Chapter 2

A recent and somewhat acrimonious debate in the House of Commons had Precipitated the formation of this committee, and had unduly hastened the selection of its members. Sir Matthew had been called in at short notice as being, in the opinion of the minister who had been under criticism, the most pliant chairman available.

The proceedings of the Committee were to be hurried on as much as possible. This much Tarleton had gathered from his departmental chief, and there was no doubt that he would have his hands full. He had had opportunity of gauging the political qualities of Sir Matthew Bale; at his next interview he was enabled to form an opinion of his administrative methods. He was again seated opposite the chairman, who leaned back in his chair with an air of indolent ease. Tarleton was pointing out to him the considerable difficulty there would be in staffing the committee owing to the demands upon the department through the War. There was also, he explained, the troublesome question of securing accommodation, for which there was no room at the Government Office. Sir Matthew loftily waved aside these difficulties.

“As to accommodation, Mr. Tarleton,” he said, “just tell the Office of Works that it is the Prime Minister’s wish that I should have every facility, and as to staff, look at these.” As he spoke he touched a bundle of papers which lay on the table. “You have choice enough there, Mr. Tarleton.”

Tarleton had seen the papers; in fact, he had placed them on the table Himself after carefully going through them. They were applications from all sorts of individuals offering their voluntary services. There were letters from retired officers, judges, tea-planters, cowboys, fellows of the Universities--in fact, the usual heterogeneous collection with which those who have Government work to do are familiar since the War.

“It is very doubtful, Sir Matthew, whether any of these gentlemen would be suitable for this sort of work. You will, I am sure, understand that a certain training--”

“Oh, never mind the training, Mr. Tarleton. I’ll soon select somebody for you--let me have a look through them. Now, here’s one--this is the sort of man that I like; he telegraphs--he doesn’t write. A man with individuality--an original mind. Try him.”

“Excuse me, Sir Matthew, have you noticed the name?”

Sir Matthew put on his eyeglass and examined the telegram.

“Louis Klein,” he read, “and a very good name too--what’s the matter with it?”

“D’you think it advisable, Sir Matthew, in the present state of public opinion--”

“Public opinion, Mr. Tarleton, means the Press, and that doesn’t concern _us_. The true interests of the nation are our concern, and in this case I see no reason whatever why, because this man’s name is Klein--As a matter of fact, when I was dining with a member of the Cabinet a few evenings ago, I met a most charming person called Schmerz, and, I have reason for knowing, a most loyal subject. Indeed, I understand that my friend the minister finds his advice most useful in certain cases. No, no, by all means send for this Mr. Klein--let’s have a look at him.”

* * * * *

Mr. Klein arrived, and Oswald Tarleton was not favourably impressed by him. He had thick features and a generally unattractive appearance; he spoke, too, with an accent which Tarleton distrusted, although Klein assured him that he was a French Alsatian, and as proof thereof showed the secretary a letter from the French Embassy which vouched for his being a devoted citizen of the Republic. Sir Matthew entirely approved of him.

“Just the man we want, Mr. Tarleton. Make him assistant secretary. That’ll flatter him--then ask anything you like of him and he’ll do it. That’s my way.”

* * * * *

Presently Klein was installed and Tarleton soon found him a most assiduous and useful assistant. Without the loss of a moment he got into touch with various chiefs of subsidiary departments and obtained stenographers and typewriters, clerks and porters. Urged by Sir Matthew, he harried the Office of Works till they provided ample accommodation in a fine building in a central position; from H.M. Stationery Office he promptly ordered all sorts of indispensable supplies, and within an incredibly short time Sir Matthew found himself installed in sumptuous offices with a fine committee-room and everything in as perfect order as even he could desire. Tarleton was compelled to admit that Klein had proved to be an acquisition.

“What did I tell you?” cried Sir Matthew triumphantly. “Trust me to find the right man, Mr. Tarleton, trust me. I always believe in demanding the impossible and I generally get it. If you’re modest, you get left.”

Tarleton could vouch for the truth of this observation, and he disliked the chairman more than ever.

In due course the committee held its first sitting. On Sir Matthew’s right sat Lord Milford, a wealthy peer of independent political opinions and great obtuseness, by whose social prestige Sir Matthew was greatly impressed; on his left Mr. Doubleday, the leader of the Labour Party in the House of Commons. Ranged on either side, according to their importance, sat the various other members of the committee.

Sir Matthew’s opening address, written for him by Tarleton, met with an Excellent reception, and the proceedings developed smoothly.

* * * * *

As the weeks passed the work of the committee increased, especially that part of it which fell to the staff. Tarleton was worked off his legs. In committee Sir Matthew was indisputably an adroit chairman. He knew how to assert himself on occasion and play off the members against each other, and he showed the dexterity of a conjurer in manipulating evidence. But outside the committee-room, entirely absorbed by the decorative side of his position, he talked and talked from morning till evening. Beyond receiving important persons, he did nothing. He was as incapable of composing a letter as of making a speech, and Tarleton had to write both for him. He would arrive in the morning when Tarleton was trying to get on with urgent correspondence or to frame questions to be asked of witnesses, and so take up his unfortunate secretary’s time that it was almost impossible for him to get his work finished for the next meeting. He made the most exacting demands upon his overworked staff, showing as little consideration for them as he did grasp of the mass of detail they had to get through between committee meetings. Indeed, had it not been for the industrious energy of Klein, who had relieved him of practically all the routine work, ordinary correspondence and office supervision, Tarleton had to admit to himself that it would have been beyond his power to carry on.

As the proceedings of the committee advanced, Sir Matthew’s opinion of his own importance increased, and Tarleton’s dislike of him grew into hatred. Gentle, unassuming, and sensitive, he had never so far encountered an individual like Sir Matthew Bale, who outraged all his finer feelings and susceptibilities a dozen times a day. And the secretary swore between his teeth that if he ever got the chance of tripping him up, once the committee was done with, he would take good care not to miss it.

Klein, on the other hand, grew in Tarleton’s esteem, and he felt he had done him an injustice, for which he was determined to atone if occasion offered.

The industry of the Alsatian was equalled by his perspicacity; he soon fathomed the intentions of the chairman and understood that the chief purpose of the committee was the exact opposite of that which its flowing terms of reference were intended to convey.

In a small room, as far as possible removed from the one in which the committee had their meetings, Klein sat like a mole delving into documents and preparing the interim report for which the Government had been pressed in Parliament. Here, when the day was over and Sir Matthew had at last taken his departure, Tarleton would join him. It frequently happened that they did not finish their labours until nearly midnight. On such occasions Tarleton would go to his club to dine, whilst Klein would make his way to some neighbouring restaurant, but after a time the two men seemed to draw nearer to each other, until one day Tarleton suggested that Klein should dine with him. Over a cigar in the club smoking-room, the secretary for the first time expressed himself freely to his colleague.

“I feel I ought to tell you, Klein, that at first I was foolish enough to feel a little--”

He broke off, hesitating to use a word which might hurt the other’s feelings.

“I know exactly what you mean, Tarleton, and I do not in the least blame you. You are probably not aware that many of us Alsatians have German names, but if you knew more of my life you would know what good cause I have for hating the Germans more than any Englishman can possibly hate them. Some day, perhaps, I shall have a chance of telling you.”

Klein’s eyes flashed under their drooping lids. Tarleton warmed to him and began to talk about the committee and especially about the chairman.

“This has been a tremendous eye-opener to me, Klein,” he said. “I must tell you that, in my innocence, I never imagined that the proceedings of a committee could be conducted in such a fashion. I must confess I do not understand the object of it.”

Klein smiled significantly.

“I do,” he remarked.

“What do you mean, Klein?”

“It is quite simple. There are things which the Government does not desire to be known, and that is why they selected a man like Bale for chairman. You see, Tarleton, we’re accustomed to that sort of thing in France.”

“But we aren’t,” remarked Tarleton, “and I think it’s--something ought to be done,” he added.

“Something can be done,” said Klein.

“How?”

“I suppose you’ve heard of Blum & Co.?”

The secretary stared at him. “No, I’ve never heard of them.”

“Well, Blum & Co. is Sir Matthew’s firm, and Mr. Blum would be an exceedingly interesting witness.”

Tarleton almost jumped out of his chair. “Good Lord!” he said excitedly, “you don’t mean--”

“I mean just exactly that,” Klein continued in his heavy way. “Moritz Blum is Bale’s partner, and he’s one of the biggest scamps in the City. Now supposing I give the tip to a member of the committee to call him.”

Tarleton could hardly believe his ears. Here was retribution for Sir Matthew with a vengeance! But he hesitated.

“Would it be square, do you think? I mean, wouldn’t it be treacherous towards the chairman?”

“That seems to depend upon which you put first--the chairman or the country. For my part, the only thing that matters is that if we are able to expose anything that helps the enemy, we should do so, and here’s our chance.”

“D’you really mean that, Klein?”

“Mean it? Of course I mean it. Blum & Co. are amongst the largest shareholders in the Swedenborg Coal and Iron Smelting Company, in Stockholm; they have sold and are selling thousands of tons of pig-iron to the German Government. What do you say to that?”

“How on earth do you know?” ejaculated Tarleton almost breathlessly.

Klein fixed his eyes on the other significantly.

“I haven’t been in the City for twelve years for nothing,” he answered.

“It’s a difficult position for me.” Tarleton spoke reflectively. “Loyalty to one’s chairman is a tradition in the Government service. And though I despise Bale, I don’t see my way to expose him. You see, it means the ruin of all his hopes.”

“_Tant pis pour lui_. Doesn’t he always say himself our first duty is to consider the true interest of the nation? Now, is it in the true interest of the nation that the Germans should get this pig-iron? Tell me that, Tarleton.”

The secretary made no reply. Indeed, none was needed, for the answer was obvious.

* * * * *

Two days later there was an important meeting of the committee, at which a full attendance had been specially requested by the chairman. A question had been raised at the previous sitting by one of the Labour Members who had desired to hear certain evidence, but the witness had suddenly left the country. The Labour Members had withdrawn to discuss the matter privately, and on their return showed that their suspicions had been aroused. On a motion by the chairman the meeting had been adjourned for four days.

All Sir Matthew’s resourcefulness had been needed to avert for the time further discussion. Before the next meeting he and the minister involved would get together and discover a means of putting inconvenient questioners off the scent.

The committee took their seats. The chairman now spoke in his smoothest tone, his manner was genial and urbane. He smiled towards Mr. Small, the recalcitrant committee-man, as he glanced at the notes under his hand prepared by Tarleton.

“Gentlemen, at the last meeting my friend Mr. Small took exception to the fact that a certain witness had--er--left the country--er--before we had an opportunity of examining him. I have to inform you--er--er--that certain facts have come to light regarding this witness which--er--preclude our going any further into the matter. The fact is, gentlemen”--Sir Matthew; lowered his voice significantly--“he is a particular friend of the--er--er--diplomatic representative of a friendly Power, and I think you will agree with me that in the circumstances we had better drop any further discussion of this subject and direct the précis-writer to expunge the report of such part of our proceedings as relate to it from our minutes.”

To Sir Matthew’s surprise no dissentient voice was raised. The resolution was agreed to unanimously, and once more he congratulated himself on the skill with which he had disposed of an awkward dilemma.

“And now, gentlemen, we will call the next witness. Mr. Tarleton, will you kindly--”

“One moment please, Sir Matthew.”

The interruption was made in a very soft voice which almost lisped the words. They came from the immediate right of the chairman, who turned with surprise toward the speaker, Lord Milford, who until this moment had never opened his mouth.

“I have to propose,” continued the gentle voice, “that we call before us, without delay, Mr. Maurice Blum, of the firm of Blum & Co., Threadneedle Street.”

Sir Matthew gasped and turned deadly pale. For an instant he felt as though he would collapse, then, summoning all his will, he fought back the emotion which was almost choking him. By a supreme effort he partially regained his self-possession and managed to assume an ordinary expression. With one rapid and comprehensive glance he took in the faces of Lord Milford and the committee, and with an immense relief told himself that they were one and all ignorant of what the proposal signified to him.

Where had Milford obtained his information? How much did he know? While these thoughts flashed through his brain the soft voice lisped on--

“Certain evidence has reached me which points to Mr. Blum’s having interests in Sweden of a character that immediately, concerns our investigations. The firm are large holders of shares in a smelting concern called the Swedenborg Coal and Iron Smelting Company, and there is also a probability that Messrs. Blum’s interests extend in a direction which, though I am not suggesting disloyalty or illegality, urgently necessitates inquiry.”

Lord Milford sat down. His expression was solemn; it was evident that he was rather pleased at finding himself for once in the unusual position of having something to say and saying it. There was a buzz of whispered conversation round the table, then a sudden hush--the chairman was addressing the meeting.

For a moment Sir Matthew paused. Once more his eyes took in the room. Where was the enemy? Just behind him, in his usual place, sat Tarleton at his table covered with papers. The secretary’s face was white and drawn; he was twisting his small moustache nervously; his eyes were fixed on the chairman with a half-frightened expression.

Once more Sir Matthew’s eyes scanned the faces. Where was the enemy? And now, at the opposite end of the table, he noticed, for the first time, a figure almost concealed behind the stout form of Mr. Small. It was Klein. The two men’s eyes met. It was only for a fraction of a moment, but it was long enough. In the concentrated gaze of the Alsatian there was neither hatred nor vindictiveness, but only determination. The two wills were in conflict, and this time Sir Matthew knew he had met his master. In that instant he made up his mind.

“Gentlemen”--his voice was calm, his bearing unruffled; the old habit was as strong as ever, he drew down his cuffs and leaned easily on the table, spreading out his fingers--“I have a very short personal statement to make. You are perhaps unaware that I have been for many years connected with the firm of Blum & Co.; in fact, I was the original founder of the business in which for a considerable period Lord Milford’s nephew, Lord Reginald Dumbarton, was also partner.” Sir Matthew paused a moment and smiled towards his neighbour. “For some years my interest has been confined to a sleeping partnership; I have been completely ignorant of the details of the business. While I need hardly tell you that the situation in which I find myself is very trying, I support Lord Milford’s suggestion that the affairs of the firm shall be investigated and that Mr. Maurice Blum shall be summoned before you. But in these circumstances I have to inform you with great regret that I shall immediately place my resignation of the chairmanship in the hands of the Prime Minister. Gentlemen, may I, as my last act before leaving the chair, propose that, pending the appointment of a new chairman by the Government, Lord Milford shall take my place.”

Bowing slightly to right and left and gathering up his papers, Sir Matthew walked with a dignified step to the door and disappeared.

III. WAR WORK

Mrs. Dobson, though short and portly, carries her fifty-five years with buoyancy. She is a good-natured woman, with purple cheeks, a wide mouth, and a small nose; one connects something indefinable in her appearance with church on Sundays, so that one learns without surprise that she is a strict Anglican. She lives in the neighbourhood of Cadogan Square, and has five daughters, of whom two are married, to a well-known surgeon and a minor canon respectively. The beauty of the family is Joan, who plays the piano and is considered intellectual and artistic. She spent a year at the Conservatoire in Brussels, and often uses French words in conversation. Effie, the youngest, is an adept at games, and rather alarms her mother by her habit of using slang expressions and the shortness of her skirts.

Soon after the beginning of the War, Lady Whigham having discontinued her days at home, Mrs. Dobson gave up hers, and as the other ladies in her circle followed suit, her chief occupation was gone.

Of course, like her friend Lady Whigham, she joined several committees, but she was rather disappointed to find the meetings less sociable than she expected. What Mrs. Dobson likes is a friendly, chat over a cup of tea; when you sit formally round a green table, you never seem to get to know any one properly.

“It’s so much nicer,” she said to Maud, the eldest unmarried daughter, a bouncing young woman of generous proportions, “to have something at your own house. My idea is to make a pleasure of charity. The most disagreeable things can be got through pleasantly. Now, you’re such a sensible girl, can’t you think of something?”

Mrs. Dobson always speaks of Maud as “such a sensible girl”; spiteful people suggest that this praise is a form of apology for the absence of physical charm.

Maud meditated deeply. “Everybody seems to have thought of everything, mamma, that’s the worst of it. You see, Mrs. Newt has that drawing class for orphan boys; then there’s Mrs. Badger’s fund for giving musical instruction to the children of soldiers and sailors, and the Parrys have dancing classes for them.”

“That’s just it. We ought to be doing something useful of that kind. It’s a public duty for people in our position.”

“But I think we are doing our share, mamma. What with your committee and Effie teaching those Belgian refugee children to play hockey and me at the canteen for ineligible shop assistants.”

“I know, my dear. Still, it would be so nice to have something here--just to bring people together, as it were, in a cosy way.”

Before any conclusion was reached tea was brought, and just then Joan came in from a concert at the Mandolin Hall, bringing a startling piece of news.

“Who do you think I met at the concert, mamma?”

Joan was evidently excited. She spoke almost breathlessly, and went on without waiting for a reply.

“Jack Leclerc is back from the Front on sick leave, and he’s been made a captain.”

Mrs. Dobson glanced at Maud. “Really, my dear!” she said, but her voice was not cordial.

“What else did he tell you?”

“He hardly said anything. In fact, he didn’t tell me even that. Mr. Mayo, the manager, saw him as we were going out and I heard him call him ‘Captain’!”

“Perhaps it’s a mistake, anyhow,” suggested Maud.

“No, it isn’t. I stopped to find out--about the next concert, I mean--and Mr. Mayo told me he had greatly distinguished himself, and I’m not a bit surprised either.” And Joan looked at her mother and her sister with an air of saying, “What did I tell you?”

“Well, he’s sure to come and see us and tell us all about it,” Mrs. Dobson remarked complacently.

“I’m not so sure of that!” Joan spoke sharply.

“Nonsense, dear! he’ll be only too pleased to, especially if we ask him--and now it’s war-time I think we might. Bygones are bygones.”

Joan sighed deeply. It was evident she meant her mother to notice it.

“Surely you’ve got over that little affair? You didn’t seem to mind at the time. Did you now, dear?”

“What could I do with you all against me?” Joan’s face wore an expression of aggrieved reminiscence.

“We thought it for your good, Joan. He was only a music-teacher and had no means at all.”

“He was getting on splendidly, though. You forget that he had been appointed conductor of a big orchestra to tour the provinces--when the War came.”

“Yes, but the War put a complete end to that and to all his prospects. A nice time you’d have had to wait,” said Maud.

“It’s over now, so what’s the good of talking about it? I daresay he’s forgotten all about me long ago.” Joan sighed again and helped herself to tea.

Half an hour later Clara Whigham called up Joan on the telephone. The family was accustomed to these conversations, which were sometimes of long duration. The two girls were intimate. It was through Clara that Joan had taken piano lessons at the Royal School of Music from Jack Leclerc.

When Joan left the room Mrs. Dobson turned to her elder daughter.

“Now, Maud, you’re such a sensible girl--what do you think about this young man turning up? He’s sure to be after Joan again, don’t you think?”

Maud considered the question with her usual conscientious earnestness, while her mother sat anxiously watching her.

“Well, now,” she said at length, “supposing he does?”

“What do you mean, Maud? I don’t understand.”

“Well, I mean that the War has changed everything. Look at Dora Newt. She Wouldn’t accept that young Mr. Firning because he was only a clerk in the bank. Now she’s engaged to him, all because he’s in the Army. Why, you know, mamma, Clara told you herself the other day she meant to have a War wedding.”

“I must say I was shocked that so well brought up a girl should talk so lightly about marrying.”

“I know, mamma, but everybody’s the same now; the War makes all the difference. And I think if Joan still wants him--after all, he’s a captain and--”