It may be said of Bones that he was in the City, but not of it. Never

once had he been invited by the great and awe-inspiring men who

dominate the finance of the City to participate in any of those

adventurous undertakings which produce for the adventurers the fabulous

profits about which so much has been written. There were times when

Bones even doubted whether the City knew he was in it.

He never realised his own insignificance so poignantly as when he

strolled through the City streets at their busiest hour, and was

unrecognised even by the bareheaded clerks who dashed madly in all

directions, carrying papers of tremendous importance.

The indifference of the City to Mr. Tibbetts and his partner was more

apparent than real. It is true that the great men who sit around the

green baize cloth at the Bank of England and arrange the bank rate knew

not Bones nor his work. It is equally true that the very important

personages who occupy suites of rooms in Lombard Street had little or

no idea of his existence. But there were men, and rich and famous men

at that, who had inscribed the name of Bones in indelible ink on the

tablets of their memory.

The Pole Brothers were shipbrokers, and had little in common, in their

daily transactions, with Mr. Harold de Vinne, who specialised in

industrial stocks, and knew little more about ships than could be

learnt in an annual holiday trip to Madeira. Practically there was no

bridge to connect their intellects. Sentimentally, life held a common

cause, which they discovered one day, when Mr. Fred Pole met Mr. Harold

de Vinne at lunch to discuss a matter belonging neither to the realms

of industrialism nor the mercantile marine, being, in fact, the

question of Mr. de Vinne leasing or renting Mr. Pole's handsome

riverside property at Maidenhead for the term of six months.

They might not have met even under these circumstances, but for the

fact that some dispute arose as to who was to pay the gardener. That

matter had been amicably settled, and the two had reached the coffee

stage of their luncheon, when Mr. de Vinne mentioned the

inadvisability--as a rule--of discussing business matters at lunch, and

cited a deplorable happening when an interested eavesdropper had

overheard certain important negotiations and had most unscrupulously

taken advantage of his discovery.

"One of these days," said Mr. de Vinne between his teeth, "I'll be even

with that gentleman." (He did not call him a gentleman.) "I'll give

him Tibbetts! He'll be sorry he was ever born."

"Tibbetts?" said Mr. Fred Pole, sitting bolt upright. "Not Bones?"

The other nodded and seemed surprised.

"You don't know the dear fellow, do you?" he asked, only he did not use

the expression "dear fellow."

"Know him?" said Mr. Fred, taking a long breath. "I should jolly well

say I did know him. And my brother Joe knows him. That fellow----"




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024