Читать книгу The Laslett Affair - Edward Harold Begbie - Страница 10

Table of Contents

In the peaceful and dimly-lighted library of his old house in St. James’s Square, Alfred Riding Spencer Jodrell sat before a slumbering fire, an open book on his knees, tumbled newspapers by his side, discussing with three of his tall sons a political crisis which was like to touch the family fortunes.

Every now and then, however, he appeared to lose interest in this discussion, and would look secretly away to the clock on the mantelpiece, and purse his lips, and wind his long watch-chain round a forefinger, as if waiting for some one to arrive, afterwards bringing his deep-set eyes round to the group before the fire, nodding his head as if he had been listening with great attention, and saying, thoughtfully, “Yes, that is very true,” or “You are quite right, Arthur.”

He was a tall, thin, slightly-built man of sixty-eight years, who had devoted himself to scholarship, athletics, country work, agriculture, politics, and the Church, making himself universally beloved, and earning for himself in all camps an enviable reputation for scrupulous fairness, a wide charity, and a sound judgment—an honourable figure in the national life.

But now this once bright and whimsical spirit was surrendering to the fatal pessimism of old age. He told himself that he had failed in everything. His translation of the Odyssey, the careful and yet impassioned work of many years, was forgotten; since the War, ministers had ceased to consult him in their difficulties; the party in the Church to which he was profoundly devoted was going over to extremists; neglected agriculture was drifting into a condition of ruin; the splendid and familiar houses of his neighbours in Gloucestershire were either in the hands of the new rich or being turned into schools and public institutions. Because he was getting old and his faculties were wearing out, he could not see that though some things have changed for the worse many more things have changed for the better. He had fallen out from his place in the ranks of humanity, and believed therefore that the Grand Army was marching to defeat.

And here were three of his six sons, one of whom was a member of the House of Commons, another a King’s Counsel, and the third a director of a great bank, all sound and careful men who weighed their words and never listened to mere gossip, speaking openly of a condition in the political world which appalled him. He shook his head with great sorrow, and with sharp distress showing in his face.

“But he does draw the line somewhere,” said the K.C., speaking of a certain minister.

“Does he?” asked the Member of Parliament. “Where?”

“For one thing, he cannot swallow William Laslett,” replied the lawyer.

“But he has taken his money.”

“He’d take any one’s money, of course; but all the same, Laslett is not going to get a peerage.”

“I should hope not. A peerage! Good heavens!”

“Laslett?” questioned Mr. Jodrell. “That’s the company promoter, is it not? The fellow who is engineering all these combines, as they are called?”

“Yes; he started as an office boy to a solicitor in Derby,” replied the lawyer.

“Hugh has made a friend of his son,” said Mr. Jodrell.

“That’s a pity,” said the banker.

“I think I remember Hugh telling us that he’s a very clever and charming boy.”

The banker looked at his brother the K.C., and said, “I think you’ll agree that we should warn Hugh against cultivating that friendship too far?”

The lawyer nodded his head with decision, as if to say, There can be no question about that.

“You think the father is not a desirable person?” asked Mr. Jodrell.

“I’m quite sure he’s not,” replied the banker.

“To be perfectly direct,” said the K.C., “he’s a crook.”

At that moment, Hugh entered the room, having seen Stephen safely to bed, put straight his own disordered appearance, not forgetting to rub some ointment into the bruise on his leg.

Mr. Jodrell’s face lighted up. “Ah, not so late after all!” he exclaimed, leaning forward from his chair. “Come and tell us all about it, old man. Did you have to make a speech? I hope not, for your sake. Draw up a chair.”

The change from the tumultuous streets to this quiet and peaceful room seemed to Hugh almost inconceivably great, almost unimaginably delightful.

He pulled up a chair, said he was afraid he was interrupting an important conference, and then announced, addressing his father, “I’ve brought a friend back with me, and put him to bed in my room. I hope you don’t mind?”

There was a general smile.

“Mind!” said Mr. Jodrell. “I’m delighted. Why should I mind? Was he a little above himself, Hughie?—just a little jocund? Well, after such a match, we will forgive him.”

“To tell the truth, he was, sir,” replied Hugh. “But there was a rag on, and he got carried away by that.” He pulled up his trousers, smiling with amusement, looked at the fire, and added, “Now that I know you don’t mind, I can address myself to another problem. Ought I to go round and tell his people? I don’t want to. In fact, I want to go to bed. But they may be anxious.”

“Can’t you telephone?” asked a brother.

“Yes, I could do that, couldn’t I?”

“Where are his people?”

“At the Ritz.”

“Well, then,” cried the father, leaning over his chair to ring the bell, “tell Walker to telephone: that’s quite simple. No need to bother, old man.” His face lighting up again, he added, “It was a great match, Hugh. That run of yours sent the blood coursing through my veins. I think old Homer could have made something out of that! We nearly cried, didn’t we?” he demanded, turning to his other sons. “We had hard work to behave ourselves properly. And the timing of your spring, that was really superlatively good—it was a bit of the purest poetry as well as a truly magnificent bit of athletics.”

The butler appeared.

Hugh looked back over his chair, and said, “You might ring up the Ritz, Walker, will you?—and tell the clerk to let Mrs. Laslett know that Mr. Stephen Laslett is sleeping here to-night, and that he’ll want a change of clothes sent round in the morning.”

The brothers exchanged glances at the notorious name of Laslett, and Mr. Jodrell, drawing down his lips, looked from one to the other of them with twinkling eyes. The humour of the situation was too much for them. When Walker departed, they all laughed together, and all turned to look at Hugh, who was mystified and could not understand why they were amused.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, answering their smiles, but anxiously all the same.

“A very curious coincidence,” said Mr. Jodrell, “We were speaking of this boy’s father, Hughie, a moment before you came into the room.”

“Really?”

There was an awkward pause, in which one of the brothers got up and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the fire, looking into the bowl afterwards with a rather grim smile on his lips.

Mr. Jodrell rubbed his chin with the forefinger of his right hand, blinking his eyelids a good deal, and inquired:

“You like the boy, don’t you, Hughie?”

“Yes, very much indeed.

“He’s quite a nice, straight boy, then.”

This was said so emphatically and lovingly that Hugh felt the tension in the room give way, and found himself breathing once more the air of perfect confidence and tranquillity which was the normal atmosphere of the house.

“I think he’s bound to make his mark,” said Hugh. “He’s one of those lucky fellows who do things easily. Nothing’s a grind to him. He’s going into politics, and a lot of people think he’ll be another F. E. Smith: take the House by storm with a first speech, and all that sort of thing. He’s what one calls an inspirational person.”

“Come, that’s interesting,” said the father encouragingly.

Hugh got up from his chair, and went across the room to help himself to a glass of soda-water from the syphon. “I think he’s now at the critical stage,” he said, “and wants a bit of shepherding.” He returned to the group, glass in hand, and stood there in the midst of them, an impressive figure, even in his brother’s old clothes. “He’s a bit high-spirited,” he continued. “It might do him good, sir, if you had a talk with him after breakfast to-morrow.” He drank, and added, “He told me once that I’d got a laborious mind in a pard-like body. He finds me a bit slow in the uptake. He thinks one ought to take intellectual risks, and trust to instinct more than to reason.” He drank again. “That’s all very well, of course, if one has got the machinery for it,” he continued, “but it’s a bit dangerous even if one has, don’t you agree?” He looked round the group, drank again, and returned to the table to put down his glass.

The brothers, who were rather witty people, exchanged smiles.

“There’s this to be said, I think,” Mr. Jodrell remarked with noticeable deliberation, “that a friendship between you and this brilliant young person has its difficulties, in the circumstances of the present time. We have been speaking this evening, Hugh, rather seriously,” he continued, “of a situation which is now rapidly developing in the House of Commons. I needn’t trouble you with that; but we are agreed, your brothers and I, that there is likely, very soon, to be a political change of real importance, with even higher taxation, and a consequent worse condition for industry. In other words, times are going to be worse, old man, before they get better, which means particularly bad times for people in our position. Well, that’s partly the price of the War, and partly the consequence of a purely urban democracy. We must take things as they are, and make the best of them. I shall certainly have to sell this house, and to get rid of a number of our farms. It is unfortunate, but there it is. I don’t want you to worry over these difficulties, which we shall solve in one way or another; but I do think, Hughie old man, that you might with advantage turn it over in your mind whether you can, with comfort to yourself, maintain a friendship so very unequal in material fortune as this friendship of yours with the young man now, I hope, sleeping peacefully in your bed.” Mr. Jodrell stroked his chin, and added, “He belongs, you see, to another world. You two can meet in future only by crossing into each other’s territory. And he, I take it, would be as discomposed by the climate of your world, as you would be distressed, I am quite sure, by the temperature of his.”

The brothers smiled again.

Hugh, who was still standing, and who had listened intently, nodded his head with slow approval. “Yes, that’s true. I don’t expect to see much of him in future. But I should rather like to see him started. He has got great points.” He turned and met his father’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about your worries. It must be a bad time for you. I’ve thought of that often lately. I wish I could do something.”

“My dear boy, you have covered me with glory to-day; isn’t that enough? And next year, you’re going to turn schoolmaster and make a fortune!”

“If I had the brains for it,” said Hugh, smiling, “I’d ask Mr. Laslett to take me into his office, and see if I could——”

“God forbid!” cried Mr. Jodrell, and flung up his hands in mock horror, and laughed very heartily as he brought them down on his knees with a resounding slap.