Bristow controlled his satisfaction at this turn of events. “I think so,” he replied. “If I spot anything missing, I’ll add it.”
“Make a decent job of it. Quiet but businesslike, you know. When can you have it ready?”
“A day or two, I should think.”
“I shall want it at ten o’clock on Wednesday morning in your office.”
Bristow nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
“You’ll need to or we’ll be disappointed. Have you a printer that does your firm’s work?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Very well, get on to him at once. See the boss himself; don’t be put off with any Tom, Dick or Harry in the office. Put up any blessed yarn you fancy. Tell him money’s no object and to work his darned box of tricks all night if necessary. Get it done without fail.”
In spite of his satisfaction at having so completely hooked Stott, Bristow found it hard to control his temper. Since he left school, he had not been treated as anyone’s message boy, and he didn’t like it. However, this was not the moment to stand on his dignity. He nodded coolly and stood up.
“Ten o’clock in my office the morning after next?” he said. “Right. I’ll expect you.”
“I’ll be there,” Stott promised, “and with any luck friend Malthus will get what he’s asked for.”
No difficulties about time were raised by the printers, and when Bristow reached his office on the Wednesday a packet of 1,000 sheets of tastefully printed letter paper was waiting for him. He had only wanted one, but thought that a smaller order might be suspicious. He was pleased with his effort, which looked entirely convincing.
At ten exactly Stott was shown in.
“Got the paper?” he asked, without further introduction. “H’m, that looks all right. Now, see,” he went on, before Bristow could speak, “can you type?”
“Slowly. But I can get a girl in.”
“Don’t bother about any girl. Type this yourself,” and he handed over the draft of a letter. It read:
October 3rd, 1937
Messrs The Lilac Star Steamship Co, Ltd.
Cockspur Street, SW1
Purchase of SS Hellenic
DEAR SIRS
With reference to the negotiations which have passed between us, culminating in the granting to us of an option on the purchase of the SS Hellenic, I am instructed to inform you that at a board meeting held today, it was decided to complete the purchase immediately. We are enclosing our cheque for £125,000 (one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds sterling) herewith, and would be obliged if you would kindly make arrangements to hand over the ship as early as convenient, as there is little time to carry out the alterations we require, before putting her into commission.
Yours faithfully.
Secretary.
Stott was in a much better humour than a couple of days earlier. “Sign that, Mr Secretary,” he chuckled as he watched Bristow’s face. Then he took a paper from his pocket. “I’ve a good cheque to go with it,” he observed, handing it over.
Bristow metaphorically sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was a Lloyds cheque and it was filled in to read: “Pay Messrs Lilac Star Steamship Company Limited One hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds sterling (£125,000),” and was signed, “Home Waters Cruising Limited. J Mottram Stott, director.”
“Countersign that as Secretary,” Stott added, “and it’ll look darned good.”
“How in Hades have you done it, Mr Stott?” Bristow demanded as he wrote his name.
Again Stott chuckled. “Quite simple,” he returned contentedly. “I called at my bank yesterday and opened an account under the heading ‘Home Waters Cruising Limited’ and paid a hundred and twenty-five thousand into it. It’ll be paid out and the account closed today. I’ve fixed it with the manager.”
“It’s as smart as anything I’ve ever seen,” Bristow declared as he put a sheet of the new paper in his typewriter. “They’ll suspect nothing.”
“Not if we’re first in the field,” Stott returned a little grimly. “However, that’s a risk we can’t avoid.”
“Could we not have gone yesterday?”
“No. Haste like that would have looked suspicious. Besides, we had to leave time for the supposed board.”
Having rehearsed what was to be said at the interview, they walked to the Cockspur Street offices and asked for Amberley. A glance at his face told them that they were in time.
“I’m back here sooner than I expected, Mr Amberley,” began Bristow. “May I introduce Mr Stott, one of our directors?”
Amberley had been looking curiously at Stott, and when Bristow mentioned his name he made a little gesture of recognition.
“How do you do, Mr Stott?” he said, smiling. “We’ve met before, though you’ve forgotten it. We crossed the Atlantic together in one of our ships, five – no, let me see – six years ago. It was the Hellenic, too, I remember.”
Stott, who Bristow now saw could be extremely pleasant when he chose, looked closely at Amberley, then smiled in his turn. “Why, of course, Mr Amberley, I remember you well. But I don’t think I tumbled to it that you were connected with the company.”
Amberley shook his head. “I kept that dark,” he declared. “Some excuse, too. I avoided complaints and suggestions and all sorts of embarrassments.”
“An emperor travelling incog. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m glad we’re going to prolong the Hellenic’s days. She’s a fine ship.”
“She’s always been a favourite: steady, you know; easy in a sea and no vibration.”
“Why are you selling her, if I may ask?” put in Bristow. “Now that the price is fixed, I don’t suppose it’s a secret.”
“No secret at all, Mr Bristow. She’s too slow and she burns too much oil. She does twenty-three knots, but that’s no good when you’re competing with over thirty.”
“But her hull’s all right?”
“Oh, Lord, yes! If it wasn’t, we daren’t have run her across the Atlantic.”
Stott didn’t seem pleased at the interruption, and Bristow quickly saw that he was a man who could never play second fiddle. He therefore remained silent and Stott went on: “I’ve called with our Secretary, Mr Amberley, in the place of our Chairman, Mr Malthus, who’s laid up with flu. We’ve come to tell you that the board has decided to take up our option on the Hellenic, and to hand over the purchase money. We had intended to defer the decision till our Chairman was again with us, but we want to carry out certain alterations before the cruising season begins, and there is so little time that every day makes a difference. So we got his approval over the telephone and went ahead.”
Amberley nodded gravely. “That’s very satisfactory news to us, Mr Stott. There’s not a great demand for these big ships, and we’ll be glad to have the Hellenic off our hands. Your hurry to get her will also please our board. As you can understand, harbour dues at Southampton are pretty considerable. I needn’t say we’ll facilitate you in every way possible.”
“Excellent,” Stott returned genially: “it’s pleasant when a transaction pleases both parties. I think you have the formal letter, Bristow?”
Bristow opened his attaché case. “Yes. Perhaps I may hand it over, Mr Amberley, with the cheque?”
“About that cheque,” Stott went on, “I wonder if it would be asking you too much to come with us to the bank and satisfy yourself” – he smiled to indicate that he was making a joke – “that we really are solvent? If so, we could perhaps complete the sale documents while we’re here. As you can see from the cheque, Bristow and I are competent to sign for the board.”
This was a proposal to which Amberley was unlikely to object. They went to the bank, saw the manager, and put beyond question the transfer of the cash. Then they returned to the Lilac Star offices, and the documents completing the sale were duly signed, sealed and delivered.
“A bit of luck that,” Stott observed, when they once more regained the street. “If Malthus and company had moved during th
ese last two days, we’d have been sunk. And a tremendous bit of luck that Amberley knew me. If he hadn’t, he might have held us up till he made enquiries.”
“That’s true,” Bristow admitted slowly. He was not enthusiastic. In fact, he was feeling a good deal worried. “But are you sure that we are all right?” he went on. “I’m afraid I’m not quite happy about it myself.”
Stott looked at him curiously. “What’s the trouble?” he asked with a rather mocking expression.
“Well, just who does the Hellenic belong to? As I see it, she doesn’t belong to you or me severally or jointly. She belongs to a company. Home Waters Cruising Limited, of which Malthus is Chairman.”
“She belongs to a company. Home Waters Cruising Limited, of which I’m a director and you’re the Secretary.”
“And Malthus is the Chairman,” Bristow persisted.
Stott shook his head. “Not at all,” he retorted. “Malthus doesn’t come into it.”
“I don’t see how you make that out. Malthus’ name – ”
“See,” interrupted Stott, “what names were on that deed of sale? The Company’s, mine and yours. There was no mention of Malthus.”
“The Company’s name was given, and on our paper Malthus is shown as Chairman.”
“Ah, quite. But that name on the letter paper was the only reference to Malthus that there was.”
Bristow was becoming irritable. “I know that’s so,” he returned with some warmth, “but it was there.”
Stott winked. “ ‘Was’ is the right word,” he declared. “Show me that deed of sale again.”
They went into Stott’s club and Bristow opened his attaché case and handed over the folded document. Stott opened it out. As he did so a letter fluttered to the ground. Bristow grabbed it and gave an exclamation.
“Yes” – Stott grinned – “our Company’s one letter to the Lilac Star people got accidentally folded in the deed while Amberley was looking elsewhere. So he has no reference of any kind to Malthus. And as for the Company’s title, it was your title which Malthus stole.” He dropped the letter into the fire and watched it slowly discolour and disintegrate. “And now the letter’s gone,” he went on, “and your job is to see that its nine hundred and ninety-nine brothers follow it.”
“I tell you, Morrison,” Bristow said afterwards when he was recounting the story, “I had to hand it to him. I just can’t remember a brainier bit of work. No wonder Stott can pay about a quarter of a million without turning a hair.”
“He’s living up to his reputation.”
“Lucky for us! I tell you, our fortune’s made now we have him with us.”
Morrison was not so delighted as Bristow expected. To Morrison the whole thing didn’t seem straight, and though he was not rabid on the subject, he disliked questionable dealings. However, he reminded himself that they were not stealing anything from Malthus, but only preventing him from stealing their idea from them.
“There’ll be hell to pay when Malthus finds it out,” he observed.
Bristow smiled happily. “Won’t there? I only hope I’ll be there when it happens.”
Morrison’s prophecy was soon fulfilled, though he saw nothing of the trouble personally, only hearing of it from Bristow when everything was over.
It happened that on the very next day Malthus had called on Amberley to say that he had got his money and was ready to complete his purchase. The fat was then properly in the fire. A storm of No. 12 Beaufort scale took place in the office, at the end of which Malthus flung furiously out, while Amberley collapsed limp and helpless in his secretarial chair.
Malthus then approached Stott. By this time he had cooled down and had evidently taken legal advice. He was outwardly friendly, said that Stott had been prompt in his action, and proposed an amalgamation, his people putting up half the money. Stott apparently was equally polite, though clear as crystal that nothing was doing. Malthus then lost his temper and became abusive, threatening Stott with proceedings involving all sorts of penalties. Stott in effect said, “Go ahead,” and the interview terminated with heat and promptitude.
Further negotiations then took place through the principals’ respective solicitors. Stott’s position was that if an action for obtaining money, to wit the ship, under false pretences was brought, he would prosecute Malthus for stealing his idea. The position eventually was tacitly accepted as stalemate by Malthus, though Stott claimed to have won the match. Malthus replied to this that Stott might have won the first round, but that his turn would quickly come. Malthus, indeed, was very outspoken. Bristow was able to find no less than five distinct witnesses who had heard him swear that if he couldn’t get legal redress, he would take the law into his own hands. He would do Stott in, even if he choked him with his bare hands and swung for it.
So far as Morrison was concerned, things then began to move. Bristow appeared with a revised agreement which guaranteed him his 10 percent, of the net profits of the scheme, as well as his £500 a year all found. Further, Morrison was to resign as soon as possible from the Agency, his new salary starting on the date the old one ceased. His work would be general assistance with the transport side of the venture and he would carry on in a suite of offices which Stott had rented.
With intense eagerness, Morrison looked forward to this new phase of his life.
5
STOTT SPRINGS A SURPRISE
Morrison found the days during which he worked his notice as irksome as any he had ever experienced. Faced with a revolution in his life, the common round and the daily task assumed monstrous proportions of distaste. His mind, full of coming excitements and delights, refused to concentrate on mere mundane matters, such as the services between Harwich and Flushing or the amount of free luggage allowed on French railways. He longed to fling out of the office, shouting to the world that his term of servitude was over.
The news that the Hellenic had been sold, not for breaking up but for summer cruising, revived public interest in the great ship. The papers were full of stories of her career: how at one time in her second year of life she had held the Blue Riband of the Atlantic; how she had stood by a foundering Greek tanker in a blizzard, and by the exercise of superhuman skill and courage, together with a liberal use of oil, had rescued her entire crew; how she had carried through the gales of the dreaded Western Ocean kings and potentates, film stars and millionaires, not to mention hundreds of thousands of smaller fry, all without the loss of a single life. She had been a popular ship, holding an established place in the public regard, as had the old Mauretania before her. Sentimentalists rejoiced that her approaching dissolution was postponed and amateur strategists wrote letters to the papers advising that she be kept available for the transport of troops in time of war.
For the first three days after leaving the Agency, Morrison found little to do, but on the fourth there came a summons to a conference in the new offices.
He was early at the rendezvous. It was soon evident that the meeting was to be of importance. Stott was there, barking out questions and directions. Bristow, arranging papers, was obviously trying to hide both his annoyance and his excitement, and not entirely succeeding in either. Four other men were present, two middle-aged and two elderly. One of the elder was a short, stout fellow with a broad smile and a hearty manner. His eyes were small like a pig’s and twinkled with such shrewdness that Morrison felt he was a man to be watched. This was Meaker, Stott’s solicitor. The other older man was tall and well built, with good features, a firm mouth, and the air of one who expects to be first in whatever society he may find himself. Royal Navy Reserve, Morrison speculated, and soon he found he was correct. The man was Captain Gladstone, and he was going to take command of the Hellenic. Both younger men were pleasant-looking and seemed decent and quietly efficient. One was Gillow, Stott’s advertising manager, the other Whitaker, a private secretary, brought apparently to act as secretary to the meeting.
Morrison was briefly introduced as the man who was going to manage tran
sport to and from the ship, and all having taken their places round the table, the proceedings opened.
Stott, Morrison quickly saw, was a good chairman. He wasted no time with preliminaries, but came plump to business with his first phrase. His remarks were delivered in a quiet but forceful tone and with greater courtesy than Morrison had somehow expected.
“We have met,” he began, “at the offset of an undertaking which we hope may be profitable to all of us, and our first business is to make sure that all of us are in sympathy with the policy to be adopted. This is obviously necessary for everyone who signs any hard and fast agreement to become associated with it. I need scarcely add the converse. Anyone who is not satisfied with our proposals should avoid service with us.” As Stott ended he looked gravely and questioningly at Captain Gladstone, Bristow and Morrison, as if he doubted their right to be there.
The words and gesture caused Morrison some surprise as well as a slight feeling of misgiving. There surely could be no question either as to policy or the desire of all present to carry it out? Wasn’t that the very purpose for which they were assembled? He glanced at Bristow and saw the same doubt reflected in his expression.
“As you know,” went on Stott, “the idea of buying a big ship which would otherwise be broken up, and using her for cruising round the British Isles, is due entirely to Bristow, and with Morrison’s help he put his case very admirably before me. I thought there was something in it, though not as much as he suggested. I therefore agreed to think over the proposal and give a decision later. That decision, if favourable, would involve an agreement to bear the entire cost of the enterprise, and therefore to own it, as I should not be interested in anything less than control. I signed an agreement with Bristow as to his share in the profits, should the affair materialise, and the remuneration of the other four has been mutually agreed on – that is, provided they still wish to act.
Fatal Venture Page 5