I accepted eagerly enough, though with a somewhat rueful feeling that it meant harder work on the following day if I was to overtake arrears. But I wanted to meet Henley-Davenport. As I mentioned at the beginning of this narrative, before the irruption of B. diazotans into the world, he had been engaged upon radioactivity investigations; and I was anxious to hear what he was doing. I knew that Nordenholt set great store by his work—he was one of the Nordenholt young men—and I was interested. But my main reason for accepting was, of course, Nordenholt himself. As time went on, he fascinated me more and more; and I grasped at every opportunity of studying his complex personality. I doubt if I have been able to throw light upon it in these pages. I have given vignettes here and there to the best of my ability; but I know that I have failed to set down clearly the feeling which he always gave me, the distinction between the surface personality and the greater forces moving behind that screen. The superficial part is easy to describe; but the noumenon of Nordenholt is a thing beyond me. I only felt it; I never saw it: and I doubt if any man ever saw it fully revealed.
Just then the door of the secretary’s room opened and someone came in. Curiously enough, I had never seen Nordenholt’s secretary before. She seemed to be about twenty-four, fair-haired and slim, dressed like any other business girl; but it was her face which struck me most. She looked fragile and at the corners of the sensitive mouth I thought I saw evidences of strain. Somehow she seemed out of place amid all this grimness: her world should have been one of ease and happiness.
“These are the figures you wanted with regard to A. 323, Uncle Stanley,” she said, as she handed over a card.
“Thanks, Elsa. By the way, this is Mr. Flint. You’ve heard me speak of him often. My ward, Miss Huntingtower, Flint. She acts as my secretary.”
We exchanged the commonplaces usual to the situation. I noticed that Nordenholt’s voice changed as he spoke to her: a ring of cheerfulness came into it which was not usually there. In a few minutes he dismissed her and we sat down again.
“Now, Flint, there’s another example of the effect of too hard work. We’re all running things rather fine, nowadays. As for myself, it doesn’t matter. So long as I can see this year through, it’s immaterial to me what the ultimate effect may be. I can afford to run things to their end. But you younger people have most of your lives before you. I’m not hinting that you can spare yourselves; but you must try to leave something for the future. When it’s all over, we shall still need directors; and you must manage to combine hard work now with enough reserve force to prevent a collapse in the moment of success.
“That’s why I planned amusement for the workers as well as a time schedule for the factories. We aren’t dealing with machines which can be run continuously and not suffer. We have to give the men a change of interest. I suppose some of you thought I was wrong in cumbering ourselves with all these football players, actors and actresses, music-hall artistes and so on, who produce nothing directly towards our object? For all I know you may jib at the sight of the thousands who go down to the Celtic Park every Saturday afternoon to watch a gang of professionals playing Soccer. I don’t. I know that these thousands are getting fresh air and exercising their lungs in yelling applause. I couldn’t get them to do it any other way; and I want them to do it. Then the halls and theatres occupy them in the evenings when they aren’t working; and that keeps them from brooding over their troubles. I don’t want men to accumulate here and there and grouse over the strain I put on them. That’s why I picked out the best of the whole Stage and brought them here. The Labour section is getting better value for its amusement money than it ever got in its life before; and I’m getting what I want too.
“That’s why I cornered tobacco and liquor also. We must remove every scrap of restraint on pleasure, Flint, or we should have trouble at once. They must have their smoke and they must have drink in moderation. You can’t run this kind of colony on narrow lines.
“And there’s another thing, perhaps the most important of all under the conditions we are in: religion. I’m not talking about creeds or anything of that kind. I’ve studied most of them from the point of view of psychology; and they’re empty things; life left them long ago. But behind all that mass of outworn lumber there’s a real feeling which can’t be neglected if we are to get the best out of things. That’s why I brought all these ministers of the various denominations into the Area. We must have them; and as far as I could, I picked the best of them. But I’ll have no idlers here. They have to do their day’s work with the rest of us and do their teaching afterwards. Every man ought to be able to do something. After all, Christ was a carpenter before He took up His work. That’s what has been wrong with ninety percent of parsons since the Churches started. They don’t know anything practical and they mistake talk for work. What was the average sermon except expanding a text, with illustrations—diluting the Bible with talk, just as a dishonest milkman waters his milk.
“Well, I’ve picked the best I
