"Have you made up your mind, dear?"
"About going in with Bones?" Hamilton smiled. "No, not yet. Bones is
frantically insistent, has had a beautiful new Sheraton desk placed in
his office, and says that I'm the influence he wants, but----"
He shook his head.
"I think I understand," said Sanders. "You feel that he is doing it
all out of sheer generosity and kindness. That would be like Bones.
But isn't there a chance that what he says is true--that he does want a
corrective influence?"
"Maybe that is so," said Captain Hamilton doubtfully. "And then
there's the money. I don't mind investing my little lot, but it would
worry me to see Bones pretending that all the losses of the firm came
out of his share, and a big slice of the profits going into mine."
"I shouldn't let that worry you," said his sister quietly. "Bones is
too nice-minded to do anything so crude. Of course, your money is
nothing compared with Bones's fortune, but why don't you join him on
the understanding that the capital of the Company should be---- How
much would you put in?
"Four thousand."
"Well, make the capital eight thousand. Bones could always lend the
Company money. Debentures--isn't that the word?"
Sanders smiled in her face.
"You're a remarkable lady," he said. "From where on earth did you get
your ideas on finance?"
She went red.
"I lunched with Bones yesterday," she said. "And here is the post."
"Silence, babbler," said Hamilton. "Before we go any farther, what
about this matter of partnership you were discussing with Patricia?"
The maid distributed the letters. One was addressed: "Captin Captian Hamilton, D.S.O."
"From Bones," said Hamilton unnecessarily, and Bones's letter claimed
first attention. It was a frantic and an ecstatic epistle, heavily
underlined and exclaimed.
"Dear old old Ham," it ran, "you simply must join me in magnifficant
new sceme sheme plan! Wonderfull prophits profets! The most
extraordiny chance for a fortune..."
"For Heaven's sake, what's this?" asked Hamilton, handing the letter
across to his sister and indicating an illegible line. "It looks like
'a bad girl's leg' to me."
"My dear!" said the shocked Mrs. Sanders, and studied the vile
caligraphy. "It certainly does look like that," she admitted, "and----
I see! 'Legacy' is the word."
"A bad girl's legacy is the titel of the play story picture" (Bones
never crossed anything out). "There's a studyo at Tunbridge and two
cameras and a fellow awfully nice fellow who understands it. A pot of
money the story can be improve improved imensely. Come in it dear old
man--magnifficant chance. See me at office eariliest earilest
ealiest possible time.
"Thine in art for art sake,
"BONES."
"From which I gather that Bones is taking a header into the cinema
business," said Sanders. "What do you say, Hamilton?"