

“Fortunately,” Jacob continued, “I am not quite such a mug as I must have seemed to you. Before I parted with the money for the land, I paid a visit to the offices of the Cropstone Wood, Water and Electric Light Company, examined your option, and finding it illegal, as it was signed only by the Chairman of the company, without notice to the shareholders, I obtained one in my own name, which I exercised within a few hours. I am now the sole owner of the Cropstone Wood, Water and Electric Light Company and the Cropstone Wood Estates. Also of this office, gentlemen, from which I beg that you will depart as quickly as possible.”

“I’m damned if I stir a foot!” Littleham declared furiously. “We’ve been swindled!”

Jacob struck his bell, and Dauncey came in with a very grim look upon his face. Mr. Dane Montague caught up his hat and plucked at the sleeve of his companion.

“You shall hear from our solicitors,” he spluttered.

“Delighted!” Jacob replied. “I should keep the six-and-eightpence, though, if I were you.”

Two very angry men were escorted off the premises. Then Dauncey returned with a grin upon his face.

“I beg your pardon, Jacob,” he said humbly. “I never dreamed that you had them pickled. Tell me about it?”

“It was really very simple,” Jacob explained. “They came to me with two schemes, one legitimate, the other illegitimate. The legitimate one appealed to me. I found the money, bought the estate, and saw that they had a decent profit. As regards the illegitimate one, I met them on their own ground. I got that young fellow whom we came across down at Cropstone to look into the affairs of the Water and Lighting Company, found that they were an absolutely moribund concern, bought them out for cash, with the sole condition of secrecy, and sat tight. If Montague and Littleham had kept their bargain – that is to say if they had let me into their scheme for purchasing the Company – I should have told them the truth, a few plain words would have passed, and I should have compensated them for their disappointment. As it was, they tried to be too clever. They tried to land me with the remainder of the property, after they had made their profit, and with the money I paid them they were going to take over what they imagined to be the more profitable side of the deal, the Water and Lighting Company, and leave me out of it. That’s the long and short of it, Dick.”

A gleam of admiration shone in Dauncey’s eyes.

“My congratulations, Jacob,” he murmured. “I have underestimated your talents.”

Jacob smiled benevolently.

“Dick,” he rejoined, “we haven’t yet had time to gain much experience in the world of high finance, but here’s one little truism which you can take to heart. It’s easier to get the best of a rogue than of a jay. The jay as a rule knows he’s a jay, and is terrified all the time lest other people should find it out. The rogue believes that he’s cleverer than he is, and that other people are bigger fools than they are… Shall we – ”

“By all means,” Dauncey acquiesced, reaching promptly for his hat.

CHAPTER X

Houses sprang up like mushrooms on the Cropstone Wood Estate, and rents were soon at a premium. Mr. Littleham’s activities were transferred, by arrangement with Jacob, to a builder of more conservative type, and the Estate speedily became one of the show places of the neighbourhood. It combined the conveniences of a suburb with the advantages of a garden city. The special motor-omnibuses, run by the Company, connected the place with the railway. The telephone company were induced to open an exchange, and the Cropstone tradespeople, speedily abandoning their attitude of benevolent indifference, tumbled over themselves in their anxiety to obtain the orders of the neighbourhood. Jacob somewhat surreptitiously furnished a room for himself over the offices of the company and, soon after the coming of Mrs. Bultiwell and her daughter, paid a visit to the place. In fear and trembling he stole out, after an early dinner on the night of his arrival, and, seated on a hummock at the top of the ridge, looked down at the little colony.

It was not long before the expected happened. A girl in a white gown appeared in the garden immediately below him, singing softly to herself and wielding a watering can. Presently she saw Jacob and paused in her task. Jacob raised his hat and she came slowly towards him. His heart thumped against his ribs. He thought of “Maud” and other sentimental poems, where the heroine was scornful and of high degree, and the lover very much her slave. Sybil Bultiwell’s expression was certainly not encouraging.

“You don’t mean to tell me, Mr. Pratt,” she began coldly, “that you are coming to live out here yourself?”

“No idea of it,” Jacob hastened to explain, as he sprang to his feet. “I have just furnished a room over the office, so as to spend a night or two here, now and then, and see that everything is going on all right. A new enterprise like this needs a watchful eye. No intention of making a nuisance of myself, I can promise you, Miss Bultiwell.”

In her relief she forgot that the watering can was half full. Jacob stepped quickly backwards, glancing a little disconsolately at his bespattered trousers.

“I am exceedingly sorry, Mr. Pratt,” she apologised, biting her lip.

“No consequence at all,” he assured her. “My fault entirely. By the bye, I hope you are quite comfortable. No complaints?”

“None whatever,” she conceded a little grudgingly.

“Water supply all right?”

“Quite.”

“And the lighting?”

“Excellent. In fact,” the girl went on bitterly, “the place is a perfect Paradise for paupers and people who have to earn their own living.”

“There is no need for you to do that,” he ventured.

She looked at him in most disconcerting fashion. All the pleasant lights which lurked sometimes in her blue eyes seemed transformed into a hard stare. Her eyebrows were drawn together in an ominous frown. Her chin was uplifted.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

Jacob hesitated, floundered and was lost. Not a word of all the eloquence which was stored up in his heart could pass his lips. He who had already made a start, and later on was to hold his own in the world of unexpected happenings, shrank like a coward from the mute antagonism in the girl’s eyes.

“You know,” he faltered.

“The only alternative I am aware of to earning my own living,” she said quietly, “is charity. Were you proposing to offer me a share of your wonderful fortune?”

“Only if I myself were attached to it,” he answered, with a spark of courage.

She turned and looked at him.

“I am afraid,” she said, “that you are inclined to take advantage of your position, Mr. Pratt.”

“I want to say nothing to worry or annoy you,” he assured her. “It is only an accident that I am interested in this estate. I am not your benefactor. You pay your rent and you are quite independent.”

“If I felt that it were otherwise,” she replied, “we should not be here.”

“I am sure of it,” he declared. “I am only taking the privilege of every man who is honest, in telling the truth to the girl whom he prefers to any one else in the world.”

“You are an ardent lover, Mr. Pratt,” she scoffed.

“If I don’t say any more,” he retorted, “it is because you paralyse me. You won’t let me speak.”

“And I don’t intend to,” she answered coldly. “If you wish to retain any measure of my friendship at all, you will keep your personal feelings with regard to me to yourself.”

Jacob for a moment cursed life, cursed himself, his nervousness, and the whole situation. A little breeze came stealing down the hillside, bringing with it an odour of new-mown hay, of honeysuckle and wild roses from the flower-wreathed hedges. The girl lifted her head and her expression softened.

“It is a wonderful country, this,” she admitted. “You are to be congratulated upon having discovered it, Mr. Pratt. We ought to consider ourselves very fortunate, my mother and I, in having such a pleasant home.”

“It isn’t half good enough for you,” he declared bluntly.

She treated him to one of her sudden vagaries. All the discontent seemed to fade in a moment from her face. Her eyes laughed into his, her mouth softened into a most attractive curve.

“Some day,” she said, as she turned away, “I may find my palace, but I don’t think that you will be the landlord, Mr. Pratt. – Bother!”

Her ill-temper suddenly returned. A tall, elderly lady had issued from the house and was leaning over the gate. She was of a severe type of countenance, and Jacob remembered with a shiver her demeanour on his visit to the Manor House in the days of the Bultiwell prosperity. She welcomed him now, however, with a most gracious smile, and beckoned him to advance.

“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Pratt,” she said, as they shook hands. “I have not had an opportunity of congratulating you upon your access to fortune.”

“Very good of you, I’m sure,” Jacob murmured.

“We,” Mrs. Bultiwell continued, “are progressing, as you perceive, in the opposite direction. I suppose it is an idea of mine, but I feel all the time as though I were living in a sort of glorified almshouse.”

“It must seem very small to you after the Manor,” Jacob replied politely, “but the feeling you have spoken of is entirely misplaced. The Estate is conducted as a business enterprise, and will, without doubt, show a profit.”

“You are, I believe,” Mrs. Bultiwell said, “connected with the Estate?”

Jacob admitted the fact. Sybil, who had recommenced her watering, drew a little closer.

“There are a few things,” Mrs. Bultiwell observed, “to which I think the attention of the manager should be drawn. In the first place, the garden. It all requires digging up.”

“Surely that is a matter for the tenants,” Sybil intervened.

“Nothing of the sort,” Jacob pronounced. “It is a very careless omission on the part of the owners. I will give orders concerning it to-morrow.”