Chapter VII: Carsdale’s Carefulness

One of Richard Shrewsbury’s first thoughts as he drove across Waterloo Bridge on the morning of his arrival in London had been a disquieting, if not an alarming one. He knew nobody; he did not know what to do with himself; how would he pass his time? It was true that he came from a clime wherein natural conditions incline men to indolence and lassitude from their birth, but he was young and the English blood in him demanded liveliness and action, and he was concerned to think at that moment that he saw no immediate outlet for his vitality. Until his meeting with John Carsdale he had felt as an enterprising bee might feel which has got into a bottle, and can see mighty possibilities through its crystal walls without a clear notion of how to get at them.

But after that first eventful and exciting day in town, Richard realized that however lonely and friendless a young man may be when he comes to London for the first time, he will not long be so, nor will he be long unoccupied, if he happens to have wealth at his hourly disposal. He was astonished to find how very busy he became at once. There were such a lot of things to attend to, and they were all of a pleasant nature. It was great fun to settle down to housekeeping; to dispose and re-arrange his rooms to his own liking; he even found an engrossing novelty in ordering his breakfasts. For a fortnight he was much occupied with the folk who were busily engaged in beautifying and adorning his outer man; the result of their labours, under Carsdale’s counsel, was that the young gentleman found himself one of the best-dressed men about town and that Kedgin had a mighty wardrobe to superintend and keep in order. And there were more intellectual matters than clothes and shirts and boots and hats and gloves to consider and deal with--aided by Carsdale and advised by Mrs. Walsingham, he bought pictures and books and old china, and they took care that all he bought was good. Accordingly, his walls were hung with excellent examples, and his open cases were filled with standard works in fine bindings, and as he had a natural love for good reading and a sympathetic, if untrained eye for sound Art, he was well pleased; as to the cabinets of china which Mrs. Walsingham arranged for him in his drawing-room, he did not understand them, but Carsdale had impressed upon him that nothing is so good for a young man as the cultivation of good taste in such things, and Richard believed him and viewed his cups and saucers with great awe. After all, it was a delightful thing to be young, and to have money, and to surround oneself with the evidences of luxury.

That it was easy to spend money when you have it to spend, Richard discovered very quickly indeed. Carsdale told him that he might just as well fit himself up thoroughly while he was about it: with his income there was no need for him to stint himself. He must have a couple of horses; Carsdale knew exactly where they could be bought and where they could be kept at livery after they were bought, and Richard was presently seen in the Row, where shrewd eyes valued his mounts at nothing less than two hundred guineas apiece. Also, he must have a motor-car; Carsdale knew where to get that, too, and got it--a beautiful car, which cost about three times as much as the two hunters when it was finished and fitted with all the proper luxuries. Then it was necessary to engage a chauffeur; Carsdale found the very man, and Richard hired him at a comfortable weekly wage. He had now got an abode, and servants, and horses, and a motor-car--he must now have his club, said Carsdale, so that he would have somewhere to turn when he felt to need change from whatever he was doing. And Carsdale got him into two clubs, both of a social nature, but one rather more inclined to sport and lightness than the other; it was always an excellent idea, said Carsdale, to have at any rate two clubs, and of a different nature, so that if you got bored in one of them, you could step round for relief to its contrast. And Richard accepted all that his mentor advised, and he was well pleased and much occupied with his new duties and his amusements during those first weeks in England, and he considered Carsdale a veritable walking compendium of all requisite knowledge.

Carsdale let the young gentleman settle down before he entered upon the subject of investments. He knew where Richard’s three hundred thousand pounds lay, and that its owner had it at immediate disposal. It was in the hands of a firm of very solemn and serious private bankers, and Carsdale was well aware that the principals would keep an eye on their youthful client’s goings-on. And so, when at last he gave up a whole morning to Richard in his private room at Abbotsbury House, in order to advise on the question of what should be done with the Shrewsbury fortune, he had no wild-cat schemes to propose, no daring adventure to undertake. In short, he had already arranged for the investment of a quarter of a million in certain securities, a list of which he had carefully prepared. He went over that list with Richard, item by item, detailing and explaining. Richard understood little of details or explanations; what he did understand was that from the two hundred and fifty thousand pounds thus invested in what Mr. Carsdale called gilt-edged securities, he would derive an annual income of fifteen thousand pounds.

“Which, in your present bachelor state of life, is quite enough for you to spend,” commented Carsdale. “When you contemplate matrimony we may think of increasing it. But you won’t spend it.”

“Spend fifteen thousand a year!” exclaimed Richard. “I should think not. Why, I’ve got an exact account of every penny I’ve spent since I came, and--oh, I couldn’t spend fifteen thousand a year.”

“Good boy!” said Carsdale, with a dry cough. “Don’t try to spend it. Some accomplishments, Shrewsbury, are very easily learned. However, I have noted, with great satisfaction, that you have no great desire to own race-horses, frequent gaming-houses, or to cultivate the society of young women of the musical comedy order. Keep off all these, my son, and you will do well. And now, back to business. You are not going to invest your quarter of a million in these securities solely on my advice, though, as I tell you, I have arranged everything for you, because you will so invest it. But first--have you ever yet called on your bankers?”

“Never. I’ve never had time,” replied Richard.

“Very good--but they’ll no doubt be delighted to see you,” said Carsdale. “Now follow my instructions. Take this list in your hand. Get into your car--go down to the City--see your bankers. Tell them that on the advice of your friend, Mr. John Carsdale, of Norfolk Street, you are about to make these investments at once. Ask them if they approve. Tell them that if they do, the transactions will be completed forthwith, and that you will subsequently hand over your securities to them for safe keeping. Be off, now, and then come back to me with your report.”

And Richard went down to the City, and saw two grave, yet much interested gentlemen, who appeared to know nothing of Mr. John Carsdale of Norfolk Street, but were at one in expressing high approval of the manner in which he proposed to invest a quarter of a million of their customer’s money. For everything that figured on Carsdale’s list was thoroughly good and sound, and they were rejoiced to know that the young man was not going to be led away into wild-goose chases, or persuaded to set up a racing establishment, and they told him frankly that he could not do better than follow his friend’s advice.

“Just so,” said Carsdale when Richard went back with his report. “That shows what sensible men they are. Now we will get all this put through, and then you will be fully settled down and know what your income is, and all will be plain sailing, so long as you never spend more than nineteen and elevenpence in every pound.”

“What about the rest of the money?” said Richard, who was beginning to feel a faint excitement in financial matters.

“What rest?” asked Carsdale.

“There’s a lot more at the bankers,” replied Richard. “They had three hundred and seven thousand pounds of mine when I came. I’ve spent about three thousand since I came, one way or another, so there’s still about fifty thousand and more in their hands when these investments are made. What’s to be done with that?”

“Oh, leave it as it is for a while,” answered Carsdale. “It is always well to have a good cash balance at your bankers. You’re all right for the time being. But if you like you can put ten thousand in my hands--to play with.”

“To what?” asked Richard.

“To play with,” repeated Carsdale. “I constantly know of small affairs which are worth putting a thousand or two into, even a few hundreds into, for a while--sometimes one can make as much as fifty per cent. on such transactions. Leave ten thousand with me, and we’ll see what comes of it at the end of the year.”

And Richard agreed readily, for he regarded Carsdale as something like a past master in finance, and that afternoon Carsdale paid in ten thousand pounds to his own private banking account. He was just then in clover, for he had received handsome commissions from all the people to whom he had brought business in connection with Richard, and he had wound up his partnership with the late Barclay Leverton’s representatives on terms which were eminently satisfactory to himself, and he saw a bright future immediately in front of him. He was now whole and sole master of the suite of offices at the top of Abbotsbury House; the name of Leverton had disappeared from the swinging doors and the roll of tenants in the hall, and Frances came no longer to look into books and letters and ask questions which had sometimes been inconvenient to answer. Carsdale was now busier than ever; he began to develop a new class of business, and the smaller fry of his clients found it increasingly difficult to see him. Even Mrs. Walsingham found it a little puzzling when she tried to reckon up his courses.

“I don’t quite know what you’re after,” she said one day when she was closeted with him in his office. “Since young Shrewsbury came on the scene you seem to have developed a desire for severe respectability in your transactions.”

“Quite right,” said Carsdale. “Young Shrewsbury was precisely what I wanted. I did myself more good by sending him down to his bankers with that list of securities than you can realize. That action conferred distinction and credit on me. Why, I met one of them at a meeting at the _Cannon Street Hotel_ the other day, and he actually condescended to compliment me on the excellent advice I had given to a young and inexperienced gentleman, and, in parting gave me two fingers to shake! What do you think of that, Sylvie?”

“I suppose you want to increase in virtue and respectability until some big wig in the City stops to shake hands--not fingers--with you in full view of all Lombard Street,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. “All right--so long as it pays.”

“It pays,” said Carsdale. “You can’t extend the ægis of protection to a youngster who possesses three hundred thousand pounds and doesn’t spend half his income without benefiting yourself. I tell you, it’s a valuable asset to me to be in a position to show with what care, perspicuity, zealous attention to his safeguards and interests I have husbanded the youngster’s harvest!”

“Picking up a few stray gleanings here and there,” said Mrs. Walsingham, with a silvery laugh.

“You’ve as many chances in the harvest field as I have,” laughed Carsdale. “He seems to be in constant touch with you.”

In that Carsdale was right. Richard had quickly fallen into the habit of repairing to Mrs. Walsingham regularly. He made excuses at first; he wanted advice about where to hang a picture; how to have a set of books bound; how to do this, that, and the other; presently he took it quite as a matter of course that he should see her every day. He was always taking her to dinner, to the theatre, to the opera. When the motor-car came into his life he began to take her out into the country on Sundays; at first Carsdale went with them; later, he excused himself. And without knowing how or why, Richard became Mrs. Walsingham’s shadow, and the motor-car was often seen carrying them both away from the door of Abbotsbury House at hours in the afternoon whereat Mrs. Walsingham, according to the ideas of Miss Rousby and Mr. Griffkin, should still have been at her desk.

“But Carsdale, he don’t say a word,” remarked Griffkin. “It don’t matter to him whether she goes at five or four.”

“The question is, dare he say a word?” observed Miss Rousby with sinister significance. “Some people in this world can do what they like--they can twist other people round their fingers as--as----”

“As she twists them shiners round her fingers,” suggested Griffkin. “You’re right!”

In this fashion, and in these pursuits Richard’s first few weeks in London passed away and saw him settle into a luxurious and easy-going existence. Of no particular vices, of no vast ambition, generous of nature, and a little inclined to let things come and go as they would, he had no fault to find with his lot. It was pleasant and placid.

And then, one morning, as he was chatting with Mrs. Walsingham and Carsdale in Carsdale’s private room, Griffkin opened the door, and announced Captain Ralph Burgoyne.