The Conscience of the Rich (37 page)

‘I thought I’d made myself clear,’ said Charles with a revival of energy.

‘You’re not deterred by the misery you’re bringing upon me?’

‘I don’t want to repeat what I’ve said.’

Without looking at Charles again, Mr March said: ‘So, if this calamity happens, you’re requiring me to decide on my own actions?’

Even now he was hoping. He could still ask a question about the future.

‘Yes,’ said Charles.

Charles came into the middle of the room, and said: ‘I might as well go now. I told Ann I would see her before I left.’

We heard him run upstairs. Katherine spoke to her father: ‘It’s no use. I wish I could say something, Mr L, but it’s no use. There’s nothing to do.’ Her mouth was trembling. She added: ‘I’ve never seen him like that before.’

Though she was supporting her father, there was something else in her voice. It dwelt more gently on Charles than any word she had said while he was there. She had made her choice; she could not help but take her father’s side. But that remark was brimming with regret, with admiration, with the idolatrous love she bore Charles when she was a girl.

During most of October there was no more news. I saw Francis regularly in Cambridge, but he and Katherine knew no more than I. Charles had already cut himself away from them. We heard a number of rumours – that Sir Philip had seen Charles and threatened a libel action whatever the consequences, that Mr March had visited Ann, convalescing by the sea, that Ronald Porson had visited her, that Charles would not have her back unless she broke with the
Note
.

There were many more rumours, most of them fantasies; but it was true that Sir Philip had seen Charles. Charles mentioned it himself, when I was dining with him on one of my nights in London. He mentioned it with indifference, as though it were a perfectly ordinary occurrence, as though his concerns were as pedestrian as anyone else’s. He wanted to regard them as settled; he did not want to see that there was a part of his nature, even yet, after all he had said and done, waiting in trepidation, just as the rest of us were waiting.

The final article in the
Note
was published in the fourth week of October. I did not subscribe to the
Note
, but a colleague of mine used to send it round to me; it was brought to my rooms in college by the messenger, on his last delivery, at ten o’clock on a Friday night. For two Fridays past I had raced my eyes over it, before looking at my letters. On this Friday night I did the same; and, as soon as I had unfolded the sheet, I knew this was it. Though I was prepared, I felt the prick of sweat at my temples.

It was the second item on the first page (the first was a three-line report of a meeting between Edward VIII and the Prime Minister, and it read:

Armament Share Scandal

Note
can now give final dope about scandal of Ministers, Ministers’ stooges, lurkmen in Whitehall, Inns of Court, official circles, making profits from prior knowledge of armaments programme. Back references (
Note
May 26, August 10, August 24, for background, see also…). In ’29 Tory Government laid contract of £3,000,000, engine development, with Howard & Hazlehurst (Chairman Sir Horace (Cartel-spokesman) Timberlake; on board of Howard & Hazlehurst is Viscount Talland, cousin of Alex Hawtin). Alex (Britain First) Hawtin, Under-Secretary of…, rising hope Tory party, groomed for cabinet in immediate future, bought £20,000 – approx. – Enlibar shares. Enlibar subsidiary of Howard & Hazlehurst. Sir Philip March, Parliamentary Secretary, Ministry of…, ex-banker, ex-director 17 companies, ex-President Jewish Board of Guardians, bought £15,000 Enlibar shares. Shares in parent firm – quantities not known to nearest pound but over £10,000 – bought by G L and F E Paul, brothers-in-law of Herbert Getliffe, KC, legal consultant Hawtin’s ministry. Shares also bought by S…, H… Profits on these transactions (approx.):

Hawtin £35,000

March £46,000
[
1
]

G L and F E Paul £11,000

S… £ 5,000

H… £ 3,000

’35, aircraft programme, same story, contract laid with aircraft firms… Details of investments not to hand, but Hawtin and March repeated gambit. G L and F E Paul not concerned this round – Getliffe no longer consultant to ministry. S…, H… took a rake-off, possibly cat’s-paws for bigger players, but
Note
not in position to confirm this. Hawtin, March still in Government. Hawtin due for promotion. ‘Friend of Franco’ speech, Oct. 16, Liverpool; ‘Franco is at any rate a Christian’ speech, Oct. 23, Birmingham.

That was all.

The effects did not come at once. Mr March referred to it in his weekly letter to Katherine, but briefly and without comment. She went to comfort him, but on her return reported that he was composed, strangely passive, almost glad that the words were down on paper; there was nothing to imagine now. He showed no sign at all of taking action. He seemed to have feared that, the instant the words appeared, he would be surrounded by violence and disgrace: but no one except Sir Philip spoke to him about the article for several days. In that time-lag, he had a last hope, strong and comforting, that it would all be forgotten: if he stayed in his house, hid away from gossip, this would pass over, as everything else had done.

We had, in fact, all expected that there would be a blaze of publicity from the beginning. That did not happen; partly because there was another scandal going round the clubs, and people were not to be distracted from Mrs Simpson and the King. The
Note
attack had gone off half-cock. A member of the extreme left asked a question in the House, and demanded a select committee. A few eccentric liberals and malcontents of various kinds (including a conservative anti-semite) occupied a committee room for some hours, but could not agree on a plan of action. There was a leader, so stately and stuffed that it was incomprehensible unless one knew the story, in one of the conservative papers.

Some of the column writers made references. One or two weekly papers, on the extreme right as well as the left, let themselves go. It did not seem to amount to much.

About three weeks after the article came out, however, there were rumours of changes in the government. The political correspondents began tipping their fancies. No one suggested that the changes had anything to do with the
Note
’s article; it was not even explicitly denied. In private the gossips were speculating whether Hawtin would be ‘out’ or whether he would lose his promotion. He was disliked, he was cold and self-righteous; but to put him out now, after his stand on Spain, would look like a concession to the left. As for Sir Philip, his name was not canvassed much. He had never been a figure in politics; he was old and had no future. The only flicker of interest in him, apart from the scandal, was because he was a Jew.

Meanwhile, Herbert Getliffe was showing the resource and pertinacity that most people missed unless they knew him well. He had a streak of revengefulness, and he was determined that his enemies should pay. He knew that neither Hawtin nor Philip March would bring an action; nor could the Pauls without more damage to himself. So Getliffe concentrated on the minor figures, S…, H… He worked out that there was a good chance of one of them bringing an action which need involve no one else.

He wrote to Sir Philip, suggesting that they should promote an action in H…’s name. Sir Philip replied curtly that the less said or done, the better. Despite the rebuff, Getliffe approached Mr March, to persuade him to influence his brother; and, leaving nothing to chance, he sent me the outline of the case.

Mr March and Sir Philip each snubbed him again. Getliffe, suggestible as he was when one met him face to face, was utterly impervious when on the make. He wrote to them in detail; he added that I should be familiar with the legal side, if they wanted an opinion; he wrote to me twice, begging me to do my best.

The March brothers were not weak characters, but, like most men, they could be hypnotized by persistence. Ill-temperedly Mr March arranged for me to meet him one morning at Sir Philip’s office – ‘to discuss the proposals which Getliffe is misguidedly advancing and which are, in my view, profoundly to be regretted at the present juncture’.

That morning when I was due to meet them, a drizzling November day, I opened
The Times
and saw, above a column in the centre page, ‘Changes in the Government’. Sir Philip’s name was not among them. Hawtin was promoted to full cabinet rank; to make room for him, someone was sent to the Lords. A Parliamentary Secretary and an Under-Secretary were shelved, in favour of two backbenchers. It was difficult to read any meaning into the changes. Hawtin’s promotion might be a brushing-off of the scandal, a gesture of confidence, or a move to the right. The other appointments were neutral. At the end of the official statement, there was a comment that more changes would be announced shortly.

I arrived at the room of Sir Philip’s secretary a little before my time. He was pretending to work, as I sat looking out at the park. The rain seeped gently down; after the brilliant autumn, the leaves had not yet fallen and shone dazzlingly out of the grey, mournful, misty morning. I heard the rain seep down, and the nervous, restless movements of the young man behind me. He was on edge with nerves: Sir Philip’s fate did not matter to him, but he had become infected by the tension. He was expecting a telephone call from Downing Street. Soon he stopped work, and in his formal, throaty, sententious voice (the voice of a man who was going to enjoy every bit of pomp and circumstance in his official life) asked me whether I had studied the government changes, and what significance I gave them. He was earnest, ambitious, self-important: yet each time the telephone rang his face was screwed up with excitement, like that of a boy who is being let into an adult’s secret. As each call turned out to be a routine enquiry, his voice went flat with anti-climax. As soon as Mr March came in, Williams showed us into Sir Philip’s room. Before we entered, Mr March had time only to shake hands and say that he was obliged to me for coming – but even in that time I could see his face painful with hope, his resignation broken, every hope and desire for happiness evoked again by the news that Hawtin was safe. Sir Philip’s first words were, after greeting us both:

‘I suppose you saw in the papers that Hawtin’s still in? They’ve given him a leg-up.’

‘I was considering what effect it would have on your prospects,’ said Mr March.

‘It won’t be long before I know. This means they’re not going to execute us, anyway,’ said Sir Philip, with a cackle which did not conceal that he too felt relief, felt active hope. ‘As for Alex Hawtin, he’s doing better for himself than he deserves. Still, he can’t be worse than old…’ Sir Philip broke off, and looked at us across his desk. He had dressed with special care that day, and with a new morning suit was wearing a light-blue, flowing silk tie. It was incongruous, against the aged yellow skin. Yet, even about his face, there was something jaunty still.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wanted to consult you about this fellow Getliffe. He’s got hold of someone called Huff or Hough – who must be a shady lot himself, judging from the book of words – and they want to bring a libel action if they can get financial support – I needn’t go over the ground again. You’ve seen it for yourselves, I gather.’

‘I received another effusion from Herbert Getliffe yesterday,’ said Mr March, ‘which I regret to say I have omitted to bring. It did not add anything substantial to his previous lucubrations.’

‘And you’re familiar with it, Eliot?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Sir Philip suddenly snapped: ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with the fellow. No good can come of it. I won’t touch anything he’s concerned with.’

Anxiety and hope had made his temper less equable.

‘I concur in your judgement,’ said Mr March. ‘The fellow is a pestilential nuisance.’

‘I want to stop his damned suggestions,’ said Sir Philip. ‘Where are they? Why isn’t the file here?’

He pushed the button on his desk, and the secretary entered. Sir Philip was just asking for the Getliffe file when in the outer office the telephone rang. ‘Will you excuse me while I answer it, sir?’ said Williams officiously, once more excited. After he went away, we could hear his voice through the open door. ‘Yes, this is Sir Philip March’s secretary… Yes… Yes, I will give him that message… Yes, he will be ready to receive the letter.’

Williams came in, and said with formality: ‘It was a message from the Prime Minister’s principal private secretary, sir. It was to say that a letter from the Prime Minister is on its way.’

Sir Philip nodded. ‘Do you wish me to stay, sir?’ said Williams hopefully.

‘No,’ said Sir Philip in an absent tone. ‘Leave the Getliffe file. I’ll ring if I need you.’

As soon as the door was closed, Mr March cried: ‘What does it mean? What does it mean?’

‘It may mean the sack,’ said Sir Philip. ‘Or it may mean they’re offering me another job.’

At that instant Mr March lost the last particle of hope.

Sir Philip, meeting his brother’s despairing gaze, went on stubbornly: ‘If he is offering me another job, I shall have to decide whether to turn it down or not. I should like a rest, of course, but after this brouhaha I should probably consider it my duty to accept it. I should want your advice, Leonard, before I let him have his answer.’

Mr March uttered a sound, half-assent, half-groan.

The morning had grown darker, and Sir Philip switched on the reading lamp above his desk. The minutes passed; he looked at the clock and talked in agitation; Mr March was possessed by his thoughts. Sir Philip looked at the clock again, and said irritably: ‘Whatever happens to me, I won’t have this fellow Getliffe putting a foot in. I won’t find a penny for his wretched case and I want to warn him off the business altogether.’

Mr March, as though he had scarcely heard, said yes. Knowing Getliffe better than they did, I said the only method was to prove to him that any conceivable case had a finite risk of involving the Pauls, and in the end himself. I thought that that was so, and that I could convince Getliffe of it. Sir Philip at once gave me the file, and Mr March asked me to go home with him shortly and pick up the last letter. They were tired of trouble. They forgot this last nuisance as soon as the file was in my hand.