House of All Nations (87 page)

M
arianne Raccamond took the letter from Brussels out of the morning mail and read:

Dear Mr. Raccamond,

Following your instructions (H'm, she thought, he's cunning:
that's blackmail for Aristide in case our specimen gets caught!), I have gone through the books available to me. I must here add that certain books, called, as far as I can see, ‘books of the Amstel Corporation' are kept in a special safe and I am not allowed access to them, although I have represented to the chief accountant that it is impossible for me to check through unless all the papers are available to me. I have gained the impression that the chief accountant does not wish me to see the key books. ‘Who is employing you?' he said to me. ‘If it is Mr. Bertillon, I am your superior; if it is not Mr. Bertillon you have no right here, for you are then falsely on the Bertillon wages account.' This man is, as far as you are concerned, quite antipathetic and even makes things difficult for me. Of this, later. In the books that I have been allowed to peruse and check, that is the books of the Brussels office, for Brussels clients, I find everything in order and every order sent through to the Bourses required and filled automatically. I have watched carefully for any sign of trickery or double bookkeeping, but to date I have not been able to trace anything … I will not go into my feelings, or suspicions … The foregoing is contrary to our expectations and I fear you will be disappointed in me. However, please consider what follows. With regard to the books I am not allowed to see. Mr. Perrier, chief accountant and, it seems to me, the agent of Mr. Alphendéry, at any rate, obliging to him, as well as intimate with Mr. Bertillon, and occasionally his guest, when he comes to Brussels, informs me that these (secret) books represent ‘special and private' accounts and the records of operations of private corporations run for private clients of large fortune, known only to one or two members of the firm. He informs me that not only is he forbidden to show them, but that he does not himself know what persons or corporations are represented here.

Although I accepted this explanation with a good grace, as I am bound to, I observed that whenever orders came through for our ordinary clients, orders come through, not balancing orders, but companion orders, for these private clients … It therefore, seemed to me that these ‘private clients' of large fortune are kept informed of the orders of the general clients and that their agent acts for them, following a general line of policy predetermined, an irregular state of affairs, but still not an offense …

To satisfy myself, I resorted to a stratagem, in order to have a chance to look at these private books. I gave every appearance of having no interest in them and of being satisfied with Perrier's explanations. One day when the safe was open, I suddenly asked the clerk, Perrier's confidential man, for some documents corresponding to entries in the ordinary books, for some cables to wit, and my stratagem succeeded, for he left the safe open and went to fetch them. Thus I had a moment to see the name of the books: they are labeled, the Amstel Corporation, The Alpha Trading Corporation, and Accounts Nos. IA and IB. This is all I have to report at the moment, except that entries are made daily in these books and the orders to which they refer invariably come through from Paris, while at the end of the month, a statement for the first comes from Amsterdam, for the second from London, and for the other two from Zurich. There are therefore four clerks in the know. At the Paris end, my impression is that the person to question is Mr. Alphendéry himself. (Refer to the name of the second corporation.) Possibly, of course, J. is trading for himself under these names (J. was Jules Bertillon) … I only wish to add that in the event of any complaint being made by the accounting department here about my activities, you will protect me and make it clear that everything I do is done under your orders … I am proceeding with my work.

Yours faithfully
,

Marianne walked in to Aristide with the letter in her hand. ‘You have a nice case of blackmail developing here, he forgot to sign.'

He shook his head. ‘No, no, he's all right. Poor blighter, he needs the job too badly! He's been out of work for three years: he'd lick my hand. Besides he's got a police record at Brussels. He forged some entries for Paul Méline, when Méline was with Léon. I found it out and threatened to give him up to the police; he begged me to let him off because of his sick wife and children, or some such tale and since I've kept him in mind … ' He smiled fatuously. ‘The little card index is in here,' he said pointing to his forehead and looking at Marianne for approval. ‘He was working for me for a while just before Claude Brothers went down, don't you remember?'

‘Your bird of ill omen,' she said sarcastically. ‘I remember … However, in that case, he could write your biography, too.'

‘Don't worry, he thinks a lot of me, I fancy: he's so grateful for the job. It was quite pathetic. Such changes in a man in three years! …'

She hemmed and hawed: ‘Don't write to him, at any rate, for a week; don't rush him! Let him simmer. Spies are two-edged sharpers …' There was a few moments of rumination. She said anxiously, ‘You're getting much plumper, Aristide.'

‘Yes, it's bad fat, too; but I have to eat. You can't follow a diet when you're having dinner with businessmen.'

While he read the letter, she looked his clothes over to see that there were no untidy creases. When he laid it down, she handed them to him and inquired, ‘When and if you have the information, what will you do?'

‘Get the books and demand an explanation in the interests of my clients.'

She nodded. ‘And then?'

‘See what he offers.'

She shook her head vigorously. ‘No, you must have your demands on paper; so as not to lose your head.'

‘I never lose my head, Marianne,' he began impatiently.

‘No, I know; but he's a queer customer: with his head-over-heels temperament you can be caught unawares. Show him the books, have your plan ready, stand firm, yield nothing, and you're safe. You did well enough in the Claude Brothers affair.'

‘Oh, I'm an old hand at business now.'

She meditated. ‘Listen, Aristide: why keep Carrière
au courant
? A Midas is a dangerous friend. He has no feminine society, besides: that means one door of access is closed. Bertillon is flighty but he's taking to you; you will, in time, oust Alphendéry, I've no doubt of that. Play on Bertillon. My feeling is that you need a straight line of action: playing two men is difficult and it torments you. I believe the crisis will strike France; if so, a straight game is the best: the rotten plums will be shaken off the tree. Perhaps there won't be so much room for the Carrières, with all their money.'

‘Fantasy,' murmured Aristide. ‘Money is king, especially in a republic.'

‘Evidently,' she continued, ‘Bertillon is on a smaller scale than Carrière; but my idea is this: drop relations with Parouart and as far as is possible, give up lackeying for Carrière; my uncles will stand behind you—although the Czorvocky Bank mustn't appear to be behind you, or Bertillon will be jealous and suspicious. You must appear as an enterprising lone hand: be servile and modest with Bertillon. He's lackadaisical, vain, and imaginative; his health is poor; he has good relations, among the best, but he has no idea of building a name for himself: he is not full-blooded. You get control of Bertillon and when you have your grip on him, Carrière will have to do business through you, not direct with Bertillon. Two good results: it blunts Carrière's revenge psyche, so that he won't try to destroy the bank entirely, for he will think he can control it through you; second, you will get the backing of the South American colony and the rest of the clients. Jean de Guipatin will support you: thus you are on your way yourself. In the end, who knows, you can retire Bertillon and his brother; bring Alphendéry back under your aegis, if he is willing; if not, get in one of my cousins—we'll see to that. I don't want to introduce my family too quickly, don't think that: on the contrary, I want to keep them under my wing, in my portfolio, so to speak. Therefore the immediate move is, be assiduous with your own clients, cultivate the others, drop the—' she dropped her voice, ‘—the traffickers of all sorts, and bring in a comtesse or two, whenever you can: he is a snob, for all his easy manners. In fact, this weakness is developing in him: he gambles, goes out more, dines more with comtesses and elegants …' She smiled with rapture. ‘What a lucky day the day you took on Jean de Guipatin for your fifth wheel! I'll say this for you, Aristide, you give a feeling of weight, people believe in you.'

He smiled at her also weightily, murmured, ‘Yes, people seem to have confidence in me.'

She made a grimace. ‘The trouble is, if the Argentine money situation gets worse our fine gentlemen will be boating it home: they're an undependable element; the theater is in a wretched way; as to the movies, perhaps the barring of American films will help our actors and actresses but they will never get the salaries of the Americans, and if our actors go to Hollywood, we lose their accounts, they speculate straight through New York firms. Consider the possibilities of a brokerage office in Hollywood! I wish we had the money to shift our headquarters, Aristide! I don't like Europe. There is no confidence. Why do they have to shake out the Oustrics, the Erlichs, the France Mutualiste concerns? Public sanitation? In my opinion, a free society has room for them all and plenty; if they are locked up, their locking-up should be attended by a feeling of relief, not of anxiety and neurosis, such as there is now … Your clients at the bank are not investing in France: they are putting their money in gold and sending it abroad. They're selling their vineyards, their houses, their orchards, their farms—putting it into gold. Even America has no promise any more. America is putting up people who say a bank is bad or unsafe! That's American hysteria; but it's driving our people's money out of America. Where can they put it next? In South America, with Chile going back on bonds, Chile that never repudiated; with the exchanges suspended in Argentina, elsewhere. All the bourses of the world are lower, whether you count in gold or paper. Our government itself has no confidence, it does not want to loan money abroad. What a situation! How are we to make money out of all that? That's the question we have to ask ourselves. Answer: Get a position, whether by easing yourself in, or by blackmail, or by getting your partner in a bad posture, or by any means. Own nothing, have debts, and get control of the board: the only way. When you have by the mere fact of being a male, and of having a string of clients with high-sounding names, got yourself into a commanding position at the bank, then you can talk business, salary, participations. The easiest way is blackmail and with Bertillon you certainly have an opportunity. Our inquiries seem to show that contrary to rumor he has no one supporting him, he is acting on his own, with possibly some large accounts in other countries brought in by the local managers, all men with connections. They are ignorant of Bertillon's business; they are infinitely subordinate. The man who would hold the key to Bertillon's position and business would control the whole network. It can only be done by finding the key and pressing an advantage. Blackmail, in some vocabularies; just plain business, just ordinary virility, however, as we know. I have no fear for the future, although it's difficult and we've got to think every step of the path.'

She meditated. ‘Ask the Hallers to dinner if you see them: when the day comes that they begin to fear gold, and all their ridiculous reserves of jewels and furniture begin to turn to water, they'll do business with us.'

Aristide preceded her into the coffeeroom, biting his lip, silent, furious with her for her speculations, although common sense told him that he must listen to her: he picked up valuable points from her—she had the head of a Marcuzo and no mistake. He sat down heavily.

‘Did you change the coffee?'

‘Yes, but all the brands are bad nowadays; they shovel coffee into the sea and meanwhile the grades get lower and lower. I have ideas, Aristide: I should go into finance myself if I had any money. I don't want to be beholden to my family. I know their stock in trade.'

‘Women in finance have no chance, even if they're geniuses; there's the jealousy of men—and then they inevitably fail at the critical moment.' She smiled at this childish saw.

‘Ah?' he smiled cunningly. ‘Finally, at the sign of Mme. Hanau?'

She smiled wisely back. ‘I have my fingers on a couple of journalists, one in debt, one a soak, both inspired, to begin with. You know, your Alphendéry—if he would write an article a week, there's a source, too.'

His eyes and mouth flew open. ‘You're drifting now, surely.'

She shook her head, ‘He has no money, he has left his flat and lives now in a little hotel near the Panthéon, the Hôtel des Grands Hommes—think of it!'

‘Impossible: he has a mistress there perhaps.'

‘No. He lives there. They say he keeps an army of dependents and himself cares absolutely nothing for ordinary comfort. He likes to eat well, and he buys a lot of books.'

‘But he goes to dinner with the Comtesse de Voigrand!'

Marianne laughed. ‘Gilded slumming, my dear Aristide: a comtesse and a whore who want to make a solid reputation, keep a cheap philosopher at their table. But he is not invited when there is company. I am right, you see!

‘Mme. Haller—imagine it—the Hallers have taken to going home by tram, and they invited the tram conductor to lunch! Ridiculous! I have no patience with it, but it has its comic side. A bookbinder tells me that
rentiers
and government functionaries are learning “a manual art” in case of revolution: they won't get guillotined, see! They belong to “the workers!”' She became dark red with anger. ‘All the same, what crawlers! What a yellow streak!'