Mr. Petre

“ Petre, “what then?”
Terrard pondered a moment, recalling the instructions of Mr. Charlbury, J.P. for the County of Surrey. Then he started off:
“Well,” slowly, “the fact is,” more slowly, “Trefusis is going about saying he must act, one way or the other.” Mr. Petre’s blood ran cold again. “You know the kind of man he is?” Mr. Petre nodded; he didn’t, so he nodded—quite emphatically. “He’s like a rat. If he’s cornered, he bites.” Mr. Petre nodded again, as though the habits of the mysterious Trefusis had been the study of his life. “But he’s frightened, Mr. Petre; devilish frightened. ”

“ Cyril went through them one by one in their exact order of greatness, and shouted at the kind old Cabinet Minister again, to give Mr. Petre some impression of the way in which one had to talk to him.
Never was a man more deeply impressed than was Mr. Petre by the solemn deference he received. One after another each of those men and each of those women spiritually knelt before him, and there was manifest in their eyes and in their gestures all the spirit of religion. He who showed it least was young Terrard; yet even he showed it plentifully, and Marjorie Kayle exceeded. ”

“ Petre.
The Medical Genius restrained his temper, determined—he was a conscientious man—to do his best by the impossible fellow, and started anew.
“I must now,” he continued, putting on a look of much greater importance than he had yet assumed, and settling himself up in his chair, “I must now, my dear sir, put to you a very intimate question indeed; it is one which we always have to ask at this stage of our inquiries.” (Mr. Petre marveled what that stage exactly was. But he was wise enough to remain silent.) “Do you dream?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Petre cheerfully. He was all right now ”

“ It was the first time he had broken the wall of his isolation with any human being. It had been a human being, humble, poor and loyal; to be trusted, if any one could be. But the doctor was another matter. Mr. Petre—he knew not why, some impression perhaps received in the old days of which he knew nothing and which yet remained with him—Mr. Petre distrusted all professions, all corporations; for he feared that their members would always be more loyal to their Guild than to the private citizen with whom they dealt. ”

“ He divined the reality behind the mask. Petre was the soul, Terrard the mere mouthpiece. Petre was the Captain of that day.... How marvelously did that great man affect tedium! How admirably assumed was the recurrent spasm of disgust when his eyes met Henry Trefusis’ eyes!
It took less than two hours. And at the end of it there existed in duplicate a document not fifty lines long which left Charlie Terrard assured that Mr. Petre would stand as an equal God and twin master of B.A.R.
The victors went out. ”

“ Petre, getting up and pacing slowly down the little hotel sitting-room and back again. “I see.” For, like the blind man in the story, he didn’t see at all.
“That’s the trouble,” said his guest, leaning back in his chair as though he were relieved by the conclusion of the tale. “It must be one man, and one big man, for they’re all shy of it, are the little ones. And it must be one man because it will have to be handled briskly at both ends.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Petre rapidly, “at both ends.”
“Buying and selling,” said Terrard.
“Obviously,” said Mr. Petre. ”

“ Shall I advise him now? Shall I write a note?”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Petre. “I will consider it. If you will allow me, I will communicate with you again.” But alas! for the integrity of a good man; he had firmly determined never to touch the Faculty again till agony should drive him. He was fed up—to the back teeth.
Slowly he produced the envelope with his eyes nervously diverted from the round face before him. There was no awkwardness. But there was on Mr. Petre’s side a pleased surprise at the simplicity of the passage. “Thank you a thousand times,” he said.... ”

“ Petre,” he said, solemnly and slowly, separating every word, “there is one rapid way, and only one.” Mr. Petre made no sign: he only waited. “Trefusis might take over—but at a sacrifice—Mr. Petre—a very heavy sacrifice, I’m afraid.” ”

“ The young broker, Charlie Terrard, deliberately said, looking at Mr. Petre with a slightly quizzical look:
“Well, sir, what do you think of them?” To which he bluntly added, “You know more about it than most of us.”
One or two of the less controlled faces took on an awkward look, the others went suddenly blank. The two ex-Lord Chancellors exchanged glances covertly and both half smiled:—certainly Terrard had done a monstrous thing! But then, great men like John K. are often straightforward, and sometimes eccentricity of that sort pleases them. They all waited for the answer, not breathing. ”

“ Petre. His host made the slightest movement to rise; Mr. Petre took advantage of it, and rose himself to go. Indeed, he was in such haste to go that he left his hat behind him, and the Manager with a human gesture followed him almost quickly, and handed it to him before he got to the door. Mr. Petre thanked him, shook hands quite warmly and was gone. He went so fast that the conductor who acted as usher or dog for so great a man only just caught him up at the end of the corridor and bowed him out. ”

“ Yes; he must, he must, he must discover; but he must discover before any fatal guess, any frightened random answer of his to some chance question, should destroy him.
One thing consoled him; the valiant loyalty of that Registration Clerk at the Splendide, whom now he felt to be his own brother in a world of misery and fear. For as Mr. Petre had leaped into that cab he had shot a glance at the dreadful Mephistopheles, and had seen him asking a question at the desk, and had seen the noble official, who had all power in his hands, shake his read resolutely and turn away. ”

“ He would not lose a moment, even to see his partner. He left a scrawl for Charlbury telling him to be in that evening without fail: that Petre had suddenly woken up and was moving. Then he went off eastward at a trot to the Mansion House, rotored to Blackfriars, crossed on foot, rotored again to the Temple. No man could have done it in less, since the new regulations. From the Temple Gate, off Carmelite Street, he ran across to the Row, ran up the stairs, and stood puffing in front of Mr. Petre’s oak.
What was it? Heart? Rotor slump? Blackmail? ”

“ Mr. Petre said very little and said it oddly, as though by rote. Cassleton and Trefusis noted that manner, and agreed silently that our greatest men are the hardest to comprehend. Charlie Terrard did most of the explanation and all the firmness in the intervals of his principal’s silence. Terrard it was who laid down detail and clause, negotiated, insisted, yielded when he chose to yield. All Mr. Petre did was to nod and, now and then, in monosyllables, to agree. But Trefusis, fighting a losing battle, could see well enough which was master and which was man. ”

“ They strolled southward, and in a leisurely conversation full of simplicity and good humor and good sense Charlie Terrard with his frank blue eyes and frank yellow hair (that curled) had discovered before they reached Piccadilly that Mr. Petre had fixed on no broker in town: not one more than another; it was just like his eccentricities to buy at random and refuse to be bound; it was another millionaire eccentricity to buy through Charlie, and Charlie was only too happy to oblige. ”

“ Something in the man which made him great, but which, to Terrard as to every one else, also made him inexplicable. He had to propose to-day a deal upon a scale quite out of the common—far above the humdrum of the Paddenham Site—and he dreaded a scene. Besides which, Mr. Petre seemed to him to have got odder and odder in all these last few months, imprisoning himself absurdly. It made the young man nervous to think of it. ”

“ Mr. Petre rubbed the replaced eyelid and made one more protest in favor of due payment; but his advisor was determined. Mr. Petre thanked him warmly, though confused, and was off. The impressive mute showed him out, and in a couple of minutes he was ringing at another door half a dozen houses down the street.
Sir William Bland received him in a room extremely different from that in which he had just suffered. It was the room in which a man might live rather than work. ”

“ The water was alive, and London had half forgotten its native misery.
It was an air in which new thoughts and clear ones should naturally come to a man; but none came to Mr. Petre. He was pondering upon that interview which he had to face, and went round it in his thoughts, coming no nearer to a center, but still remaining as he had been since the blow fell upon him, attendant upon Fate. It was to be about some horrid business called the Paddenham Site. ”

“ The banker had looked at his watch, and found it was already twenty past two. At each succeeding phrase his hostess put to him Mr. Petre came nearer and nearer to breaking-point under the strain.
He was saved by a magic word. Some one at the end of the table had pronounced three syllables: “Touaregs.” At that sound the whole conversation was in a blaze. Here was something in which all held communion! Here was a subject which struck right at the heart of every man and woman in the room—except poor Mr. Petre, to whom every allusion and phrase and term was Greek and nonsense ”

“ And if the Press were too frightened of the Trefusis brothers, why then the purchase of a great Daily, eh?
It would cost money. But there was a man available with limitless money. He was called John K. Petre.
He looked at his watch. He would soon be taking the train to his office.
Mr. Petre stood in the consciousness of Mr. Charlbury as does revelation in the consciousness of the new convert; as does the beloved in the consciousness of the new lover; as does the sunlight in the consciousness of a man cured suddenly of blindness ”

“ When Mr. Petre reached his room he realized that panic is a bad adviser.
In his terror and shame lest that roomful should guess his misfortune, he had not only put himself in peril—he did not know the law on these things, but he thought that he might very well have committed a crime—but he had also brought in, with that peril, the peril of a complete discovery. ”

“ Their words were the more vapid and without stuff, the more like sawdust, because each man and woman had in his heart one object only dominating all, and that object was John K. Petre, high above the few lords of the free modern world: fifty million pounds incarnate, and come to dwell amongst us. There, before them, in the flesh.
As the fowls of a farmyard will change their whole beings, clucking and chattering prodigiously and scrambling together in a swarm, and the whole flock alive with appetite when a handful of grain is thrown down ”

“ When people are desperate like that, and have to let things go, they’re watched, aren’t they?”
Mr. Petre said nothing. He smiled another knowing smile.
“Well,” continued Terrard, “they’ve watched a little too long. And if some one came in now—I don’t think it would be less than £800,000—it might be a little more ... but if some one comes in now, while Williams’ tongue is hanging out....” Mr. Petre saw that tongue and oddly visualized the unknown Williams in the shape of a large dog panting and athirst—“he gets it!” ”

“ Petre come here at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning, Mr. Terrard?” he said.
“I have no doubt he would,” said Terrard easily. “I will ring you up just beforehand, but I’m pretty sure he’ll come round; he’s one of those men who never seem to have much to do.” Here he rose to go. “Yet he seems to get a lot done somehow, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Trefusis....
Next morning at eleven Mr. Petre and Charlie Terrard were shown with some pomp into the room where they found Trefusis and Cassleton awaiting them. ”

“ When they have a holiday in Heaven they suck it out to the last half-minute, and beyond if they can; for Heaven has been hard-worked since the Fall, and play is precious to it.
That merry Dæmon to whom Mr. Petre had been handed over for a plaything still had a few days to disport himself—a few minutes, as they call them in Heaven—and he was not going to waste them. He wasn’t going to drop his toy till Higher Powers should come and take it from him. Not he! Mr. Petre was still in for it. ”

“ There is no proper office, and no name put up. Mr. Daniels is too careful for that. He has worked wonders, to my knowledge. Never mind the look of the house. Don’t write. He has no telephone, either. Just go there; and when you find him in, give him this card of mine.”
And thus was the clerk assured of his commission.
Mr. Petre was not quite sure that he had done right. Even one human being knowing but one step of his research was a peril; but he had no other choice, or rather, it was safer than addressing himself to some public firm. ”

“ Petre a moment’s relief in his suffering to notice with what deference his old friend the clerk noted so strange a plan, without deposit, without explanation. He was more convinced than ever that this unknown Self was of vast consequence. Then, after all this trouble, a new thought struck him. Would it not be better to wait an hour or two? Could he not discover Terrard’s address and see whether it had really gone through? Such a man must be in the reference books. The miserable man hesitated, irresolute, when a shock hurled him into a decision. ”