Beyond them -what?A tasteless and barbaric display,a vulgar generosity,an ignorant and purposeless prodigality.Bah!How different it is with those who know!There are many things,my young friend,which I learned in my younger days,and amongst them was the knowledge of how to spend money.How to spend it,you understand!It is an art,believe me!I mastered it,and,until the end came,it was magnificent.In London and Paris to-day to have wealth and to know how to spend it is to be the equal of princes!The salons of the beautiful fly open before you,great men will clamour for your friendship,all the sweetest triumphs which love and sport can offer are yours.You stalk amongst a world of pygmies a veritable giant,the adored of women,the envied of men!You may be old -it matters not;ugly -you will be fooled into reckoning yourself an Adonis.Nobility is great,art is great,genius is great,but the key to the pleasure storehouse of the world is a key of gold -of gold!"He broke off with a little gasp.He held his throat and looked imploringly towards the bottle.Trent shook his head stonily.
There was something pitiful in the man's talk,in that odd mixture of bitter cynicism and passionate earnestness,but there was also something fascinating.As regards the brandy,however,Trent was adamant.
"Not a drop,"he declared."What a fool you are to want it,Monty!
You're a wreck already.You want to pull through,don't you?Leave the filthy stuff alone.You'll not live a month to enjoy your coin if we get it!""Live!"Monty straightened himself out.A tremor went through all his frame.
"Live!"he repeated,with fierce contempt;"you are ****** the common mistake of the whole ignorant herd.You are measuring life by its length,when its depth alone is of any import.I want no more than a year or two at the most,and I promise you,Mr.Scarlett Trent,my most estimable young companion,that,during that year,Iwill live more than you in your whole lifetime.I will drink deep of pleasures which you know nothing of,I will be steeped in joys which you will never reach more nearly than the man who watches a change in the skies or a sunset across the ocean!To you,with boundless wealth,there will be depths of happiness which you will never probe,joys which,if you have the wit to see them at all,will be no more than a mirage to you."Trent laughed outright,easily and with real mirth.Yet in his heart were sown already the seeds of a secret dread.There was a ring of passionate truth in Monty's words.He believed what he was saying.Perhaps he was right.The man's inborn hatred of a second or inferior place in anything stung him.Were there to be any niches after all in the temple of happiness to which he could never climb?He looked back rapidly,looked down the avenue of a squalid and unlovely life,saw himself the child of drink-sodden and brutal parents,remembered the Board School with its unlovely surroundings,his struggles at a dreary trade,his running away and the fierce draughts of delight which the joy and ******* of the sea had brought to him on the morning when he had crept on deck,a stowaway,to be lashed with every rope-end and to do the dirty work of every one.
Then the slavery at a Belgian settlement,the job on a steamer trading along the Congo,the life at Buckomari,and lastly this bold enterprise in which the savings of years were invested.It was a life which called aloud for fortune some day or other to make a little atonement.The old man was dreaming.Wealth would bring him,uneducated though he was,happiness enough and to spare.
A footstep fell softly upon the turf outside.Trent sprang at once into an attitude of rigid attention.His revolver,which for four days had been at full cock by his side,stole out and covered the approaching shadow stealing gradually nearer and nearer.The old man saw nothing,for he slept,worn out with excitement and exhaustion.
