A Millionaire of Yesterday Read online

  A MILLIONAIRE OF YESTERDAY

  By E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER I

  "Filth," grunted Trent--"ugh! I tell you what it is, my venerablefriend--I have seen some dirty cabins in the west of Ireland and somevile holes in East London. I've been in some places which I can't thinkof even now without feeling sick. I'm not a particular chap, wasn'tbrought up to it--no, nor squeamish either, but this is a bit thickerthan anything I've ever knocked up against. If Francis doesn't hurrywe'll have to chuck it! We shall never stand it out, Monty!"

  The older man, gaunt, blear-eyed, ragged, turned over on his side. Hisappearance was little short of repulsive. His voice when he spoke was,curiously enough, the voice of a gentleman, thick and a trifle roughthough it sounded.

  "My young friend," he said, "I agree with you--in effect--most heartily.The place is filthy, the surroundings are repulsive, not to adddegrading. The society is--er--not congenial--I allude of course to ourhosts--and the attentions of these unwashed, and I am afraid I mustsay unclothed, ladies of dusky complexion is to say the least of itembarrassing."

  "Dusky complexion!" Trent interrupted scornfully, "they're coal black!"

  Monty nodded his head with solemn emphasis. "I will go so far as toadmit that you are right," he acknowledged. "They are as black as sin!But, my friend Trent, I want you to consider this: If the nature of oursurroundings is offensive to you, think what it must be to me. I may,I presume, between ourselves, allude to you as one of the people.Refinement and luxury have never come in your way, far less have theybecome indispensable to you. You were, I believe, educated at aBoard School, I was at Eton. Afterwards you were apprenticed to aharness-maker, I--but no matter! Let us summarise the situation."

  "If that means cutting it short, for Heaven's sake do so," Trentgrumbled. "You'll talk yourself into a fever if you don't mind. Let'sknow what you're driving at."

  "Talking," the elder man remarked with a slight shrug of his shoulders,"will never have a prejudicial effect upon my health. To men ofyour--pardon me--scanty education the expression of ideas in speech isdoubtless a labour. To me, on the other hand, it is at once a pleasureand a relief. What I was about to observe is this: I belong by birthto what are called, I believe, the classes, you to the masses. I haveinherited instincts which have been refined and cultivated, perhapsover-cultivated by breeding and associations--you are troubled withnothing of the sort. Therefore if these surroundings, this discomfort,not to mention the appalling overtures of our lady friends, aredistressing to you, why, consider how much more so they must be to me!"

  Trent smiled very faintly, but he said nothing. He was sittingcross-legged with his back against one of the poles which supportedthe open hut, with his eyes fixed upon the cloud of mist hanging overa distant swamp. A great yellow moon had stolen over the low range ofstony hills--the mist was curling away in little wreaths of gold. Trentwas watching it, but if you had asked him he would have told you thathe was wondering when the alligators came out to feed, and how near thevillage they ventured. Looking at his hard, square face and keen,black eyes no one would surely have credited him with any less materialthoughts.

  "Furthermore," the man whom Trent had addressed as Monty continued,"there arises the question of danger and physical suitability tothe situation. Contrast our two cases, my dear young friend. I amtwenty-five years older than you, I have a weak heart, a ridiculousmuscle, and the stamina of a rabbit. My fighting days are over. Ican shoot straight, but shooting would only serve us here until ourcartridges were gone--when the rush came a child could knock me over.You, on the contrary, have the constitution of an ox, the muscles of abull, and the wind of an ostrich. You are, if you will pardon my sayingso, a magnificent specimen of the animal man. In the event of troubleyou would not hesitate to admit that your chances of escape would beat least double mine." Trent lit a match under pretence of lighting hispipe--in reality because only a few feet away he had seen a pair ofbright eyes gleaming at them through a low shrub. A little native boyscuttled away--as black as night, woolly-headed, and shiny; he had creptup unknown to look with fearful eyes upon the wonderful white strangers.Trent threw a lump of earth at him and laughed as he dodged it.

  "Well, go ahead, Monty," he said. "Let's hear what you're driving at.What a gab you've got to be sure!"

  Monty waved his hand--a magnificent and silencing gesture.

  "I have alluded to these matters," he continued, "merely in orderto show you that the greater share of danger and discomfort in thisexpedition falls to my lot. Having reminded you of this, Trent, I referto the concluding sentence of your last speech. The words indicated, asI understood them, some doubt of our ability to see this thing through."

  He paused, peering over to where Trent was sitting with grim, immovableface, listening with little show of interest. He drew a long, deepbreath and moved over nearer to the doorway. His manner was suddenlychanged.

  "Scarlett Trent," he cried, "Scarlett Trent, listen to me! You are youngand I am old! To you this may be one adventure amongst many--it is mylast. I've craved for such a chance as this ever since I set foot inthis cursed land. It's come late enough, too late almost for me, but I'mgoing through with it while there's breath in my body. Swear to me nowthat you will not back out! Do you hear, Trent? Swear!"

  Trent looked curiously at his companion, vastly interested in thissudden outburst, in the firmness of his tone and the tightening ofthe weak mouth. After all, then, the old chap had some grit in him. ToTrent, who had known him for years as a broken-down hanger-on ofthe settlement at Buckomari, a drunkard, gambler, a creature to allappearance hopelessly gone under, this look and this almost passionateappeal were like a revelation. He stretched out his great hand andpatted his companion on the back--a proceeding which obviously causedhim much discomfort.

  "Bravo, old cockie!" he said. "Didn't imagine you'd got the grit. Youknow I'm not the chap to be let down easy. We'll go through with it,then, and take all chances! It's my game right along. Every copper I'vegot went to pay the bearers here and to buy the kickshaws and rum forold What's-his-name, and I'm not anxious to start again as a pauper.We'll stay here till we get our concessions, or till they bury us, then!It's a go!"

  Monty--no one at Buckomari had ever known of any other name forhim--stretched out a long hand, with delicate tapering fingers, and letit rest for a moment gingerly in the thick, brown palm of his companion.Then he glanced stealthily over his shoulder and his eyes gleamed.

  "I think, if you will allow me, Trent, I will just moisten my lips--nomore--with some of that excellent brandy."

  Trent caught his arm and held it firmly.

  "No, you don't," he said, shaking his head. "That's the last bottle, andwe've got the journey back. We'll keep that, in case of fever."

  A struggle went on in the face of the man whose hot breath fell uponTrent's cheek. It was the usual thing--the disappointment of the baffleddrunkard--a little more terrible in his case perhaps because of theremnants of refinement still to be traced in his well-shaped features.His weak eyes for once were eloquent, but with the eloquence of cupidityand unwholesome craving, his lean cheeks twitched and his hands shook.

  "Just a drop, Trent!" he pleaded. "I'm not feeling well, indeed I'm not!The odours here are so foul. A liqueur-glassful will do me all the goodin the world."

  "You won't get it, Monty, so it's no use whining," Trent said bluntly."I've given way to you too much already. Buck up, man! We're on thethreshold of fortune and we need all our wits about us."

  "Of fortune--fortune!" Monty's head dropped upon his chest, his nostrilsdilated, he seemed to fall into a state of stupor. Trent watched himhalf curiously, half contemptuously.

  "You're terribly keen on money-making for an old
'un," he remarked,after a somewhat lengthy pause. "What do you want to do with it?"

  "To do with it!" The old man raised his head. "To do with it!" The gleamof reawakened desire lit up his face. He sat for a moment thinking. Thenhe laughed softly.

  "I will tell you, Master Scarlett Trent," he said, "I will tell you whyI crave for wealth. You are a young and an ignorant man. Amongstother things you do not know what money will buy. You have your coarsepleasures I do not doubt, which seem sweet to you! Beyond them--what?A tasteless and barbaric display, a vulgar generosity, an ignorant andpurposeless prodigality. Bah! How different it is with those who know!There are many things, my young friend, which I learned in my youngerdays, and amongst them was the knowledge of how to spend money. How tospend it, you understand! It is an art, believe me! I mastered it, and,until the end came, it was magnificent. In London and Paris to-day tohave wealth and to know how to spend it is to be the equal of princes!The salons of the beautiful fly open before you, great men will clamourfor your friendship, all the sweetest triumphs which love and sport canoffer are yours. You stalk amongst a world of pygmies a veritable giant,the adored of women, the envied of men! You may be old--it matters not;ugly--you will be fooled into reckoning yourself an Adonis. Nobilityis great, art is great, genius is great, but the key to the pleasurestorehouse of the world is a key of gold--of gold!"

  He broke off with a little gasp. He held his throat and lookedimploringly towards the bottle. Trent shook his head stonily. Therewas something pitiful in the man's talk, in that odd mixture of bittercynicism and passionate earnestness, but there was also somethingfascinating. As regards the brandy, however, Trent was adamant.

  "Not a drop," he declared. "What a fool you are to want it, Monty!You're a wreck already. You want to pull through, don't you? Leave thefilthy stuff alone. You'll not live a month to enjoy your coin if we getit!"

  "Live!" Monty straightened himself out. A tremor went through all hisframe.

  "Live!" he repeated, with fierce contempt; "you are making the commonmistake of the whole ignorant herd. You are measuring life by itslength, when its depth alone is of any import. I want no more than ayear or two at the most, and I promise you, Mr. Scarlett Trent, my mostestimable young companion, that, during that year, I will live more thanyou in your whole lifetime. I will drink deep of pleasures which youknow nothing of, I will be steeped in joys which you will never reachmore nearly than the man who watches a change in the skies or a sunsetacross the ocean! To you, with boundless wealth, there will be depths ofhappiness which you will never probe, joys which, if you have the wit tosee them at all, will be no more than a mirage to you."

  Trent laughed outright, easily and with real mirth. Yet in his heartwere sown already the seeds of a secret dread. There was a ring ofpassionate truth in Monty's words. He believed what he was saying.Perhaps he was right. The man's inborn hatred of a second or inferiorplace in anything stung him. Were there to be any niches after all inthe temple of happiness to which he could never climb? He looked backrapidly, looked down the avenue of a squalid and unlovely life, sawhimself the child of drink-sodden and brutal parents, remembered theBoard School with its unlovely surroundings, his struggles at a drearytrade, his running away and the fierce draughts of delight which thejoy and freedom of the sea had brought to him on the morning when he hadcrept on deck, a stowaway, to be lashed with every rope-end and to dothe dirty work of every one. Then the slavery at a Belgian settlement,the job on a steamer trading along the Congo, the life at Buckomari, andlastly this bold enterprise in which the savings of years were invested.It was a life which called aloud for fortune some day or other to makea little atonement. The old man was dreaming. Wealth would bring him,uneducated though he was, happiness enough and to spare.

  A footstep fell softly upon the turf outside. Trent sprang at once intoan attitude of rigid attention. His revolver, which for four days hadbeen at full cock by his side, stole out and covered the approachingshadow stealing gradually nearer and nearer. The old man saw nothing,for he slept, worn out with excitement and exhaustion.