It was five o’clock in the afternoon of Tuesday, the 20th of November, when the last box of the Richmond’s mysterious cargo was raised to its place on top of one of the tiers of closely-packed cases in the steel and granite chamber. Robert Brent watched the rather awkward exertions of the brawny truckmen as they tugged and pushed the rough box over small rollers on a long skid which rested against the top of the row.
“We can’t get used to ’em, sir,” remarked one of the men, when they rested for a moment at the end of their task. “It isn’t the heavy weight; it’s the small size. If they were solid lead they wouldn’t be harder to handle.”
“There is a good deal of metal in them,” replied Brent sententiously.
The men went away. Brent followed them to the outer door, locked it on the inside, and went back to the great vault. He threw himself in sudden weariness into an old wooden chair the workmen had{108} left, and sat listless, scarcely thinking. His energy was gone. Body and mind became suddenly inert. Nerves that for more than a year had been under the strain of an anxiety and excitement more intense than he himself had realized, finally relaxed. A sense of unreality in it all overwhelmed him. It had been a stupendous dream. There was no Valley of Gold down there at the world’s southernmost outpost. Fraser and his dreadful end were a horrible nightmare. The dark-skinned, lithe Patagonians were myths. So was this silent tomb of treasure in which he was sitting. He would awake presently and find that the last morsel of biscuit and cheese eaten in the smoking-room of the Victoria last night was responsible for it all. So strong did the impression grow within him that he roused himself in quite a panic of fear. He got upon his feet, walked over to the last high breastwork of gold-laden cases and struck it smartly. The blow bruised his knuckles, and he was himself again.
“The air must be bad here,” he said to himself, “to give me such a turn. I’ll have a sharp walk up to Del’s and dine.” And he put his hand into his pocket for the key to the inner door of the vault.
“Hullo!” he exclaimed suddenly, “I’ve no money.” And then as the situation dawned upon him he sat down again and laughed. The predica{109}ment amused him immensely. “Six thousand tons of gold and penniless. It’s just as well that I want to walk up town, for I couldn’t pay car-fare. Stupid of me to get caught in this fashion. I wonder if the cashier at Del’s would take a small handful of gold-dust for a dinner. Be apt to make a sensation, I imagine, if I should put a few pinches of yellow dust on the plate when the waiter brought the bill. I must hunt up Wharton and borrow a few dollars.” He put out the electric light, locked the inner door, closed one by one the other steel barriers, drew the bolts, turned the dials of the combination locks, and left the building.
For several days Brent gave himself up to aimless idleness. He admitted that he needed rest. He was tired from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. The unrelenting pressure of his task—a pressure that he had scarcely felt, so stimulating had been the attending excitement—was gone, and he yielded to the demand for rest which the reaction made upon brain and body. He reveled in the freedom from care and responsibility. The instincts and tastes which he had cultivated in his European wanderings reasserted themselves. He was half inclined to seal up his treasure-house and spend the winter amid the luxurious delights of Nice or southern Italy. He need be in no haste to execute any of the ideas which had{110} occurred to him for the employment of some of his wealth. As a matter of fact he had made no plans, and no comprehensive scheme for the utilization of any considerable portion of his treasure had suggested itself to his mind. He had allowed various fancies to run riot in his imagination occasionally since the gold had come into his possession, but he had given little serious thought to the subject. The task in hand had been quite enough to absorb any man’s energies.
Now, however, he sat himself down to consider the opportunities, the privileges, the responsibilities, the duties, which the situation thrust upon him. He faced the problem buoyantly, hopefully, and without anxiety. The facts with which he must deal were without precedent, to be sure, and of unparalleled importance to the people of his own country and to all Christendom. He was about to make the greatest contribution to the world’s wealth, as he regarded it, that humanity had ever received. Such a gift, if judiciously bestowed, could be naught but a blessing. There was no room for any sordid motive in deciding how to employ the bulk of his treasure. He could not conceive of any human ambition which money could gratify that would call for a tenth part of the treasure locked in his storehouse. His motives were honest and generous. He was willing, nay, desirous, to ad{111}minister his wealth as a monster trust-fund for the benefit of all humanity.
He reached this determination very early in his deliberations. Then he began to be puzzled a little. He realized that he could not put any considerable portion of his treasure to work in the financial or commercial world without its adding to itself an increment. To invest it, in the ordinary sense, in enterprises which “didn’t pay” would be serious folly. It would encourage bad business methods and those who least deserved it would profit by such a policy. And yet he did not feel justified in adding to his immense store by accumulations in the shape of interest or dividends. He could compel the whole industrial and commercial world to pay tribute to him with his billions. He had no desire to use such a power.
How could he diminish his fortune year by year without doing violence to any sound business principle? That was the form in which the problem soon presented itself to Robert Brent, and he did not find it as easy of solution as he expected. It was a problem new to human experience. Brent was very sure that no other man ever was troubled by it. He did not doubt, however, that his humblest acquaintance would undertake to manage it for him without the least hesitation.{112}
One escape from his dilemma was obvious and easy. He could leave his gold where he had buried it, as non-existent to the world as if it had remained in its native bed. A few millions a year, not enough to disturb the monetary and commercial conditions of society, might be distributed in benefactions, while the great mass remained untouched. Brent debated this policy a long time, and then he rejected it. He turned from it rather regretfully. He began to understand that any other course involved tremendous responsibility, grave anxieties, and unremitting labor. He would have been glad to escape all these. But it was a burden which he did not quite dare to shirk. He could not have said just why. He would not have acknowledged a trace of superstition in his instincts, but a strong conviction possessed him that it was his duty to the world to make the best use possible of the treasure which he controlled. The more clearly he realized how gigantic and how difficult was the task, the more he shrank from it and yet the more convinced he became that he could not honorably avoid it. To an American mind more than to any other, perhaps, it was repugnant to think of such a great force lying idle.
His six thousand tons of gold should become an active factor in shaping the destinies of men and especially of his own countrymen. Brent became very{113} determined on that point as soon as he had given it thorough consideration. But that was as far as he could get for some time. He could give away many millions. He could advance the cause of education with a greater impetus than it had ever received. He could promote science on a larger scale than the world had known. He could endow charities with a liberality that would minimize suffering throughout the nation. Ah, but could he? Was it as simple as it seemed at first thought? Was it possible to accomplish these good things without doing greater harm? He tried to trace out in a single example the effect of such a policy.
Suppose he should endow a college with a fund of $20,000,000. According to all precedent and to every principle of sound finance, that money must be safely invested, so that it would yield a return of $800,000 or $1,000,000 a year to pay the expenses of the institution. There was one fact in connection with the management of his own financial affairs after he came of age that he remembered very clearly—good investments are scarce. Stocks, bonds, anything paying a fair return without too great an element of risk, are hard to find. It would not be difficult probably to place safely and without appreciable harm to others the sum of twenty millions. But that was a mere bagatelle compared with nearly four thou{114}sand millions. The investment of such a treasure meant the overturning of all the world’s standards of value. It would be doing indirectly what he had determined not to do. It would mean that he should put the industrial and commercial world under tribute to such objects, good in themselves perhaps, as he might choose to designate. Had he the right to assume such a power, and what would he be giving the world in exchange for such an arbitrary assumption of authority? He began to doubt if a man who discovered a gold mine, however good his intentions, was a public benefactor. Perhaps the man who drove a railroad spike or plowed a field was of greater value to society after all.
Brent’s meditations from being hopeful became gloomy. His golden burden threatened to become an incubus not only to himself but to humanity. He must not keep it, he must not invest it, he must not give it away.
One other consideration added to his difficulties. Above all things he was resolved to preserve the secret of his riches. Every plan must bend to that end. He would avoid at any cost the notoriety which public knowledge of the possession of such wealth would bring him. It would mean infinite annoyance and even danger. He was absolutely selfish on this point, and he felt that he had a right to be. This{115} determination cut him off from counsel and advice which he would have been glad to seek and of which he knew he stood sadly in need. He knew it would be necessary to make several partial confidences. No man should know, if he could prevent it, the whole truth or any large part of it. He was willing to pose as a man of great wealth in the ordinary sense, but nobody must suspect him of being a billionaire or even compare his riches with those of the Astors, the Vanderbilts, or the Goulds.
It was hampered by these restrictions and harassed by the impotent result of his unaided struggles with his great problem, that Brent began to study the affairs of the day early in December. Fortunately he admitted without reserve his ignorance and his incompetence for the task which he had assumed. His present duty, he wisely decided, was to seek information. He could do this in books, in newspapers, and in his character as a wealthy gentleman of leisure among men of business. He was not hopeful, however, of finding any definite suggestions for the disposal of the most enormous treasure that had ever been suddenly added to the world’s banking account.
His first practical step was to provide for turning some small portion of his store into money. That would be necessary in any event, for gold-dust and nuggets are not legal tender, and the metal must be{116} in the form of coin or duly stamped and certified bullion before it will pass current in the world’s markets. He saw that he must adopt careful and strict precautions. He must guard not only the secret of his own connection with this gold, but the fact of the metal’s existence must be kept from the world. If it became known that such an overwhelming flood of new-born treasure might at any moment be poured into the ebbing and flowing tide of human traffic, the consequences would be something quite beyond the power of the imagination to estimate. Brent did not undertake to say what would happen.
He remembered that the financial disaster which swallowed up his own fortune eighteen months before had been caused primarily by the production of too much silver. It had become impossible to preserve the proportion of value which the white metal had held to the yellow in previous history. America had persisted longer in the attempt than any other country. When she abandoned the task, she suffered the severest penalties for her efforts. All this was clear in Brent’s mind, and he feared that the plethora of gold which would be created by the unlocking of his treasure-house would prove even more disastrous. He meant to guard against the possible calamity.
He decided to send to the Philadelphia Mint thirty of the boxes from the steel vault, the equivalent of{117} about $4,500,000, which could be coined promptly. One hundred boxes more, worth say $15,000,000, he would turn into bullion at the United States Assay Office in Wall Street. He would thus be provided with an available capital of nearly $20,000,000, which would be sufficient probably for his immediate purposes. The greatest safety against suspicion he decided lay in treating his boxes as ordinary merchandise. He shipped thirty cases to Philadelphia as second-class freight. When they arrived there he allowed them to remain unguarded for a day or two in the railroad freight depot. He employed a private truckman to deliver them at the Mint.
His request for a private audience with the director of the Mint was granted at once.
“Have you a few tons of gold about you, this time, Mr. Brent?” was the official’s greeting after a cordial hand-shake.
“Not in my pockets,” was the young man’s smiling reply, “but my errand is much the same as the one which brought me here last spring, and I have the same favor of secrecy to ask of you.”
The director leaned forward in astonishment.
“Do you mean that you are bringing me several more truck-loads of native gold to be coined?” he asked.
“Well, yes, that’s what it comes to. It isn’t a{118} fabulous amount; rather more than last time; about fifteen thousand pounds, I should judge.”
The look of amazement settled upon the director’s face. “Fifteen thousand pounds,” he repeated, “and worth more than $300 a pound, for that was the purest metal that ever came to the Mint. Close to five million dollars. Is the new lot like the last?”
“Pretty much the same, I think you will find it.”
“Free gold has seldom been found in such quantities before, Mr. Brent. I suppose the location of your mine is still a secret?”
“It may as well remain so for it is practically exhausted. I may possibly bring you more of its products. I don’t know. You’ll be able once more, I hope, to prevent any annoying rumors about the matter getting into the newspapers?”
“Oh, I think so. It would not be proper for me to conceal the facts about so important a transaction from the Department, but I will mention your wish and I have no doubt the secretary of the treasury will respect it.”
The usual formalities of weighing and receipts were completed and arrangements were made for shipping the coin to New York a few days later. Brent returned home. The difficulties in the way of turning a larger quantity of native metal into commercial bullion without connecting his name with such wealth{119} puzzled him for some time. He considered the feasibility of establishing a private assay office in which his gold might be cast into bars or ingots which would soon be recognized as of standard purity in the bullion market. The risks in such a plan would be too great, he concluded. It involved trusting a large portion of his secret to too many strangers.
The metal must therefore pass through the government Assay Office and receive the government stamp. He resolved not to appear in any way in these transactions. He was compelled to choose an agent. Naturally, he turned to his chum of college days. He had always found John Wharton trustworthy. He believed he could trust him now. Wharton was the junior member of the firm of Strong & Co., brokers in New Street. It was not a large house or very prominent in big operations in the market, but it was sound, conservative, and respected. During the few weeks Brent had spent in New York in the spring and summer, Wharton was one of the few old friends whom he had sought out, and their intimacy had been in some degree renewed. The jovial, generous qualities of the college lad had not disappeared in the keen, energetic man of business, but he was not in the fast set in the Exchange. He was thoroughly a man of affairs, genial and popular. Brent credited him with a sound judgment, conservatism, and reserve{120} capacity which a new acquaintance might not at once have perceived. He was not deceived. His confidence in Wharton’s loyalty and ability was well placed.
The day after Brent returned to New York he hunted up his friend and easily secured his promise to join him that evening in a tête à tête dinner at his Waldorf rooms. It was a jolly meal. Brent was glad enough to throw off the rather depressing load which his situation was again putting upon him, and he enjoyed keenly the revival of college experiences and the budget of anecdotes about the fortunes of mutual friends which Wharton supplied. It was not until the waiter had cleared the table of all but the café noir and cigars had disappeared, that the rather grave air which was becoming habitual to him returned to Brent’s face. His guest noticed it and presently broke in on him with frank friendliness:
“Look here, old man, something’s on your mind. Let’s have it. You know you can command me—advice, sympathy, anything—and the indebtedness will still be on my side. Which is it, girl or money?” There was a warm cordiality beneath the playfulness of the young man’s tone which attested his sincerity.
“You are right, John. I am puzzled about some money, but not in the way you imagine. Tell me, by the way, what you think of the financial situation.{121}”
“Business, eh? I’m disappointed. I hoped it was romance. Well, things are rather in a mess. We haven’t recovered from last year’s smash by any means. It isn’t a good time to speculate either way. Prospects are too uncertain. About investments, it’s a question of detail. If I had certain things I’d sell them. There are a few sound securities that I believe it would be safe to buy at present prices and lay by. How have you been hit, Bob?”
“I haven’t been hit. My difficulty is quite of the other sort. I am going to tell you something of the story, Jack, and then ask your assistance. I am concerned chiefly in keeping the facts secret, and I know I can trust you. I have here in New York the product of a very rich gold mine. This gold is solely my own property and it is for me to decide what to do with it. How much? Well, I don’t know exactly. There will be about $5,000,000 to my credit at the Chemical National Bank in a few days, and—“
“Five millions! And such a fortune makes you sad? I’d like to have a touch of that sort of melancholy. My congratulations, old man,” and Wharton seized his friend’s hand enthusiastically.
“But you haven’t heard the worst,” responded Brent, with a not very mirthful smile. “I have at least four or five times as much more in native metal which I want to turn into bullion.{122}”
Wharton searched his friend’s face, amazed and then incredulous. “See here, Bob. Are you joking?” he exclaimed.
“Does this look like it? It is the director of the Mint’s receipt for fifteen thousand odd pounds of native gold for coining,” and Brent tossed the slip of paper across the table. Wharton read it and was silent for a few moments.
“I am clean knocked out, Robert,” he observed presently. “Twenty-five or thirty millions in gold! That is more cash than the richest man in America possesses to-day. Where is this mine? Is it still producing? Is this all or is it to keep on indefinitely? What are you going to do with this money? It will make you one of the most powerful operators in the market.”
“I am under obligation not to disclose the secret of the mine and I admit I have not told you the whole truth about its value, but its future product will not be worth considering. It is with present difficulties that I want you to help me. I am fully determined on two points. I am willing to be known as ordinarily rich, as a millionaire perhaps, but I mean to escape if it is possible the notoriety that goes with vast wealth. In gratifying this desire I hope to rely chiefly on your aid. My other resolve you may think eccentric and foolish, but I am firm in it also.{123} I have decided not to increase my fortune by investment, speculation, or in any other way. You will look upon me as a philanthropic crank, perhaps, but we will discuss that point another time. My question now is whether you can devote yourself, old fellow, pretty largely to my interests, quite within the lines of your regular business and of course under liberal conditions.”
“You have no need to ask that question, Bob. You know very well, or ought to, that you are making me one of the most flattering offers that one man could make to another. I accept, and gratefully. You may trust my fidelity, if not my judgment, and there’s my hand on it,” and the two clasped hands in the earnest, manly fashion that is a surer pledge than a man’s bond.
They fell into a discussion of plans for sending a quantity of the gold through the Assay Office. It was arranged finally that Brent should send one hundred and twenty-five boxes of the metal to the office of Strong & Co. Thence it would be transferred in smaller consignments, as fast as it could be handled, to the Assay Office in Wall Street for smelting. The transaction was to be in the name of the firm, and secrecy about the real ownership of the metal was, of course, to be maintained by Strong & Co. The resulting bullion, they decided, should be sold or used{124} in whatever financial operations might be undertaken, as rapidly as might be without creating any serious disturbance in the market.
It was long after midnight when the two men separated. This was only one of many and frequent consultations between them. Brent learned much in these talks, but the light which he gained upon the real nature of his problem was only partial and incidental. Wharton was completely in the dark as to the size of his friend’s fortune. He naturally supposed that it did not much exceed the millions which had already been disclosed to him. His suggestions were most of them, therefore, of little value to Brent in seeking a channel for the distribution of the golden contents of his reservoir.
“If your fortune was five or ten times greater,” Wharton remarked one day, after several millions of the crude gold had already been turned into bullion, “you might do the public, and yourself too, a great service by smashing the bear clique that is having things all its own way in the market.”
Brent seized the point with genuine interest. “Do you think it would be really a good thing if prices were put up by heavy buying?” he asked.
“Most assuredly I do,” was the reply. “The market has been growing worse for weeks. Public confidence is so shaken that it is locking up its{125} money in secret hiding-places again, as it did eighteen months ago. Pretty soon we shall have another money famine and then the bottom will go out of the market again. The intrinsic values of securities are not falling. Earnings and dividends are good. The trouble is not commercial; it is financial purely. When our financial Moses appears he will set things right again, but he isn’t in sight yet. It is quite true that fear of what may be done at Washington, or fear that nothing will be done, is the chief cause of the distrust which is daily aggravating the situation. How could it be otherwise than a boon, then, if public confidence should be strengthened by the introduction of fresh capital and the consequent advance of prices in the stock market? Why, my dear fellow, the addition of $100,000,000 in gold to the circulation in this country would settle in five days the silver question that has been tormenting us for the last five years.”
Brent pondered a few moments. Then in sudden determination:
“John, I’ll try the experiment. I’m not sure that you are right, but it sounds reasonable. I will add $100,000,000 in gold to the circulation, and at the same time I’ll advance prices a few points in the stock market. You may begin buying for me to-morrow morning. I’ll give you carte blanche.{126}”
Wharton’s amazement was speechless for some time, and Brent, who had heartily realized the startling nature of the revelation which his declaration involved, watched his friend in some amusement. There was a nearer approach to awe in John Wharton’s voice when he finally spoke than that rather unemotional young man ever manifested before.
“Do you mean to tell me, Robert, that you are able to speak of spending one hundred millions as easily as another rich man would talk of as many thousands? How much gold is there, for heaven’s sake, in that storehouse of yours?”
“I don’t know, John; but I can spare one hundred millions. Can you invest it for me? I told you, to be sure, that I did not wish my fortune to earn any increase, and that is still my determination. It seems necessary, however, to put this sum temporarily into investment securities, but I think I can devise means for turning the income back into its former channels without its going to augment my capital. Will you undertake the commission?”
“It is too great a responsibility,” responded Wharton, still rather dazed by the other’s announcement. “No, you must not ask me to spend such a colossal sum according to my own whim. Give me definite orders and I will execute them.”
“Well, we should go about it carefully, making as little disturbance as possible and distributing our operations over several weeks or months, I should say. Suppose we buy twenty-five thousand shares of stock daily for a time, would that be enough to turn the current?”
“Immediately and effectually, I assure you. Very well, name the stocks and the amounts and I’ll buy them for you. You have about $16,000,000 in working capital with us now and it can be increased with the gold still on hand to fully $25,000,000 within a week. Any more that you may send us can be changed into bullion as fast as we shall need it.”
They arranged the details of the first two or three days’ operations and Brent prepared to watch the result of his experiment. When he thought the matter over alone he was disturbed by many doubts about his plan. He determined, nevertheless, to carry it out. Only by experiment, he decided in some discouragement, could the course of wisdom be discovered.