Banker and Broker

Front matter

Eleventh] Routledge's Railway Library Advertiser. [Issue. WORK IS OTTR. LIFE. "Show me what you can do, and I will show you what you are." «A3"woDrk'i^nrTTilOWol,Eal'lof Df^y). i«™ address to the Students of Glasgow, said, AS VV ork is our Lite, show me what you can do. and I will show you what you are." "WHO ARE THE HAPPY, WHO ARE THE FREE? YOU TELL ME, AND I'LL TELL THEE. Those who have tongues that never lie, Truth on the lip, truth in the eye, To Friend or to Foe, To all above, and to all below ; THESE ARE THE HAPPY, THESE ARE THE FREE, 80 MAY IT BE WITH THEE AND ME." What higher aim can man attain than conquest ovsr human pain ? DRAWING AN OVERDRAFT ON THE BANK OF LIFE.— Late Hours, Fagged,. Unnatural Excitement, Breathing Impure Air, too Rich Food, Alcoholic Drink, Gouty, Rheu matic, and other Blood Poisons, Fevers, Feverish.

Colds, Influenza, Sleeplessness, Biliousness, Sick Headache, Skin Eruptions, Pimples on the Face,. Want of Appetite, Sourness of Stomach, etc. It prevents Diarrhœa, and removes it in the early stages. Use ENO'S "FRUIT SALT." It is Pleasant, Cooling, Healthgiving, Refresh ing and Invigorating. You cannot overstate its great value in keeping the Blood pure and free? from Disease. EVERY TRA YELLING TRUNK & HOUSEHOLD OUGHT to CONTAIN a BOTTLE of ENO'S "FRUIT SALT," "It is not too much to say that its merits have been published, tested, and approved literally from pole to p"le, and that its cosmopolitan popularity to-day presents one of the most signal illustrations of commercial enterprise to be found in our trading records." — European Mail. TO ALL LEAVING HOME FOR A CHANGE.— Don't go without a bottle of ENO'S- 11 FRUIT SALT."

It prevents any over-acid state of the blood. It should be kept in every bedroom, in readiness for any emergency. Be careful to avoid rash acidulated salines, and use ENO'S " FRUIT SALT " to prevent the bile becoming too thick and (impure) producing a gummy, viscous, clammy Btickiness or adhesiveness in the mucous membrane of the intestinal canal, frequently the pivot of diarrhœa and disease. ENO'S "FRUIT SALT" prevents and removes diarrhœa in the early stages. Without such a simple precaution the jeopardy of life is immensely increased. There is no doubt that where it has been taken in the earliest stages of a disease it has in many instances prevented what would otherwise have been a severe illness. HEADACHE AND DISORDERED STOMACH— " After suffering two and a half years from a severe headache and disordered stomach, and after trying almost everything without any benefit, I was recommended to try ENO'S 'FRUIT SALT,' and before I had finished one bottle I found it doing me a great deal of good, and am restored to my usual health.

Chapter I. Banker

OVERLOOKING the beautiful harbour of Port Jack son stands a pretty bijou villa residence, commanding some of the most picturesque scenes of this lovely spot, perhaps unsurpassed for variety and charm in the world. As far as the eyes can reach are to be seen numerous small bays hidden away in obscure nooks and corners, which unexplored give but a faint idea of the beauties they contain. Trees and dense masses of wild bush wood slope gradually down almost to the water's edge in uneven broken growth. The harbour itself is alive with yachts and pleasure boats of all shapes and sizes, and the white sails dancing in the sunlight, dashing down and almost tipping the rippling waters, then rising again and shaking away the sparkling drops in showers like diamonds, remind one of the graceful movements of the gull chasing behind the craft.

There are men o' war stationed in Farm Cove looking severe and stern, suggestive of war in the midst of peace. The ferry boats are crowded with passengers, young and old, anxious to get a breath of fresh air after a week of stifling work in the hot dusty city. How they welcome the breeze as it fans their cheeks, bringing back the bloom of health, and making life seem better and brighter. The spray dashes from the prow, and on either side white soapy froth floats away tailing off in the steamer's wake until it is lost in the distance. A faint sound of music can be heard as the Manly boat passes on its way to that favourite watering place. How much sweeter and more melodious music sounds on the water. Even a street band seems to have an untold charm, and the playing of Italian wanderers on the harp and violin is listened to with pleasure.

Everybody seemed happy. Why should they not be so ? The glorious sun was shining, sending down warm rays to temper the sea breeze, and everything was looking its loveliest. It was a typical Sunday in sunny New South Wales. Sunday, the day for innocent enjoyment ; the day to recruit health for the coming week's work ; a rest day in the proper sense of the word ; a day made for man, not man made for the day. Care was banished for twenty-four hours, and trials and troubles inherent to ordinary everyday life were all for gotten. The residence mentioned at the commencement of this chapter had a lawn in front sloping to the water's edge. It gradually came down in terraces. On the first terrace a lawn tennis ground was laid out. Then descending half-a-dozen steps another terrace. BANKER. 7 with flower beds radiant with gay colours known only in their fullest beauty in this favoured land.

The third terrace led down to the beach, where a bathing-house and boat-shed were erected. It was a residence the possession of which any man might have been pardoned for desiring. The house itself was somewhat rustic in design, and over the trellis work climbed passion trees, con volvuluses, and the sweet-scented jasmine. Lounging chairs were plentifully supplied on the terraces and various parts of the grounds. Commanding as it did such a magnificent view, no wonder less fortunate people envied the owner such a snug retreat. And who was the owner of this charming spot ? This bright sunny Sunday morning he is standing on the highest terrace and looking over the harbour now alive with yachts. He is a handsome, well-built man, close upon six feet high. A fine forehead, dark keen eyes, a massive dark moustache, and hair of the same hue.

A well knit figure denoting an athlete of no mean powers. A man perhaps forty or forty-five years of age, maybe a year or two more. He has on a loose tennis coat over a white flannel shirt and flannel trousers. He looks cool and comfortable ; a man taking the good things of life easily and as a matter of course. A good judge of character would perhaps say there was a lack of firmness in the man's face, indecision, a trace of good nature even to a fault, and an indolent disposition, which required rousing before his better qualities were shown to advantage. A man, too ready to trust undesirable people, who called themselves friends, and gloss over the faults and failings of others to his own disadvantage. And yet his position in life would seem to indicate that he was the exact opposite of all this.

To hold such a position he must bear a character for commercial honesty beyond reproach. He must be shrewd, cautious, and yet just in all his dealings. His knowledge of the world must be thorough, and he must have firmness and stability more than ordinarily falls to the lot of men. The man standing on the terrace of " Bellevue," such was the name of the house, was Cyril Harcourt Melrose, head manager of the Federated Bank of United Australasia, Sydney. No man was better known in New South Wales than Cyril Melrose. His position was unique, for he had, such was the confidence reposed in him by the Directorate, almost complete control of the immense business of the bank. The great success of the bank was due to his energy, perseverance, and foresight. He seemed to know how to speculate, and when to speculate.

Whatever he touched turned out well, and his ad vances were made with great judgment. Cyril Melrose had been connected with banks and banking business ever since he left college. He had a natural aptitude for banking, which is absolutely necessary to acquire the highest position in bankdom. His rise was rapid, and step by step he moved up the ladder until he now stood on the topmost rung. BANKER. 9 Seven years ago he was unanimously appointed by the directors head manager of the Federated Bank of United Australasia, and they had no reason to regret their choice. Since Cyril Melrose had been at the helm he had steered the bank safely through a disastrous land boom, a period of depression among the squatters, and a panic on the Stock Exchange. He advanced money with a free hand when other banks hesitated.

Squatters, hard pressed, after vainly trying their own banks, went to Cyril Melrose. He was building up a great banking institution, he had unlimited capital almost at his command, and he saw his opportunity for gaining new customers. Many a squatter had he helped in the hour of need with a timely loan on not too hard .terms, until it became a common saying among them, " Refused an advance have they ? Well, go to Melrose, you'll get it there." It was "go to Melrose," not "go to the Federated Bank of United Australasia." The bank was lost sight of in the identity of Melrose, and Cyril Melrose was almost recognised as the bank. When good times came again, and the squatters pulled round with their great "clips" and abundance of cattle, they did not forget Cyril Melrose, and many a heavy account was transferred to the bank of which he was the manager.

The directors voted him a large increase of salary, and, as a special mark of their appreciation, presented him with a magnificent gold watch and chain and a handsome silver candelabra. Such a man was Cyril Harcourt Melrose, as he stood quietly smoking his cigar at Bellevue, con templating the beautiful panorama mapped out before him. Surely such a man ought to be happy ! What more could he desire? " What are you thinking about, Cyril?" A sweet woman's voice, a fair hand gently placed on his arm, and a beautiful face gazing anxiously into his. The banker looked fondly at his wife, and stooping down kissed her. Flora Melrose loved her husband dearly, so every one said. She must have been ten years his junior. Their married life had passed quickly. It seemed so far away to her that time when Flora Macdonald stood at the altar with Cyril Melrose.

They had two children, Rupert and Lilian, the boy thirteen, the girl eleven. Bright, merry, good natured children, the lad a miniature of his father, the girl promising the beauty of her mother. Flora Melrose was dressed in a light morning gown, and with the straw sun hat shading her fair face she looked quite young and childlike. "What am I thinking about, Flora? Well, I'm meditating on the sin of these good people desecrating the Sabbath," he said, smiling, as he waved his hand in the direction of the myriads of boats on the harbour. " They are not desecrating the Sabbath, Cyril. This is the day God has given us all for recreation. BANKER. 1 1 Surely there can be no desecration in using it to admire his handiwork, and mutely thank him for giving us life to enjoy it. How beautiful it all is," she said, as she looked at the familiar scene which never lost any of its charm for her by a too close acquaintanceship.

"I was only joking, Flo," said Cyril Melrose. "I quite agree with all you say. Without Sunday we should be a miserable humdrum lot of slaves. Hullo, Rupert, what the deuce are you tearing down the lawn in that fashion for? You'll come to grief one of these days." A healthy, good-looking lad was bounding down the terraces followed by a collie dog, which danced and frisked around him in delight. " Off to get the boat out, father. Lil's going for a row with me." Lilian Melrose, a sedate little maid, came slowly down the lawn to her parents. " Mind Rupert does not upset you, Lil," said her father. " He nearly managed it the other day. However, I scolded him well, and he promised to take more care of me. Is Taff going, I wonder? " Taff was the collie dog, and generally accompanied the childrenon their harbour excursions.

Taff on one occasion had saved Miss Lil from drifting out of her depth when she foolishly got out of the bathing enclosure, and was a dog of much consequence in the family. " Taff will take quite as much care of you as Rupert," said her mother, with a fond smile. " What a handsome pair they are, Cyril," she said, as with loving eyes she watched them getting into the boat. Both waved their hands, then Rupert dipped the oars and the boat glided away, with Taff sedately sitting in the stern, much to the detriment of the steering gear. " Happy as the day is long," said Cyril, and sighed. "Something is wrong with you, Cyril, I'm sure," said his wife, "you don't often sigh." " Business cares, my dear. They will intrude, even on Sundays." Was it business cares? " Banish them then. Surely you can forget that horrid bank for one day in the week," she said, and then added suddenly, " It was not about her you were thinking, you did not sigh for her."

" Flora, don't be foolish. Have I not told you a thousand times she never even enters my thoughts? That horrid bank has been a pretty good friend to us, Flo," he added. " Don't call the bank names. It's bad luck, you know." "Is it, you superstitious man? Well then, it's the most beautiful bank in the world," she said. " Be strictly accurate," he replied, laughing. " It is not beautiful by any means ; it is decidedly plain. More the appearance of a gaol than a respectable receptacle for coin of the realm. A good washing would do its face good, likewise a coat of paint." " What a lovely spot this is," she said, changing the subject. BANKER. 13 " It is indeed," he replied, "and we have to thank the dingy old bank for that. By-the-by, Flo, did I tell you Phil Baxter was coming up to dinner 7" " No," she said, and a disappointed look passed over her face.

He saw it, and she quickly added, " But that will not make any difference, dear ; we have always a spare chair for a visitor." " Flora, you don't like Phil Baxter," he said. " How is it? He's not half a bad sort." "Why I do not like him I don't know, Cyril. But something tells me he is not to be trusted." " Not to be trusted, Flo. Why Phil Baxter's one of the most successful brokers on 'Change. He has an enormous business. He's put me on to several good things, and has brought a lot of business to the bank. He was very fond of you once, I believe, Flo, and no wonder either. Who wouldn't be ? " he said, as he looked at her admiringly. " Don't be foolish, Cyril ; Philip Baxter was never more than a mere acquaintance in my eyes, although at one time he wished to be something more," she said. "That's all years ago, Flo.

That wound's healed up. Phil's a confirmed old bachelor. He says he couldn't get the girl he wanted so he's never going to marry at all," said Melrose. "He may be a good business man," said Flora, "but socially I can't say he's a success. He is too fond of racing, Cyril, and gambling. Don't let him lead you into that. It would never do in your posi tion." Cyril Melrose winced. He had dabbled in horse racino-, and even owned a couple of racers under an assumed name. "Racing's all right if you don't bet heavily, Flo; and Baxter does not," he said. " I'm rather fond of it. Of course I don't bet much ; only have a fiver on occasionally for fun." She sighed. If Flora Melrose could have had her wish she would never let her husband go on a race course. She knew in his heart he was fond of the sport.

It was his love of horses led him into it. No man was fonder of dumb animals than Cyril Melrose. "I'll go in and tell Jane Mr. Baxter will be here for dinner," she said, as she left him and went into the house. . "What a dear little woman she is," thought Cyril. " Had ever a fellow such a brave, true-hearted wife ? I believe she'd go through fire and water to serve me. And to think I was once fool enough to believe in an other woman. That sore rankles yet, evidently! But she need not have cause for alarm. That folly is past and done with. Would it had never occurred. What a horror she's got of racing ! Well, I don't wonder at it when her father went stone broke over it and gambled away all his spare cash, and a good deal he couldn't spare. Baxter's put me on to one or two good specs lately.

I wonder why Flo does not like him. Hang it all, he seems a decent sort of fellow. His name's good on 'Change. He's one of the best known brokers we have. By Jove ! talk, or rather, in this instance, think of the and — here he is." BANKER. 15 "Thank you, Melrose. I'm sorry the old gentle man in the person of myself should pay you a visit on Sunday of all days in the week," said Philip Baxter, as he shook his host's hand. Philip Baxter was by no means such an aristocratic looking man as Cyril Melrose, but for all that he was a good-looking, well-set fellow. Speculating on the Stock Exchange had made Baxter, and he was re puted to be a wealthy man. Cyril Melrose knew he was fairly well off, because several of his transactions passed through the Federated Bank. " Have a cigar, Baxter ? " said Cyril.

He took one and lit it. " By Jove ! Cyril, I envy you this place," he said. " It's one of the loveliest on the harbour, and you got it cheap." "It was not dear, certainly," said Cyril, "and I have never seen a place I like more." "You're a lucky beggar, Cyril," said Baxter, almost bitterly. "Am I?" said Cyril, "I've had to work hard for all my luck." " No doubt," replied Baxter, " but you've got your reward. A beautiful wife, fine children, lovely residence, great position, what more do you want?" "I'm pretty well contented," said Cyril. "You've not much to grumble at though." " Oh dear, no, of course not. A wretched old bachelor without a decent home." " Marry and get one," said Cyril " Never ! " said Baxter, with a snap of his teeth. Melrose knew marriage was a sore point with Philip Baxter, so he changed the subject by saying, " How's that colt of Ward's doing ?

Have you still got a good opinion of him ? " Baxter's eyes glistened as he said, enthusiastically, " He's the best yearling I've seen for years. You'll say so when you have a look at him. He gallops about like a deer. Never saw such a fast 'un." "Why don't you buy him?" said Cyril. "Ward won't sell him, and, besides, I don't care to own too many horses ; it don't do in our line," said Baxter. < " Perhaps not," said Cyril, musingly. " What is the horse's name, Phil?" " Musketry. I named him. He's by Musket — Cantiniere. Not bad, is it ? " " Very appropriate," said Cyril. " What would Ward take for him, do you think?" " I'm sure he would not sell him," replied Baxter. They went in to dinner, and as Phil Baxter shook hands with Mrs. Melrose he thought : " Marry, indeed ; never. This is the only woman I ever loved — aye, and love still. How beautiful she is. And yet they say Melrose once loved another woman." n

Chapter II. Broker

Philip Baxter was prosperous. He loved money, but he loved still more the making of it. There are many men like this, men who have wealth and to spare, who yet go on toiling and slowly adding more and more to their pile. To such men there is pleasure in driving hard bargains, or over reaching their fellows by means of some pious business fraud, for by no other word can their trans actions at times be called. A wealthy Queensland squatter reputed to be worth five or six millions sterling is reported to have replied to an acquaintance, who twitted him with his miserly habits, and said his heirs would soon squander it when they came into possession of his wealth : " If it gives them as much pleasure to spend it as it has given me to make it I shall be satisfied." This man made money for the mere love of the labour required to amass it.

It gave him no pangs of conscience to think his wealth might be squandered when he was gone. What cared he how it went so lonoas he had his full mead of pleasure in making it. Such a man was Philip Baxter. His god was mammon. He worshipped the golden image called wealth, and he was not over scrupulous how he C acquired it. He spent money freely, which was a curious trait in such a character. Baxter was a born gambler. If worth ten thousand pounds he would have risked nine thousand without the least hesitation in any likely speculation, keeping " the odd thousand to start fresh" if he lost, so he would say. Boldness was his chief characteristic on 'Change. No man knew better how to rig the market, and he would scent out a fall or a rise in stocks with unerring accuracy. A successful broker is • always regarded with respect by his confreres.

Philip Baxter's pedigree was not traceable, and for the matter of that few people cared whether he had ancestors of either ancient or modern lineage. He must have had parents in the natural course of events, but no one ever heard him allude to them. It was not even known whether he was a Colonial, or to use a stud-book phrase, " imported." He was fairly well educated, but gave a studious observer the idea that he had been self-taught. His speculations when he first became a member of the Stock Exchange were considered rash, nay, even foolhardy. When Phil Baxter bought up all the " Bottomless Pit Silver-mining Company's " shares he could lay hands on people said he was mad, and appropriately enough hinted he was sinking his money in the ill named mine. But Baxter said : " I know what I'm doing.

Have you any shares tq sell?" BROKER. 19 There were generally shares to sell, and Baxter invariably bought them. Suddenly, without apparent warning, the " Bottom less Pit Silver-mining Company" came with a rush in the market. Up went the shares with a bound from half-a-crown to double that amount, and in a week stood at 25s. Then did Philip Baxter through his agents sell " Bottomless Pit Silver-mining" shares as fast as he could ladle them out. When he got rid of all his scrip at the highest marketable price, he sold scrip he had not got "to bear," which in the language of the Exchange means " riding for a fall." Strange to say when Phil Baxter sold the " Bottom less Pit Silver-mining" shares "to bear" they came down with a rattle until they reached five shillings in six days. Then a discovery was made on 'Change.

It began to be mooted about that Mr. Philip Baxter was actually " The Bottomless Pit Silver-mining Com pany." In fact that he ran the affair, and had, with the aid of trusty agents in the know at Melbourne and Adelaide, fixed up a real undiluted "bad egg" on the astute members of the Sydney Exchange. There was method in his madness after all. It was reported that Philip Baxter, Esq. — please notice the difference — Philip Baxter, Baxter, Mr. Philip Baxter, Philip Baxter, Esq. — had cleared a cool £20,000. The harder he hit them the more they liked it, and the higher Philip Baxter rose in their estimation. C Twenty thousand secured out of the Bottomless Pit is not so bad. Many members of the various Stock Exchanges in existence will probably get even more than this out of the Bottomless Pit, although it may not be in gold or silver.

From the day he worked the Bottomless Pit Silver mining Company off on the members of the Exchange, plain Phil Baxter became Philip Baxter, Esq. His opinion was much sought after. Men who had before the event trusted their own heads, now conferred that distinction on Baxter's head, which seemed quite capable of bearing any amount of weight in this direction. The Bottomless Pit was the making of Phil Baxter, and he gloried in it. It became a standing joke on 'Change if a member got hard hit to say : " Poor old chap. Yes, he's got into the Bottomless Pit." This accursed mine was the acme of all that was diabolical and bad. It became the recognised Stock Exchange " swear word," and Baxter knew it and revelled in it. Out of the conceit and follies of men Phil Baxter coined money. It was his prospecting ground, and he knew every sign in it.

He had known Cyril Melrose ever since he married Flora Macdonald, the woman he (Baxter) had wished to make his wife. During the years that had passed he had been on friendly terms with Melrose, but he had rarely visited the house, and seen but little of Flora Melrose. BROKER. 21 Now, however, he seemed more at his ease, but do what he would he could not forget that he had been refused, and for Cyril Melrose. The manager of such an important concern as The Federated Bank of United Australasia was, in Baxter's eyes, a man of influence, and, therefore, a man to be cultivated. Once when Baxter was hard pressed for a large sum of money, Cyril Melrose advanced it him upon slight security. It was rash, but Melrose knew his man, and the money was repaid in full. Philip Baxter was not a man to forget this, and he had since transferred his account to his friend's bank.

Although Baxter was by no means a bad man as the sequel will show, he had one great fault, envy. He envied Cyril Melrose his wife, and he would have given much of his wealth to possess her. Gold he loved, and Flora Melrose he loved with a passion that would not be quelled. Perhaps it was some faint knowledge of this feeling made Mrs. Melrose dislike, almost fear Philip Baxter. He never addressed an improper word to her, but invariably treated her with the greatest respect. Five years soon pass away, and so they did with Cyril Melrose and his wife. Rupert Melrose, the lad we saw that beautiful Sunday morning rushing off to the boat to take his sister for a row is now a fine young man of eighteen, and holding, for his years, a good position in the bank his father manages. He is a smart youth, and one that will quickly rise in the world.

The opinion Baxter had formed of Musketry as a yearling had proved correct, and the horse at six years old was better than ever he was in his life. Alec Ward was ostensibly the owner, and the horse raced in his name, but as a matter of fact Cyril Melrose had bought a half-share in him. Musketry had been entered for the Metropolitan Stakes and the Melbourne Cup, and over two miles he was recognised as a real nailer. Philip Baxter knew Melrose owned a half-share in Musketry, and he also knew what Melrose did not, that Ward was not very particular as to his transactions on the turf. However, he did not think it was any part of his business to interfere, and Cyril Melrose was quite capable of taking care of himself. The Federated Bank of United Australasia did an enormous business, and the directors placed more confidence every year in their manager.

Cyril Melrose lived in great style. He kept carriages, he kept racehorses. His steam launch was the best in the harbour, and his yacht, "The Flora," had beaten all comers. He entertained freely at Bellevue, and gave sumptuous dinners. During the five years he had doubled, nay trebled, his household expenses. Mrs. Melrose remonstrated with him, but he told her it was necessary he should do all this from a business point of view. " But you don't keep racehorses from a business point of view, Cyril," she said ; " I do wish you would give them up. They only lead you to gamble." BROKER. 23 " Never mind the racehorses, little woman," he replied, calmly; "I am not extravagant in that direction, and so far they have more than paid for their keep." She sighed. It was useless to argue with him. She knew he had become infatuated with the sport, although he was hardly aware of it himself, and she dreaded the consequences.