Will Warburton | Page 9

to withdraw his share from the concern; that would have
been merely to take advantage of Sherwood's generosity, and Will was
himself not less chivalrous. In Godfrey's phrase, they continued "to
fight the ship," and perhaps would have held out to the moment of
sinking, had not the accession of the Liberals to power in the spring of
this present year caused Sherwood so deep a disgust that he turned
despondent and began to talk of surrender to hopeless circumstance.
"It's all up with us, Will. This Government spells ruin, and will count it
one of its chief glories if we come to grief. But, by Heaven, they shan't
have that joy. We'll square up, quietly, comfortably, with dignity. We'll
come out of this fight with arms and baggage. It's still possible, you
know. We'll sell the St. Kitts estate to the Germans. We'll find some
one to buy us up here--the place would suit a brewer. And then--by
Jove! we'll make jam."
"Jam?"
"Isn't it an idea? Cheap sugar has done for the refiners, but it's a fortune
for the jam trade. Why not put all we can realize into a jam factory?
We'll go down into the country; find some delightful place where land
is cheap; start a fruit farm; run up a building. Doesn't it take you, Will?
Think of going to business every day through lanes overhung with
fruit-tree blossoms! Better that than the filth and stench and gloom and
uproar of Whitechapel--what? We might found a village for our
workpeople--the ideal village, perfectly healthy, every cottage beautiful.
Eh? What? How does it strike you, Will?"
"Pleasant. But the money?"
"We shall have enough to start; I think we shall. If not, we'll find a
moneyed man to join us."
"What about that ten thousand pounds?" suggested Warburton.
Sherwood shook his head.
"Can't get it just yet. To tell you the truth, it depends on the death of the
man's father. No, but if necessary, some one will easily be found. Isn't
the idea magnificent? How it would rile the Government if they heard
of it! Ho, ho!"
One could never be sure how far Godfrey was serious when he talked
like this; the humorous impulse so blended with the excitability of his

imagination, that people who knew him little and heard him talking at
large thought him something of a crack-brain. The odd thing was that,
with all his peculiarities, he had many of the characteristics of a sound
man of business; indeed, had it been otherwise, the balance-sheets of
the refinery must long ago have shown a disastrous deficit. As
Warburton knew, things had been managed with no little prudence and
sagacity; what he did not so clearly understand was that Sherwood had
simply adhered to the traditions of the firm, following very exactly the
path marked out for him by his father and his uncle, both notable
traders. Concerning Godfrey's private resources, Warburton knew little
or nothing; it seemed probable that the elder Sherwood had left a
considerable fortune, which his only son must have inherited. No doubt,
said Will to himself, this large reserve was the explanation of his
partner's courage.
So the St. Kitts estate was sold, and, with all the deliberate dignity
demanded by the fact that the Government's eye was upon them,
Sherwood Brothers proceeded to terminate their affairs in Whitechapel.
In July, Warburton took his three weeks' holiday, there being nothing
better for him to do. And among the letters he found on his table when
he returned, was one from Sherwood, which contained only these
words:
"Great opportunity in view. Our fortunes are made!"

CHAPTER 4

When Franks was gone, Warburton took up The Art World, which his
friend had left, and glanced again at the photogravure of "Sanctuary."
He knew, as he had declared, nothing about art, and judged pictures as
he judged books, emotionally. His bent was to what is called the
realistic point of view, and "Sanctuary" made him smile. But very
good-naturedly; for he liked Norbert Franks, and believed he would do
better things than this. Unless--?
The thought broke off with an uneasy interrogative.
He turned to the few lines of text devoted to the painter. Norbert Franks,
he read, was still a very young man; "Sanctuary," now on exhibition at

Birmingham, was his first important picture; hitherto he had been
chiefly occupied with work in black and white. There followed a few
critical comments, and prophecy of achievements to come.
Yes. But again the uneasy interrogative.
Their acquaintance dated from the year after Warburton's return from
St. Kitts. Will had just established himself in his flat near Chelsea
Bridge, delighted to be a Londoner, and was spending most of his
leisure in exploration of London's vastness. He looked upon all his