Uncle Lends a Hand

Cromwell Argus, 30 March 1931, Page 7

Uncle Lends a Hand

A DEAL IN RUBBER WITH A ROMANTIC ENDING.

When a young man tries to break off his engagement a few weeks before he is due to be married there are usually three possible reasons for his conduct. One: he loves another. Two: he is 'already married to somebody else. Three: he is broke.

To Mr. Robert Adams the third reason must be applied. Mr. Adams was not, however, a dissolute young man. He neither gambled nor backed alleged race-horses. He did something far more dangerous. He invested his money in a rubber company. He had understood from the two smooth-tongued gentlemen who, in strict confidence, advised him to take this step, that it was the chance of a lifetime and that in a few months the shares would be worth double the price he paid for them. But the months merely brought disillusionment and Mr. Adams discovered that the only way he could unburden himself of the shares was by selling them as waste paper. He had never seen the two gentlemen since. Therefore he tried to break off his engagement. "It's the only thing I can do,” he explained to Betty Gordon, who was the girl of his dreams. “We can’t get married on nothing. Besides, your people wouldn’t like it.” ‘Tv© only got an uncle,” Betty assured him cheerfully. “And he wouldn’t care, Bob.” “But I do,” said Bob, with deep gloom. “I can’t drag you into poverty, Betty. It’s not fair. We'd probably have to live in a garret with a candle in a bottle and mice running about and nothing but chimney pots to look at.” There was a melancholy pause. “But,” inquired Betty, “isn’t there any way that you could get your money back?” "No. Those two swindling blighters have disappeared. I don’t know where to look for them. And if I did find them I don’t know how I could get the money out of them.” “Have you made any Inquiries?” “Yes, but nobody seems to know anything about them. The Tuanjara Rubber Company is a fake and those fellows —Prince and Bosman —are a pair of rotten crooks.” Betty regarded the little diamond ring on, her finger reflectively. She half slipped it off, then replaced it firmly. “No,” she decided, “poverty or not, we’re going to get married. We’ll wait and see what happens.” “What can happen?” demanded Bob hopelessly. “You don’t think they’ll jolly well come back again, do you?” “They might. People do all sorts of queer things. Let’s both think about it. My uncle might be able to do something. There must be some way out.”

Bob went home and thought about It. And the more he thought, the more convinced he became that he was a born Idiot. He felt that a man who Invested money in doubtful rubber companies when there were dozens of perfectly safe banks about deserved to lose It. There was no way of compelling Mr. Prince and Mr, Bosman to disgorge their ill-gotten gains, or it there was it completely eluded him. A week went by. He read the newspapers, especially the local one, in the hope that he might discover some clue to the whereabouts of Prince and Bosman, but he found nothing. One evening, however, he noticed >•, paragraph that caused him to blink In astonishment: •Miss Betty Gordon, a local resident, will inherit, according to the ’ will of a deceased uncle, an Australian sheep rancher, a fortune of ten thousand pounds. Miss Gordon informed our reporter that she has not yet decided what to do with the money, but will probably invest it. Bob dropped the paper and frowned gloomily. He knew Betty had an uncle, but he had never been very interested in him. He certainly hadn’t guessed that he would be wealthy enough to leave ten thousand pounds. Bob grunted. That finished things, anyway. He put on his hat, went to the nearest telephone booth, and rang up Betty. “Is that, Betty?” he inquired, when he was put through. “It’s me —Bob.” “Why don’t you come and see me?” “Er—it’s unnecessary. I only wanted to congratulate you. I’ve just read about your uncle in the paper. And I wanted to tell you that I—er—can’t marry you.” “That’s the second time you’ve told me that,” retorted Betty warmly. “I shall take you at your word if you don't stop it.” “But —you know what I mean. You're rich now and I —l’m broke. I’m going to have people say that I married you for your money.” “But ” “It’s the only way.” “But ” "Good-bye,” said Bob. He rang off.

The next morning Betty received a vast number of letters. She spent an exciting half-hour reading them. There were several begging for loans, several merely begging, a few requesting subscriptions for various funds, two from individuals who lacked the necessary funds to exploit their inventive genius, and one —the most important—from Messrs. Bosnian and Prince.

It contained a beautifully printed prospectus with pictures of huge forests of rubber-bearing trees, extensive factories, and so forth. Also it contained a neatly-typed letter.

Dear Madam, —We have at out disposal a large block of one pound preference shares In the Tuanjara Rubber Co., which we recommend as an excellent investment. In a few months the value of these shares will be doubled. We are already besieged with purchasers, but in order to give you the first opportunity of taking advantage of this splendid offer, our representative will call on you this morning. We are offering you, we should like to point out, the chance of a lifetime. —Yours sincerely, Messrs. Bosnian and Prince.

Betty replaced the letter in the envelope thoughtfully. After breakfast she sat down with a quiet smile on her face and waited.

About noon, Instead of a representative, Messrs. Bosman and Prince arrived In person, because, they hastened to explain, they happened to be in the district on a matter of business and felt that they could point out the advantages of their offer more clearly than a representative. Mr. Bosman was short and fat and Mr. Prince was lean and dark. They both smoked large cigars and, looked extremely opulent. And they both felt that they were on a soft thing. “Of course,” said Mr. Bosman generously, “we could not make this of fer to everybody and we—er —wish to beep it as secret as possible because we are already—er ”

“Besieged with purchasers,” suggested Betty, with a bright smile. “Exactly,” beamed Mr. Bosman. “Exactly,” added Mr. Prince, affably. There was a slight pause.

“Of course,” said Betty, “I should like time to think about it first. I mean. It’s rather a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“Ah —yes,” agreed Mr. Bosman, a trifle disappointed. “But, of course, there is nothing to worry about. You may trust us —er —implicitly.” “Implicitly,” repeated Mr. Prince, benignly. “Oh —I do,” Betty, assured vthem with a charming, innocent smile. “But I understand so little about this sort of thing that I feel I ought really to ask my fiance’s advice.” “Fiance,” said Mr. Bosman dubiously. “Fiance,” echoed Mr. Prince.

“Yes,” admitted Betty demurely, “we are going to be married soon. That is his photograph on the table. Mr. Bosman glanced at the photograph on the table and started slightly. He nudged Mr. Prince, who also looked. Then they regarded each other significantly. Mr. Bosman coughed. “Ah —may I ask his name?” “Bob —Robert Adams.” "Ah,” said Mr. Bosman. “Adams! ’ “Adams,” agreed Mr. Prince nervously.

* Again they regarded each other. Again Mr. Bosnian coughed. /‘Does Mr. Adams know anything about rubber?” he ventured. “I don't know. I've never asked him anything like that.” “No,” apologised Mr. Bosman, with great relief, “of course not.” “Of course not,” breathed Mr. Prince.

“But,” added Betty firmly, "I must ask his advice before I accept your offer. I shall see him to-morrow.”

"Tp-morrow?” Mr. Bosman glanced at Mr. Prince and flickered an eyelid. “Very well, we will call on you again, Miss Gordon, and discuss the matter more fully. I’m sure your fiance will advise you to take this opportunity.” “I’m sure h© will,” assented Betty cheerfully. “Good morning.” Betty didn’t wait until the next day, she called to see Bob the same evening. He greeted her with a surprised, rather dazed sort of smile. He seemed to be suffering from the effects of a severe shock. “What’s the matter?” asked Betty anxiously. “Nothing,” said Bob. “Nothing—ex cept that a miracle has happened.” “A miracle?” “Yes —the Tuanjara Rubber Company has suddenly burst into life again. You know those two swindlers —• er —gentlemen Bosman and Prince? They’ve been here to see me.” “I thought perhaps they would,” admitted Betty. “That’s why I came over.” “But you don’t understand.” “I do.” “You don’t,” contradicted Bob. “They’ve behaved jolly decently. They've bought back all their shares at double price as they promised. I nearly fainted when they handed me the cash.”

“I thought they would. You see, they wanted to convince you so that you’d advise me to invest my ten thousand. It was a sprat to catch a whale.” “What?” ejaculated Bob. “Do you mean that you worked it?” “Well —it was my uncle’s idea.” Bob suddenly became gloomy. “If I were you,” he advised, "I'd stick all that money in something safe —like the post office.” “I certainly wouldn’t trust it to Mr. Bosnian,” laughed Betty. “But I expect those two have been arrested by new. My uncle is on the job. I expect there will be about six columns of congratulation in the newspaper to-morrow.” “Your uncle?” echoed Bob wondermgly. “But I thought he was dead?” “Er—no. He’s very much alive.” “But the fortufte?” “Oh —you won’t have to marry me for my money,” said Betty demurely, “because I haven’t got any. I had to persuade my uncle an awful lot to put that paragraph in.” “Eh?” Bob stared. “But your uncle was an Australian sheep rancher.”

“No,” Betty assured him placidly, “my uncle is much mors useful than that. He's editor of the lo«U news paper.”