Page 24 of The Gathering Storm

There were no facilities of any sort: to use the lavatory, or even get a drink of water, they had to walk round the corner to the office in Theobalds Road. As his colleagues so rarely absented themselves, Basil felt constrained from going too often. He guessed they looked on him as a trial inflicted on them by his relationship with the management. He wouldn’t have expected to care about their opinion, but he came to respect their knowledge of the publishing business, envy their camaraderie, and admire the effortless ease with which they hurled great boxes about.

They also, unexpectedly, took advantage of copies damaged in transit that couldn’t be sold, and were widely read. He was shaken one day by a discussion of Brave New World – which Dolphin were putting into paperback – over whether the advantages of social stability were worth the loss of individuality. Alf, the foreman, made a comparison with H. G. Wells’s When the Sleeper Wakes. Petey said he couldn’t see anything wrong with a world where everything was clean and everyone was healthy. Harry said the constant sex was all very well, but centrifugal bumble-puppy sounded stupid and he’d miss his football. Bill said breeding people to think they were happy doing rotten jobs was just as wrong as economic coercion. Eventually, Alf asked Basil what he thought of the book, and he had to admit he hadn’t read it. It was an exquisite kind of torture.

So there were many reasons for him to be happy one day when Alf had a message for the management and asked Basil to take it round. The first thing he did on reaching the building was to hurry to the lavatory on the landing to wash his hands and his face, comb his hair, and brush the dust off his trousers. Finally he strolled out, feeling more like himself, and bumped into a large, pink-faced young man who had just come up the stairs.

The man, being English, apologised for having been barged into, then said, ‘Elphinstone,’ and held out his hand.

‘I’m Basil Compton,’ said Basil. He knew who Lord Elphinstone – ‘Stuffy’ to his close friends – was: a newly wealthy man who was being persuaded to invest in Dolphin Books.

Elphinstone looked hopeful. ‘Oh, you’re Charlotte’s – Miss Howard’s – um, brother?’ The mention of Charlotte’s name made him turn a shade pinker.

‘Cousin,’ said Basil, using the shorthand for their more distant and complicated relationship. ‘She’s a grand girl,’ he added provocatively.

Elphinstone now seemed both embarrassed and ecstatic. ‘Oh, she is! That is – I wouldn’t presume – she’s quite – very – not that I—’ He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow – more, Basil thought, to hide behind it than because his brow needed it – and the muffled words wonderful and tremendous could just about be heard.

Basil grinned to himself. He now had a fair idea of why Lord Elphinstone had sunk his money into Dolphin Books, and it hadn’t much to do with the hope of a financial return – or a romantic one, since Charlotte was engaged to another. Namely, Milo Tavey, who happened also to be the Earl of Launde.

‘We’re all dashed grateful to you,’ Basil said, allowing Elphinstone to re-emerge from his eclipse.

‘Oh, glad to be of service. Fact is, one has to put it somewhere, one’s fortune, I mean – and one might as well do some good with it. Books, you know, they’re a jolly good thing, aren’t they? Everyone ought to read books. Education, and so forth. Expanding the mind.’ Basil smiled and looked receptive, and Elphinstone was obliged to continue. ‘Read one myself recently. The ABC Murders. Rather a jolly ’tec novel.’

‘Oh yes, I enjoyed that one myself. Agatha Christie. Did you guess the ending?’

Elphinstone blushed and his eyes slid away. ‘Oh. No. Well, when I say read, I’ve started it. Haven’t got all the way to the end yet. But it’s jolly – awfully—’

‘Good,’ Basil helped, and decided to stop teasing him. ‘It was Milo Tavey brought you and Vivian Blake together, wasn’t it?’

‘Tavey? Oh, yes, Launde. Frightfully good fellow, known him since school. Fearfully bright upstairs. Always up to some scheme or other.’

‘Rather an elusive character, would you say?’ Basil was fond of Charlotte, and wondered how much she knew about her fiancé, who had appeared out of nowhere, if her tale of how they had met was true. Slippery, was what Basil had thought when he heard it. As one who aspired to be slippery himself, he thought he could spot an eel when he saw one.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ said Elphinstone, vaguely. ‘Good fellow. Same house as me.’

‘And you’ve been in touch with him ever since?’ Basil probed.

‘Well. Not entirely.’ Elphinstone frowned. ‘Fact is, I didn’t expect to. Come from different parts of the country. Soon as school finished he disappeared off home to Ireland and it was Hampshire for me. Didn’t see him again until last year, when the pater went to grass. Wrote to me. Condolences. Very decent of him.’

‘Reminded you of what great chums you’d been at Eton, eh?’

‘Well …’ said Elphinstone, again. He looked as though he suspected he was being made fun of in some obscure way, and Basil changed tack.

‘Where is he now, by the way? I must say, if I was engaged to Charlotte, I wouldn’t want to leave her side for a moment.’

The troubled brow cleared. This was a concept Stuffy could agree with. ‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘She’s a grand girl. If it was me, couldn’t tear myself away.’ Loyalty kicked in. ‘But – business, you know. Chap has to attend to it. Needs must, and all that. Launde wouldn’t go away unless he had to, I’m sure.’

‘Go away where, actually?’ Basil asked. ‘I’m not sure I heard where he went, except that it was abroad somewhere.’

‘Oh, yes, it’s abroad all right,’ Elphinstone said, pleased to be able to help. ‘India. Or China. One or the other. Or was it Africa? No, India, I think. Yes, because when I heard, I remember thinking—’ He stalled, unable to articulate what he had thought.

‘What business does he have in India, I wonder?’ Basil said.

‘Well, his usual, I suppose,’ Elphinstone said vaguely.

‘As I understand it, he brings people together: those who want to buy with those who want to sell.’

Elphinstone looked relieved. ‘Nutshell. Useful sort of chappie. Well, somebody’s got to do it, or how would we all get on?’

At that moment, the office door opened and Charlotte looked out. ‘What’s all the talkage and chattery—? Oh, Lord Elphinstone. How nice. And Basil. What are you doing here?’