What next was an appointment at an inexpensive restaurant in the neighbourhood of Tottenham Court Road.
'Well I never!' said an elderly man, leaping up from his seat where he was sitting waiting. 'Carroty Tom, on my life. Shouldn't have known you.'
'Possibly not,' said Tommy. 'Not much carrots left about me. It's grey-haired Tom.'
'Ah well, we're all that. How's your health?'
'Much the same as I always was. Cracking. You know. Decomposing by degrees.'
'How long is it since I've seen you? Two years? Eight years? Eleven years?'
'Now you're going too far,' said Tommy. 'We met at the Maltese Cats dinner last autumn, don't you remember?'
'Ah, so we did. Pity that broke up, you know. I always thought it would. Nice premises, but the food was rotten. Well, what are you doing these days, old boy? Still in the espionage-up-to-date do?'
'No,' said Tommy, 'I'm nothing to do with espionage.'
'Dear me. What a waste of your activities.'
'And what about you, Mutton-Chop?'
'Oh, I'm much too old to serve my country in that way.'
'No espionage going on nowadays?'
'Lots of it, I expect. But probably they put the bright boys on to it. The ones who come bursting out of universities needing a job badly. Where are you now? I sent you a Christmas card this year. Well, I didn't actually post it till January but anyway it came back to me with "Not known at this address".'
'No. We've gone to the country to live now. Down near the sea. Hollowquay.'
'Hollowquay. Hollowquay? I seem to remember something. Something in your line going on there once, wasn't there?'
'Not in my time,' said Tommy. 'I've only just got to hear of it since going to live there. Legends of the past. At least sixty years ago.'
'Something to do with a submarine, wasn't it? Plans of a submarine sold to someone or other. I forget who we were selling to at that time. Might have been the Japanese, might have been the Russians - oh, and lots of others. People always seemed to meet enemy agents in Regent's Park or somewhere like that. You know, they'd meet someone like a third Secretary from an Embassy. Not so many beautiful lady spies around as there used to be once in fiction.'
'I wanted to ask you a few things, Mutton-Chop.'
'Oh? Ask away. I've had a very uneventful life. Margery - you remember Margery?'
'Yes, of course I remember Margery. I nearly got to your wedding.'
'I know. But you couldn't make it or something, or took the wrong train, as far as I remember. A train that was going to Scotland instead of Southall. Anyway, just as well you didn't. Nothing much came of it.'
'Didn't you get married?'
'Oh yes, I got married. But somehow or other it didn't take very well. No. A year and a half and it was done with. She's married again. I haven't, but I'm doing very nicely. I live at Little Pollon. Quite a decent golf-course there. My sister lives with me. She's a widow, with a nice bit of money and we get on quite well together. She's a bit deaf so she doesn't hear what I say, but it only means shouting a bit.'
'You said you'd heard of Hollowquay. Was it really something to do with spying of some kind?'
'Well, to tell you the truth, old boy, it's so long ago that I can't remember much about it. It made a big stir at the time. You know, splendid young naval officer absolutely above suspicion in every way, ninety per cent British, rated about a hundred and five in reliability, but nothing of the kind really. In the pay of - well, I can't remember now who he was in the pay of. Germany, I suppose. Before the 1914 war. Yes, I think that was it.'
'And there was a woman too, I believe, associated with it all,' said Tommy.
'I seem to remember hearing something about a Mary Jordan, I think it was. Mind you, I am not clear about all this. Got into the papers and I think it was a wife of his - I mean of the above-suspicion naval officer. It was his wife who got in touch with the Russians and - no, no, that's something that happened since then. One mixes things up so - they all sound alike. Wife thought he wasn't getting enough money, which meant, I suppose, that she wasn't getting enough money. And so - well, why d'you want to dig up all this old history? What's it got to do with you after all this time? I know you had something to do once with someone who was on the Lusitania or went down with the Lusitania or something like that, didn't you? If we go back as far as that, I mean. That's what you were mixed up in once, or your wife was mixed up in.'
'We were both mixed up in it,' said Tommy, 'and it's such a very long time ago that I really can't remember anything about it now.'
'There was some woman associated with that, wasn't there? Name like Jane Fish, or something like that, or was it Jane Whale?'
'Jane Finn,' said Tommy.
'Where is she now?'
'She's married to an American.'
'Oh, I see. Well, all very nice. One always seems to get talking about one's old pals and what's happened to them all. When you talk about old friends, either they are dead, which surprises you enormously because you didn't think they would be, or else they're not dead and that surprises you even more. It's a very difficult world.'
Tommy said yes it was a very difficult world and here was the waiter coming. What would they have to eat... The conversation thereafter was gastronomic.
In the afternoon Tommy had another interview arranged. This time with a sad, grizzled man sitting in an office and obviously grudging the time he was giving to Tommy.
'Well, I really couldn't say. Of course I know roughly what you're talking about - lot of talk about it at the time - caused a big political blow-up - but I really have no information about that sort of thing, you know. No. You see, these things, they don't last, do they? They soon pass out of one's mind once the Press gets hold of some other juicy scandal.'
He opened up slightly on a few of his own interesting moments in life when something he'd never suspected came suddenly to light or his suspicions had suddenly been aroused by some very peculiar event. He said:
'Well, I've just got one thing might help. Here's an address for you and I've made an appointment too. Nice chap. Knows everything. He's the tops, you know, absolutely the tops. One of my daughters was a godchild of his. That's why he's awfully nice to me and will always do me a good turn if possible. So I asked him if he would see you. I said there were some things you wanted the top news about, I said what a good chap you were and various things and he said yes, he'd heard of you already. Knew something about you, and he said. Of course come along. Three forty-five, I think. Here's the address. It's an office in the City, I think. Ever met him?'
'I don't think so,' said Tommy, looking at the card and the address. 'No.'
'Well you wouldn't think he knew anything, to look at him. I mean. Big, you know, and yellow.'
'Oh,' said Tommy, 'big and yellow.'
It didn't really convey much information to his mind.
'He's the tops,' said Tommy's grizzled friend, 'absolute tops. You go along there. He'll be able to tell you something anyway. Good luck, old chap.'
Tommy, having successfully got himself to the City office in question, was received by a man of 35 to 40 years of age who looked at him with the eye of one determined to do the worst without delay. Tommy felt that he was suspected of many things, possibly carrying a bomb in some deceptive container, or prepared to hi-jack or kidnap anyone or to hold up with a revolver the entire staff. It made Tommy extremely nervous.
'You have an appointment with Mr Robinson? At what time, did you say? Ah, three forty-five.' He consulted a ledger. 'Mr Thomas Beresford, is that right?'
'Yes,' said Tommy.
'Ah. Just sign your name here, please.'
Tommy signed his name where he was told.
'Johnson.'
A nervous-looking young man of about twenty-three seemed like an apparition rising out of a glass partitioned desk. 'Yes, sir?'
'Take Mr Beresford up to the fourth floor to Mr Robinson's office.'
'Yes, sir.'
He led Tommy to a lift, the kind of lift that always seemed to have its own idea of how it should deal with those who came into it. The doors rolled open. Tommy passed in, the doors very nearly pinched him in doing so and just managed to slam themselves shut about an inch from his spine.
'Cold afternoon,' said Johnson, showing a friendly attitude to someone who was clearly being allowed to approach the high one in the highest.
'Yes,' said Tommy, 'it always seems to be cold in the afternoons.'
'Some say it's pollution, some say it's all the natural gas they're taking out of the North Sea,' said Johnson.
'Oh, I haven't heard that,' said Tommy.
'Doesn't seem likely to me,' said Johnson.
They passed the second floor and the third floor and finally arrived at the fourth floor. Johnson led Tommy, again escaping the closing doors by a mere inch, along a passage to a door. He knocked, was told to enter, held the door open, insinuated Tommy across the threshold, and said:
'Mr Beresford, sir. By appointment.'
He went out and shut the door behind him. Tommy advanced. The room seemed to be mainly filled by an enormous desk. Behind the desk sat a rather enormous man, a man of great weight and many inches. He had, as Tommy had been prepared for by his friend, a very large and yellow face. What nationality he was Tommy had no idea. He might have been anything. Tommy had a feeling he was probably foreign. A German, perhaps? Or an Austrian? Possibly a Japanese. Or else he might be very decidedly English.
'Ah. Mr Beresford.'
Mr Robinson got up, shook hands.
'I'm sorry if I come taking a lot of your time,' said Tommy.
He had a feeling he had once seen Mr Robinson before or had had Mr Robinson pointed out to him. Anyway on the occasion, whatever it had been, he had been rather shy about it because obviously Mr Robinson was someone very important, and, he now gathered (or rather felt at once) he was still very important.
'There's something you want to know about, I gather. Your friend, What's-his-name, just gave me a brief resume.'
'I don't suppose - I mean, it's something perhaps I oughtn't to bother you about. I don't suppose it's anything of any importance. It was just - just -'
'Just an idea?'
'Partly my wife's idea.'
'I've heard about your wife. I've heard about you, too. Let me see, the last time was M or N wasn't it? Or N or M. Mm. I remember. Remember all the facts and things. You got that Commander chap, didn't you? The one who was in the English Navy supposedly but was actually a very important Hun. I still call them Huns occasionally, you know. Of course I know we're all different now we're in the Common Market. All in the nursery school together, as you might say. I know. You did a good bit of work there. Very good bit indeed. And so did your missus. My word. All those children's books. I remember. Goosey, Goosey Gander wasn't it - the one that gave the show away? Where do you wander? Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber.'
'Fancy you remembering that,' said Tommy, with great respect.
'Yes, I know. One's always surprised when one remembers something. It just came back to me at that minute. So silly, you know, that really you'd never have suspected it of being anything else, would you?'
'Yes, it was a good show.'
'Now, what's the matter now? What are you up against?'
'Well, it's nothing, really,' said Tommy. 'It's just -'
'Come on, put it in your own words. You needn't make a thing of it. Just tell me the story. Sit down. Take the weight off your feet. Don't you know - or you will know, when you're some years older - resting your feet is important.'
'I'm old enough already, I should think,' said Tommy. 'There can't be much ahead of me now except a coffin, in due course.'
'Oh, I wouldn't say that. I tell you, once you get above a certain age you can go on living practically for ever. Now then, what's all this about?'
'Well' said Tommy 'briefly, my wife and I went into a new house and there was all the fuss of getting into a new house -'
'I know,' said Mr Robinson, 'yes, I know the sort of thing. Electricians all over the floor. They pick holes and you fall into them and -'
'There were some books there the people moving out wanted to sell. Books that had been in the family and they didn't care for them. A lot of children's books, all sorts of things. You know, Henty and things like that.'
'I remember. I remember Henty from my own youth.'
'And in one book my wife was reading we found a passage underlined. The letters were underlined and it made a sentence when you put it together. And - this sounds awfully silly, what I'm going to say next -'
'Well, that's hopeful,' said Mr Robinson. 'If a thing sounds silly, I always want to hear about it.'
'It said, Mary Jordan did not die naturally. It must have been one of us.'
'Very, very interesting,' said Mr Robinson. 'I've never come across anything like that before. It said that, did it? Mary Jordan did not die a natural death. And who was it who wrote it? Any clue of that?'
'Apparently a boy of school age. Parkinson was the family's name. They all lived in this house and he was one of the Parkinsons, we gathered. Alexander Parkinson. At least, anyway, he's buried there in the churchyard.'
'Parkinson,' said Mr Robinson. 'Wait a bit. Let me think. Parkinson - yes, you know there was a name like that connected with things, but you don't always remember who or what and where.'
'And we've been very keen to learn who Mary Jordan was.'
'Because she didn't die a natural death. Yes, I suppose that would be rather your line of country. But it seems very odd. What did you find out about her?'
'Absolutely nothing,' said Tommy. 'Nobody seems to remember her there much, or say anything about her. At least somebody did say she was what we'd call an au pair girl nowadays or a governess or something like that. They couldn't remember. A Mamselle or a Frowline, they said. It's all very difficult, you see.'
'And she died - what did she die of?'
'Somebody brought a few foxglove leaves in with some spinach from the garden, by accident, and then they ate it. Mind you, that probably wouldn't kill you.'
'No,' said Mr Robinson. 'Not enough of it. But if you then put a strong dose of Digitalin alkaloid in the coffee and just made sure that Mary Jordan got it in her coffee, or in a cocktail earlier, then - then, as you say the foxglove leaves would be blamed and it would all be taken to be an accident. But Alexander Parker, or whatever the schoolboy's name was, was too sharp for that. He had other ideas, did he? Anything else, Beresford? When was this? First World War, Second World War, or before that?'
'Before. Rumours passed down through elderly ancestors say she was a German spy.'
'I remember that case - made a big sensation. Any German working in England before 1914 was always said to be a spy. The English officer involved was one always said to be "above suspicion". I always look very hard at anyone who is above suspicion. It's all a long time ago, I don't think it's ever been written up in recent years. I mean, not in the way that things are occasionally for public enjoyment when they release a bit of stuff from the records.'
'Yes, but it's all rather sketchy.'
'Yes, it would be by now. It's always been associated, of course, with the submarine secrets that were stolen around then. There was some aviation news as well. A lot of that side of it, and that's what caught the public interest, as you might say. But there are a lot of things, you know. There was the political side to it, too. A lot of our prominent politicians. You know, the sort of chaps people say, "Well, he has real integrity." Real integrity is just as dangerous as being above suspicion in the Services. Real integrity my foot,' said Mr Robinson. 'I remember it with this last war. Some people haven't got the integrity they are credited with. One chap lived down near here, you know. He had a cottage on the beach I think. Made a lot of disciples, you know, praising Hitler: Saying our only chance was to get in with him. Really the fellow seemed such a noble man. Had some wonderful ideas. Was so terribly
keen to abolish all poverty and difficulties and injustice - things of that kind. Oh yes. Blew the Fascist trumpet without calling it Fascism. And Spain too, you know. Was in with Franco and all that lot to begin with. And dear old Mussolini, naturally, spouting away. Yes, there are always a lot of side-lines to it just before wars. Things that never came out and nobody ever really knew about.'
'You seem to know everything,' said Tommy. 'I beg your pardon. Perhaps that's rather rude of me. But it really is very exciting to come across someone who does seem to know about everything.'
'Well, I've often had a finger in the pie, as you might say. You know, come into things on the side-lines, or in the background. One hears a good deal. One hears a good deal from one's old cronies too, who were in it up to the neck and who knew the lot. I expect you begin to find that, don't you?'
'Yes,' said Tommy, 'it's quite true. I meet old friends, you know, and they've seen other old friends and there're quite a lot of things that, well, one's friends knew and you knew. You didn't get together just then but now you do hear about them and they're very interesting sometimes.'
'Yes,' said Mr Robinson. 'I see where you're going - where you're tending, you might say. It's interesting that you should come across this.'
'The trouble is,' said Tommy, 'that I don't really know - I mean, perhaps we're being rather silly. I mean, we bought this house to live in, the sort of house we wanted. We've done it up the way we want and we're trying to get the garden in some kind of shape. But I mean, I don't want to get tied up in this sort of stuff again. It's just pure curiosity on our part. Something that happened long ago and you can't help thinking about it or wanting to know why. But there's no point in it. It's not going to do anybody any good.'
'I know. You just want to know. Well, that's the way the human being is made. That's what leads us to explore things, to go and fly to the moon, to bother about underwater discoveries, to find natural gas in the North Sea, to find oxygen supplied to us by the sea and not by the trees and forests. Quite a lot of things they're always finding out about. Just through curiosity. I suppose without curiosity a man would be a tortoise. Very comfortable life, a tortoise has. Goes to sleep all the winter and doesn't eat anything more than grass as far as I know, to live all the summer. Not an interesting life perhaps, but a very peaceful one. On the other hand -'
Postern of Fate tat-5 Page 10