Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) (603 page)

CHAPTER VIII. A BILLIONAIRE’S PLANS
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That morning, and many mornings both before and afterwards, were spent by Laura at the New Hall examining the treasures of the museum, playing with the thousand costly toys which Raffles Haw had collected, or sallying out from the smoking-room in the crystal chamber into the long line of luxurious hot-houses. Haw would walk demurely beside her as she flitted from one thing to another like a butterfly among flowers, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, and taking a quiet pleasure in her delight. The only joy which his costly possessions had ever brought him was that which came from the entertainment of others.

By this time his attentions towards Laura McIntyre had become so marked that they could hardly be mistaken. He visibly brightened in her presence, and was never weary of devising a thousand methods of surprising and pleasing her. Every morning ere the McIntyre family were afoot a great bouquet of strange and beautiful flowers was brought down by a footman from the Hall to brighten their breakfast-table. Her slightest wish, however fantastic, was instantly satisfied, if human money or ingenuity could do it. When the frost lasted a stream was dammed and turned from its course that it might flood two meadows, solely in order that she might have a place upon which to skate. With the thaw there came a groom every afternoon with a sleek and beautiful mare in case Miss McIntyre should care to ride. Everything went to show that she had made a conquest of the recluse of the New Hall.

And she on her side played her part admirably. With female adaptiveness she fell in with his humour, and looked at the world through his eyes. Her talk was of almshouses and free libraries, of charities and of improvements. He had never a scheme to which she could not add some detail making it more complete and more effective. To Haw it seemed that at last he had met a mind which was in absolute affinity with his own. Here was a help-mate, who could not only follow, but even lead him in the path which he had chosen.

Neither Robert nor his father could fail to see what was going forward, but to the latter nothing could possibly be more acceptable than a family tie which should connect him, however indirectly, with a man of vast fortune. The glamour of the gold bags had crept over Robert also, and froze the remonstrance upon his lips. It was very pleasant to have the handling of all this wealth, even as a mere agent. Why should he do or say what might disturb their present happy relations? It was his sister’s business, not his; and as to Hector Spurling, he must take his chance as other men did. It was obviously best not to move one way or the other in the matter.

But to Robert himself, his work and his surroundings were becoming more and more irksome. His joy in his art had become less keen since he had known Raffles Haw. It seemed so hard to toll and slave to earn such a trifling sum, when money could really be had for the asking. It was true that he had asked for none, but large sums were for ever passing through his hands for those who were needy, and if he were needy himself his friend would surely not grudge it to him. So the Roman galleys still remained faintly outlined upon the great canvas, while Robert’s days were spent either in the luxurious library at the Hall, or in strolling about the country listening to tales of trouble, and returning like a tweed-suited ministering angel to carry Raffles Haw’s help to the unfortunate. It was not an ambitious life, but it was one which was very congenial to his weak and easy-going nature.

Robert had observed that fits of depression had frequently come upon the millionaire, and it had sometimes struck him that the enormous sums which he spent had possibly made a serious inroad into his capital, and that his mind was troubled as to the future. His abstracted manner, his clouded brow, and his bent head all spoke of a soul which was weighed down with care, and it was only in Laura’s presence that he could throw off the load of his secret trouble. For five hours a day he buried himself in the laboratory and amused himself with his hobby, but it was one of his whims that no one, neither any of his servants, nor even Laura or Robert, should ever cross the threshold of that outlying building. Day after day he vanished into it, to reappear hours afterwards pale and exhausted, while the whirr of machinery and the smoke which streamed from his high chimney showed how considerable were the operations which he undertook single-handed.

“Could I not assist you in any way?” suggested Robert, as they sat together after luncheon in the smoking-room. “I am convinced that you over-try your strength. I should be so glad to help you, and I know a little of chemistry.”

“Do you, indeed?” said Raffles Haw, raising his eyebrows. “I had no idea of that; it is very seldom that the artistic and the scientific faculties go together.”

“I don’t know that I have either particularly developed. But I have taken classes, and I worked for two years in the laboratory at Sir Josiah Mason’s Institute.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” Haw replied with emphasis. “That may be of great importance to us. It is very possible — indeed, almost certain — that I shall avail myself of your offer of assistance, and teach you something of my chemical methods, which I may say differ considerably from those of the orthodox school. The time, however, is hardly ripe for that. What is it, Jones?”

“A note, sir.”

The butler handed it in upon a silver salver. Haw broke the seal and ran his eye over it.

“Tut! tut! It is from Lady Morsley, asking me to the Lord-Lieutenant’s ball. I cannot possibly accept. It is very kind of them, but I do wish they would leave me alone. Very well, Jones. I shall write. Do you know, Robert, I am often very unhappy.”

He frequently called the young artist by his Christian name, especially in his more confidential moments.

“I have sometimes feared that you were,” said the other sympathetically. “But how strange it seems, you who are yet young, healthy, with every faculty for enjoyment, and a millionaire.”

“Ah, Robert,” cried Haw, leaning back in his chair, and sending up thick blue wreaths from his pipe. “You have put your finger upon my trouble. If I were a millionaire I might be happy, but, alas, I am no millionaire!”

“Good heavens!” gasped Robert.

Cold seemed to shoot to his inmost soul as it flashed upon him that this was a prelude to a confession of impending bankruptcy, and that all this glorious life, all the excitement and the colour and change, were about to vanish into thin air.

“No millionaire!” he stammered.

“No, Robert; I am a billionaire — perhaps the only one in the world. That is what is on my mind, and why I am unhappy sometimes. I feel that I should spend this money — that I should put it in circulation — and yet it is so hard to do it without failing to do good — without doing positive harm. I feel my responsibility deeply. It weighs me down. Am I justified in continuing to live this quiet life when there are so many millions whom I might save and comfort if I could but reach them?”

Robert heaved a long sigh of relief. “Perhaps you take too grave a view of your responsibilities,” he said. “Everybody knows that the good which you have done is immense. What more could you desire? If you really wished to extend your benevolence further, there are organised charities everywhere which would be very glad of your help.”

“I have the names of two hundred and seventy of them,” Haw answered. “You must run your eye over them some time, and see if you can suggest any others. I send my annual mite to each of them. I don’t think there is much room for expansion in that direction.”

“Well, really you have done your share, and more than your share. I would settle down to lead a happy life, and think no more of the matter.”

“I could not do that,” Haw answered earnestly. “I have not been singled out to wield this immense power simply in order that I might lead a happy life. I can never believe that. Now, can you not use your imagination, Robert, and devise methods by which a man who has command of — well, let us say, for argument’s sake, boundless wealth, could benefit mankind by it, without taking away any one’s independence or in any way doing harm?”

“Well, really, now that I come to think of it, it is a very difficult problem,” said Robert.

“Now I will submit a few schemes to you, and you may give me your opinion on them. Supposing that such a man were to buy ten square miles of ground here in Staffordshire, and were to build upon it a neat city, consisting entirely of clean, comfortable little four-roomed houses, furnished in a simple style, with shops and so forth, but no public-houses. Supposing, too, that he were to offer a house free to all the homeless folk, all the tramps, and broken men, and out-of-workers in Great Britain. Then, having collected them together, let him employ them, under fitting superintendence, upon some colossal piece of work which would last for many years, and perhaps be of permanent value to humanity. Give them a good rate of pay, and let their hours of labour be reasonable, and those of recreation be pleasant. Might you not benefit them and benefit humanity at one stroke?”

“But what form of work could you devise which would employ so vast a number for so long a time, and yet not compete with any existing industry? To do the latter would simply mean to shift the misery from one class to another.”

“Precisely so. I should compete with no one. What I thought of doing was of sinking a shaft through the earth’s crust, and of establishing rapid communication with the Antipodes. When you had got a certain distance down — how far is an interesting mathematical problem — the centre of gravity would be beneath you, presuming that your boring was not quite directed towards the centre, and you could then lay down rails and tunnel as if you were on the level.”

Then for the first time it flashed into Robert McIntyre’s head that his father’s chance words were correct, and that he was in the presence of a madman. His great wealth had clearly turned his brain, and made him a monomaniac. He nodded indulgently, as when one humours a child.

“It would be very nice,” he said. “I have heard, however, that the interior of the earth is molten, and your workmen would need to be Salamanders.”

“The latest scientific data do not bear out the idea that the earth is so hot,” answered Raffles Haw. “It is certain that the increased temperature in coal mines depends upon the barometric pressure. There are gases in the earth which may be ignited, and there are combustible materials as we see in the volcanoes; but if we came across anything of the sort in our borings, we could turn a river or two down the shaft, and get the better of it in that fashion.”

“It would be rather awkward if the other end of your shaft came out under the Pacific Ocean,” said Robert, choking down his inclination to laugh.

“I have had estimates and calculations from the first living engineers — French, English, and American. The point of exit of the tunnel could be calculated to the yard. That portfolio in the corner is full of sections, plans, and diagrams. I have agents employed in buying up land, and if all goes well, we may get to work in the autumn. That is one device which may produce results. Another is canal-cutting.”

“Ah, there you would compete with the railways.”

“You don’t quite understand. I intend to cut canals through every neck of land where such a convenience would facilitate commerce. Such a scheme, when unaccompanied by any toll upon vessels, would, I think, be a very judicious way of helping the human race.”

“And where, pray, would you cut the canals?” asked Robert.

“I have a map of the world here,” Haw answered, rising, and taking one down from the paper-rack. “You see the blue pencil marks. Those are the points where I propose to establish communication. Of course, I should begin by the obvious duty of finishing the Panama business.”

“Naturally.” The man’s lunacy was becoming more and more obvious, and yet there was such precision and coolness in his manner, that Robert found himself against his own reason endorsing and speculating over his plans.

“The Isthmus of Corinth also occurs to one. That, however, is a small matter, from either a financial or an engineering point of view. I propose, however, to make a junction here, through Kiel between the German Ocean and the Baltic. It saves, you will observe, the whole journey round the coast of Denmark, and would facilitate our trade with Germany and Russia. Another very obvious improvement is to join the Forth and the Clyde, so as to connect Leith with the Irish and American routes. You see the blue line?”

“Quite so.”

“And we will have a little cutting here. It will run from Uleaborg to Kem, and will connect the White Sea with the Gulf of Bothnia. We must not allow our sympathies to be insular, must we? Our little charities should be cosmopolitan. We will try and give the good people of Archangel a better outlet for their furs and their tallow.”

“But it will freeze.”

“For six months in the year. Still, it will be something. Then we must do something for the East. It would never do to overlook the East.”