M’s quiet eyes were fixed on Bond. He puffed at his pipe, listening.
“Of course,” continued Bond, lost in his story, “all this made the City wonder what the hell was going on. The commodity brokers kept on coming across the name of Drax. Whatever they wanted Drax had got it and was holding out for a much higher price than they were prepared to pay. He operated from Tangier-free port, no taxes, no currency restrictions. By 1950 he was a multi-millionaire. Then he came back to England and started spending it. He simply threw it about. Best houses, best cars, best women. Boxes at the Opera, at Goodwood. Prize-winning Jersey herds. Prize-winning carnations. Prize-winning-two-year-olds. Two yachts; money for the Walker Cup team; £100,000 for the Flood Disaster Fund; Coronation Ball for Nurses at the Albert Hall-there wasn’t a week when he wasn’t hitting the headlines with some splash or other. And all the time he went on getting richer and the people simply loved it. It was the Arabian Nights. It lit up their lives. If a wounded soldier from Liverpool could get there in five years, why shouldn’t they or their sons? It sounded almost as easy as winning a gigantic football pool.
“And then came his astonishing letter to the Queen: “Your Majesty, may I have the temerity…’ and the typical genius of the single banner-line across the Express next day : TEMERITY DRAX, and the story of how he had given to Britain his entire holding in Columbite to build a super atomic rocket with a range that would cover nearly every capital in Europe-the immediate answer to anyone who tried to atom-bomb London. £ 10,000,000 he was going to put up out of his own pocket, and he had the design of the thing and was prepared to find the staff to build it.
“And then there were months of delay and everyone got impatient. Questions in the House. The Opposition nearly forced a vote of Confidence. And then the announcement by the Prime Minister that the design had been approved by the Woomera Range experts of the Ministry of Supply, and that the Queen had been graciously pleased to accept the gift on behalf of the people of Britain and had conferred a knighthood on the donor.”
Bond paused, almost carried away by the story of this extraordinary man.
“Yes,” said M. “Peace in Our Time-This Time. I remember the headline. A year ago. And now the rocket’s nearly ready. ‘The Moonraker”. And from all I hear it really should do what he says. It’s very odd.” He relapsed into silence, gazing out of the window.
He turned back and faced Bond across the desk.
“That’s about it,” he said slowly. “I don’t know much more than you do. A wonderful story. Extraordinary man.” He paused, reflecting. “There’s only one thing…” M. tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth.
“What’s that, sir?” asked Bond.
M. seemed to make up his mind. He looked mildly across at Bond.
“Sir Hugo Drax cheats at cards.”
CHAPTER III
‘BELLY STRIPPERS’, ETC.
“CHEATS AT cards?”
M. frowned. “That’s what I said,” he commented drily. “It doesn’t seem to you odd that a multi-millionaire should cheat at cards?”
Bond grinned apologetically. “Not as odd as all that, sir,” he said. “I’ve known very rich people cheat themselves at Patience. But it just didn’t fit in with my picture of Drax. Bit of an anti-climax.”
“That’s the point,” said M. “Why does he do it? And don’t forget that cheating at cards can still smash a man. In so-called Society, it’s about the only crime that can still finish you, whoever you are. Drax does it so well that nobody’s caught him yet. As a matter of fact I doubt if anyone has begun to suspect him except Basildon. He’s the Chairman of Blades. He came to me. He’s got a vague idea I’ve got some thing to do with Intelligence and I’ve given him a hand over one or two little troubles in the past. Asked my advice. Said he didn’t want a fuss at the club, of course, but above all he wants to save Drax from making a fool of himself. He admires him as much as we all do and he’s terrified of an incident. You couldn’t stop a scandal like that getting out. A lot of MPs are members and it would soon get talked about in the Lobby. Then the gossip-writers would get hold of it. Drax would have to resign from Blades and the next thing there’d be a libel action brought in his defence by one of his friends. Tranby Croft all over again. At least, that’s how Basildon’s mind is working and I must say I can see it that way too. Anyway,” said M. with finality, “I’ve agreed to help and”, he looked levelly at Bond, “that’s where you come in. You’re the best card-player in the Service, or,” he smiled ironically, “you should be after the casino jobs you’ve been on, and I remembered that we’d spent quite a lot of money putting you through a course in card-sharping before you went after those Roumanians in Monte Carlo before the war.”