'Made a fool of myself, haven't I!' she apologised breathlessly. 'I've had a good weep in the loo, too—
and I promise not to do that again.' She caught sight of McLachlan attempting to catch the barmaid's eye. 'Hey, Dan—don't bother about those drinks. It's time I was going home for lunch, and if I have another beer I'll have had my calorie quota, darn it.'
McLachlan detached himself from the bar. 'I'll stand you lunch, Polly. Just this once.'
'Or you can lunch with me, Miss Epton,' said Butler quickly. 'We've—hmm—still quite a lot to discuss, remember.'
'You can't afford it, Dan. And thanks, Colonel Butler, but I'd rather eat at home—I've got the rest of the afternoon off.'
'In fact you can both come back with me and eat pounds of rabbit food. And I'll make you both omelettes
—it'll do you good.'
McLachlan looked uncertainly at Butler. Then he shrugged. 'I suppose we could do worse,' he said ungallantly.
Butler drummed impatiently on the top of the coin box and watched McLachlan through the grimy glass of the phone box. It had been a stroke of luck to find an unvandalised telephone complete with directory, but then the switchboard at King's had at first obstinately refused to concede that anything could be more important than the Master's untroubled enjoyment of his lunch, and in the end had moved only after the direst threats Butler could summon from his imagination.
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'Colonel Butler?'
The prim voice did not appear to have room in it for irritation.
'I'm sorry to have to disturb you again so soon, Sir Geoffrey.'
'Once more, not at all, Colonel. You are on duty and I don't doubt it is necessary—salus populi suprema est lex— and I am becoming accustomed to disturbance, anyway. I trust Miss Epton kept her appointment?'
'She did. But we met another of your—ah—students. A fair-haired young fellow named McLachlan. Do you know him?'
'Yes, I do.' There was no hesitation in the reply. 'Daniel McLachlan. A scholar of the college in his third year —he takes schools this summer. A mere formality in his case, though.'
'A formality?'
'Short of some unforeseen abberration, yes—he's very bright indeed. One of the three best brains we have in college at this moment. The other two are chemists.'
The primness was momentarily accentuated, as though chemistry was some form of physical handicap.
'He was a friend of Neil Smith's.'
'Indeed?'
'You didn't know?'
'They weren't in the same year.' The Master shrugged at him down the line. 'Smith was a gregarious fellow, of course. But their politics were poles apart.'
'McLachlan's a Tory, you mean? I had the impression he was a Rhodesian liberal.'
'He doesn't love apartheid, that's true. But he's a politically cautious young man. I think that is because he has been provisionally accepted by the Civil Service, and he's very ambitious. Very ambitious. In fact he should go far, unless . . .' Sir Geoffrey trailed off.
It was easy to see in which direction that 'unless' pointed.
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'Unless he found something in his pocket that he hadn't put there himself?' Butler completed the sentence.
'Y—es. That's about the size of it. A prime target, McLachlan might be. I had my doubts about letting him go to Castleshields this vacation.'
'What's wrong with Castleshields?'
'Nothing I can put my finger on. Except that Smith was there, of course. But I'm uneasy about it. And young McLachlan doesn't need any polishing, in any case.'
'But you're letting him go.'
'He has no home in England, and no relatives over here. Castleshields is probably safer than London, in any case.'
'He doesn't sound the sort of man to get involved in trouble.'
'He isn't. He's ambitious, as I've said—he has a remarkably pragmatic mind for one so young. He knows what he wants and he's not inclined to make artificial difficulties for himself. But then in some ways he's more experienced than the usual run of undergraduates—and I fancy he may not be so conservative when he reaches a position of power.'
'In what respect is he more experienced?'
'As you've discovered—he lived in Rhodesia for some years. Left shortly after UDI, with which he very decidedly doesn't agree, so I gather. His father is still there and there's no great love lost between them, which is to young McLachlan's credit.'
'You know the father?'
'I was instrumental in having him sent down from the college just after the war—for invincible idleness, among other things. Fortunately the son doesn't in the least take after the father. In fact I'd esteem it a favour if you could keep an eye on him, just in case. He's very much worth protecting.'
