The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(263)

‘In these days – no,’ he said. ‘Just the names of his colleagues. We can hardly hope that he’ll take an interest in the thing for itself.’

‘Well, thank you ever so much. We’ll let you know whether Wilfred Bentworth will take the chair, and how we progress generally.’

The Marquess took his foot down and inclined his head at Michael.

‘I like to see young politicians interesting themselves in the future of England, because, in fact, no amount of politics will prevent her having one. By the way, have you had your own kitchen electrified?’

‘My wife and I are thinking of it, sir.’

‘Don’t think!’ said the Marquess. ‘Have it done!’

‘We certainly shall, now.’

‘We must strike while the strike is on,’ said the Marquess. ‘If there is anything shorter than the public’s memory, I am not aware of it.’

‘Phew!’ said Sir Lawrence, on the next doorstep; ‘the old boy’s spryer than ever. I take it we may assume that the name here was originally Moss. If so, the question is: “Have we the wits for this job?” ’

And, in some doubt, they scrutinized the mansion before them.

‘We had better be perfectly straightforward,’ said Michael ‘Dwell on the slums, mention the names we hope to get, and leave the rest to him.’

‘I think,’ said his father, ‘we had better say “got”, not “hope to get”.’

‘The moment we mention the names, Dad, he’ll know we’re after his dibs.’

‘He’ll know that in any case, my boy.’

‘I suppose there’s no doubt about the dibs?’

‘ “Montross, Ltd I” They’re not confined to elastic bands.’

‘I should like to make a perfectly plain appeal to his generosity, Dad. There’s a lot of generosity in that blood, you know.’

‘We can’t stand just here, Michael, discussing the make-up of the chosen. Ring the bell!’

Michael rang.

‘Mr Montross at home? Thank you. Will you give him these cards, and ask if we might see him for a moment?’

The room into which they were ushered was evidently accustomed to that sort of thing, for, while there was nothing that anyone could take away, there were chairs in which it was possible to be quite comfortable, and some valuable but large pictures and busts.

Sir Lawrence was examining a bust, and Michael a picture, when the door was opened, and a voice said: ‘Yes, gentlemen?’

Mr Montross was of short stature, and somewhat like a thin walrus who had once been dark but had gone grey; his features were slightly aquiline, he had melancholy brown eyes, and big drooping grizzly moustaches and eyebrows.

‘We were advised to come to you, sir,’ began Michael at once, ‘by your neighbour, the Marquess of Shropshire. We’re trying to form a committee to issue an appeal for a national fund to convert the slums.’ And for the third time he plunged into detail.

‘And why do you come to me, gendcmenr?” said Mr Montross, when he had finished.

Michael subdued a stammer.

‘Because of your wealth, sir,’ he said, simply.

‘Good!’ said Mr Montross. ‘You see, I began in the slums, Mr Mont – is it? – yes, Mr Mont – I began there – I know a lot about those people, you know. I thought perhaps you came to me because of that.’

‘Splendid, sir,’ said Michael, ‘but of course we hadn’t an idea.’

‘Well, those people are born without a future.’

‘That’s just what we’re out to rectify, sir.’

‘Take them away from their streets and put them in a new country, then – perhaps; but leave them in the streets –’ Mr Montross shook his head. ‘I know them, you see, Mr Mont; if these people thought about the future, they could not go on living. And if you do not think about the future, you cannot have one.’

‘How about yourself?’ said Sir Lawrence.

Mr Montross turned his gaze from Michael to the cards in his hand, then raised his melancholy eyes.

‘Sir Lawrence Mont, isn’t it? I am a Jew – that is different. A Jew will rise from any beginnings, if he is a real Jew. The reason the Polish and the Russian Jews do not rise so easily you can see from their faces – they have too much Slav or Mongol blood. The pure Jew like me rises.’

Sir Lawrence and Michael exchanged a glance. ‘We like this fellow,’ it seemed to say.

‘I was a poor boy in a bad slum,’ went on Mr Montross, intercepting the glance, ‘and I am now – well, a millionaire; but I have not become that, you know, by throwing away my money. I like to help people that will help themselves.’