Their faces, dusky red on the side of the glow from the fire, pallid where the electric light fell slantwise upon them from above, had for a moment a mysterious something in common. Then the tension of the glance was relaxed--and on the instant no two men in London looked less alike.
Lord Plowden was familiarly spoken of as a handsome man.
Thorpe had even heard him called the handsomest man in England--though this seemed in all likelihood an exaggeration.
But handsome he undoubtedly was--tall without suggesting the thought of height to the observer, erect yet graceful, powerfully built, while preserving the effect of slenderness.
His face in repose had the outline of the more youthful guardsman-type--regular, finely-cut, impassive to hardness.
When he talked, or followed with interest the talk of others, it revealed almost an excess of animation.
Then one noted the flashing subtlety of his glance, the swift facility of his smile and comprehending brows, and saw that it was not the guardsman face at all.
His skin was fresh-hued, and there was a shade of warm brown in his small, well-ordered moustasche, but his hair, wavy and worn longer than the fashion, seemed black.
There were perceptible veins of grey in it, though he had only entered his thirty-fifth year. He was dressed habitually with the utmost possible care.
The contrast between this personage and the older man confronting him was abrupt. Thorpe was also tall, but of a burly and slouching figure. His face, shrouded in a high-growing, dust-coloured beard, invited no attention. One seemed always to have known this face--thick-featured, immobile, undistinguished.
Its accessories for the time being were even more than ordinarily unimpressive. Both hair and beard were ragged with neglect. His commonplace, dark clothes looked as if he had slept in them. The hands resting on his big knees were coarse in shape, and roughened, and ill-kept.
"I couldn't have asked anything better than your dropping in, "he repeated now, speaking with a drag, as of caution, on his words. "Witnesses or no witnesses, I'm anxious to have you understand that I realize what I owe to you.""I only wish it were a great deal more than it is,"replied the other, with a frank smile.
"Oh, it'll mount up to considerable, as it stands,"said Thorpe.
He could hear that there was a kind of reservation in his voice; the suspicion that his companion detected it embarrassed him. He found himself in the position of fencing with a man to whom all his feelings impelled him to be perfectly open. He paused, and was awkwardly conscious of constraint in the silence which ensued.
"You are very kind to put it in that way," said Lord Plowden, at last. He seemed also to be finding words for his thoughts with a certain difficulty. He turned his cigar round in his white fingers meditatively. "I gather that your success has been complete--as complete as you yourself could have desired. I congratulate you with all my heart.""No--don't say my success--say our success," put in Thorpe.
"But, my dear man," the other corrected him, "my interest, compared with yours, is hardly more than nominal.
I'm a Director, of course, and I'm not displeased that my few shares should be worth something instead of nothing, but----"Thorpe lifted one of his heavy hands. "That isn't my view of the thing at all. To be frank, I was turning over in my mind, just awhile ago, before you came in, some way of arranging all that on a different footing.
If you'll trust it to me, I think you'll find it's all right."Something in the form of this remark seemed to restore to Lord Plowden his accustomed fluency of speech.
"I came here to say precisely that thing," he began--"that I do trust it to you. We have never had any very definite talk on the subject--and pray don't think that I want to go into details now. I'd much rather not, in fact.
But what I do want to say to you is this: I believe in you. I feel sure that you are going to go far, as the saying is. Well, I want to tie myself to your star.
Do you see what I mean? You are going to be a power in finance. You are going to be able to make and unmake men as you choose. I should be very much obliged indeed if you would make me."Thorpe regarded the handsome and titled man of fashion with what seemed to the other a lethargic gaze. In truth, his mind was toiling with strenuous activity to master, in all its bearings, the significance of what had been said.
This habit of the abstracted and lack-lustre eye, the while he was hard at work thinking, was a fortuitous asset which he had never up to that time learned that he possessed. Unconsciously, he dampened the spirits of his companion.
"Don't imagine I'm trying to force myself upon you,"Lord Plowden said, growing cool in the face of this slow stare.
"I'm asking nothing at all. I had the impulse to come and say to you that you are a great man, and that you've done a great thing--and done it, moreover, in a very great way.""You know how it was done!" The wondering exclamation forced itself from Thorpe's unready lips. He bent forward a little, and took a new visual hold, as it were, of his companion's countenance.
Lord Plowden smiled. "Did you think I was such a hopeless duffer, then?" he rejoined.
For answer, Thorpe leant back in his chair, crossed his legs, and patted his knee contentedly. All at once his face had lightened; a genial speculation returned to his grey eyes.
"Well, I was in a curious position about you, you see,"he began to explain. The relief with which he spoke was palpable. "I could not for the life of me make up my mind whether to tell you about it or not. Let's see--this is Thursday; did I see you Tuesday? At any rate, the scheme didn't dawn on me myself until toward evening Tuesday.
But yesterday, of course, I could have told you--and again this afternoon--but, as I say, I couldn't make up my mind.
Once I had it on the tip of my tongue--but somehow I didn't.
And you--you never gave me a hint that you saw what was going on."Again Lord Plowden smiled. "I voted with you," he put in softly.
