The 12.30 from Croydon (5 page)

Charles passed along the river through the trees till, reaching the church, he turned through its well-kept grounds and found himself in the Mall. Cold Pickerby was a clean and pleasant little town of some eight thousand inhabitants, situated in the triangle at whose corners were Thirsk, Easingwold and Helmsley. Its great glory was Pickerby Castle, a twelfth-century ruin covering the summit of a rocky crag just west of the town, and which, owing to certain peculiarities of construction, was the Mecca of archaeologists from far and near. The town had a sheep market, which once a year converted the streets into dusky rivers of expostulating fauna, a house in which Queen Elizabeth had slept, and an inn which had been an inn when Domesday Book was compiled.

In the Mall was Charles Swinburn’s goal – the Cold Pickerby Club. Here the
élite
of the town’s business men lunched, and when Charles entered the lounge he was greeted by half a dozen who had already arrived. There was Brent of Brent Magnus Ltd, Witheroe the bank manager, Crosby the solicitor, and Stimpson and Hughes, both owners of large shops. Stimpson was holding forth on some matter of finance.

‘Eight per cent doesn’t sound so bad,’ he was saying, ‘but when you remember that they paid fifteen last year, it puts a different complexion on things.’

‘Who have halved their profits, Stimpson?’ Charles asked as he joined the group.

‘Bender & Truesett. Dividend just announced. Eight per cent.’

‘They’re in good company,’ Witheroe declared. ‘Can anyone tell me a firm whose profits are not down fifty per cent?’

Charles was startled. Here was another blow! Most of such money as remained to him was in Bender & Truesett’s. It was true that his principal was now so small that the loss in actual cash would be but slight, yet in his almost desperate position every little counted.

‘That’s a nasty jar,’ he said as lightly as he could. ‘I’ve got a few shares.’ Witheroe, the bank manager, knew he had shares, and Witheroe, of all people, must not suspect his embarrassment. Not to mention his holding would look worse than admitting the loss.

‘So have I, worse luck,’ declared Crosby. ‘I should have thought Bender & Truesett was about the soundest firm in the north-east.’

‘They’re sound enough,’ Stimpson returned. ‘They’re putting something like seventeen thousand more to reserve than last year. Considering everything, I don’t think that’s so bad.’

As Crosby replied, Charles felt a touch on the arm. Brent beckoned him into a corner.

‘I say, old man,’ he began, speaking in a low voice, ‘I’ve just written you.’ He seemed embarrassed and paused uneasily.

Charles had himself well in hand. He laughed. ‘I’ve got it,’ he admitted dryly.

Brent nodded. ‘I wanted to say that we were all really sorry about it, Swinburn, really distressed; but yours wasn’t the lowest tender, not by a good deal. We would have liked you to have it: we’ve always been on friendly terms; and we would have liked to have kept the work in the town and all that, but with things as tight as they are, we just hadn’t any option.’

‘Of course you hadn’t, old man. That’s all right. I’m not pretending I’m not sorry: I am. The work would have come in handy enough. But it’ll be a good lesson. Macpherson has been plaguing the life out of me for some new machines and now he’ll have to get them. If we’d had them we’d have had a better chance of your job.’

Brent seemed relieved. ‘Very decent of you to take it like that,’ he declared. ‘I’m glad it’s not going to make any real difference to you.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Charles smiled. ‘But I don’t think it’ll bankrupt us.’

But that was exactly what Charles did think, and it said something for his self-control that he was able to join with apparent ease in the conversation and chaff of the lunch table. The talk, after concerning itself with the Bender & Truesett dividend, continued for a little on business topics, and then slid gradually over to cricket, where it remained. Stimpson and a couple more were going to Leeds on the following Saturday to see Yorkshire wiping Kent off the pitch – so Stimpson put it – and they discussed County fixtures like schoolboys.

Lunch over, the men adjourned to the smoking-room, and there, when the good-looking maid brought round coffee, they separated into little groups and began more intimate conversations. Charles, who had engaged in a political discussion with Witheroe, the bank manager, manœuvred him into a corner.

‘I was considering calling in to see you this afternoon,’ Charles said when the iniquities of the Government had been adequately dealt with. ‘What I wanted will only take a moment, and perhaps it would save the time of both of us if I were to mention it now.’

‘Delighted to see you,’ Witheroe returned. ‘But by all means go ahead now if it’s more convenient.’

Charles drew slowly at his cigar. ‘I’m going to have to put in three new machines at the works,’ he said. ‘I’ve been considering it for some time and I put it off as the present didn’t seem the best time for launching out. But I find I was wrong. I should have done it months ago.’

‘I thought your plant was pretty up to date.’

‘It’s not so bad, but it’s just bad enough to make the difference. I’ll tell you, Witheroe, between ourselves. We tendered for that reconstruction job at Brent Magnus Limited’s, and I’ve just heard that we’ve lost it. That’s because I didn’t get those three machines. If we’d had them our tender would have been well below the winning figure.’

Witheroe murmured polite regrets.

‘It was my own fault and I can’t grouse about it,’ Charles went on. ‘Parkinson’s have a very modern plant and they deserved to get it. But with these machines we could beat Parkinson’s. Our transport costs are less, for one thing.’

‘You’ve a good lot of men, haven’t you?’

‘Absolutely top-hole. I’d back them against any other crowd in the country.’

‘I’m sorry about that job, Swinburn. Apart from yourself, I’d like to have seen the money staying in the town.’

Charles nodded. ‘I’m sorry, too, of course. But I’m not really worrying about it, because, as I say, I see where we went wrong and we can remedy our mistake. But that brings me to business, Witheroe. I’d like, if it was quite satisfactory, to get the money for these machines from you.’

Witheroe looked grave. Before replying, he very slowly and carefully pushed the tobacco down into his pipe. Then when it was settled to his satisfaction, he looked up.

‘You know, Swinburn, there’s no one I’d be better pleased to oblige than yourself, but you’re pretty well overdrawn as it is.’

Charles nodded. ‘I know that, and, of course, I’m not asking you to do impossibilities. I can easily raise the money, and more, by selling a couple of my late father’s pictures. But, as you can understand, I don’t want to do this unless I can’t help.’

Witheroe whistled an inaudible tune below his breath. ‘How much will the machines come to?’ he asked presently.

‘About a thousand. Say eight hundred for the machines themselves and a couple more for putting them in.’

‘That’s not so deadly. I imagined somehow it would be a bigger thing.’

‘Oh, no, it’s only three machines – two lathes and a slotter. The rest of the plant’s good enough. As a matter of fact, the three old machines are in perfect order, but they haven’t got the latest timesaving gadgets, and that’s what counts these days.’

Again the bank manager paused. ‘And – eh – security?’

Charles shrugged. ‘The same security as you’ve got for the present overdraft. You’ve got the entire works as security, and you’d have these new machines as well. They couldn’t run away.’

Of this Witheroe somehow seemed unconvinced. However, he answered promptly enough. ‘I’ll put it up to the directors. You know that in these matters they make the final decision. I’ll put it up to them as fairly as I can and let you know the result. You wouldn’t like to write me a letter which I could put before them?’

Charles shrugged. ‘If you think it would strengthen your hand – yes. Otherwise, I’m perfectly satisfied to leave the matter with you.’

‘Well, I’ll do what I can.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘The trouble is that everyone wants the same thing.’

‘I suppose it’s not unnatural,’ Charles admitted, and the talk turned to other channels.

Charles kept his face as straight and his manner as off-hand as he could, but he had no illusions as to the result of the interview. His request would be refused. It would be refused in the pleasantest and least hurtful way, but it would be refused. Charles wondered if Witheroe suspected what was really in his mind: to get the money, but not to get the machines. Charles wanted the money to carry on: to carry on either till he was married, or till Una Mellor had turned him down so decisively that no possible hope of marriage remained.

That this was sailing rather near the wind in the matter of dishonesty Charles did not stop to think. He was really capable of only one idea. He wanted Una. If he won Una he would get money with her – though it was not the money he really wanted. If he lost her, then nothing else mattered. He did not care whether he himself sank or swam.

Well, he was not beaten yet. The Northern Counties Bank was not the only string he had to his bow. He looked round upon the rapidly emptying room. Yes, Bostock had gone. He would wait a little and then follow him.

Anthony Bostock fulfilled a number of rôles in Cold Pickerby. He was first and foremost a stockbroker, but to this business he added a number of minor, though possibly more lucrative, activities. He was really a commission agent. Anyone who wanted anything out of the common carried out went to Bostock. He was pleasant-mannered, efficient, and as close as wax. People felt that their business was safe with him, and there was little doubt that if his mind could be made to give up its secrets, a good many people in the neighbourhood would wish themselves out of it.

The particular sideline of Bostock which interested Charles at the moment was that of moneylender. Bostock was reputed to be willing to accommodate ‘on their mere note of hand alone’ all and sundry. Charles, of course, recognized the limitations explicit in this ‘all and sundry’, but he thought that he should prove one of the elect.

Leaving the club, he passed from the Mall to High Street, and turning the corner at the town hall, entered a narrow lane. A couple of doors down was Bostock’s office, and Charles pushed open the door.

Bostock was a tubby little man with a slightly oily manner. He welcomed Charles effusively.

‘I meant to have a word with you after lunch,’ Charles began, ‘but when I looked round you were gone. How’re things?’

Bostock admitted that things might be worse, though he didn’t look as if he believed it. ‘That drop in the Bender & Truesett dividend is going to play Old Harry with me,’ he went on. ‘I have quite a lot in it: quite a lot for me, I mean.’

‘I had some in it, too,’ Charles returned. ‘Fortunately, not a great deal. Still, these days every little counts. And that brings me to the subject of my call.’

‘Glad to see you, whatever it is. Won’t you smoke?’ He held out a box of cigars.

‘I’ll have a cigarette, thanks.’

Bostock produced another box and both men lit cigarettes. ‘Well, it’ll be a pleasure to serve you, Swinburn. What can I do for you?’

Charles laughed shortly. ‘What do you think, Bostock? Money! I want some money.’

Bostock smiled also. ‘Plenty of that in the world at the present time,’ he declared, ‘if only we could get at it. What money do you want?’

‘It’s a matter of some machines,’ and Charles went on to repeat what he had told Witheroe. Bostock was far from enthusiastic.

‘You think these machines would enable you to beat your competitors; but tell me, Swinburn, do you foresee many jobs coming along? That’s the snag as I see it. No jobs!’

Charles smiled wryly. ‘You’re certainly nice and optimistic,’ he retorted. ‘If there are no more jobs it doesn’t matter what we’ve borrowed or lent: we’ll all go down together. No, I think you’re wrong there, Bostock. Jobs are bound to be coming along, though perhaps not so many.’

‘It’s all very well. There’s nothing to be gained by not facing up to facts. You know as well as I do that the general trouble is shortage of orders.’

‘I know that very well. But that’s no reason why I shouldn’t get what is going.’

‘Of course not, and I hope you will. But seriously, Swinburn,’ he paused uncomfortably, ‘there’s no one I’d like to oblige more than yourself, but I don’t know that the state of my own finances would allow me to advance the amount you say. I didn’t tell you, but I’m really very badly hit, not only by this Bender & Truesett affair, but also in several other ways. I had a good little bit in Swedish Matches, for instance. And in the R.M.S.P. Also, of course, the War Loan Conversion has made a difference. You would propose to offer your works as security?’

‘That was my idea.’

‘That really means mortgaging your works. Are they mortgaged already?’

‘No, they’re not. There’s a slight overdraft to the bank, for which they’re security, but that’s a mere bagatelle.’

Bostock nodded. ‘I don’t know, Swinburn; I’m a little afraid I couldn’t afford it. When must you have an answer?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. There’s no desperate hurry, but as soon as is convenient.’

‘I’ll look into it at once,’ Bostock replied with obvious relief. ‘I’ll see just exactly how I stand and whether I can manage it, and I’ll let you know in the morning without fail.’

‘That’ll do fine. Thanks, Bostock.’

‘As I said,’ the stockbroker went on, ‘there’s nothing I should like more than to be able to meet you. You’re not going to see the match on Saturday?’

After a decent rounding up of the interview, Charles took his leave. Another blank! He had no need to wait till the following morning to know what Bostock’s answer would be. Turned down again! Charles felt as bitterly hurt by the rebuff as if it had been conveyed with crude directness.

He had, however, still another string to his bow. The last, definitely the last, but, if properly handled, the most hopeful. On the other hand, if bungled, the most dangerous.

There still remained his Uncle Andrew.