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pubOne.info present you this new edition. Sir Robert Aylward, Bart. , M. P. , sat in his office in the City of London. It was a very magnificent office, quite one of the finest that could be found within half a mile of the Mansion House. Its exterior was built of Aberdeen granite, a material calculated to impress the prospective investor with a comfortable sense of security. Other stucco, or even brick-built, offices might crumble and fall in an actual or a financial sense, but this rock-like edifice of granite, surmounted by a life-sized statue of Justice with her scales, admired from either corner by pleasing effigies of Commerce and of Industry, would surely endure any shock. Earthquake could scarcely shake its strong foundations; panic and disaster would as soon affect the Bank of England. That at least was the impression which it had been designed to convey, and not without success.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819943778
Langue	English

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CHAPTER I
SAHARA LIMITED
Sir Robert Aylward, Bart. , M. P. , sat in hisoffice in the City of London. It was a very magnificent office,quite one of the finest that could be found within half a mile ofthe Mansion House. Its exterior was built of Aberdeen granite, amaterial calculated to impress the prospective investor with acomfortable sense of security. Other stucco, or even brick-built,offices might crumble and fall in an actual or a financial sense,but this rock-like edifice of granite, surmounted by a life-sizedstatue of Justice with her scales, admired from either corner bypleasing effigies of Commerce and of Industry, would surely endureany shock. Earthquake could scarcely shake its strong foundations;panic and disaster would as soon affect the Bank of England. Thatat least was the impression which it had been designed to convey,and not without success.
“There is so much in externals, ” Mr.Champers-Haswell, Sir Robert's partner, would say in his cheerfulvoice. “We are all of us influenced by them, however unconsciously.Impress the public, my dear Aylward. Let solemnity without suggestopulence within, and the bread, or rather the granite, which youthrow upon the waters will come back to you after many days. ”
Mr. Aylward, for this conversation occurred beforehis merits or the depth of his purse had been rewarded by abaronetcy, looked at his partner in the impassive fashion for whichhe was famous, and answered:
“You mix your metaphors, Haswell, but if you meanthat the public are fools who must be caught by advertisement, Iagree with you. Only this particular advertisement is expensive andI do not want to wait many days for my reward. However, £20, 000one way or the other is a small matter, so tell that architect todo the thing in granite. ”
Sir Robert Aylward sat in his own quiet room at theback of this enduring building, a very splendid room that anySecretary of State might have envied, but arranged in excellenttaste. Its walls were panelled with figured teak, a rich carpetmade the footfall noiseless, an antique Venus stood upon a marblepedestal in the corner, and over the mantelpiece hung a fineportrait by Gainsborough, that of a certain Miss Aylward, a famousbeauty in her day, with whom, be it added, its present owner couldboast no connection whatsoever.
Sir Robert was seated at his ebony desk playing witha pencil, and the light from a cheerful fire fell upon hisface.
In its own way it was a remarkable face, as heappeared then in his fourth and fortieth year; very pale but with anatural pallor, very well cut and on the whole impressive. His eyeswere dark, matching his black hair and pointed beard, and his nosewas straight and rather prominent. Perhaps the mouth was hisweakest feature, for there was a certain shiftiness about it, alsothe lips were thick and slightly sensuous. Sir Robert knew this,and therefore he grew a moustache to veil them somewhat. To acareful observer the general impression given by this face was suchas is left by the sudden sight of a waxen mask. “How strong! Howlifelike! ” he would have said, “but of course it isn't real. Theremay be a man behind, or there may be wood, but that's only a mask.” Many people of perception had felt like this about Sir RobertAylward, namely, that under the mask of his pale countenance dwelta different being whom they did not know or appreciate.
If these had seen him at this moment of the openingof our story, they might have held that Wisdom was justified of herchildren. For now in the solitude of his splendid office, of asudden Sir Robert's mask seemed to fall from him. His face broke uplike ice beneath a thaw. He rose from his table and began to walkup and down the room. He talked to himself aloud.
“Great Heavens! ” he muttered, “what a game to haveplayed, and it will go through. I believe that it will go through.”
He stopped at the table, switched on an electriclight and made a rapid calculation on the back of a letter with ablue pencil.
“Yes, ” he said, “that's my share, a million andseventeen thousand pounds in cash, and two million in ordinaryshares which can be worked off at a discount— let us say anotherseven hundred and fifty thousand, plus what I have got already— putthat at only two hundred and fifty thousand net. Two millions inall, which of course may or may not be added to, probably not,unless the ordinaries boom, for I don't mean to speculate any more.That's the end of twenty years' work, Robert Aylward. And to thinkof it, eighteen months ago, although I seemed so rich, I was on theverge of bankruptcy— the very verge, not worth five thousandpounds. Now what did the trick? I wonder what did the trick? ”
He walked down the room and stopped opposite theancient marble, staring at it—
“Not Venus, I think, ” he said, with a laugh, “Venusnever made any man rich. ” He turned and retraced his steps to theother end of the room, which was veiled in shadow. Here upon asecond marble pedestal stood an object that gleamed dimly throughthe gloom. It was about ten inches or a foot high, but in thatplace nothing more could be seen of it, except that it was yellowand had the general appearance of a toad. For some reason it seemedto attract Sir Robert Aylward, for he halted to stare at it, thenstretched out his hand and switched on another lamp, in the hardbrilliance of which the thing upon the pedestal suddenly declareditself, leaping out of the darkness into light. It was a terribleobject, a monstrosity of indeterminate sex and nature, butsurmounted by a woman's head and face of extraordinary, if devilishloveliness, sunk back between high but grotesquely small shoulders,like to those of a lizard, so that it glared upwards. Theworkmanship of the thing was rude yet strangely powerful. Whateverthere is cruel, whatever there is devilish, whatever there isinhuman in the dark places of the world, shone out of the jewelledeyes which were set in that yellow female face, yellow because itssubstance was of gold, a face which seemed not to belong to theembryonic legs beneath, for body there was none, but to float abovethem. A hollow, life-sized mask with two tiny frog-like legs, thatwas the fashion of it.
“You are an ugly brute, ” muttered Sir Robert,contemplating this effigy, “but although I believe in nothing inheaven above or earth below, except the abysmal folly of theBritish public, I am bothered if I don't believe in you. At anyrate from the day when Vernon brought you into my office, my luckturned, and to judge from the smile on your sweet countenance, Idon't think it is done with yet. I wonder what those stones are inyour eyes. Opals, I suppose, from the way they change colour. Theyshine uncommonly to-day, I never remember them so bright. I— —”
At this moment a knock came on the door. Sir Robertturned off the lamp and walked back to the fireplace.
“Come in, ” he said, and as he spoke once more hispale face grew impassive and expressionless.
The door opened and a clerk entered, animposing-looking clerk with iron-grey hair, who wore anirreproachable frock coat and patent leather boots. Advancing tohis master, he stood respectfully silent, waiting to be addressed.For quite a long while Sir Robert looked over his head as though hedid not see him; it was a way of his. Then his eyes rested on theman dreamily and he remarked in his cold, clear voice:
“I don't think I rang, Jeffreys. ”
“No, Sir Robert, ” answered the clerk, bowing asthough he spoke to Royalty, “but there is a little matter aboutthat article in The Cynic . ”
“Press business, ” said Sir Robert, lifting hiseyebrows; “you should know by this time that I do not attend tosuch details. See Mr. Champers-Haswell, or Major Vernon. ”
“They are both out at the moment, Sir Robert. ”
“Go on, then, Jeffreys, ” replied the head of thefirm with a resigned sigh, “only be brief. I am thinking. ”
The clerk bowed again.
“The Cynic people have just telephonedthrough about that article we sent them. I think you saw it, sir,and you may remember it begins— — ” and he read from a typewrittencopy in his hand which was headed “Sahara Limited”:
“'We are now privileged to announce that this mightyscheme which will turn a desert into a rolling sea bearing thecommerce of nations and cause the waste places of the earth to teemwith population and to blossom like the rose, has been completed inits necessary if dull financial details and will within a few daysbe submitted to investors among whom it has already caused so muchexcitement. These details we will deal with fully in succeedingarticles, and therefore now need only pause to say that the basisof capitalization strikes us as wonderfully advantageous to thefortunate public who are asked to participate in its vastprospective prosperity. Our present object is to speak of itsnational and imperial aspects— — '”
Sir Robert lifted his eyes in remonstrance:
“How much more of that exceedingly dull andcommonplace puff do you propose to read, Jeffreys? ” he asked.
“No more, Sir Robert. We are paying The Cynic thirty guineas to insert this article, and the point is that theysay that if they have to put in the 'national and imperial'business they must have twenty more. ”
“Indeed, Jeffreys? Why? ”
“Because, Sir Robert— I will tell you, as you alwayslike to hear the truth— their advertisement-editor is of opinionthat Sahara Limited is a national and imperial swindle. He saysthat he won't drag the nation and the empire into it in aneditorial under fifty guineas. ”
A faint smile flickered on Sir Robert's face.
“Does he, indeed? ” he asked. “I wonder at hismoderation. Had I been in his place I should have asked more, forreally the style is a little flamboyant. Well, we don't want toquarrel with them just now— feed the sharks. But surely, Jeffreys,you didn't come to disturb me about such a trifle? ”
“Not altogether, Sir Robert. There is something moreimportant. The Daily Judge not only declines to put anyarticle whatsoever, but refu