Tasker nodded. ‘Everything depends on this stunt of yours coming off,’ he pointed out. ‘It would be a fool’s game not to go all out for it. Yes, I agree. Anything else you want?’
King grinned. ‘Never knew you in such an accommodating mood before,’ he said. ‘I hope it continues. No, if I can’t do it with three helpers I can’t do it at all.’
These arrangements were carried out. In reply to King’s telephone, two energetic young chemists, Radcliff and Endicott, arrived late that night and next day began work with fervour. Brand spent the mornings in his own department, but from lunch time till late at night he was with the chemists, endlessly carrying out experiment after experiment under King’s direction. King developed a habit of disappearing on mysterious errands—usually in the evening or at night—from which he returned, tired and dirty, and with samples of clays and slobs and chalks discreetly hidden in suitcases. These samples then became the subjects of renewed experiments. It was all very intense and efficient.
Unfortunately however the reward of such concentration showed no signs of materialising. Brand broached the subject one night about a fortnight later, as he and King were returning to their rooms.
‘What about it?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you’ve got any forrader?’
‘Too soon to say,’ King answered, but Brand could see that he looked anxious and more than a trifle despondent. ‘As you know, I’ve been working on four separate lines of approach. I’ve proved two are no go. I feel sure, therefore, it must be one of the others. We’ll know in about a week.’
‘Has Tasker been saying anything?’
‘Yes; he wants to try and pump Haviland on Friday.’
‘Oh, he does, does he? And what do you think?’
‘Well, I can only agree. Didn’t I suggest it in the first instance? All the same, it shows what he thinks of my chances.’
Brand nodded. Though he sympathised with King, he fully approved the proposal, which was adopted at a later conference.
It was with considerable interest that the two younger men went round to Tasker’s house on the Friday night to learn the result of his efforts. They found him puzzled.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I met the old boy on the train as we arranged. He was very civil, much more so than ever before. Very civil and very open.’
‘Open? He wasn’t giving much away, I bet,’ put in King.
‘He was. He was giving so much away that I felt overwhelmed. I’ll tell you. You’ll have a spot?’
Tasker busied himself for a moment with whisky and tumblers. Then, having pushed the cigarettes over to his visitors, he went on.
‘Our scheme worked perfectly. I got into the tea car on the 4.50 from Waterloo, sitting at the other side of the aisle from where I had seen Haviland on previous occasions. Fortunately for me, things worked out splendidly. People came in, but my appearance must have put them off, for they all avoided my division. The result was that when Haviland appeared, he dropped naturally into mine. I was surprised to see him and said so. I was also pleased, and when he made a remark I could not hear it owing to the noise of the train, so moved across the passage to his table. It was all done, I flatter myself, quite naturally, and he could not have suspected an intention. At least, I think not; Haviland’s about as cute as they’re made. Well, we chatted, very amicably, as you can imagine. Then when we’d had tea I thought the time had come, and I said in a joking way, was it he that was causing all this flutter in the dovecot, giving rebates that made his neighbours green with envy? He grew pretty wary at that, and I could see him hesitating while he thought how he should take me. He decided on frankness: artless candour; unreserved ingenuousness; I could almost see his mind work.’
‘Then he did make a statement?’
‘Oh, he made a statement all right, and a good statement too. He began by saying that he naturally hadn’t meant to discuss the affair with a brother manufacturer, because when looked at from one point of view their action mightn’t seem over friendly. But of course I was not the man to take such a narrow view. They were taking a present loss in the hope of future gain, and he knew I would agree that they had every right to do it. I would agree that every honest method of gaining trade in these bad days was legitimate?
‘Naturally I agreed: all was fair in love and business. He had felt sure that I would.’
‘Sort of mutual admiration society?’
‘Quite. Then he went on to make his statement. He said that Mairs had come into money. A rich uncle of his had died leaving a quite substantial pile. Their trade and connection had dropped badly during the slump, and Mairs had agreed to put part of this money into the business with the object of giving their customers more attractive terms. Temporarily, of course. They hoped in this way to re-establish their market. They believed they would only have to continue selling at a loss for a short time. Once their connections were re-established, they would revert to their former terms. So what do you think of that?’
King made a gesture of unwilling admiration. ‘There’s the same brain that found the process,’ he declared. ‘It’s a good tale, a jolly good tale—and a damned lie.’
‘You think so?’
‘Sure of it. And what’s more, Tasker, I think you owe him one for imagining you’d swallow it.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ Tasker returned, ‘I don’t suppose he did think so.’
‘Then why did he tell you?’
‘Because it might be true. He’d believe I couldn’t disprove it.’
Brand shrugged. ‘He’d be right there. No outsider could disprove it.’
‘No,’ said Tasker surprisingly, ‘he wouldn’t be right. I have disproved it.’
Both his hearers stared. ‘Go on,’ said King at last.
‘As a matter of fact,’ answered Tasker, ‘the different cement disproves it; and demonstrates the existence of the process as well. But some other information I got disproves it finally and beyond question. For this I can claim no credit: I got it by chance in the club.’
King grinned. ‘Well, you’re a downy bird, you are! Keeping a lot of perfectly good information up your sleeve. What’s the story this time?’
‘Pretty convincing,’ Tasker declared. ‘I was having coffee in the club after lunch when Macfarlane came over. I don’t think you’ve met him, but he’s my stockbroker. He’s a big chap with a breezy manner, and he began singing out that he was glad to congratulate me on the boom in rapid hardening cement. I asked what boom, and he began to joke and called me a fly dog and wanted to know had I gone to some other broker to invest my ill-gotten gains. You can imagine the style.’
‘But what was it all about?’ Brand asked.
‘That’s what I asked him, and I had the devil’s own job to get an answer. He evidently saw he’d put his foot in it, and he wanted to draw back. But I wasn’t having any, and at last under pledge of secrecy he told me that it was rumoured in the City that rapid-hardening cement was booming. He’d had it from another broker that the Chayle people were making a fortune—both Haviland and Mairs were investing hand over fist. It was supposed the other firms in the business were doing the same. So there you are.’
The others looked at him in blank amazement. Then King swore. ‘So it’s bigger than we thought,’ he declared. ‘They must be producing the stuff even cheaper than we imagined.’
‘On the other hand,’ Brand pointed out, ‘if the rich uncle was not a myth and the sum was very large, it would account for the investment as well.’
‘No,’ said Tasker emphatically, ‘that’s just the point. Don’t you see? If the uncle story were true, only Mairs could invest. But Haviland’s doing it too. King’s right. This is a bigger thing than we thought.’
‘Gosh!’ moaned King. ‘If I could only get on to it!’
‘If you don’t,’ Tasker returned grimly, ‘we’re just about down and out.’
For another hour the trio sat discussing the outlook, and it was with an added sense of the precariousness of their po
sition that they finally separated.
3
A Foolish Pact
As the days passed and the end of the allotted month grew nearer, King’s temper became steadily shorter and his face more anxious. Not only had he not found the secret, but he was obviously beginning to doubt that he ever would. In vain he and his staff had worked—enlivened by snatches from the ‘Marche Militaire’ or the ‘Unfinished Symphony’—sometimes till two and three in the morning, sometimes indeed till they dropped asleep over their experiments; the elusive process remained elusive still. He had pushed his four methods of attack as far as he knew how, but they had proved unproductive. Indeed in a moment of discouragement he admitted to Brand that he did not see his way further and that failure was staring him in the face.
‘If I don’t get it, it’s the end of me,’ he said bitterly. ‘I’ll not get a chance like this again: not ever. Here’s fame and a fortune on the one hand; and on the other—just ruin. I must have been all but on the secret again and again, and for the sake of missing some little point, I’m going to lose. It’s so sickening it makes me ill to think of it.’
It was getting on to three in the morning and the two young men, tired almost to tears and oppressed with the numbing sense of failure, were walking slowly to their rooms. The night was wonderful even for late July, clear and calm and balmy. The moon, which was nearly full, was sinking in the west, but was still high enough to make their immediate surroundings bright as day, and to show up as a faint smudge the coast beyond the Hamble.
King railed openly upon fate. It was the first time Brand had heard him relinquish his cocksure pose, and he was the more impressed. For a time Brand commiserated with him, but so sorry for himself did King presently become, that Brand’s feeling of sympathy began to evaporate.
‘My dear chap,’ he said at length, irritated by the other’s entirely selfish diatribe, ‘you’re not the only one that’s going to suffer. If you fail, we’ll all be out of a job. Tasker may be able to pull along, but even he’ll be badly hit. I have nothing but what I make. I’ll never get a job like this again. It’s not only you.’
King turned and looked at him sombrely. ‘I know that perfectly well, Brand,’ he said. ‘You seem to take it pretty coolly. I wonder if you realise what failure is going to mean to you? I doubt it. Just think before it’s too late.’
‘What good’ll that do?’ Brand retorted. ‘Thinking about it won’t alter it. I’ll not starve. I’ll get something, if it’s only a clerkship.’
‘Will you?’ returned King aggressively. ‘How do you know you will? I suppose you realise that thousands of clerks are walking the streets today because they can’t get jobs? Don’t think that because you’ve been a director that an employer’ll want you. I tell you, he’ll avoid you. He’ll say, “Here’s a man that’s been boss of his department. He’ll be too big for his boots as a clerk. I want someone less high and mighty.” That’s what he’ll say. And he’ll have plenty of others to choose from. I tell you, Brand, if this place goes down, you go down with it. Don’t you make any mistake about that.’
In his more weary and dispirited moments, these had been the very thoughts which had been forcing their way into Brand’s mind. They represented a dark shadow, a sort of evil nightmare, which in spite of all his efforts had been weighing more and more heavily upon his spirits. What King said was true. He was by no means sure of employment. Hundreds of men as good as he were without it: why should he prove an exception? King might even be correct in suggesting that his very qualifications would be against him.
And if he couldn’t get a job what was to happen to him? All his little capital was in Joymount. If the company went down that would be gone. He would be penniless in a terribly short time.
Brand felt a little sick as he considered the picture. He tried to banish it. He told himself that his feeling of horror was due merely to physical weariness and that a few hours in bed would remove it. But all the time he knew he was wrong; he realised that now for the first time he was facing the facts. He saw that if he lost his job there was no telling to what depths he might not fall.
‘Confound you, King,’ he grumbled, ‘you’re not a very cheery companion. We’re tired and we want a sleep. That’s what’s wrong with us. Let’s get to bed and things’ll look better in the morning.’
King slipped his arm through Brand’s as if to hold him back. ‘No,’ he said, ‘don’t be in a hurry. I want to get this thing straightened out. I want to know what it’s going to mean to both of us if we fail. It’s not merely idle. I may tell you I have something in my mind. But we must know where we stand before we begin to discuss it.’
‘Let it wait till the morning.’
‘No, we’ve got our chance now. Goodness only knows what may happen in the morning. Hang it all, man, don’t be such a fool. Do realise that the whole of the rest of our lives may be at stake.’
Brand smothered a curse. ‘Well,’ he said testily, ‘what’s the great idea?’
‘I’ll come to that in a moment. I want first to know what the result will be to you if we fail to find this process.’
For the first time Brand grew interested. King’s manner had changed. He seemed now neither tired nor despondent. Rather he appeared to be choking down an almost uncontrollable excitement. He radiated energy. In spite of himself Brand felt himself being carried away by it. And suddenly it was borne in on him that King had never been despondent at all. He had never really railed against his fate. All that had been put on—for some reason.
‘Come along out with it, old man,’ he said good-humouredly. ‘If you’ve got a notion, let’s have it.’
‘I want to know,’ King repeated in serious tones, ‘what the result of failure’s going to be to you. Let’s get that down into words first. Then I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking.’
Brand was still more impressed. He could no longer doubt that the chemist had some proposal of importance to put up. He did not reply and King went on.
‘We’ve agreed that if the works go down we’ll lose our jobs. Have you private means, Brand? I don’t want to pry into your affairs, but this matters. I may say I have none.’
‘I have none either,’ Brand returned slowly. ‘I had a little capital—technically, I have it still, but every penny of it is in the concern. It took it all to get me my directorship.’
‘Then if the company goes, that money goes too.’
‘I’ll have nothing,’ Brand admitted.
‘Same with me. And what about relatives, Brand? I should be absolutely alone and penniless if the works go down. Would you?’
As King spoke, an even fuller realisation of his position swept over Brand. Alone and penniless! What a ghastly thought! If the works went down that would be his fate. Alone and penniless. For the first time Brand felt himself in the hideous grip of panic.
King did not push his question. He had evidently got the effect he was seeking. For a few moments he did not speak, then very softly he said:
‘What would you give for security?’
The phrase struck into Brand’s consciousness. What would he give for security? Why, anything! Security was the thing he wanted—more than anything else. Security didn’t matter so much when one had it. Faced with its loss, it became about the most important thing there was.
‘Security!’ King went on. ‘And not security only. What would you give for a fortune? Well, Brand. What would you give for security and a fortune—as against ruin?’
Security! A fortune! The words conjured up a vision so gorgeous, so utterly to be desired, that Brand felt carried away. Yet he answered soberly.
‘What’s the good of talking like that? You know as well as I do that I’d give anything I had—which is just nothing at all.’
King made a gesture of dissent. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong, Brand,’ he said earnestly. ‘You could give something that would do the trick. I don’t say absolutely—there is a chance of failure. But I’d put the chances of suc
cess at ninety-nine to one.’
Brand stared. ‘For heaven’s sake get on with it,’ he urged.
Though they were alone on the moonlit road King bent forward and lowered his voice. ‘The process would save us,’ he declared. ‘And there’s a way by which we might learn it.’
Brand continued to stare. ‘How?’ he asked laconically.
‘By going to the Chayle Works and seeing how it’s done.’
Brand laughed scornfully. ‘Bless my soul, King, is that all? That’s like the groans of the mountain leading to the appearance of the mouse. And do you imagine they’d be accommodating and show us?’
‘Don’t be more of an ass than you can help, old man. My scheme’s watertight. They wouldn’t show us, no. But then we wouldn’t ask them.’
‘I don’t know what you’re driving at, King.’
‘As a matter of fact we wouldn’t trouble them at all,’ King went on in that ridiculous low voice. ‘We’d pay our call—er—privately.’
‘Do you mean that we should break in?’ said Brand bluntly.
King shrugged. ‘Technically, I’m afraid so,’ he admitted coolly; ‘actually, no. What I mean is this; we should go to the place at night, climb over the wall, have a walk round and see what’s going on. We should almost certainly get the clue.’
Brand whistled. ‘But that—’ He hesitated. ‘That, King, would be burglary. Breaking and entering. Not to put too fine a point on it, man, you’re suggesting stealing the blessed thing!’
‘And what are we doing now?’ King answered tensely. ‘What have we been doing for the last three weeks, with the approval of everyone concerned? Trying to steal their idea! Buy their stuff: analyse it: find out what it contains: try to get their process. Are we trying to improve the manufacture of cement? Not we. We’re trying to get hold of their profits for ourselves. What do you call that but stealing it? And you’ve been as busy as anybody.’
Brand shook his head. ‘But that’s different. What we’ve been doing is legitimate enough. We’re surely entitled to the work of our own hands and brains.’
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 3