The Cruise of the Make-Believes

  CHAPTER VI

  SCHEMERS AND DREAMERS

  BESSIE MEGGISON had no suspicion; for it was scarcely possible, in thefirst place, that anyone should be interesting himself on her behalf.She was glad to think that her father and Mr. Byfield had suddenlygrown to be to all appearances such excellent friends; although evenin that there was a lurking dread, lest the wily Daniel Meggisonshould exercise that "tapping" process upon his new acquaintance. Forthe rest, it simplified matters, and made it easier to carry on thatinnocent intercourse with Gilbert.

  The plotters meanwhile may be said to have watched each other'smovements with suspicion and distrust. Daniel Meggison was all forimmediate action; wanted to feel his fingers grasping that good money,and putting it to such uses as only he, from a long experience, couldaccurately name. Bessie should, of course, have a share in the goodthings that were coming; but only, quite properly, after her father hadbeen satisfied; quixotic notions were not to be encouraged where a richyoung man absolutely offered to toss fifty pounds over a garden wallin Islington. Gilbert Byfield, on the other hand, already began todoubt whether after all he had not been a little precipitate; began tosuggest this, and to demand that, in the way of security. Not that heregretted his action so far as Bessie was concerned; a single glance ather white face was sufficient to speed him to the undertaking; but hedoubted the instrument he had been compelled to choose.

  Daniel Meggison's idea of a rest and a holiday for his daughter, whenit came to the actual point of expression, seemed to consist in avague notion of driving about London all day long, with large cigarsfor his own consumption, and new clothes, and an occasional visitwith some ceremony to a saloon bar; which was not of course quite theidea that had been in the mind of Mr. Gilbert Byfield. The wily oldman had already drawn sundry sovereigns, on account of that imaginaryfortune, and still nothing had been done, when one evening he appearedin Gilbert Byfield's rooms with a face of mystery, and with round eyesthat had a frightened look in them. He closed the door, and carefullyremoved his dingy skull cap; combed out the last threads of its silktassel between his fingers; and looked up and spoke.

  "Mr. Byfield, sir," he whispered--"my daughter is ill."

  Gilbert got up quickly, and came across to where the little man wasstanding. "What do you mean?" he demanded in a shocked voice.

  "Fainted, sir--gave way suddenly, and became all at once, in a mannerof speaking, collapsed," said Meggison, nodding at him slowly. "Neverknew her do it before--but it's not unlikely she may do it again. Mr.Byfield, sir--my heart bleeds."

  "She must be got away--at once," said Gilbert hastily.

  "She must be got away--at once," echoed Meggison, moistening his lipswith the tip of his tongue. "Just what I said, Mr. Byfield, sir, as shewas coming to. Not a moment to be lost--eh?"

  "Not an instant," said Gilbert, beginning to pace up and down the room."We've waited too long already, Meggison, over that scheme of ours."

  "Nearly a week--and nothing done," retorted the other, twisting theskull cap round and shaking his head at it. "Not my fault, of course."

  "It's only because I haven't known what to do, or how to do it," saidGilbert, pondering. "But now we must wait no longer; you must take heraway at once."

  "At once," said Meggison, putting on his cap with an air ofdetermination, as though he had quite made up his mind to start upon ajourney forthwith. "All times are alike to me, Mr. Byfield, sir; it'sonly the question of money." His eyes were expectant.

  "It's just the question of money, Meggison, that is troubling me,"said Gilbert Byfield, seating himself on the end of his desk, and sofacing the little man at the door with folded arms. "If it hadn't beenthe question of money, and the difficulty of dealing with it, and ofdealing with you, something would have been done before."

  "Of dealing with me, Mr. Byfield, sir?" Daniel Meggison put his headon one side, with a faint show of indignation.

  "Frankly, Mr. Meggison, I do not know quite what you would do with anysubstantial sum of money that might be placed in your hands. I do nottrust your discretion. I want to speak quite plainly."

  "Don't spare my feelings," said Meggison, leaning against the door, andfolding his arms in turn. "I have been battered by the world; I can putup with anything."

  "You clear the ground beautifully," said Gilbert, smiling grimly."Frankly then, I don't care a rush about you or your son, or any ofyou--with the sole exception of Bessie. I want to help her--and Ionly use you because there's no one else that stands in such nearrelation to her as you do. She wouldn't take money from me--but youwill; and so we've got to start some little fiction about the matter,as I suggested. This very night, Mr. Meggison, you must come into yourproperty; but I shall have to be a sort of trustee, the better to keepa tight hand upon what you do."

  "You mentioned a sum of fifty pounds," said Meggison, after anuncomfortable pause. "Fifty pounds is not much, when it comes to aholiday; as fortunes are counted, it's nothing to speak of."

  "I've altered my mind about that," said Gilbert. "Instead of providingthe money, I think I'll provide the place for a holiday, and seethat you have sufficient money to keep it going. I've a cottage inSussex--at a place they call Fiddler's Green; I've used it for fishingand so forth; it's rather pretty, and it wouldn't be half a bad notionto whisk this girl of yours away down there, and give her a holiday."

  Daniel Meggison looked dubious. "It occurs to me, on the other hand,Mr. Byfield, sir," he said, with a shake of the head, "that she mightfind it dull. No society--no familiar figures such as she meets everyday; no intercourse with boon companions----"

  "Perhaps you're thinking a little of yourself," said Gilbert, with asmile. "I imagine we can trust your daughter to like the place to whichI'm thinking of sending her. We'll call it settled. Now for the method."

  "Which I suppose is where I come in," retorted the other, a littlesourly.

  "Exactly. We want a fine stretch of your imagination; we wantyou to invent that mysterious relative, or that extraordinaryspeculation--either of which shall in a moment provide you with asubstantial sum of money. What more natural, therefore, than thatyou--devoted father--should immediately turn to your daughter with theearnest desire that she should be the first to benefit by your goodfortune. The cottage at Fiddler's Green you rent, as a surprise to her;you give her the rest she so sorely needs; you bring her back to Londonin due course, with renewed strength to take up the battle of life."

  "Back to Arcadia Street? It seems rather a tame ending, Mr. Byfield,sir," said the little man, with a shake of the head.

  "It's the ending we'll adopt for the present," retorted the youngerman. "And you understand, of course, that I must not appear in thematter; I shall be as greatly surprised as she will be to hear of whathas happened. Remember always that she believes me to be almost as poorand as struggling as herself."

  "It's all right up to a point," said Meggison, pursing up hislips and frowning; "what I don't like is the temporary nature ofit. Come, sir--don't be cheese-paring; why not do the thing morehandsomely--extend it a bit--eh?"

  "All I intend to do is to give Bessie a short holiday at Fiddler'sGreen, and to bring her back to London restored to health," saidGilbert, with an air of finality.

  "Well of course, Mr. Byfield, sir, you know best," Meggison saiddoubtfully. "In the meantime I will go and see my child, and willendeavour to act my part in that game of make-believe as becomes afather and a man. If by any chance you should be walking in the gardenattached to this house a little later on, it might happen that Bessiewould have some startling news to impart to you. Splendid notion--eh?"

  With restored good humour Daniel Meggison set the old skull caprakishly at one side of his head, and went downstairs, whistling softlyto himself, and seeing before him a golden vision that was not soon tofade.

  A visit to the Arcadia Arms gave him renewed confidence; through theglass he held he saw, by no means darkly, a rosy prospect whereinGilbert Byfield continued from a mere matter of sentiment to supply thewants of Danie
l Meggison, at least, for the rest of that gentleman'snatural life. Daniel told himself, if not in so many words at leastwith so many nods and winks, that he would be a very limpet--stickingfast to his benefactor, and not to be shaken off. This young man hadtalked lightly of fifty pounds--had spoken of them, in fact, in muchthe same fashion in which Daniel Meggison might have spoken of fiftypence. Over a second glass Mr. Meggison said that this sort of thingshould be encouraged; that men of sentiment were rare, and that for hisdear daughter's sake at least the chance should be snatched at. Withthe draining of that glass Mr. Daniel Meggison had firmly persuadedhimself that it was his solemn duty to sink his own personal feelingsfor the sake of his child, and to make war upon this young man. Not toosteadily he went down Arcadia Street with that idea in his mind.

  Bessie had recovered, and was leaning upon the sympathetic Amelia,inclined to laugh a little at this new weakness that had come uponher. Her brother Aubrey stood looking at her in some dismay, withhis hands thrust in his pockets, and with the inevitable cigarettedrooping from his lips; for this was a new and uncommon disaster, whichthreatened the source of his income. Not that he put it quite in thatcrude fashion, but rather that he saw his small world shaken to itsfoundations, and trembled a little in consequence.

  Mr. Daniel Meggison was jocose. He wondered if by any chance Bessie(always his favourite child!) was strong enough to bear a shock--tohear news that might prove startling? Bessie a little faintly declaredthat she was quite well--was sorry, in fact, to have caused suchtrouble; she was ready for any news. Perhaps he had heard of a new andprofitable lodger?

  "To the devil with all lodgers!" exclaimed Mr. Meggison, with a suddenblustering violence. "We have done with lodgers for ever, my child;henceforth this particular Englishman's house is his castle--inviolate.Henceforth his child plays the lady, and takes that position in theworld to which, as her father's child, she has a right."

  "You've stayed a bit long at the club, guv'nor," said Aubrey, applyinga light to his cigarette and winking at his sister. "'Tisn't quite fairto worry Bess now--is it?"

  "Be silent, sir!" Daniel Meggison turned upon him wrathfully. "What doyou understand of my methods--or even of me? While you, sir--a merehobbledehoy--a lout--a frequenter of low billiard saloons and such-likeplaces--while you are wasting your time and your substance in a speciesof debauchery--your father is out and about in the world--looking hereand there and everywhere for opportunities. While you are wasting thehard earnings of your sister, and squandering money to which you haveno right, I am turning that brain which has never really failed me yetto account--and making money!"

  By this time Daniel Meggison had worked himself into that state of mindin which he was quite prepared to believe that he really had done thewonderful thing he suggested. He soared in imagination in high finance;dabbled with this and with that; held the great world of money in themere hollow of his hand. For the first time in his mean and shiftlesslife he had his grip upon a man who was prepared to pay largely andwithout question; and the education Daniel Meggison had received in ahard world had prepared him to meet such a man, and to deal with himin the right way. The more he talked the more his ideas grew, and themore certain he was that he had tapped at last a gold mine. Moreover,on this occasion he knew that he had played a stronger card than any hehad ever held before; his glance shifted to the figure of the girl, andhe recognized that her white face had a power to charm gold out of thepockets of Mr. Gilbert Byfield, and that in her very innocence as tothe plot lay Meggison's real safety.

  "You are excited, father dear," said Bessie, going to him with theintention to put him in his chair. But he boisterously put an arm abouther, and stood thus in an attitude, facing the astonished Amelia andthe contemptuous Aubrey.

  "Excited! I should think so, indeed," he exclaimed. "Who would not beexcited at the prospect of a sudden fortune--of an end to want andpinching and--and general meanness? Who would not be excited at theprospect of leaping, in one glorious moment, from Arcadia Street toaffluence; of stepping in a moment gloriously out of the shadows inwhich for so long we have been plunged, into the splendid sunshine ofriches and plenty? Excited!--I am drunk with excitement!"

  "When you feel yourself fairly sober again, it mightn't be a bad ideato let us know what on earth you are talkin' about," suggested Aubrey,leaning against the mantelpiece, and presenting a bored expressionto the company. "Not that I'm denyin', mind you, that you'd do a lotif you had the chance; you've always impressed that on us, so thatwe ain't likely to forget it. But what I argue is--show us somethingsolid."

  Mr. Daniel Meggison laughed an easy laugh. "Something solid, sir,"he ejaculated. "What if I tell you that I can to-night produce, ifnecessary, a sum of fifty pounds----"

  "Father!" The girl was clinging to his arm, looking at him inbewilderment.

  "What if I tell you that that is but the beginning--the forerunner ofmany similar sums? Yes, my child, your father has at last justifiedan existence that has in the past not perhaps been all that it mighthave been. For the future, my dear Bessie, I will make amends; for thefuture our relative positions will be changed. No longer shall youtrouble about lodgers--no longer shall you weigh this and that, orreckon how much a shilling will do in this direction or in that; allthat is done with. We have for the first time in our lives that verynecessary thing--an income."

  "But, father, I don't understand," she pleaded. "What has happened?It's only some dream--something that in your good heart you wish mightcome true--for my sake."

  "I tell you it _has_ come true!" he exclaimed. "The chance of alifetime--a mere matter of fortunate speculation."

  "Fortunate what?" demanded Aubrey contemptuously. "Where did you getthe money to speculate?"

  "Borrowed capital," replied Meggison promptly. "What do you know ofsuch matters? I hear of a great many things in the world--stocks andshares--this going up--that going down. It might have happened that Ihad plunged the family deeper into ruin even than before; that was arisk I had to take. But no"--he shook his head, and smiled with deepwisdom--"I knew from the beginning that I was right. A pound or two inthe right direction--and a pound or two added to that. It mounted; itgrew into a perfect snowball, which, rolling on, added to itself withevery movement. So that to-night I stand before you revealed in my truecolours. To all intents and purposes I am a rich man!"

  She broke down then for the first time. It never occurred to her fora moment to doubt him; indeed she had always been secretly a littleproud of this man, who was a little better, in the matter of dignityand deportment, than his fellows of Arcadia Street. Her life had at alltimes been a surprising thing of chances; this greater chance that hadcome was only what might in her dreams have been expected. Practicalonly in the matter of dealing with the small details of her daily life,she was utterly unpractical where it came to any question of dealingwith the world. This was but a coming true of all the best dreams shehad ever had.

  She called him her dear, dear father; she blessed and praised him forhis cleverness; she called the astonished Aubrey to witness that shehad said over and over again that if only father had his chance hewould do better than anyone. They were not to mind her tears; she hadperhaps been a little tired and a little troubled at times; but allthat was done with now, and they should see her bright and smiling.Above all, they had never had any real chance to show the best that wasin them in the life that was done with from to-night!

  Mr. Aubrey Meggison was a little stunned. Feeling that perhaps itmight be well if he ranged himself on the side of this new financier,he somewhat flabbily shook the hand of his parent, and murmured "Goodold guv'nor!" as an encouragement to that gentleman to do even betteryet. And then in a bewildered way, with Amelia the servant almostlight-headed from sheer excitement, they sat down to a hastily providedsupper, the better to discuss details.

  "Of course you will understand that I have kept it all secret; Iintended to spring a surprise upon you," said Daniel Meggison, betweenbites at an unaccustomed delicacy. "And I have done nothing
by halves;in fact, I may tell you that I have already provided a place in thecountry--a mere modest cottage. Charming spot--Fiddler's Green,Sussex," he added carelessly, with a secret determination to discoverfrom Gilbert exactly in what part of Sussex Fiddler's Green wassituated.

  "Oh, my dear!" whispered Bessie under her breath, as she looked at thisnew wonder. "The country--and a cottage! Is it a large cottage, fatherdear?"

  "Largish," said Mr. Meggison cautiously. "Roomy place--and wellfurnished. Fishing, I understand, and other pursuits of a like nature."

  "I will say that for the guv'nor--he has got large ideas," said Aubrey,with a solemn nod. "I wish he'd taken me into his confidence as to thelocality--but still I'm not blaming him for that. Can't say I care muchfor the country _as_ country--but I dare say I shall get used to it.Rummy thing, though, that you should have kept the game going so wellthat you haven't even added to your wardrobe, or changed your habits atall. He's a sly 'un, the guv'nor," added the young gentleman, with awink at Bessie.

  "I intended that it should all be a surprise; moreover, I intended toassert myself, and to take for the first time my true position in thefamily," said Mr. Meggison. "In this matter you will have to take yourtime from me; when I say 'move,' we will move. Now, as I am perhapsa little excited, I will just stretch my legs in the open air, andperhaps look in at my club for a moment or two."

  By that time the man had fully persuaded himself that all he said wastrue--had fully made up his mind, in fact, that the great game on whichhe was embarked could be played out to the end by sheer bluff andcunning. Someone else was to pay the piper, but Mr. Daniel Meggison hadquite made up his mind that he would call the tune. And so elated washe that he even unbent so far as to desire Aubrey to join him in thatstroll to the Arcadia Arms; so that father and son went off arm in arm,with quite a new amiability sitting a little awkwardly upon them.

  Meanwhile there was, of course, one person to whom it was absolutelynecessary that the great news should be told--one person who wouldbe glad for her sake, and yet, she hoped, a little sorry on his ownaccount. She went out into that garden of her dreams, feeling a littlestrange now that the dreams were coming true--vaguely troubled in factthat there should be no more necessity for pretence. She was like achild that is promised with certainty a new and gorgeous toy, and yetlooks back, in the very act of going to it, with regret at the broken,battered things left behind.

  Not that the place seemed poor or common; it could never be that,because of the memories it held. Nor did it look shabby even to-night,with the grander prospect opening out in Bessie's imagination; shewould be in a sense regretful at the thought of leaving it, because somuch had happened there--every poor sordid stick and stone of it meantso much more to her than to anyone else. She passed through the placenow smilingly, looking and listening for her friend.

  And the friend was there; in the strangest fashion he looked over thewall directly she emerged from the house. Of course he knew nothing ofthe great and glorious news; that was for her to tell him. Pride wasin that thought, because all in a moment she was lifted nearer to himby reason of her new riches. She was greater even than this wonderfulyoung man who could spend money recklessly on theatres and cabs. Shewent straight to him now, and told him without parley all the greatnews. He, expecting it, set himself to appear as surprised as she wouldexpect to find him.

  "Mr. Byfield--there's something I want to tell you," she began."You've been my best friend--almost my only friend; so you must knowbefore anyone else. It's great good news."

  "I'm very glad," he assured her, leaning on the wall, and looking downat her. "What has happened? Another and a splendid lodger?"

  She laughed and shook her head--laughed more light-heartedly than hehad ever known her. "It's nothing to do with lodgers; there are nevergoing to be any lodgers any more," she said; and he thought how eventhe tired voice had changed in a little time. "Father has suddenlygrown very rich!"

  He stared at her for a moment in utter bewilderment; he could notunderstand. He was on the very point of correcting her, and of tellingher that the strange fortune which had come to her father was a matterthat would provide leisure for a period of a few weeks only, whenhe reflected that he must know nothing about it. Doubtless she hadmisunderstood old Meggison; that would be a matter to be set rightafterwards.

  "I'm very glad," he said cordially. "Very rich--is he? And what's hegoing to do with all his money?"

  "He thought first of me; one might know he would do that," she saidproudly. "He's taken a house in the country--and he's going to take medown there--and of course Aubrey."

  "Oh--so Aubrey's going--is he?" said Gilbert slowly. "Anybody else?"

  "I was only thinking, Mr. Byfield," she said shyly--"I was onlythinking that we should be glad if you would come down. I know fatherwould like it--and so should I. It's at Fiddler's Green."

  "I shall be delighted," he exclaimed, smiling at the thought of thisstrange invitation to his own place. "And I suppose you're going tostop there until you're quite well and strong again--eh? You'll besorry to come back to Arcadia Street."

  "But we're not coming back to Arcadia Street," she assured him."Father's going to give it all up; we're going to live down there forever. Think of it--in the country!"

  The friendly darkness hid his bewildered face; he wondered what newblunder Daniel Meggison had plunged them all into. Even as that thoughtcame to him the door at the end of the garden was opened, and oldMeggison came in. He was singing to himself in a high cracked falsetto,and the hand that was not required to support him against the edge ofthe door was solemnly beating time to the tune. He closed the door, andleant against it; stared with drunken sternness at his daughter.

  "Whash this?" he demanded. "Go in, m' child; go t' bed. Object mos'strongly--endanger precious life. Go t' bed!"

  Bessie went in quickly, and her father, after a preliminary stagger,essayed to follow her. He was pulled up quickly by the stern hurriedvoice of Gilbert Byfield.

  "What have you been telling her?" demanded the young man.

  Mr. Meggison winked solemnly. "A little exaggel-exaggeration," hereplied. "Splendid notion! Goo' night!"