Arthur answered:
“It’s not an offer; it’s contemptible, it’s an insult.”
Richard heard the trouble in. Arthur’s voice and he was pleased. Arthur looked bowed and hopeless, he spoke with his forehead resting in one hand. Richard chuckled within himself.
Mr. Bannerman scrutinised a paper he did not need to scrutinise. He looked lean and dried up and tight about the collar. He balanced his monocle which had a broad black ribbon and said smoothly:
“I repeat that it is an offer, the only offer we have received, and it is tangible.”
Silence. Then Adam Todd said:
“Is it impossible to arrange to dewater the pit? To rebuild the bank? Is it quite impossible?”
“Who is going to put up the money?” Arthur exclaimed.
“We’ve been over all this before,” Mr. Bannerman said, pretending not to look at Arthur yet looking at him all the time.
“It seems a pity,” Todd murmured dejectedly. “A great pity.” He raised his head suddenly. “What about the pictures, your father’s pictures? Can’t you raise the money on them?”
“They’re worthless,” Arthur answered. “I had young Vincent out to value them. He just laughed. The Goodalls and Copes you couldn’t give away. Nobody wants them now.”
Another silence. Then Hilda spoke decisively.
“Arthur must have no more worry. That’s all I have to say. In his present state he’s not fit to stand it.”
Arthur’s shoulders sagged, and he shielded his face more with his hand. He said heavily:
“You’re decent, Hilda. But I know what you’re all thinking, what a hopeless mess I’ve made of it. I did what I thought was right and best. I couldn’t help anything. It just came. But you’re all thinking this would never have happened if my father had been here.”
Outside the door Richard’s face became suffused with satisfaction. He did not really understand, of course, but he saw that there was trouble and they wanted him to set the trouble right. They would call him in.
Arthur was talking again. Arthur said dully:
“I was always moaning about justice. And now I’ve got it! We squeezed the men and flooded the mine and finished the men. And now when I try to do everything for them the men turn round and flood the mine and finish me.”
“Oh, Arthur, my dear, don’t talk that way,” Aunt Carrie whimpered, putting her hand tremulously towards Arthur’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “But that’s the way I see it.”
“Suppose we confine ourselves to business,” Mr. Bannerman said very drily.
“Go on, then,” Arthur said heavily. “Go on and settle the damned thing and let’s be done with it.”
“Please!” Mr. Bannerman said.
Hilda intervened.
“What is this offer then, Mr. Bannerman? How does it work out?”
Mr. Bannerman adjusted his monocle and looked at Hilda.
“The position is precisely this. We are faced on the one side with a dislocated pit, flooded workings and burnt-out gear. On the other side you may place this offer to take over the Neptune, purchase the whole non-producing concern, lock, stock and barrel, and if I may respectfully say so, flood water as well.”
“They know very well they can get rid of the water,” Arthur said bitterly. “I’ve spent thousands on these underground roads. It’s the finest pit in the district and they know it. They’re offering not one-tenth of the value of the pit. It’s sheer insanity to take it.”
“Times,” Mr. Bannerman said, “are difficult, Arthur. And the particular circumstances are more difficult still.”
Hilda said:
“Suppose we accepted this offer?”
Mr. Bannerman hesitated. He removed his monocle, studied it.
“Well,” he said, “we should be clear of our liabilities.” He paused. “Arthur, if I may venture to say so, was reckless in his expenditure. We must remember the liabilities in which we are involved.”
Hilda looked at Mr. Bannerman darkly. That we particularly exasperated Hilda for Mr. Bannerman was not involved and Mr. Bannerman had no liabilities whatever. Rather sharply Hilda said:
“Can’t you get an increase on the offer?”
“They are keen people these,” Mr. Bannerman answered. “Very keen people indeed. This offer is their final offer.”
“It’s sheer robbery,” Arthur groaned.
“Who are they?” Hilda asked.
Mr. Bannerman fitted back his monocle delicately:
“They are Mawson & Gowlan,” he said. “Yes! Mr. Joseph Gowlan is the negotiating party.”
There was a silence. Arthur lifted his head slowly and looked across at Hilda. His voice was savagely ironic.
“You know the fellow, don’t you?” he said. “These new offices in Grainger Street. All black and marble. The site alone cost them forty thousand. He’s the Joe Gowlan who worked as a hand-putter in the Neptune.”
“He does not work there now,” Mr. Bannerman said precisely. Inspecting the heading of the notepaper before him he declared: “Messrs. Mawson & Gowlan have now the controlling interest in Northern Steel Industries Ltd., in United Brassfounders Ltd., in the Tyneside Commercial Corporation, in Corporation and Northern Securities Ltd., and in the Rusford Aeroplane Co.”
There was another silence. Adam Todd seemed very unhappy and he chewed a clove as if the flavour of the clove was not good.
“Is there no other way?” he said, shifting restlessly on his seat. “I know the stuff that’s in the Neptune. Wonderful stuff. It’s always been Barras’s Neptune. Isn’t there any other way?”
“Have you any suggestion?” Mr. Bannerman inquired politely. “If so be kind enough to let us have it.”
“Why don’t you go to this Gowlan,” said Todd suddenly, turning to Arthur, “and try to get in with him?… Bargain with him. Tell him you don’t want to sell for cash. You want to amalgamate with him. You want a seat on the board, shares, just to be in with him, Arthur. If only you get in with Gowlan you’d be absolutely made!”
Arthur reddened slowly. “That’s a grand idea, Todd. But unfortunately it’s no use. You see, I’ve tried it.” He faced them all and with a sudden outburst of bitter cynicism he cried: “I went up to Gowlan two days ago, up to his damned new offices. God! You ought to see them — solid bronze doors, Carrara marble, teak and tapestry elevator. I tried to sell myself to him. You know what he is. He began by swindling Millington out of the foundry. He swindled his shareholders in the boom. He’s never done an honest day’s work in his life. Everything he’s got has come crookedly — from sweating his workmen, corruption on contracts, that big munitions ramp. But I swallowed all that, tried to sell my soul.” Trembling, he paused. “It would have made you laugh. He played with me like a cat with a mouse. He began by telling me how honoured he was but that our ideas seemed to be slightly different. He went on about the new aeroplane works at Rusford where he’s turning out military aeroplanes by the hundred and selling them to every country in Europe. He enlarged on the prospects of the Rusford ’plane because it has what he called greater killing power than any other line. He took me on bit by bit, putting out a hint here and a promise there, until I’d sworn away everything I’d ever believed in. And when he’d got me stripped naked he laughed at me and offered me a job as underviewer at the Neptune.”
Yet another silence, a long silence. Dan Teasdale moved restively, and for the first time spoke.
“It’s a damned shame.” His ruddy face was alive with indignation. “Why don’t you chuck the whole thing up, Arthur, and come down with us? We don’t make money. But we don’t want it. And we’re perfectly happy without it. There’s better things — that’s what Grace has taught me. Health, and working in the fresh air, and seeing your children grow up strong. You come down, Arthur, and start fresh with us.”