“I’m not in love with you, if that is what you mean.”
“I did mean something of the sort,” she said. “No, on the whole, I think I’ll take my dismissal and my week’s wages, and thank you for giving me the opportunity of meeting and serving such a brilliant genius.”
He ended the conversation as though he had made some business proposal which had been declined, and said something about giving her a reference, and there the matter ended for him. He went into his office, and did not even do her the honour of slamming the door after him.
And yet her dismissal was a serious matter for Thalia. It meant one of two things. Either that Derrick Yale seriously suspected her—and that was the gravest possibility to her—or else that her discharge was only a ruse, part of a deeper plan to bring about her undoing.
On her way home she recalled his reference to Johnson of Mildred Street. There might be something behind that beyond the revelation of the fact that he knew she was associated with the Crimson Circle, and he wanted her to know he knew.
When she reached her flat there was a letter waiting for her, as there had been on the previous night. The controlling spirit of the Crimson Circle was an assiduous correspondent as far as she was concerned. In the privacy of her own room she tore open the envelope.
You did well [the letter ran]. You have carried out my instructions to the letter. The introduction to Willings was well managed and, as I promised you, there was no difficulty. I wish you to know this man thoroughly and discover what are his little weaknesses. Particularly do I wish to know his attitude of mind and the real attitude of the Cabinet towards my proposal. The dress you wore at lunch today was not quite good enough. Do not spare expense in the matter of costume. Derrick Yale is dismissing you this afternoon, but that need not trouble you, for there is no further need for you to stay in his office. You are dining tonight with Willings. He is particularly susceptible to feminine charms. If possible, let him invite you to his house. He has a collection of ancient swords of which he is very proud. You will then be able to discover the lay of the house.
She looked into the envelope. There were two crisp notes for a hundred pounds, and as she put them into her little handbag her face was very grave.
XXXVI
The Circle Meets
Mr. Raphael Willings was a product of his age. Though he was still in the early forties, he had pushed himself into Cabinet rank by the sheer force of his character. To describe him as a popular Minister would be to stretch the truth beyond permissible bounds. He was neither popular with his colleagues, nor with the country who, whilst recognising his remarkable powers and acclaiming him as the greatest of the parliamentary orators, nevertheless distrusted him. He had given so many proofs of his insincerity that it was remarkable that he should have attained to the position he occupied.
But he had a number of followers. Men who were unwavering in their faith, who could be depended upon to vote steadily at the lift of his finger, and the Government majority was too small to risk the exclusion of the Willings’ bloc.
Amongst his colleagues he had a bad name. It is not necessary to particularise the circumstances which produced his reputation, but it is a notorious fact that he escaped appearing in an unsavoury divorce case by the skin of his teeth. So unpopular was he that twice Merros Club and a fashionable night club of which he was a member and an habitué, were raided by the police in the hope of compromising this flighty politician. The raid had been planned by the wife of one of his colleagues, and that Willings was not unaware of the fact, was proved when the newspaper he owned aimed a bitter attack on the lady’s unfortunate husband, an attack so worded, so framed, that the Minister retired from public life.
A well-built man inclined to plumpness, slightly bald, there was no gainsaying his personal charm. He was under the impression that his introduction to Thalia Drummond had been skilfully manoeuvred by himself. He would have been horrified to know that the lady who introduced him had received instructions that morning from the Crimson Circle to bring the introduction about. The Crimson Circle had its agents in all branches of life and in all classes. There were bookkeepers, there was at least one railway director, there was a doctor and three chefs d’hotel amongst the hundred who obeyed the call of the Crimson Circle. They were well paid and their duties were not onerous. Sometimes, as in this case, they had no more to do than to bring about an introduction between two people whom the Crimson Circle desired to meet, but in every case their instructions came to them in exactly the same form.
The organisation of this great force was extraordinarily complete. In some uncanny way the chief of the Crimson Circle had smelt penury and disaster almost as soon as the suffering recipients of these two evil factors were aware that they were present. One by one they had been absorbed, each ignorant of the other’s identity, and profoundly ignorant of their master. He had come to them in strange places and circumstances. Each had his own function to perform, and generally the part which was played by the subordinate members of the league was ludicrously simple and unimportant.
A few members of the Circle had, in a panic, made statements to police headquarters, and from them it was learned how simple were some of the tasks which were given out by the mystery man.
From fear of the tragic consequences of disloyalty, the majority of the Crimson Circle remained
