Count Bunker

CHAPTER XVI

In a dog-cart borrowed from his obliging host, Count Bunker approached the present residence of Mr. Darius P. Maddison. He saw, and—in his client's interest—noted with approval the efforts that were being made to convert an ordinary fishing-lodge into a suitable retreat for a gentleman worth so many million dollars. “Corryvohr,” as the house was originally styled, or “Lincoln Lodge,” as the patriotic Silver King had re-named it, had already been enlarged for his reception by the addition of four complete suites of apartments, each suitable for a nobleman and his retinue, an organ hall, 10,000 cubic yards of scullery accommodation, and a billiard-room containing three tables. But since he had taken up his residence there he had discovered the lack of several other essentials for a quiet “mountain life” (as he appropriately phrased it), and these defects were rapidly being remedied as our friend drove up. The conservatory was already completed, with the exception of the orchid and palm houses; the aviary was practically ready, and several crates of the rarer humming-birds were expected per goods train that evening; while a staff of electricians could be seen erecting the private telephone by which Mr. Maddison proposed to keep himself in touch with the silver market.

The Count had no sooner pressed the electric bell than a number of men-servants appeared, sufficient to conduct him in safety to a handsome library fitted with polished walnut, and carpeted as softly as the moss on a mountain-side. Having sent in his card, he entertained himself by gazing out of the window and wondering what strange operation was being conducted on a slope above the house, where a grove of pines were apparently being rocked to and fro by a concourse of men with poles and pulleys. But he had not to wait long, for with a promptitude that gave one some inkling of the secret of Mr. Maddison's business success, the millionaire entered.

In a rapid survey the Count perceived a tall man in the neighborhood of sixty: gray-haired, gray-eyed, and gray-faced. The clean-shaved and well-cut profile included the massive foundation of jaw which Bunker had confidently anticipated, and though his words sounded florid in a European ear, they were uttered in a voice that corresponded excellently with this predominant chin.

“I am very pleased to see you, sir, very pleased indeed,” he assured the Count not once but several times, shaking him heartily by the hand and eyeing him with a glance accustomed to foresee several days before his fellows the probable fluctuations in the price of anything.

“I have taken the liberty of calling upon you in the capacity of Lord Tulliwuddle's confidential friend,” the Count began. “He is at present, as you may perhaps have learned, visiting his ancestral possessions——”

“My dear sir, for some days we have been expecting his lordship and yourself to honor us with a visit,” Mr. Maddison interposed. “You need not trouble to introduce yourself. The name of Count Bunker is already familiar to us.”

He bowed ceremoniously as he spoke, and the Count with no less politeness laid his hand upon his heart and bowed also.

“I looked forward to the meeting with pleasure,” he replied. “But it has already exceeded my anticipations.”

He would have still further elaborated these assurances, but with his invariable tact he perceived a shrewd look in the millionaire's eye that warned him he had to do with a man accustomed to flowery preliminaries from the astutest manipulators of a deal.

“I am only sorry you should find our little cottage in such disorder,” said Mr. Maddison. “The contractor for the conservatory undertook to erect it in a week, and my only satisfaction is that he is now paying me a forfeit of 500 dollars a day. As for the electricians in this country, sir, they are not incompetent men, but they must be taught to hustle if they are to work under American orders; and I don't quite see how they are to find a job anyways else.”

He turned to the window with a more satisfied air.

“Here, however, you will perceive a tolerably satisfactory piece of work. I guess those trees will be ready pretty near as soon as the capercailzies are ready for them.”

Count Bunker opened his eyes.

“Do I understand that you are erecting a pine wood?”

“You do. That fir forest is my daughter's notion. She thought ordinary plane-trees looked kind of unsuitable for our mountain home. The land of Burns and of the ill-fated Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, should have more appropriate foliage than that! Well, sir, it took four hundred men just three days to remove the last traces of the last root of the last of those plane-trees.”

“And the pines, I suppose, you brought from a neighboring wood?” said the Count, patriotically endeavoring not to look too dumbfoundered.

“No, sir. Lord Tulliwuddle's factor was too slow for me—said he must consult his lordship before removing the timber on the estate. I cabled to Norway: the trees arrived yesterday in Aberdeen, and I guess half of them are as near perpendicular by now as a theodolite can make them. They are being erected, sir, on scientific principles.”

Restraining his emotion with a severe effort, Bunker quietly observed

“Very good idea. I don't know that it would have occurred to me to land them at Aberdeen.”

From the corner of his eye he saw that his composure had produced a distinct impression, but he found it hard to retain it through the Silver King's next statement.

“You have taken a long lease of Lincoln Lodge, I presume?” he inquired.

“One year,” said Mr. Maddison. “But I reckon to be comfortable if I'm spending twenty minutes at a railroad junction.”

“Ah!” responded the Count, “in that case shifting a forest must be child's-play.”

The millionaire smiled affably at this pleasantry and invited his guest to be seated.

“You will try something American, I hope, Count Bunker?” he asked, touching the bell.

Count Bunker, rightly conceiving this to indicate a cock-tail, replied that he would, and in as nearly seven and a half seconds as he could calculate, a tray appeared with two of these remarkable compounds. Following his host's example, the Count threw his down at a gulp.

“The same,” said Mr. Maddison simply. And in an almost equally brief space the same arrived.

“Now,” said he, when they were alone again, “I hope you will pardon me, Count, if I am discourteous enough to tell you that my time is uncomfortably cramped. When I first came here I found that I was expected to stand upon the shore of the river for two hours on the chance of catching one salmon. But I have changed all that. As soon as I step outside my door, my ghillie brings me my rod, and if there ain't a salmon at the end for me to land, another ghillie will receive his salary. Since lunch I have caught a fish, despatched fifteen cablegrams, and dictated nine letters. I am only on holiday here, and if I don't get through double that amount in the next two hours I scarcely see my way to do much more fishing to-day. That being so, let us come right to the point. You bring some kind of proposition from Lord Tulliwuddle, I guess?”

During his drive the Count had cogitated over a number of judicious methods of opening the delicate business; but his adaptability was equal to the occasion. In as business-like a tone as his host, he replied—

“You are quite right, Mr. Maddison. Lord Tulliwuddle has deputed me to open negotiations for a certain matrimonial project.”

Mr. Maddison's expression showed his appreciation of this candor and delicacy.

“Well,” said he, “to be quite frank, Count, I should have thought all the better of his lordship if he had been a little more prompt about the business.”

“It is not through want of admiration for Miss Maddison, I assure you——”

“No,” interrupted Mr. Maddison, “it is because he does not realize the value of time—which is considerably more valuable than admiration, I can assure you. Since I discussed the matter with Lord Tulliwuddle's aunt we have had several more buyers—I should say, suitors—in the market—er—in the field, Count Bunker. But so far, fortunately for his lordship, my Eleanor has not approved of the samples sent, and if he still cares to come forward we shall be pleased to consider his proposition.”

The millionaire looked at him out of an impenetrable eye; and the Count in an equally guarded tone replied,

“I greatly approve of putting things on so sound a footing, and with equal frankness I may tell you—in confidence, of course—that Lord Tulliwuddle also is not without alternatives. He would, however, prefer to offer his title and estates to Miss Maddison, provided that there is no personal objection to be found on either side.”

Mr. Maddison's eye brightened and his tone warmed.

“Sir,” said he, “I guess there won't be much objection to Eleanor Maddison when your friend has seen her. Without exaggeration, I may say that she is the most beautiful girl in America, and that is to say, the most beautiful girl anywhere. The precise amount of her fortune we can discuss, supposing the necessity arrives: but I can assure you it will be sufficient to set three of your mortgaged British aristocrats upon their legs again. No, sir, the objection will not come from THAT side!”

With a gentle smile and a deprecatory gesture the Count answered, “I am convinced that Miss Maddison is all—indeed, more than all—your eloquence has painted. On the other hand, I trust that you will not be disappointed in my friend Tulliwuddle.”

Mr. Maddison crossed his legs and interlocked his fingers like a man about to air his views. This, in fact, was what he proceeded to do.

“My opinion of aristocracies and the pampered individuals who compose them is the opinion of an intelligent and enlightened democrat. I see them from the vantage-ground of a man who has made his own way in the world unhampered by ancestry, who has dwelt in a country fortunately unencumbered by such hindrances to progress, and who has no personal knowledge of their defects. You will admit that I speak with unusual opportunities of forming a judgment?”

“You should have the impartiality of a missionary,” said Bunker gravely.

“That is so, sir. Now, in proposing to marry my daughter to a member of this class, I am actuated solely by a desire to take advantage of the opportunities such an alliance would confer. I am still perfectly clear?”

“Perfectly,” replied Bunker, with the same profound gravity.

“In consequence,” resumed the millionaire, with the impressiveness of a logician drawing a conclusion from two irrefutable premises—“in consequence, Count Bunker, I demand—and my daughter demands—and my son demands, sir, that the nobleman should possess an unusual number of high-class, fire-proof, expert-guaranteed qualities. That is only fair, you must admit?”

“I agree with you entirely.”

Mr. Maddison glanced at the clock and sprang to his feet.

“I have not the pleasure of knowing my neighbor, Mr. Gallosh,” he said, resuming his brisk business tone; “but I beg you to convey to him and to his wife and daughter my compliments—and my daughter's compliments—and tell them that we hope they will excuse ceremony and bring Lord Tulliwuddle to luncheon to-morrow.”

Count Bunker expressed his readiness to carry this message, and the millionaire even more briskly resumed—

“I shall now give myself the pleasure of presenting you to my son and daughter.”

With his swiftest strides he escorted his distinguished guest to another room, flung the door open, announced, “My dears, Count Bunker!” and pressed the Count's hand even as he was effecting this introduction.

“Very pleased to have met you, Count. Good day,” he ejaculated, and vanished on the instant.