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Updated: May 7, 2025
They were all there Griffenberg, Wirsch, the Beltons, Efford, and Fitzharford; and they were all smiling and in the best of humours, presenting by their appearance a striking contrast to that which they had worn when he had seen them on the night when the ruin of the company had been conveyed in that fatal cablegram.
Sir Stephen had been the life and soul and spring of the dinner; talking fashionable gossip to Lady Fitzharford on one side of him, and a "giddy girl of twenty" on the other; exchanging badinage with "Bertie," and telling deeply interesting stories to the men; and he was now dragging reluctant laughter from the grim Baron Wirsch and the almost grimmer Griffenberg, as he saw with one eye that the wine was circulating, and with the other that no one was being overlooked or allowed to drop into dullness.
"We all relied so completely on Sir Stephen I beg pardon, Lord Highcliffe, your father that we feel ourselves helpless now er left in the lurch. The company is in great peril; there has already been heavy loss, and we fear that our property will be swallowed up " "Ask him what Sir Stephen did with all his money!" cried an excited shareholder. "Order!" said Mr. Griffenberg.
He glanced at Stafford and knit his brows, but dropped heavily into a chair, and sat with stony face and half-lowered lids. He had scarcely taken his seat when Howard entered in his quiet fashion, and he went and stood just behind Stafford. "I was just telling the meeting, Lord Highcliffe, that I was afraid we were in a bad way." said Griffenberg.
"They say that the peerage will be announced to-night." Stafford nodded. And Griffenberg after a stare at Stafford's impassive face which evinced no flush of exultation, glanced at the others curiously, seemed about to add something, then checked himself and turned away, and as Stafford went on, said in a low voice to Wirsch: "Do you think he has heard? Looked rather glum, didn't he?"
As he said the last words there came a knock at the door, and Murray entered with an injured look. "Mr. Griffenberg and Baron Wirsch, would like to see you, Sir Stephen," he said, significantly. Sir Stephen sprang to the table almost with the alertness of a boy, and caught up the papers lying on his desk. "All right, Murray!" he cried. "Sorry I'm late! Been having a talk with Mr. Stafford.
Some of us is ruined by this company, and we don't see why we should be sheared while Lord Highcliffe gets off with a cool hundred thousand. I ask the question and I wait for an answer." Stafford rose, his pale, handsome face looking almost white above his black frock-coat and black tie. "Sit down! Don't answer him," said Griffenberg. "It is quite true," he said.
See here: I'll take those shares from you, if you like, and if you'll say nothing about it." Mr. Griffenberg eyed his companion's rugged face keenly. "What for?" he asked. Mr. Falconer smiled. "That's my business," he said. "The only thing that matters to you is, that by taking the shares off your hands I shall be doing you a service." "That's true: you shall have 'em," said Mr.
If his father had only gone on living and waited until that blessed company had come right side uppermost, he'd have been a millionaire. Look at Griffenberg and the rest of 'em!" he nodded towards the group of financiers; "they're simply rolling in money, rolling in it."
Griffenberg turned from the man to whom he was talking and exclaimed, gleefully: "Here is Mr. Orme! You have herd the good news, I suppose, Mr. Orme? Splendid isn't it? Wonderful man, you father, truly wonderful! He can give us all points, can't he, baron?" The baron nodded and smiled. "Shir Stephen ish a goot man of pishness. You have a very glever fader, Mr. Orme!" he said, emphatically.
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