Saints Read online

  "I think not. His name, he says, is Robert Kirkham."

  "Kirkham. I don't suppose he's a relative of the Mrs. Kirkham who used to be a part of our household."

  "He would have said so, I think, sir."

  "What does he want?"

  "He has a business proposal."

  Hulme sighed. Nothing interesting, then. Just some other ambitious young fellow wanting to ally his young energy with Hulme's aging fortune. They always had the same notions. Buy this, buy that, and watch the money pour in. As if Hulme were incapable of conducting his own investments wisely; as if the Hulme fortune were not already increasing at an excellent per centum every year.

  "I told him you wouldn't be interested."

  "You were quite correct."

  "But he said that you might be interested in hauling nails from Manchester to London at seven pence the ton."

  "Seven pence?"

  "That's what he said, sir.

  "Not seven shillings?"

  "Pence, sir."

  "He's a liar. Any man can make such numbers up. Seven pence! Send him up -- I want to see such cheek before I have you throw him out on his arse."

  Terence smiled -- smiled the exact half-inch wider in the lips that was protocol. Hulme nodded at him, and Terence left the room. Ah, how good to have a servant who knew how things ought to be, and kept them just so. How good -- and how utterly dull.

  The young man came in with several rolls of paper under his arm and a timid look about him. Not a promoter, then, not one of the young men who went into debt for a suit of clothes before they bothered with spending a shilling on a book to decorate their minds. More than that, Peter Hulme was sure he recognized the fellow. Had the look about him.

  "Robert Kirkham." Peter Hulme said. "Do I know your family?"

  "I think not, sir," the young man said stiffly.

  Coincidence, then, Hulme decided; or perhaps hearing the Kirkham name had made him think there would be a resemblance. Well, then, he owed him no debt of courtesy.

  The young man could not keep his eyes away from the two stories of shelves rising almost out of sight in the haze from Hulme's pipe. "I'm glad you admire my library. However, I will not lend you any books. I'll tell you right now, young man, that I need no help or advice in my business. I have retired from direct involvement and am inactively pursuing a life of leisure. Or rather, letting a life of leisure envelop me. You have interrupted my languor, and I resent it."

  Kirkham looked, if possible, even more stiff and awkward. Yet, to Hulme's surprise, there was neither an immediate rush to the door -- Hulme's favorite outcome -- nor the more common flood of asinine verbiage designed to convince Hulme that this was the chance of his lifetime. The young man only said, stiffly, "Sir, I ask only for five minutes of your attention."

  "Good God, man, that's more than I ever gave to my wife before she died." Ah -- there it was, not the look of horror that some got when he spoke that way, nor the forced laughter that the glad-hands always insulted him with. Instead the boy let a slow grin come to his face, which quickly faded. Peter Hulme was delighted. He knew a kindred mind when he saw one, even when it masked itself in the sort of costume that a workingman was likely to think appropriate for calling on a rich man. He began to like this Kirkham, a little.

  "One minute," Hulme said. "Renewable if you aren't completely asinine."

  Kirkham nodded, and immediately untied one of the rolled up papers, letting the others drop to the floor, as if the library were a common shop. "Would you hold this end, sir?" Kirkham asked, and without waiting for an answer slipped the curling edge of the paper under Peter's hand. Then he unrolled an unusually well-drawn engineering sketch of a train engine.

  "Why are you showing me this?"

  "It's a steam engine, sir. To pull a train."

  "It's identical to the locomotive that now provides the propulsion for the trains on my Manchester-Birmingham Railway. When I need pictures of my own possessions, I'll order them done."

  This time the fellow did look shocked. "The Manchester-Birmingham is yours, sir?"

  "I own more of it than anyone else, that pretty much makes it mine." Hulme waited for the man to roll up his drawings and retreat, caught in his theft of another man's engineering. Instead, young Kirkham only looked at him steadily and said, "So you own a railway already."

  "Why? Did you think to sell me another?"

  "Perhaps you'd like to improve the one you have."

  "Improve it? Mr. Kirkham, I subscribed to the railroad project as my civic duty, so that Manchester would not be lacking in the latest toys for the public awe and titillation, and because the stock was ridiculously cheap. But I see no point in putting more money into a mode of transportation that can carry scarcely anything beyond the weight of its own fuel."

  "Exactly," Robert said, and before Hulme could demur, he was unrolling another paper. This time the engine was unlike any Hulme had seen before.

  "You have conceived of an even uglier locomotive, Mr. Kirkham. You have my congratulations."

  "My uglier locomotive can pull three times the load yours can, and twice as fast. Yet it's lighter, and uses only a little more fuel than your engine, so that almost all the gain in power means more freight, and therefore more income compared to expense, and therefore lower prices per ton and more profit per pound of investment."

  "You speak as if your engine exists. Does it?"

  "It could, at a cost of three hundred eight pounds. For the prototype, of course -- later, the locomotives could be made more cheaply. And sold for a little less than you paid for the engines you're using now, without depriving us of a decent profit."

  "In other words, these are all plans."

  "You can't be making a profit on the trains you're using now.

  "I can't recall making my profits a matter of public record."

  "Mr. Hulme, look at this." And now the young fellow opened a sheaf of drawings, showing details of his engine. He went over point after point, explaining how the design was improved, how it would cost less to make or work more efficiently or allow more capacity. He also pointed out relative drawbacks, but explained why they were unavoidable. At first Hulme was annoyed at being bored with details of engineering, a subject about which he knew little and cared less. He quickly noticed, however, how deftly Robert was explaining his points, never sounding condescending about having to clarify things for someone uninitiated in the rites of steam engineering, yet always making sure that Hulme could easily grasp the significance of the changes he had made. There was no effort to overawe Hulme with technical expertise; rather, Kirkham's effort was all to explain, clarify, and persuade. An appeal to reason, and Hulme responded. He listened. And when after twenty-five minutes young Kirkham at last said, "There it is, and that's why it'll work," Hulme felt he had just been taught a full course in a school of engineering. Now as he gazed at the overall drawing he appreciated the simplicity of Kirkham's design and saw the awkwardness of the engines he now had in use. He also, to his own surprise, believed that Kirkham was the man to build his own designs. Kirkham spoke clearly and well, but so did many fools. The thing that most impressed Hulme was the man's intense reasonableness, his determined yet unabrasive advocacy. It was precisely the mixture of deference and leadership that Hulme longed to find in the men who worked for him, and had never quite found.

  "Well, sir," Robert said, rolling up the papers again, "I've taken thirty minutes when I asked for five. I'll leave my address with your butler, in case you wish to send for me."

  "No."

  "Very well."

  "I mean no, I don't want to see you again, I want to see you now. Half an hour? An afternoon yawns ahead of me, filled with sedate walks around the gardens and, later, visits from my bilious and loquacious acquaintances who, if they understood only half of the subjects on which they have opinions, would be able to replace whole faculties of colleges and lecture endlessly without notes."

  To his surprise, young Kirkham did not take it as a
compliment. "I didn't come to amuse you, sir," he said. "I came to offer you a share in my engine."

  "Mr. Kirkham," Peter said, "when a man is as rich as I am, even the prospect of fantastic profit is merely amusing. Don't roll up your papers, don't leave your address with Terence, stay here and agree on the terms of our partnership, so that I can have my solicitor draw up the papers and arrange for the line of credit that will begin the new company."

  Kirkham kept rolling up the papers; as he finished tying them, he said, "Aren't you going to have the Manchester-Birmingham Railway do it?"

  "The Manchester-Birmingham is a joint-stock company and I only own a third of the stock. I see no reason why we shouldn't enter into partnership in a new firm, to build your engine. How much capital do you suppose it will take?"

  "My best estimate is two thousand pounds, to build the prototype and set up a minimal shop to build more."

  "And if the shop is better than minimal?"

  "With four thousand pounds, I could hire the best men in Manchester to work with me, and enough of them to build the engine quickly. Competitors are bound to come up with some of these improvements in the meantime, and the more quickly we produce a working engine -- "

  " Five thousand pounds, then, Mr. Kirkham, and you will have three locomotives in production by the time the prototype emerges for trial. As for the partnership, I'll offer you one-tenth ownership and participation in profits."

  Kirkham's answer was immediate. "No, sir."

  "One-fifteenth, then, but no more."

  "I want half. Equal partnership."

  Hulme laughed at the audacity of it. "You forget, Mr. Kirkham, that I am putting up all the money.

  "And I'm providing all the intelligence."

  An acid tongue, then, to go along with the rest of his wit. Hulme smiled. "If the company fails, Mr. Kirkham, you will still have your intelligence, but I will have lost all my money. Since I'm bearing the greater risk, I think it only fair I have the greater return."

  Kirkham began gathering up the papers and tucking them under his arm. Hulme was very surprised. The fellow had seemed so diffident when he first arrived, not at all the sort of person who would actually walk out on five thousand pounds of capital over the matter of shares of profit.

  Kirkham paused at the door. "Thank you for your time, sir. Should I leave my address with the butler, in case you reconsider?"

  "Name of heaven, young man. One-fifth for you. Anything more and you'll go to hell for greed."

  Kirkham set his face in an expression that Hulme recognized. He had seen it before, yes, many times. Seen it on young Charlie Kirkham when he was arguing with the old man over some point of mathematics. Seen it on Mrs. Kirkham many a time in a dispute with one of the servants. Robert had lied about his family relationship. Pride, of course -- but which kind? Was he too proud to use his family's acquaintance as a means of gaining entry into Hulme's house? Or too proud to admit he was related to a servant? The latter was impossible -- he could not imagine this young man being ashamed of his family's past suffering. He simply didn't like to use influence. It made Hulme admire him all the more.

  "Mr. Hulme," Robert said, "I'll work with you for twenty percent."

  "Good."

  "However, all the patents on my inventions will belong to me. I will charge our firm only a nominal royalty, but on a fixed lease. I will sell my next engine where I please, and I assure you, it will be better than this one."

  "Nonsense," Hulme answered. "If this engine works as well as it looks like it will, any man would want to fund your next one."

  "Would you?"

  "Of course."

  "Then you may bid on it like anyone else."

  "I won't be bartered with as if this library were a common marketplace!" Hulme shouted.

  People usually got frightened when Peter Hulme shouted. This young man did not. "It became a marketplace," Robert said, "when you offered me less than my work is worth. If I own half our company, it will be foolish of me to take my new engines anywhere else. But if I only own a fifth, I'll have no great stake in making the company succeed."

  "I can see that working with you is going to be an interesting experience," Hulme said, knocking the ashes out of his pipe in annoyance.

  "You'll give me an equal share?"

  "I will," Hulme said. "But on conditions of my own. All the patents belong to the firm. Your next three engines belong to the firm. And, if the company should fail, you will work for me for five years -- at a good salary -- in whatever part of my business holdings I want you to work in."

  "Why would you want me, if my engine doesn't work?"

  "Because I want a thoroughgoing bastard like yourself working for me, not against me, whether this pile of iron you've designed pulls cars or not."

  Robert grinned and dropped his papers as he stepped forward to extend his hand to Hulme. Hulme paid him the ultimate compliment -- he arose from his chair, at great cost in effort, to shake hands with him.

  "I'll have my solicitor draw up the papers, and tomorrow you and I will select a location for your factory. The next day you may begin hiring, though I insist that you advertise for men and not just hire your friends. And tell me, Robert, why did you deny your family?"

  For the first time Hulme saw Robert utterly nonplussed, unsure what to say or do. Finally he decided that further denial would be pointless. "I didn't use my mother's name because I didn't come here to ask you for favors for her sake."

  "And Charlie?"

  "I promised Charlie that I'd tell you he had no part in my coming to you."

  The way Robert said it conveyed more than the young man probably realized. So Robert and Charlie didn't get along. "Too bad," Hulme said. "Charlie's the best mind for business in this city, if he keeps learning. I was going to suggest we have him manage your accounts."

  "I don't think," Robert said stiffly, "that Charlie would be pleased to work for me."

  "Ah." Nor, thought Hulme, would you be pleased to have him working with you. "That is all to our loss. My father loved that boy. Charlie had the mind and heart to learn the lessons that my father taught. If the old man had been as kind to me, had taught me with such patience and delight as he taught your brother, I might have loved the man. But sometimes we are blind to the virtues of those nearest to us."

  Robert smiled wanly. "I'm not the one with the blindness, I think. But I must be fair. There are things I did in the past that gave Charlie cause not to love me."

  "If all of us were truly known, Robert, all our past acts, no one would love us. And yet God knows us and loves us anyway. Which is a great deal of comfort, if you happen to believe God takes much notice of us. I think I have ample evidence, however, that God pays little heed to this world. If God were just, a scoundrel like my father and a lazy man like me would never have been rewarded with great wealth. Never mind. There are other bookkeepers we can hire. Come here at nine o'clock and breakfast with me. That will give you ample time to take leave of your current employer."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And if we're to be equal partners, you must call me Peter. And you must also buy a new suit of clothes. Go to Humphrey and Randall and tell them you want a suit very much like the last one they made for me. Except, of course, for the size. Do it this afternoon and pick up the suit tomorrow."

  "Can they make it so quickly?"

  "Tell them that I would be most grateful if it were ready by half-past eight. I can't take you to negotiate for a proper building dressed like a workingman. The landlords would never treat you with respect. Especially considering that your name will be on the sign above the door."

  "Hulme and Kirkham?"

  "Lord, no. Kirkham Locomotive Works. It's one thing to own a railroad -- that's a public service. But I can't have my name associated with manufacture."

  "That's where your fortune comes from, I thought."

  "Indeed it does. My father was a common weaver who happened to have the foresight and the money and the credit to buy a stea
m engine and a spinning jenny back when no one thought they'd be worth a damn. He was a brilliant man of business, and I've spent my whole life trying to live it down. You see, wealthy people like to pretend their money came from God. They detest reminders that it was earned by wit and labor, and not by superior virtue."

  "Why are you going into this business with me, then?""

  "I am my father's son. And I believe that you and your locomotive may very well bring me more money than spinning and weaving ever have. Not that I know what I'd do with more money than I have now. But it seems like something that I ought to do. My father, I know, would approve."