A Woman Intervenes by Robert Barr

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Kenyon, who had been looking, for the first time in his life, gratefully
at Longworth, said he could.

'Very well; just set it down in your own words as plainly as possible,
and give date, hour, and full particulars. Sign your name to it, and I
will take it when I come to the meeting this afternoon. It would not be
a bad plan to read it to those who are here. There is nothing like
fighting the devil with fire. Fight a paper with another paper. Nothing
new, I suppose?'

'No,' said Kenyon; 'nothing new except what we are discussing.'

'Well, don't let that trouble you. Do as I say, and we will begin an
interesting controversy. People like a fight, and it will attract
attention to the mine. Good-bye. I shall see you this afternoon.'

He left both Kenyon and Wentworth in a much happier frame of mind than
that in which he had found them.

'I say, Kenyon,' said Wentworth, 'that fellow is a trump. His advice has
cleared the air wonderfully. I believe his plan is the best, after all,
and, as you say, we have no money for an expensive lawsuit. I shall leave
you now to get on with your work, and will return at three o'clock.'

At that hour John had his statement finished. The first man to arrive was
Longworth, who read the article with approval, merely suggesting a change
here and there, which was duly made. Then he put the communication into
an envelope, and sent it to the editor of the opposition paper. Wentworth
came in next, then Melville, then Mr. King. After this they all adjourned
to the directors' room, and in a few minutes the others were present.

'Now,' said Longworth, 'as we are all here, I do not see any necessity
for delay. You have probably read the article that appeared in this
morning's _Financial Field_. Mr. Kenyon has written a statement in
relation to that, which gives the full particulars of the inside of a
very disreputable piece of business. It was merely an attempt at
blackmailing which failed. I intended to have had the statement read to
you, but we thought it best to get it off as quickly as possible, and it
will appear to-morrow in the _Financial Eagle_, where, I hope, you will
all read it. Now, Mr. Kenyon, perhaps you will tell us something about
the mine.'

Kenyon, like many men of worth and not of words, was a very poor speaker.
He seemed confused, and was often a little obscure in his remarks, but he
was listened to with great attention by those present. He was helped
here and there by a judicious question from young Longworth, and when he
sat down the impression was not so bad as might have been expected. After
a moment's silence, it was Mr. King who spoke.

'As I take it,' he said, 'all we wish to know is this: Is the mine what
it is represented to be? Is the mineral the best for the use Mr. Kenyon
has indicated? Is there a sufficient quantity of that mineral in the
mountain he speaks of to make it worth while to organize this company? It
seems to me that this can only be answered by some practical man going
out there and seeing the mine for himself. Mr. Melville is, I understand,
a practical man. If he has the time to spare, I would propose that he
should go to America, see this mine, and report.'

Another person asked when the option on the mine ran out. This was
answered by Longworth, who said that the person who went over and
reported on the mine could cable the word 'Right' or 'Wrong'; then there
would be time to act in London in getting up the list of subscribers.

'I suppose,' said another, 'that in case of delay there would be no
trouble in renewing the option for a month or two?'

To this Kenyon replied that he did not know. The owners might put a
higher price on the property, or the mine might be producing more mica
than it had been heretofore, and they perhaps might not be inclined to
sell. He thought that things should be arranged so that there would be
no necessity of asking for an extension of the option, and to this they
all agreed.

Melville then said he had no objection to taking a trip to Canada. It
was merely a question of the amount of the mineral in sight, and he
thought he could determine that as well as anybody else. And so the
matter was about to be settled, when Longworth rose, and said that he was
perfectly willing to go to Canada himself, in company with Mr. Melville;
that he would pay all his own expenses, and give them the benefit of his
opinion as well. This was received with applause, and the meeting
terminated. Longworth shook hands with Kenyon and Wentworth.

'We will sail by the first steamer,' he said, 'and, as I may not see you
again, you might write me a letter of introduction to Mr. Von Brent, and
tell him that I am acting for you in this affair. That will make matters
smooth in getting an extension of the option, if it should be necessary.'

CHAPTER XXX.

Kenyon was on his way to lunch next day, when he met Wentworth at the
door.

'Going to feed?' asked the latter.

'Yes.'

'Very well; I'll go with you. I couldn't stay last night to have a talk
with you over the meeting; but what did you think of it?'

'Well, considering the article which appeared in the morning, and
considering also the exhibition I made of myself in attempting to explain
the merits of the mine, I think things went off rather smoothly.'

'So do I. It doesn't strike you that they went off a little _too_
smoothly, does it?'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't know exactly what I mean. I merely wanted to get your own
opinion about it. You see, I have attended a great many gatherings of
this sort, and it struck me there was a certain cut-and-driedness about
the meeting. I can't say whether it impressed me favourably or
unfavourably, but I noticed it.'

'I still don't understand what you mean.'

'Well, as a general thing in such meetings, when a man gets up and
proposes a certain action there is some opposition, or somebody has a
suggestion to make, or something better to propose--or thinks he has--and
so there is a good deal of talk. Now, when King got up and proposed
calmly that Melville should go to America, it appeared to me rather an
extraordinary thing to do, unless he had consulted Melville beforehand.'

'Perhaps he had done so.'

'Yes, perhaps. What do you think of it all?'

Kenyon mused for a moment before he replied:

'As I said before, I thought things went off very smoothly. Whom do you
suspect--young Longworth?'

'I do not know whom I suspect. I am merely getting anxious about the
shortness of the time. I think, myself, you ought to go to America. There
is nothing to be done here. You should go, see Von Brent, and get a
renewal of the option. Don't you see that when they get over there,
allowing them a few days in New York, and a day or two to get out to the
mine, we shall have little more than a week, after the cable despatch
comes, in which to do anything, should they happen to report
unfavourably.'

'Yes, I see that. Still, it is only a question of facts on which they
have to report, and you know, as well as I do, that no truthful men can
report unfavourably on what we have certified. We have understated the
case in every instance.'

'I know that. I am perfectly well aware of that. Everything is all right
if--if--Longworth is dealing honestly with us. If he is not, then
everything is all wrong, and I should feel a great deal easier if we had
in our possession another three months' option of the mine. We are now at
the fag-end of this option, and, it seems to me, as protection to
ourselves, we ought either to write to Von Brent--By the way, have you
ever written to him?'

'I wrote one letter telling him how we were getting on, but have received
no answer; perhaps he is not in Ottawa at present.'

'Well, I think you ought to go to the mine with Longworth and Melville.
It is the conjunction of those two men that makes me suspicious. I can't
tell what I distrust. I can give nothing definite; but I have a vague
uneasiness when I think that the man who tried to mislead us regarding
the value of the mineral is going with the man who has led us into all
this expense. Longworth refused to go into the scheme in the first place,
pretended he had forgotten all about it in the second place, and then
suddenly developed an interest.'

John knitted his brows and said nothing.

'I don't want to worry you about it, but I am anxious to have your candid
opinion. What had we better do?'

'It seems to me,' said John, after a pause, 'that we can do nothing. It
is a very perplexing situation. I think, however, we should turn it over
in our minds for a few days, and then I can get to America in plenty of
time, if necessary.'

'Very well, suppose we give them ten days to get to the mine and reply.
If no reply comes by the eleventh day then you will still have eighteen
or nineteen days before the option expires. Put it at twelve days. I
propose, if you hear nothing by then, you go over.'

'Right,' said John; 'we may take that as settled.'

'By the way, you got an invitation to-day, did you not?'

'Yes.'

'Are you going?'

'I do not know. I should like to go and yet, you know, I am entirely
unused to fashionable assemblages. I should not know what to say or do
while I was there.'

'As I understand, it is not to be a fashionable party, but merely a
little friendly gathering which Miss Longworth gives because her cousin
is about to sail for Canada. I don't want to flatter you, John, at all,
but I imagine Miss Longworth would be rather disappointed if you did not
put in an appearance. Besides, as we are partners with Longworth in this,
and as he is going away on account of the mine. I think it would be a
little ungracious of us not to go.'

'Very well, I will go. Shall I call for you, or will you come for me?'

'I will call for you and we will go there together in a cab. Be ready
about eight o'clock.'

The mansion of the Longworths was brilliantly lighted, and John felt
rather faint-hearted as he stood on the steps before going in. The
chances are he would not have had the courage to allow himself to be
announced if his friend Wentworth had not been with him. George,
however, had no such qualms, being more experienced in this kind of
thing than his comrade. So they entered together, and were warmly
greeted by the young hostess.

'It is so kind of you to come,' she said, 'on such short notice. I was
afraid you might have had some prior engagement, and would have found it
impossible to be with us.'

'You must not think that of me,' said Wentworth. 'I was certain to come;
but I must confess my friend Kenyon here was rather difficult to manage.
He seems to frown on social festivities, and actually had the coolness to
propose that we should both plead more important business.'

Edith looked reproachfully at Kenyon, who flushed to the temples, as was
his custom, and said:

'Now, Wentworth, that is unfair. You must not mind what he says, Miss
Longworth; he likes to bring confusion on me, and he knows how to do it.
I certainly said nothing about a prior engagement.'

'Well, now you are here, I hope you will enjoy yourselves. It is quite an
informal little gathering, with nothing to abash even Mr. Kenyon.'

They found young Longworth there in company with Melville, who was to be
his companion on the voyage. He shook hands, but without exhibiting the
pleasure at meeting them which his cousin had shown.

'My cousin,' said the young man, 'seems resolved to make the going of the
prodigal nephew an occasion for killing the fatted calf. I'm sure I don't
know why, unless it is that she is glad to be rid of me for a month.'

Edith laughed at this, and left the men together. Wentworth speedily
contrived to make himself agreeable to the young ladies who were present;
but John, it must be admitted, felt awkward and out of place. He was not
enjoying himself. He caught himself now and then following Edith
Longworth with his eyes, and when he realized he was doing this, would
abruptly look at the floor. In her handsome evening dress she appeared
supremely lovely, and this John Kenyon admitted to himself with a sigh,
for her very loveliness seemed to place her further and further away from
him. Somebody played something on the piano, and this was, in a way, a
respite for John. He felt that nobody was looking at him. Then a young
man gave a recitation, which was very well received, and Kenyon began to
forget his uneasiness. A German gentleman with long hair sat down at the
piano with a good deal of importance in his demeanour. There was much
arranging of music, and finally, when the leaves were settled to his
satisfaction, there was a tremendous crash of chords, the beginning of
what was evidently going to be a troublesome time for the piano. In the
midst of this hurricane of sound John Kenyon became aware that Edith
Longworth had sat down beside him.

'I have got everyone comfortably settled with everyone else,' she said
in a whisper to him, 'and you seem to be the only one who is, as it
were, out in the cold, so, you see, I have done you the honour to come
and talk to you.'

'It is indeed an honour,' said John earnestly.

'Oh, really,' said the young woman, laughing very softly, 'you must not
take things so seriously. I didn't mean quite what I said, you
know--that was only, as the children say, "pretended"; but you take one's
light remarks as if they were most weighty sentences. Now, you must look
as if you were entertaining me charmingly, whereas I have sat down beside
you to have a very few minutes' talk on business; I know it's very bad
form to talk business at an evening party, but, you see, I have no other
chance to speak with you. I understand you have had a meeting of
shareholders, and yet you never sent me an invitation. I told you that I
wished to help you in forming a company; but that is the way you business
men always treat a woman.'

'Really, Miss Longworth,' began Kenyon; but she speedily interrupted him.

'I am not going to let you make any explanation. I have come over here to
enjoy scolding you, and I am not to be cheated out of my pleasure.'

'I think,' said John, 'if you knew how much I have suffered during this
last day or two, you would be very lenient with me. Did you read that
article upon me in the _Financial Field_?'

'No, I did not, but I read your reply to it this morning, and I think it
was excellent.'

'Ah, that was hardly fair. A person should read both sides of the
question before passing judgment.'

'It is a woman's idea of fairness,' said Edith, 'to read what pertains to
her friend, and to form her judgment without hearing the other side. But
you must not think I am going to forego scolding you because of my
sympathy with you. Don't you remember you promised to let me know how
your company was progressing from time to time, and here I have never
had a word from you; now tell me how you have been getting on.'

'I hardly know, but I think we are doing very well indeed. You know, of
course, that your cousin is going to America to report upon the mine. As
I have stated nothing but what is perfectly true about the property,
there can be no question as to what that report will be, so it seems to
me everything is going on nicely.'

'Why do not you go to America?'

'Ah, well, I am an interested party, and those who are thinking of going
in with us have my report already. It is necessary to corroborate that.
When it is corroborated, I expect we shall have no trouble in forming
the company.'

'And was William chosen by those men to go to Canada?'

'He was not exactly chosen; he volunteered. Mr. Melville here was the one
who was chosen.'

'And why Mr. Melville more than you, for instance?'

'Well, as I said, I am out of the question because I am an interested
party. Melville is a man connected with china works, and as such, in a
measure, an expert.'

'Is Mr. Melville a friend of yours?'

'No, he is not. I never saw him until he came to the meeting.'

'Do you know,' she said, lowering her voice and bending towards him,
'that I do not like Mr. Melville's face?' Kenyon glanced at Melville, who
was at the other side of the room, and Edith went on: 'You must not look
at people when I mention them in that way, or they will know we are
talking about them. I do not like his face. He is too handsome a man, and
I don't like handsome men.'

'Don't you, really,' said John; 'then, you ought to----'

Edith laughed softly, a low, musical laugh that was not heard above the
piano din, and was intended for John alone, and to his ears it was the
sweetest music he had ever heard.

'I know what you were going to say,' she said; 'you were going to say
that in that case I ought to like _you_. Well, I do; that is why I am
taking such an interest in your mine, and in your friend Mr. Wentworth.
And so my cousin volunteered to go to Canada. Now, I think you ought to
go yourself.'

'Why?' said Kenyon, startled that she should have touched the point that
had been discussed between Wentworth and himself.

'I can only give you a woman's reason--"because I do." It seems to me you
ought to be there to know what they report at the time they _do_ report.
Perhaps they won't understand the mine without your explanation, and then
you see an adverse report might come back in perfect good faith. I think
you ought to go to America, Mr. Kenyon.'

'That is just what George Wentworth says.'

'Does he? I always thought he was a very sensible young man, and now I am
sure of it. Well, I must not stay here gossiping with you on business. I
see the professor is going to finish, and so I shall have to look after
my other guests. If I don't see you again this evening, or have no
opportunity of speaking with you, think over what I have said.'

And then, with the most charming hypocrisy, the young woman thanked the
professor for the music to which she had not listened in the least.

'Well, how did you enjoy yourself?' said Wentworth when they had got
outside again.

It was a clear, starlight night, and they had resolved to walk home
together.

'I enjoyed myself very well indeed,' answered Kenyon; 'much better than I
expected. It was a little awkward at first, but I got over that.'

'I noticed you did--with help.'

'Yes, "with help."'

'If you are inclined to rave, John, now that we are under the stars,
remember I am a close confidant, and a sympathetic listener. I should like
to hear you rave, just to learn how an exasperatingly sensible man acts
under the circumstances.'

'I shall not rave about anything, George, but I will tell you something.
I am going to Canada.'

'Ah, did she speak about that?'

'She did.'

'And of course her advice at once decides the matter, after my most
cogent arguments have failed?'

'Don't be offended, George, but--_it does_.'

CHAPTER XXXI.

'What name, please?'

'Tell Mr. Wentworth a lady wishes to see him.'

The boy departed rather dubiously, for he knew this message was decidedly
irregular in a business office. People should give their names.

'A lady to see you, sir,' he said to Wentworth; and, then, just as the
boy had expected, his employer wanted to know the lady's name.

Ladies are not frequent visitors at the office of an accountant in the
City, so Wentworth touched his collar and tie to make sure they were in
their correct position, and, wondering who the lady was, asked the boy to
show her in.

'How do you do, Mr. Wentworth?' she said brightly, advancing towards his
table and holding out her hand.

Wentworth caught his breath, and took her extended hand somewhat limply,
then he pulled himself together; saying:

'This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Brewster.'

Jennie blushed very prettily, and laughed a laugh that Wentworth thought
was like a little ripple of music from a mellow flute.

'It may be unexpected,' she said, 'but you don't look a bit like a
man suffering from an overdose of pure joy. You didn't expect to see
me, did you?'

'I did not; but now that you are here, may I ask in what way I can
serve you?'

'Well, in the first place, you may ask me to take a chair, and in the
second place you may sit down yourself; for I've come to have a long talk
with you.'

The prospect did not seem to be so alluring to Wentworth as one might
have expected, when the announcement was made by a girl so pretty, and
dressed in such exquisite taste; but the young man promptly offered her a
chair, and then sat down, with the table between them. She placed her
parasol and a few things she had been carrying on the table, arranging
them with some care; then, having given him time to recover from his
surprise, she flashed a look at him that sent a thrill to the finger-tips
of the young man. Yet a danger understood is a danger half overcome; and
Wentworth, unconsciously drawing a deep breath, nerved himself against
any recurrence of a feeling he had been trying with but indifferent
success to forget, saying grimly, but only half convincingly, to himself:

'You are not going to fool me a second time, my girl, lovely as you are.'

A glimmer of a smile hovered about the red lips of the girl, a smile
hardly perceptible, but giving an effect to her clear complexion as if a
sunbeam had crept into the room, and its reflection had lit up her face.

'I have come to apologize, Mr. Wentworth,' she said at last. 'I find it a
very difficult thing to do, and, as I don't quite know how to begin, I
plunge right into it.'

'You don't need to apologize to me for anything, Miss Brewster,' replied
Wentworth, rather stiffly.

'Oh yes, I do. Don't make it harder than it is by being too frigidly
polite about it, but say you accept the apology, and that you're
sorry--no, I don't mean that--I should say that you're sure I'm sorry,
and that you know I won't do it again.'

Wentworth laughed, and Miss Brewster joined him.

'There,' she said, 'that's ever so much better. I suppose you've been
thinking hard things of me ever since we last met.'

'I've tried to,' replied Wentworth.

'Now, that's what I call honest; besides, I like the implied compliment.
I think it's very neat indeed. I'm really very, very sorry that I--that
things happened as they did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had used
exceedingly strong language about it at the time.'

'I must confess that I did.'

'Ah!' said Jennie, with a sigh, 'you men have so many comforts denied to
us women. But I came here for another purpose; if I had merely wanted to
apologize, I think I would have written. I want some information which
you can give me, if you like.'

The young woman rested her elbows on the table, with her chin in her
hands, gazing across at him earnestly and innocently. Poor George felt
that it would be almost impossible to refuse anything to those large
beseeching eyes.

'I want you to tell me about your mine.'

All the geniality that had gradually come into Wentworth's face and
manner vanished instantly.

'So this is the old business over again,' he said.

'How can you say that!' cried Jennie reproachfully. 'I am asking for my
own satisfaction entirely, and not for my paper. Besides, I tell you
frankly what I want to know, and don't try to get it by indirect
means--by false pretences, as you once said.'

'How can you expect me to give you information that does not belong to me
alone? I have no right to speak of a business which concerns others
without their permission.'

'Ah, then, there are at least two more concerned in the mine,' said
Jennie gleefully. 'Kenyon is one, I know; who is the other?'

'Miss Brewster, I will tell you nothing.'

'But you have told me something already. Please go on and talk, Mr.
Wentworth--about anything you like--and I shall soon find out all I want
to know about the mine.'

She paused, but Wentworth remained silent, which, indeed, the bewildered
young man realized was the only safe thing to do.

'They speak of the talkativeness of women,' Miss Brewster went on, as if
soliloquizing, 'but it is nothing to that of the men. Once set a man
talking, and you learn everything he knows--besides ever so much more
that he doesn't.'

Miss Brewster had abandoned her very taking attitude, with its suggestion
of confidential relations, and had removed her elbows from the table,
sitting now back in her chair, gazing dreamily at the dingy window which
let the light in from the dingy court. She seemed to have forgotten that
Wentworth was there, and said, more to herself than to him:

'I wonder if Kenyon would tell me about the mine.'

'You might ask him.'

'No; it wouldn't do any good,' she continued, gently shaking her head.
'He's one of your silent men, and there are so few of them in this
world. Perhaps I had better go to William Longworth himself; he's not
suspicious of me.'

As she said this, she threw a quick glance at Wentworth, and the
unfortunate young man's face at once told her that she had hit the mark.
She bent her head over the table, and laughed with such evident enjoyment
that Wentworth, in spite of his helpless anger, smiled grimly.

Jennie raised her head, but the sight of his perplexed countenance was
too much for her, and it was some time before her merriment allowed her
to speak. At last she said:

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