Philosopher Jack by Robert Michael Ballantyne (thriller books to read .TXT) 📕

in a sonorous tone. Instantly the octave was abandoned and the socks were dropped. Next moment there was a sound like the charge of a squadron of cavalry. It was the boys coming from the farm-yard. The extreme noise of the family's entry was rendered fully apparent by the appalling calm which ensued when Mr Jack opened the family Bible, and cleared his throat to begin worship. At breakfast the noise began again, but it was more subdued, appetite being too strong for it. In five minutes Dobbin was up to the eyes in a treacle-piece. This was a good opportunity for conversation.

"Maggie," said Mr Jack, looking up from his plate, "the last bill sent us from the diggin's by the dear boy makes the sum in my hands up to two thousand pounds. I'll go to town to-day and give it to Mr Wilkins to invest as usual."

"Very weel, John," replied Mrs Jack, "but it's been runnin' in my mind that it's no that safe to pit a' yer eggs in the same basket. Maybe ye might invest it in somethin' else."

"That's true, Maggie, we shall see," said Mr Jack, who was at all times a man of few words. As Dobbin became at the moment clamorous for more food, nothing further was said on the subject.

Arrived in the city, John Jack made his way to the office of Mr Wilkins. He found that gentleman with an expression of unwonted resignation on his countenance.

"I've brought you more money to invest, Mr Wilkins," said John Jack, sitting down after wiping his forehead, and producing a fat pocketbook; "I thought of doin' it in the old way, but my wife and I have been thinkin' that perhaps it might be wise to put some of the eggs in another basket."

A very sad and peculiar smile flitted for a moment across Mr Wilkins's face. "It is plain that you have not heard of the disastrous failure," he said. "Only last week the Blankow Bank suspended payment, and if the reports as to its liabilities be true, the result will be widespread ruin throughout the country."

"Do you mean to say that the Bank has failed?" asked Mr Jack, anxiously.

"Yes, and it is feared that most of the shareholders will be ruined. I am one, you know."

"Will _you_ be ruined, Mr Wilkins?"

"I fear that the first call will be more than I can meet. I trust that you are not personally involved."

"No, thank God, I'm not," said Mr Jack, with an increasingly anxious look. "But tell me, Mr Wilkins--for I don't understand banking matters very well--is my son's money all gone?"

"All," returned Mr Wilkins sadly, "and all that my own son has invested, as well as that of his friends!"

"How was it, sir," asked Mr Jack, in a reproachful tone, "that you were so confident in recommending the investment?"

"Because I thoroughly believed in the soundness of the bank and in the character of its directors. Investing my own funds so largely in its stock proves how I trusted it. But I was mistaken. It is a mystery which I cannot solve. Perhaps, when the examination of its affairs is completed, light may be thrown on the subject. I hope that no more of your relations or friends have stock in it?"

"None that I know of, except indeed my poor friend Mrs Niven, who was my son's landlady when he was at college. I'll go and inquire about her."

Mr Jack thrust the fat pocket-book into a breast pocket, and buttoned up his coat with the determined air of a man who means to keep hold of what he has got.

Bidding Mr Wilkins good-bye, he walked rapidly to Mrs Niven's house and pulled the bell rather violently. The summons was promptly answered by Peggy, who ushered him into a little parlour, where he was quickly joined by Mrs Niven.

"I'm very sorry to hear the bad news," said Mr Jack, pressing the good woman's hand in sympathy.

"What bad news?" asked Mrs Niven, in alarm.

"The bank, you know," said Mr Jack. "It's very hard, and to think that you're in the same boat with my dear boy, whose fortune is wrecked--"

A little scream stopped him, for the word "wrecked" struck a chill to the poor woman's heart.

"What! wrecked again?" she cried, "on a bank, in a boat? Oh! don't tell me, don't tell me that he's drownded."

"No, no," cried Mr Jack, hastening to relieve her mind, while he supported her to a chair; "no, no; my dear boy's all right. It's the Blankow Bank I mean that's gone to wreck, you know, and all his money with it, and yours too, I suppose, for you told me you had shares in that bank."

"Oh! as to that," said Mrs Niven, greatly relieved, "you may mak' yer mind easy. I've got nae shares intilt noo. I selt them through Mr Black lang syne. He's a douce, clever, honest felly--a relation o' mine, and a first-rate business man; but for him I'd hae lost my siller, nae doot. He warned me that the bank was nae a right ane, and advised me to sell."

Mr Jack thought that such a clever, disinterested man-of-business, and a relation of Mrs Niven, might be just the person to give him sound advice at this crisis; he therefore obtained his address, and, after a long chat with the good woman, who would have listened for hours to the adventures of her "bonny lodger," took his departure, and in due time stood at the door of the dirty little office.

The dirty clerk ushered the visitor into the presence of Mr Black, whose presence was more repulsive than it used to be. He received Mr Jack rather gruffly, and asked his business.

"Oho! an eccentric character, gruff but honest," thought Mr Jack, who began by saying that he had just come from visiting his friend Mrs Niven.

Mr Black's face grew almost green at the name, and his brows scowled fiercely.

"Strange look for an honest, kindly man," thought Mr Jack, "but we must never judge from the outward appearance;" then he said aloud, "I went to see her about that bank failure--"

"Ha!" growled Mr Black, interrupting, "but for that woman, and that--" he checked himself and said, "but you came here on some matter of business, I suppose. Will you state it?"

"A very eccentric man indeed, remarkably so, for a kindly, honest man," thought Mr Jack; but he only said, "I came here to consult you about the investment of two thousand pounds--"

"Oh! indeed," said Mr Black, in quite an altered tone, as he rose and politely offered his visitor a chair.

"But," continued Mr Jack, rebuttoning his greatcoat which he had partly opened, "but, sir, I have changed my mind, and bid you good-day."

So saying, he went out, leaving Mr Black standing at the door in stupid amazement and his dirty clerk agonising with suppressed laughter behind his desk. Mr Black had been groaning and growling all the day at the thoughts of the ruin which had overtaken him--thoughts which were embittered by the knowledge that he had drawn it on himself through the instrumentality of Mrs Niven. The climax of Mr Jack's visit did not tend to restore him. Recovering from his amazement, and observing the condition of the clerk, he suddenly hurled the cash-book at him. Cleverly dodging it, the dirty little creature bolted from the office, and banged the door behind him.

Meanwhile Mr Jack cashed his last bill of exchange, returned home, and presented his wife with a bag of gold, which she deposited in the darkest recesses of the great family chest.

"That bank gives no interest," said John Jack, with a quiet chuckle, as he superintended the deposit, "but we shall always have the interest of knowing that it is there."

Long afterwards Mr Wilkins sought to combat Mr Jack's objection to invest in another Scotch bank. "This disaster," he said, "ought not to be called a bank _failure_; it is a bank _robbery_ committed by its own directors, as has been clearly proved, and no more touches the credit of Scotch banks in general than the failure of a commercial house, through the dishonesty of its principals, affects the other commercial houses of the kingdom."

"It may be as you say, sir," replied John Jack, gravely, "an' if it was my own money I might act on your advice. But I intend to take care of what's left of the dear boy's money myself."

So saying, the stout farmer threw his shepherd's plaid over his shoulder, and went off to his cottage on the Border.

But we must pass from this subject. Space forbids our going deeper into it, or touching on the terrible consequences of dishonesty coupled with unlimited liability. Fortunes were wrecked; the rich and the poor, the innocent and guilty, the confiding and the ignorant as well as the knowing and wise, fell in the general crash. Many homes were desolated, and many hearts were broken. May we not believe, also, that many hearts were purified in passing through the furnace of affliction!

"All is not evil that brings sorrow," may be quite as true as the proverb, "All is not gold that glitters." Some have been glad to say with the Psalmist, "It was good for me that I was afflicted." This truth, however, while it might strengthen some hearts to bear, did not lighten the load to be borne. The great Bank failure produced heart-rending and widespread distress. It also called forth deep and general sympathy.

Out among the mountain gorges of California the gold-hunters knew nothing of all this for many a day, and our adventurers continued to dig, and wash, and pile up the superstructure of their fortunes, all ignorant of the event which had crumbled away the entire foundations.

At last there came a day when these fortunate gold-miners cried, "Hold! enough!" an unwonted cry--not often uttered by human beings.

Standing beside the camp fire one evening, while some of the party were cooking and others were arranging things inside the tent Captain Samson looked around him with an unusually heavy sigh.

"It's a grand country, and I'll be sorry to leave it," he said.

"Troth, and so will meself," responded O'Rook.

It was indeed a grand country. They had lately changed the position of their tent to an elevated plateau near a huge mass of rock where a little mountain stream fell conveniently into a small basin. From this spot they could see the valley where it widened into a plain, and again narrowed as it entered the gloomy defile of the mountains, whose tops mingled magnificently with the clouds.

"You see, my lads," continued the captain, "it's of no use goin' on wastin' our lives here, diggin' away like navvies, when we've got more gold than we know what to do with. Besides, I'm not sure that we ain't gettin' into a covetous frame of mind, and if we go on devotin' our lives to the gettin' of gold that we don't need, it's not unlikely that it may be taken away from us. Moreover, many a man has dug his grave in California and bin buried, so to speak, in gold-dust, which