The Good Time Coming

AFTER a night that was sleepless to at least three members of the family the morning of the day on which Mr. Markland was to start on his journey came.  Tearful eyes were around him.  Even to the last, Fanny begged him not to leave them, and almost clung to him at the moment of parting.  Finally, the separation was accomplished, and, shrinking back in the carriage that conveyed him to the city, Mr. Markland gave himself up to sad reveries.  As his thoughts reached forward to the point of his destination, and he tried to arrange in his mind all the information he had relating to the business in which he was now embarked, he saw more clearly than ever the feeble hold upon his fortune that remained to him.  Less confident, too, was he of the good result of his journey.  Now that he was fairly on the way, doubt began to enter his mind.

This was Mr. Markland’s state of feelings on reaching the city.  His first act was to drive to the post-office, to get any letters that might have arrived for him.  He received only one, and that was from New York.  The contents were of a startling character.  Mr. Fenwick wrote: 

“Come on immediately.  Your presence is desired by all the members of the Company here.  We have news of an unexpected and far from pleasant character.”

This was all; but it came with a painful shock upon the feelings of Mr. Markland.  Its very vagueness made it the more frightful to him; and his heart imagined the worst.

Without communicating with his family, who supposed him on his journey southward, Mr. Markland took the first train for New York, and in a few hours arrived in that city, and called at the office of Mr. Fenwick.  A single glance at the agent’s countenance told him that much was wrong.  A look of trouble shadowed it, and only a feeble smile parted his lips as he came forward to meet him.

“What news have you?” eagerly inquired Mr. Markland.

“Bad news, I am sorry to say,” was answered.

“What is its nature?” The face of Mr. Markland was of an ashen hue, and his lips quivered.

“I fear we have been mistaken in our man,” said Mr. Fenwick.

“In Lyon?”

“Yes.  His last letters are of a very unsatisfactory character, and little in agreement with previous communications.  We have, besides, direct information from a partly on the ground, that tends to confirm our worst fears.”

“Worst fears of what?” asked Markland, still strongly agitated.

“Unfair—­nay, treacherous—­dealing.”

“Treachery!”

“That word but feebly expresses all we apprehend.”

“It involves fearful meaning in the present case,” said Markland, in a hoarse voice.

“Fearful enough,” said Fenwick, gloomily.

“I was just on the eve of starting for the ground of the Company’s operations, when your letter reached me this morning.  An hour later, and I would have been on my journey southward,” said Mr. Markland.

“It is well that I wrote, promptly,” remarked Fenwick.  “You were, at least, saved a long and fruitless journey.”

“It will yet have to be taken, I fear,” said Markland.

Fenwick shook his head ominously, and muttered, half to himself—­“Vain—­vain!”

“Will you state clearly, yet in brief, the nature of the information you have received from Mr. Lyon?” said Markland.  “I comprehend nothing yet.”

“His last communication,” was answered, “gives a hurried, rather confused account of the sudden flooding of the main shaft, in sinking which a large part of the capital invested has been expended, and the hopeless abandonment of the work in that direction.”

“Do you believe this statement?” asked Mr. Markland.

“I have another letter from one of the party on the ground, bearing the same date.”

“What does he say?”

“But little of the flooded shaft.  Such an occurrence had, however, taken place, and the writer seemed to think it might require a steam-engine and pump to keep it clear, involving a delay of several months.  The amount of water which came in was sufficient to cause a suspension of work, which he thought might be only temporary; but he could not speak with certainty in regard to that.  But the most serious part of his communication is this:” 

Mr. Fenwick took a letter from his desk, and read:—­

“The worst feature of the case is the lack of funds.  The Government officials have demanded the immediate payment of the second, third, and fourth instalments due on the Company’s grant of land, and have announced their purpose to seize upon all the effects here, and declare a forfeiture, unless these dues are forthcoming at the end of the present month.  Mr. Lyon is greatly troubled, but mysterious.  He has not, from the first day of his arrival out up to the present moment, admitted any one fully into his counsels.  I know he has been seriously hampered for lack of funds, but was not aware, until now, that the second and third instalments of purchase-money remained unpaid; and my knowledge of this, and the impending danger from the Government, was only acquired through accident.  No doubt Mr. Lyon has fully advised you of all the facts in the case; still, I feel it to be my duty also to refer to the subject.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Mr. Markland, as Fenwick paused, and lifted his eyes from the letter.  “The second, third, and fourth instalments not paid!  What can it mean?  Was not the money forwarded to Mr. Lyon?”

“He took out funds to meet the second and third regular payments; and the money for the fourth went forward in good time.  There is something wrong.”

“Wrong!” Mr. Markland was on his feet, and pacing the floor in an agitated manner.  “Something wrong!  There exists, I fear, somewhere in this business a conspiracy to swindle.”

And as he said this, he fixed his eyes intently on the countenance of Mr. Fenwick.

“The agent with whom we intrusted so much has, I fear, abused our confidence,” said Mr. Fenwick, speaking calmly, and returning the steady gaze of Markland.

“Who is the person who gives this information about the unpaid instalments?” asked the latter.

“A man in whose word every reliance may be placed.”

“You know him personally?”

“Yes.”

“Is his position on the ground such as to bring him within the reach of information like that which he assumes to give?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a man of intelligence?”

“He is.”

“And one of cool judgment?”

“Yes; and this is why the information he gives is of such serious import.  He would never communicate such information on mere rumour or inference.  He knows the facts, or he would not have averred to their existence.”

“Has there been a meeting of the Board?” inquired Markland.

“There was a hurried meeting yesterday afternoon; and we shall convene again at six this evening.”

“What was done?”

“Nothing.  Consternation at the intelligence seized upon every one.  There were regrets, anxieties, and denunciations, but no action.”

“What is the general view in regard to Lyon?”

“Some refuse to admit the implied charge that lies against him; while others take the worst for granted, and denounce him in unmeasured terms.”

“What is your opinion?” asked Markland.

“Knowing the man from whom information comes, I am led to fear the worst.  Still, there may have been some mistake—­some misapprehension on his part.”

“The meeting takes place at six o’clock?” said Markland, after remaining a short time silent.

“Yes.”

“Will you propose any thing?”

“I wish, first, to hear the views of others.  Prompt action of some kind is certainly required.”

“If Lyon be actually the villain he now seems, he will put himself entirely beyond our reach on the first intimation of danger,” said Markland.

“So I have reasoned.  Our only hope, therefore, is to get possession of his person.  But how is this to be accomplished?”

“Give immediate notice to the—­Government, that he is in possession of the funds due them by the Company, and they will not fail to secure his person,” said Markland.

“A good suggestion,” replied Fenwick.  And he sat in a thoughtful attitude for some moments.  “Yes, that is a good suggestion,” he repeated.  “We must send a shrewd, confidential agent at once to L—­, and give information of the exact position of affairs.”

“What is the date of the last communication from Lyon?” asked Markland.

“He wrote on the tenth.”

“Of last month?”

“Yes.”

“And the—­Government threatened to enter upon and seize our property on the first of the present month?”

“True—­true; and the worst may have already happened,” said Fenwick.  “Still, an agent must go out, and vigorous efforts be made to save our property.”

“It will scarcely be worth saving, if in the condition represented, and all our funds dissipated.”

Fenwick sighed.  There was something in that sigh, as it reached the ears of Markland, which seemed like a mockery of trouble.  He raised his glance quickly to the agent’s face, and searched it over with the sharp eye of suspicion.  Fenwick bore this scrutiny without the faltering of a muscle.  If he comprehended its meaning, his consciousness thereof was in no way revealed.

“The Board will meet here at six o’clock this evening,” said he, quietly.  “In the mean time, you had better digest the information we have, and come prepared to aid us with your better judgment.  The crisis is one that demands calm, earnest thought and decisive action.”

“I will be here,” replied Markland, rising.  Then, with a formal bow, he left the agent’s office.