Young man! The call was somewhat singular! And he said over his shoulder: “Don’t go when he comes, Gradman, I know nothing of him.”
The world changed, people died off, the mark fell, but Gradman was there–embodiment, faithful and grey, of service and integrity–an anchor.
Gradman’s voice, grating, ingratiating, rose.
“This French news–it’s not nice, Mr. Soames. They’re a hasty lot. I remember your father, Mr. James, coming into the office the morning the Franco–Prussian war was declared–quite in his prime then, hardly more than sixty, I should say. Why, I recall his very words: ‘There,’ he said, ‘I told them so.’ And here they are–at it still. The fact is, they’re cat and dog.”
Soames, who had half turned, resumed his contemplation of a void. Poor old Gradman dated! What would he say when he heard that they had been insuring foreign business? Stimulated by the old-time quality of Gradman’s presence, his mind ranged with sudden freedom. He himself had another twenty years, perhaps. What would he see in that time? Where would old England be at the end of it? ‘In spite of the papers, we’re not such fools as we look,’ he thought. ‘If only we can steer clear of flibberty-gibberting, and pay our way!’
“Mr. Butterfield, sir.” H’m! The young man had been very spry. Covered by Gradman’s bluff and greasy greeting, he “took a lunar,” as his Uncle Roger used to call it. The young fellow, in a neat suit, a turndown collar, with his hat in his hand, was a medium modest-looking chap. Soames nodded.
“You want to see me?”
“Alone, if I might, sir.”
“Mr. Gradman here is my right-hand man.”
Gradman’s voice purred gratingly: “You can state your business. Nothing goes outside these walls, young man.”
“I’m in the office of the P.P.R.S., sir. The fact is, accident has just put some information in my hands, and I’m not easy in my mind. Knowing you to be a solicitor, sir, I preferred to come to you, rather than go to the chairman. As a lawyer, would you tell me: Is my first duty to the Society, being in their employ?”
“Certainly,” said Soames.
“I don’t like this job, sir, and I hope you’ll understand that I’m not here for any personal motive–it’s just because I feel I ought to.”
Soames regarded him steadily. Though large and rather swimming, the young man’s eyes impressed him by their resemblance to a dog’s. “What’s it all about?” he said.
The young man moistened his lips.
“The insurance of our German business, sir.”
Soames pricked his ears, already slightly pointed by Nature.
“It’s a very serious matter,” the young man went on, “and I don’t know how it’ll affect me, but the fact is, this morning I overheard a private conversation.”
“Oh!” said Soames.
“Yes, sir. I quite understand your tone, but the very first words did it. I simply couldn’t make myself known after hearing them. I think you’ll agree, sir.”
“Who were the speakers?”
“The manager, and a man called Smith–I fancy by his accent his name’s a bit more foreign–who’s done most of the agenting for the German business.”
“What were the words?” said Soames.
“Well, sir, the manager was speaking, and then this Smith said: ‘Quite so, Mr. Elderson, but we haven’t paid you a commission on all this business for nothing; if the mark goes absolutely phut, you will have to see that your Society makes it good for us!’”
The intense longing, which at that moment came on Soames to emit a whistle, was checked by sight of Gradman’s face. The old fellow’s mouth had opened in the nest of his grizzly short beard; his eyes stared puglike, he uttered a prolonged: “A-ow!”
“Yes,” said the young man, “it was a knock-out!”
“Where were you?” asked Soames, sharply.
“In the lobby between the manager’s room and the board room. I’d just come from sorting some papers in the boardroom, and the manager’s door was open an inch or so. Of course I know the voices well.”
“What after?”
“I heard Mr. Elderson say, ‘H’ssh! Don’t talk like that!’ and I slipped back into the board room. I’d had more than enough, sir, I assure you.”
Suspicion and surmise clogged Soames’ thinking apparatus. Was this young fellow speaking the truth? A man like Elderson–the risk was monstrous! And, if true, what was the directors’ responsibility? But proof–proof? He stared at the young man, who looked upset and pale enough, but whose eyes did not waver. Shake him if he could! And he said sharply:
“Now mind what you’re saying! This is most serious!”
“I know that, sir. If I’d consulted my own interest, I’d never have come here. I’m not a sneak.”
The words rang true, but Soames did not drop his caution.
“Ever had any trouble in the office?”
“No, sir, you can make enquiry. I’ve nothing against Mr. Elderson, and he’s nothing against me.”
Soames thought suddenly: ‘Good heavens! He’s shifted it on to me, and in the presence of a witness! And I supplied the witness!’
“Have you any reason to suppose,” he said, “that they became aware of your being there?”
“They couldn’t have, I think.”
The implications of this news seemed every second more alarming. It was as if Fate, kept at bay all his life by clever wrist-work, had suddenly slipped a thrust under his guard. No good to get rattled, however–must think it out at leisure!
“Are you prepared, if necessary, to repeat this to the Board?”
The young man pressed his hands together.
“Well, sir, I’d much rather have held my tongue; but if you decide it’s got to be taken up, I suppose I must go through with it now. I’m sure I hope you’ll decide to leave it alone; perhaps it isn’t true–only why didn’t Mr. Elderson say: ‘You ruddy liar!’?”
Exactly! Why didn’t he? Soames gave a grunt of intense discomfort.
“Anything more?” he said.
“No, sir.”
“Very well. You’ve not told anyone?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t, and leave it to me.”
“I’ll be only too happy to, sir. Good-morning!”
“Good-morning!”
No–very bad morning! No satisfaction whatever in this sudden fulfilment of his prophetic feeling about Elderson. None!
“What d’you think of that young fellow, Gradman? Is he lying?”
Thus summoned, as it were, from stupor, Gradman thoughtfully rubbed a nose both thick and shining.
“It’s one word against another, Mr. Soames, unless you get more evidence. But I can’t see what the young man has to gain by it.”
“Nor I; but you never know. The trouble will be to get more evidence. Can I act without it?”
“It’s delicate,” said Gradman. And Soames knew that he was thrown back on himself. When Gradman said a thing was delicate, it meant that it was the sort of matter on which he was accustomed to wait for orders–presumptuous even to hold opinion! But had he got one? Well, one would never know! The old chap would sit and rub his nose over it till Kingdom Come.
“I shan’t act in a hurry,” he said, almost angrily: “I can’t see to the end of this.”
Every hour confirmed that statement. At lunch the tape of his city club showed the mark still falling–to unheard-of depths! How they could talk of golf, with this business on his mind, he could not imagine!
“I must go and see that fellow,” he said to himself. “I shall be guarded. He may throw some light.” He waited until three o’clock and repaired to the P. P. R. S.
Reaching the office, he sought the Board room. The chairman was there in conference with the manager. Soames sat down quietly to listen; and while he listened he watched that fellow’s face. It told him nothing. What nonsense people talked when they said you could tell character from faces! Only a perfect idiot’s face could be read like that. And here was a man of experience and culture, one who knew every rope of business life and polite society. The hairless, neat features exhibited no more concern than the natural mortification of one whose policy had met with such a nasty knock. The drop of the mark had already wiped out any possible profit on the next half-year. Unless the wretched thing recovered, they would be carrying a practically dead load of German insurance. Really it was criminal that no limit of liability had been fixed! How on earth could he ever have overlooked that when he came on the Board? But he had only known of it afterwards. And who could have foreseen anything so mad as this Ruhr business, or realised the slack confidence of his colleagues in this confounded fellow? The words “gross negligence” appeared ‘close up’ before his eyes. What if an action lay against the Board! Gross negligence! At his age and with his reputation! Why! The thing was plain as a pikestaff; for omitting a limit of liability this chap had got his commission! Ten per cent, probably, on all that business–he must have netted thousands! A man must be in Queer Street indeed to take a risk like that! But conscious that his fancy was running on, Soames rose, and turned his back. The action suggested another. Simulate anger, draw some sign from that fellow’s self-control! He turned again, and said pettishly: “What on earth were you about, Mr. Manager, when you allowed these contracts to go through without limit of liability? A man of your experience! What was your motive?”
A slight narrowing of the eyes, a slight compression of the lips. He had relied on the word ‘motive,’ but the fellow passed it by.
“For such high premiums as we have been getting, Mr. Forsyte, a limited liability was not possible. This is a most outrageous development, and I’m afraid it must be considered just bad luck.”
“Unfortunately,” said Soames, “there’s no such thing as luck in properly regulated assurance, as we shall find, or I’m much mistaken.
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