You never thought of him as a very rich man. Undoubtedly he was a very rich man but that wasn't the important thing. He was one of the arrangers of money, the great clan of bankers. His personal tastes might even have been simple, but Sir Stafford Nye doubted if they were. A reasonable standard of comfort, even luxury, would be Mr Robinson's way of life. But not more than that. So behind all this mysterious business there was the power of money.
'I heard of you just a day or two ago,' said Mr Robinson, as he shook hands, 'from our friend Pikeaway, you know.'
That fitted in, thought Stafford Nye, because now he remembered that on the solitary occasion before that he had met Mr Robinson, Colonel Pikeaway had been present.
Horsham, he remembered, had spoken of Mr Robinson. So now there was Mary Ann (or the Countess Zerkowski?) and Colonel Pikeaway sitting in his own smoke-filled room with his eyes half closed either going to sleep or just waking up, and there was Mr Robinson with his large, yellow face, and so there was money at stake somewhere, and his glance shifted to the three other people in the room because he wanted to see if he knew who they were and what they represented, pr if he could guess.
In two cases at least he didn't need to guess. The man who sat in the tall porter's chair by the fireplace, an elderly figure framed by the chair as a picture frame might have framed him, was a face that had been well known all over England. Indeed, it still was well known, although it was very seldom seen nowadays. A sick man, an invalid, a man who made very brief appearances, and then it was said, at physical cost to himself in pain and difficulty. Lord Altamount. A thin emaciated face, outstanding nose, grey hair which receded just a little from the forehead, and then flowed back in a thick grey mane; somewhat prominent ears that cartoonists had used in their time, and a deep piercing glance that not so much observed as probed. Probed deeply into what it was looking at. At the moment it was looking at Sir Stafford Nye. He stretched out a hand as Stafford Nye went towards him.
'I don't get up,' said Lord Altamount. His voice was faint, an old man's voice, a far-away voice. 'My back doesn't allow me. Just come back from Malaya , haven't you, Stafford Nye?'
'Yes.'
'Was it worth your going? I expect you think it wasn't. You're probably right, too. Still, we have to have these excrescences in life, these ornamental trimmings to adorn the better kind of diplomatic lies. I'm glad you could come here or were brought here tonight. Mary Ann's doing, I suppose?'
So that's what he calls her and thinks of her as, thought Stafford Nye to himself. It was what Horsham had called her. She was in with them then, without a doubt. As for Altamount, he stood for — what did he stand for nowadays?
Stafford Nye thought to himself 'He stands for England . He still stands for England until he's buried in Westminster Abbey or a country mausoleum, whatever he chooses. He has been England , and he knows England , and I should say he knows the value of every politician and government official in England pretty well, even if he's never spoken to them.'
Lord Altamount said:
'This is our colleague, Sir James Kleek.'
Stafford Nye didn't know Kleek. He didn't think he'd even heard of him. A restless, fidgety type. Sharp, suspicious glances that never rested anywhere for long. He had the contained eagerness of a sporting dog awaiting the word of command. Ready to start off at a glance from his master's eye.
But who was his master? Altamount or Robinson?
Stafford 's eye went round to the fourth man. He had risen to his feet from the chair where he had been sitting close to the door. Bushy moustache, raised eyebrows, watchful, withdrawn, managing in some way to remain familiar yet almost unrecognizable.
'So it's you,' said Sir Stafford Nye, 'how are you, Horsham?'
'Very pleased to see you here. Sir Stafford.'
Quite a representative gathering, Stafford Nye thought, with a swift glance round.
They had set a chair for Renata not far from the fire and Lord Altamount. She had stretched out a hand — her left hand, he noticed — and he had taken it between his two hands, holding it for a minute, then dropping it. He said:
'You took risks, child, you take too many risks.'
Looking at him, she said, 'It was you who taught me that, and it's the only way of life.'
Lord Altamount turned his head towards Sir Stafford Nye.
'It wasn't I who taught you to choose your man. You've got a natural genius for that.' Looking at Stafford Nye, he said, 'I know your great-aunt, or your great-great-aunt, is she?'
'Great-Aunt Matilda,' said Stafford Nye immediately.
'Yes. That's the one. One of the Victorian tours-de-force of the 'nineties. She must be nearly ninety herself now.'
He went on:
'I don't see her very often. Once or twice a year perhaps. But it strikes me every time — that sheer vitality of hers that outlives her bodily strength. They have the secret of that, those indomitable Victorians and some of the Edwardians as well.'
Sir James Kleek said, 'Let me get you a drink, Nye? What will you have?'
'Gin and tonic, if I may.'
The Countess refused with a small shake of the head.
James Kleek brought Nye his drink and set it on the table near Mr Robinson. Stafford Nye was not going to speak first. The dark eyes behind the desk lost their melancholy for a moment. They had quite suddenly a twinkle in them.
'Any questions?' he said.
'Too many,' said Sir Stafford Nye. 'Wouldn't it be better to have explanations first, questions later?'
'Is that what you'd like?'
'It might simplify matters.'
'Well, we start with a few plain statements of facts. You may or you may not have been asked to come here. If not, that fact may rankle slightly.'
'He prefers to be asked always,' said the Countess. 'He said as much to me.'
'Naturally,' said Mr Robinson.
'I was hi-jacked,' said Stafford Nye. 'Very fashionable. I know. One of our more modern methods.'
He kept his tone one of light amusement.
'Which invites, surely, a question from you,' said Mr Robinson.
'Just one small word of three letters. Why?'
'Quite so. Why? I admire your economy of speech. This is a private committee — a committee of inquiry. An inquiry of world-wide significance.'
'Sounds interesting,' said Sir Stafford Nye.
'It is more than interesting. It is poignant and immediate. Four different ways of life are represented in this room tonight,' said Lord Altamount. 'We represent different branches. I have retired from active participation in the affairs of this country, but I am still a consulting authority. I have been consulted and asked to preside over this particular inquiry as to what is going on in the world in this particular year of our Lord, because something is going on. James, here, has his own special task. He is my right hand man. He is also our spokesman. Explain the general set-out, if you will, Jamie, to Sir Stafford here.'
It seemed to Stafford Nye that the gun dog quivered. At last! his eagerness seemed to be saying. At last! At last I can speak and get on with it! He leaned forward a little in his chair.
It things happen in the world, you have to look for a cause for them. The outward signs are always easy to see but they're not, or so the Chairman –' he bowed to Lord Altamount — 'and Mr Robinson and Mr Horsham believe, important. It's always been the same way. You take a natural force, a great fall of water that will give you turbine power. You take the discovery of uranium from pitchblende, and that will give you in due course nuclear power that had not been dreamt of or known. When you found coal and minerals, they gave you transport, power, energy. There are forces at work always that give you certain things. But behind each of them there is someone who controls it. You've got to find who's controlling the powers that are slowly gaining ascendancy in practically every country in Europe, further afield still in parts of Asia . Less, possibly, in Africa , but again in the American
