‘Well, we can put in something more about that, if you’ll give us the wording, Shropshire.’
The Marquess began to write. Michael saw Sir Timothy twirl his moustaches.
’I’m not satisfied,’ he began, abruptly. ‘I want something that’ll make slum landlords sit up. We’re here to twist their tails. The appeal’s too mild.’
‘M’m!’ said the Squire; ‘What do you suggest, Fanfield?’
Sir Timothy read from his shirt-cuff.
‘ “We record our conviction that anyone who owns slum property ought to be shot,” These gentlemen – ’
’That won’t do,’ said the Squire.
‘Why not?’
‘All sorts of respectable people own slum property – widows, syndicates, dukes, goodness-knows-who! We can’t go calling them gentlemen, and sayin’ they ought to be shot. It won’t do.’
The bishop leaned forward:
‘Might we rather word it like this? “The signatories much regret that those persons who own slum property are not more alive to their responsibilities to the community at large.” ’
‘Good Lord!’ burst from Sir Timothy.
‘I think we might pitch it stronger than that, Bishop,’ said Sir Lawrence: ‘But we ought to have a lawyer here, to tell us exactly how far we can go.’
Michael turned to the chairman:
‘I’ve got one in the house, sir. My father-in-law – I saw him come in just now. I daresay he’d advise us.’
‘Old Forsyte!’ said Sir Lawrence. ‘The very man. We ought to have him on the committee, Squire. He’s well up in the law of libel.’
‘Ah!’ said the Marquess: ‘Mr Forsyte! By all means – a steady head.’
‘Let’s co-opt him, then,’ said the Squire; ‘a lawyer’s always useful.’
Michael went out.
Having drawn the Fragonard blank, he went up to his study, and was greeted by Soames’s ‘What’s this?’
‘Pretty good, sir, don’t you think? It’s Fleur’s – got feeling.’
‘Yes,’ muttered Soames; ‘too much, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘You saw the hats in the hall, no doubt. My Slum Conversion Committee are just drafting their appeal, and they’d be most frightfully obliged to you, sir, as a lawyer, if you’d come down and cast your eye over one or two of the allusions to slum landlords. They want to go just far enough, you know. In fact, if it wouldn’t bore you terribly, they’d like to co-opt you on the committee.’
‘Would they?’ said Soames: ‘And who are they?’
Michael ran over the names.
Soames drew up a nostril. ‘Lot of titles! Is this a wildcat thing?’
‘Oh! no, sir. Our wish to have you on is a guarantee against that. Besides, our chairman, Wilfred Bentworth, has refused a title three times.’
‘Well,’ said Soames, ‘I don’t know. I’ll come and have a look at them.’
‘That’s very good of you. I think you’ll find them thoroughly respectable,’ and he preceded Soames downstairs.
‘This is quite out of my line,’ said Soames on the threshold. He was greeted with a number of little silent bows and nods. It was his impression that they’d been having a scrap.
‘Mr – Mr Forsyte,’ said what he supposed was this Bent-worth, ‘we want you as a lawyer to come on this committee and keep us – er – straight – check our fire-eaters, like Fanfield there, if you know what I mean;’ and he looked over his tortoiseshell spectacles at Sir Timothy. ‘Just cast your eye over this, will you be so good?’ He passed a sheet of paper to Soames, who had sat down on a chair slipped under him by the young woman. Soames began to read:
‘ “While we suppose that there may be circumstances which justify the possession of slum property, we nevertheless regret profoundly the apparent indifference of most slum owners to this great national evil. With the hearty cooperation of slum property owners, much might be done which at present cannot be done. We do not wish to hold them up to the execration of anyone, but we want them to realize that they must at least co-operate in getting rid of this blot on our civilization.” ’
He read it twice, holding the end of his nose between his thumb and finger: then said: ‘ “We don’t wish to hold them up to the execration of anyone.” If you don’t you don’t; then why say so? The word “execration”! H’m!’
‘Exactly!’ said the chairman: ‘Most valuable to have you on the committee, Mr – Forsyte.’
‘Not at all,’ said Soames, staring round him: ‘I don’t know that I’m coming on.’