elbow inadvertently knocking over a pile of books and papers. “They are supposed to be stopping anarchists and dynamiters, especially Fenians.” He frowned. “Don’t lie to me, Thomas. I’d rather you told me to mind my own business than fob me off with an evasion.”
“It’s not an evasion,” Pitt replied. “It’s a particular seat, and so far as I know, it has no Irish dimension, nor any dynamiters.”
“Why you?” Jack said levelly. “Is it anything to do with the Adinett case?” He was referring to the murder which had so infuriated Voisey and the Inner Circle they had taken their revenge on Pitt by having him dismissed from Bow Street.
“Indirectly,” Pitt admitted. “You are almost at the point where you would rather be told to mind your own business.”
“Which seat?” Jack said, perfectly calmly. “I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
“You can’t help me anyway,” Pitt countered dryly. “Except with information about the issues, and the odd warning about tactics. I wish I had paid more attention to politics in the past.”
Jack grinned suddenly, but it was not without self-mockery. “When I think how narrow our majority is going to be, so do I!”
Pitt wanted to ask about the safety of Jack’s own seat, but it would be better to find out from someone else. “Do you know Aubrey Serracold?” he asked instead.
Jack looked surprised. “Yes, actually I know him moderately well. His wife is a friend of Emily’s.” He frowned. “Why, Thomas? I’d stake a great deal he’s a decent man-honest, intelligent and going into politics to serve his country. He has no need of money and no desire to wield power for itself.”
Pitt should have been comforted, but instead he saw a man in danger from something he would never see until it was too late; he might well not recognize an enemy even then, because his nature was outside Serracold’s understanding.
Was Jack right, and in not telling him the truth was Pitt throwing away perhaps the only weapon he possessed? Narraway had given him a task that seemed impossible as it stood. It was not detecting as he was used to it; he was seeking not to solve a crime but to prevent a sin, one which was against the moral law but probably not the law of the land. It was not that Voisey should have the power-he had as much right as any other candidate-it was what he would do with it in perhaps two or three years, or even five or ten, that was wrong. And you cannot punish a man for what you believe he may do, no matter how evil.
Jack leaned forward across his desk. “Thomas, Serracold is a friend of mine. If he is in some kind of danger, any kind, let me know!” He made no threats and produced no arguments, which was oddly more persuasive than if he had. “I would protect my friends, just as you would yours. Personal loyalty means something, and the day it doesn’t I want no part of politics anymore.”
Even when Pitt had feared Jack courted Emily for her money-and he had feared it-he had still found him impossible to dislike. There was a warmth in him, an ability to mock himself and yet keep the directness which was the essence of his charm. Pitt had no chance of success without taking risks, because there was no safe way even to begin, let alone to conclude, a fight against Voisey.
“Not physical danger, so far as I know,” he replied, hoping he was right in his decision to defy Narraway and confide at least some portion of the truth in Jack. Please heaven it did not come back and betray them both! “Danger of being cheated out of his seat.”
Jack waited as if he knew that was not all.
“And perhaps of being ruined in reputation,” Pitt added.
“By whom?”
“If I knew that I would be in a far better position to guard against it.”
“You mean you can’t tell me?”
“I mean I don’t know.”
“Then why? You know something, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“For political gain, of course.”
“Then it is his opponent. Who else?”
“Those behind him.”
Jack started to argue, then stopped. “I suppose everybody has someone behind him. The ones you can see are the least worry.” He stood up slowly. He was almost the same height as Pitt, but as elegant as Pitt was untidy. He had natural grace, and was still as meticulously dressed and groomed as in the days when he made his way on his charm. “I’ll be happy to continue this conversation, but I have a meeting in an hour, and I haven’t had a decent meal today. Will you join me?”
“I’ll be happy to,” Pitt accepted immediately, rising also.
“Be my guest in the members’ dining room,” Jack suggested, opening the door for Pitt. He hesitated a moment, as if worrying over Pitt’s clean collar but crooked tie and slightly bulging pockets. He sighed and gave up.
Pitt followed him and took his place at one of the tables. He was fascinated. He hardly tasted his food he was so busy trying to watch the other diners without appearing to do so. He saw face after face he had seen in the newspapers, many whose names he knew, others familiar but he could not place them. He kept hoping he might see Gladstone himself.
Jack sat smiling, considerably entertained.
They were halfway through a dessert of hot treacle pudding and custard when a large man with thinning fair hair stopped by. Jack introduced him as Finch, the Honorable Member for one of the Birmingham constituencies, and Pitt as his brother-in-law, without stating any occupation.
“How do you do,” Finch said civilly, then looked at Jack. “Hey, Radley, have you heard that this fellow Hardie is actually going to stand? And in West Ham South, not even in Scotland!”
“Hardie?” Jack frowned.
“Keir Hardie!” Finch said impatiently, ignoring Pitt. “Fellow’s been down the mines since he was ten years old. God knows if he even can read or write, and he’s standing for Parliament! Labor Party, he says. . whatever that is.” He spread his hands in a sharp gesture. “It’s no good, Radley! That’s our territory. . trades unions, and all that. He won’t get in, of course-not a cat’s chance. But we can’t afford to lose any support this time.” He lowered his voice. “It’s going to be a tight thing! Too damned tight. We can’t give in on the working week, we’d be crippled. It would ruin us in months. But I wish to the devil the Old Man would forget Home Rule for a while. He’ll bring us down!”
“A majority’s a majority,” Jack replied. “Twenty or thirty is still workable.”
Finch grunted. “No it isn’t! Not for long. We need fifty at least. Nice to have met you. . Pitt? Pitt, did you say? Good Tory name. Not a Tory, are you?”
Pitt smiled. “Shouldn’t I be?”
Finch looked at him, his light blue eyes suddenly very direct. “No, sir, you shouldn’t. You should look towards the future and steady, wise reform. No self-interested conservatism that will alter nothing, remain fixed in the past as if it were stone. And no harebrained socialism that would alter everything, good and bad alike, as if it were all written in water and the past meant nothing. This is the greatest nation on earth, sir, but we still need much wisdom at the helm if we are to keep it so in these changing times.”
“In that at least I can agree with you,” Pitt replied, keeping his voice light.
Finch hesitated a moment, then bade him good-bye and left, walking briskly, his shoulders hunched as if he were fighting his way through a crowd, although in fact he passed only a waiter with a tray.
Pitt was following Jack out of the dining room when they all but bumped into the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, on his way in. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit, his long, rather sad face full-bearded, but almost bald to the crown of his head. Pitt was so fascinated that it was a moment before he looked fully at the man a step behind him, but obviously in his company. His features were strong, intelligent, his nose a trifle crooked, his skin pale. For an instant their eyes met and Pitt was frozen by the power of hatred he saw looking back at him, as if they were the only two in the room. All the noise of talk, laughter, clink of glass and crockery vanished. Time was suspended. There was nothing but the will to hurt, to destroy.
Then the present rolled back like a wave, human, busy, argumentative, self-absorbed. Salisbury and his companion went in; Pitt and Jack Radley went out. They were twenty yards down the corridor before Jack spoke.
