Beyond the City By A. Conan Doyle

“Well, it reflects credit upon you that you should think so. If Mr. Henry were here I am sure that he would arrange this matter for you at once. As it is, I shall lay it before the directors to-day, and I am sure that they will be proud to have you in our employment, and, I hope, in some more suitable position than that which you suggest.”

“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” said the Admiral, and started off again, well pleased, upon his homeward journey.

STILL AMONG SHOALS.

Next day brought the Admiral a cheque for £5,000 from Mr. McAdam, and a stamped agreement by which he made over his pension papers to the speculative inventor. It was not until he had signed and sent it off that the full significance of all that he had done broke upon him. He had sacrificed everything. His pension was gone. He had nothing save only what he could earn. But the stout old heart never quailed. He waited eagerly for a letter from the Saint Lawrence Shipping Company, and in the meanwhile he gave his landlord a quarter’s notice. Hundred pound a year houses would in future be a luxury which he could not aspire to. A small lodging in some inexpensive part of London must be the substitute for his breezy Norwood villa. So be it, then! Better that a thousand fold than that his name should be associated with failure and disgrace.

On that morning Harold Denver was to meet the creditors of the firm, and to explain the situation to them. It was a hateful task, a degrading task, but he set himself to do it with quiet resolution. At home they waited in intense anxiety to learn the result of the meeting . It was late before he returned, haggard pale, like a man who has done and suffered much.

“What’s this board in front of the house? he asked.

“We are going to try a little change of scene,” said the Admiral. “This place is neither town nor country. But never mind that, boy. Tell us what happened in the City.”

“God help me! My wretched business driving you out of house and home!” cried Harold, broken down by this fresh evidence of the effects of his misfortunes. “It is easier for me to meet my creditors than to see you two suffering so patiently for my sake.”

“Tut, tut!” cried the Admiral. “There’s no suffering in the matter. Mother would rather be near the theaters. That’s at the bottom of it, isn’t it, mother? You come and sit down here between us and tell us all about it.”

Harold sat down with a loving hand in each of his.

“It’s not so bad as we thought,” said he, and yet it is bad enough. I have about ten days to find the money, but I don’t know which way to turn for it. Pearson, however, lied, as usual, when he spoke of £13,000. The amount is not quite £7,000.”

The Admiral clapped his hands. “I knew we should weather it after all! Hurrah my boy! Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!”

Harold gazed at him in surprise, while the old seaman waved his arm above his head and bellowed out three stentorian cheers. “Where am I to get seven thousand pounds from, dad?” he asked.

“Never mind. You spin your yarn.”

“Well, they were very good and very kind, but of course they must have either their money or their money’s worth. They passed a vote of sympathy with me, and agreed to wait ten days before they took any proceedings. Three of them, whose claim came to £3,500, told me that if I would give them my personal I.O.U., and pay interest at the rate of five per cent, their amounts might stand over as long as I wished. That would be a charge of £175 upon my income, but with economy I could meet it, and it diminishes the debt by one-half.”

Again the Admiral burst out cheering.

“There remains, therefore, about £3,200 which has to be found within ten days. No man shall lose by me. I gave them my word in the room that if I worked my soul out of my body every one of them should be paid. I shall not spend a penny upon myself until it is done. But some of them can’t wait. They are poor men themselves, and must have their money. They have issued a warrant for Pearson’s arrest. But they think that he has got away the States.”

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