Detective and mystery stories; Police -- Great Britain -- Fiction
“Sir Garth’s coming round now,” he said. “Going to look into our
doings. Naturally a man in his position can’t commit himself without
investigation.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Naturally he can’t,
what?”
Lessingham turned towards the manager.
“I’ll ask you to withdraw, please, Mr. Blagge,” he said. The manager
gathered up his papers and left the room.
“Now, Chairman,” said Lessingham, speaking quietly but decisively,
“this matter’s got to be settled here and now—you’ve invited Fratten
to come round here and to join the Board without consulting your
fellow-directors. You’ve got the whip hand of us in the matter of
votes—you can put him on if you like. But if you put him on, I go
off—that’s final. I don’t expect you to settle that in one minute, but
you’d better have your mind made up before Fratten gets here. I’m
going now; you can let me know what you’ve decided. Only understand,
what I’ve said is final.”
He rose and, without another glance at either of his colleagues,
walked out the room. Sir Hunter’s face was a dark red; he was deeply
offended—and at the same time, seriously alarmed; he knew well enough
where the brains of the company lay; Wraile was clear-headed and
intelligent, but comparatively an amateur like himself; Lessingham was
a financier. At the same time he could not allow himself to knuckle
under to a fellow of that type; he could not throw over Fratten; it
would be a gross insult to the distinguished banker after asking him
to join the Board. Lorne realized that he had acted hastily, perhaps
unwisely—but he had gone too far to retire—only a really great general
can bring himself to retire.
“You’ll stand by me, Wraile?” he said gruffly. “I count on you.”
“I will, of course, General, if you’re determined on it; I know well
enough that I owe everything to you—but I’m sorry you’ve decided to
exchange Lessingham for Fratten—I’m convinced that one’s the man for
our job and the other isn’t.”
Before Sir Hunter could reply, the door opened and Sir Garth Fratten
was announced.
“Good-morning, Lorne,” he said. “Very good of you to let me come
round.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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