The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(97)

‘Oil,’ thought Michael, ‘he is – and yet –!’

‘I will now ask one of your directors, Mr Forsyte, to give you at first hand an account of this painful matter.’

Michael saw Soames, pale and deliberate, take a piece of paper from his breast-pocket, and rise. Was it to the occasion?

‘I will give you the facts shortly,’ he said in a voice which reminded Michael of a dry, made-up wine. ‘On the eleventh of January last I was visited by a clerk in the employ of the Society –’

Familiar with these details, Michael paid them little attention, watching the shareholders for signs of reaction. He saw none, and it was suddenly borne in on him why they wore moustaches: They could not trust their mouths! Character was in the mouth. Moustaches had come in when people no longer went about, like the old Duke, saying: ‘Think what you damned well like of my character!’ Mouths had tried to come in again, of course, before the war; but what with majors, shareholders, and the working classes, they now had little or no chance! He heard Soames say: ‘In these circumstances we came to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to wait and see.’ Michael saw a sudden quiver pass over the moustaches, as might wind over grass.

‘Wrong phrase,’ he thought; ‘we all do it, but we can’t bear being reminded of it.’

‘Six weeks ago, however,’ he heard Soames intone, ‘an accidental incident seems to have warned your late manager that Sir Lawrence and I still entertained suspicions, for I received a letter from him practically admitting that he had taken this secret commission on the German business, and asking me to inform the Board that he had gone abroad and left no property behind him. This statement we have been at pains to verify. In these circumstances we had no alternative but to call you together, and lay the facts before you.’

The voice, which had not varied an iota, ceased its recital; and Michael saw his father-in-law return to his detachment – stork on one leg, about to apply beak to parasite, could have inspired no greater sense of loneliness. ‘Too like the first account of the battle of Jutland!’ he thought: ‘He mentioned all the losses, and never once struck the human note.’

A pause ensued, such as occurs before an awkward fence, till somebody has found a gate. Michael rapidly reviewed the faces of the Board. Only one showed any animation. It was concealed in a handkerchief. The sound of the blown nose broke the spell. Two shareholders rose to their feet at once – one of them Michael’s neighbour on the right.

‘Mr Sawdry,’ said the chairman, and the other shareholder sat down.

With a sonorous clearing of the throat, Michael’s neighbour turned his blunt red face towards Soames.

‘I wish to ask you, sir, why you didn’t inform the Board when you first ’eard of this?’

Soames rose slightly.

‘You are aware, I presume, that such an accusation, unless it can be fully substantiated, is a matter for criminal proceedings?’

‘No; it would ha’ been privileged.’

‘As between members of the Board, perhaps; but any leakage would have rendered us liable. It was a mere case of word against word.’

‘Perhaps Sir Lawrence Mont will give us ’is view of that?’

Michael’s heart began to beat. There was an air of spright-liness about his father’s standing figure.

‘You must remember, sir,’ he said, ‘that Mr Elderson had enjoyed our complete confidence for many years; he was a gentleman, and, speaking for myself, an old school-fellow of his, I preferred, in common loyalty, to give his word preference, while – er – keeping the matter in mind.’

‘Oh!’ said Michael’s neighbour: ‘What’s the chairman got to say about bein’ kept in the dark?’

‘We are all perfectly satisfied, sir, with the attitude of our co-directors, in a very delicate situation. You will kindly note that the mischief was already done over this unfortunate assurance, so that there was no need for undue haste.’

Michael saw his neighbour’s neck grow redder.

‘I don’t agree,’ he said. ‘“Wait and see” – We might have ’ad that commission out of him, if he’d been tackled promptly.’ And he sat down.

He had not reached mahogany before the thwarted shareholder had started up.

‘Mr Botterill,’ said the chairman.

Michael saw a lean and narrow head, with two hollows in a hairy neck, above a back slightly bent forward, as of a doctor listening to a chest.

‘I take it from you, then, sir,’ he said, ‘that these two directors represent the general attitude of the Board, and that the Board were content to allow a suspected person to remain manager. The gentleman on your extreme left – Mr Forsyte, I think – spoke of an accidental incident. But for that, apparently, we should still be in the hands of an unscrupulous individual. The symptoms in this case are very disquieting. There appears to have been gross over-confidence; a recent instance of the sort must be in all our minds. The policy of assuring foreign business was evidently initiated by the manager for his own ends. We have made a severe loss by it. And the question for us shareholders would seem to be whether a Board who placed confidence in such a person, and continued it after their suspicions were aroused, are the right people to direct this important concern.’