‘What is the good of being liked by the men in your club if you won’t make any use of it?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘There are endless things you could do. You could have got Mr Breitstein elected at Brown’s if you had liked. They wouldn’t have dreamed of blackballing any one proposed by a popular man like you, and Mr Breitstein asked you personally to use your influence–you told me so.’
‘But, my dear girl–I mean my darling–Breitstein! He’s the limit! He’s the worst bounder in London.’
‘He’s also one of the richest men in London. He would have done anything for you. And you let him go! You insulted him!’
‘Insulted him?’
‘Didn’t you send him an admission ticket to the Zoo?’
‘Oh, well, yes, I did do that. He thanked me and went the following Sunday. Amazing how these rich Johnnies love getting something for nothing. There was that old American I met down at Marvis Bay last year–‘
‘You threw away a wonderful chance of making all sorts of money. Why, a single tip from Mr Breitstein would have made your fortune.’
‘But, Claire, you know, there are some things–what I mean is, if they like me at Brown’s, it’s awfully decent of them and all that, but I couldn’t take advantage of it to plant a fellow like Breitstein on them. It wouldn’t be playing the game.’
‘Oh, nonsense!’
Lord Dawlish looked unhappy, but said nothing. This matter of Mr Breitstein had been touched upon by Claire in previous conversations, and it was a subject for which he had little liking. Experience had taught him that none of the arguments which seemed so conclusive to him–to wit, that the financier had on two occasions only just escaped imprisonment for fraud, and, what was worse, made a noise when he drank soup, like water running out of a bathtub–had the least effect upon her. The only thing to do when Mr Breitstein came up in the course of chitchat over the festive board was to stay quiet until he blew over.
‘That old American you met at Marvis Bay,’ said Claire, her memory flitting back to the remark which she had interrupted; ‘well, there’s another case. You could easily have got him to do something for you.’
‘Claire, really!’ said his goaded lordship, protestingly. ‘How on earth? I only met the man on the links.’
‘But you were very nice to him. You told me yourself that you spent hours helping him to get rid of his slice, whatever that is.’
‘We happened to be the only two down there at the time, so I was as civil as I could manage. If you’re marooned at a Cornish seaside resort out of the season with a man, you can’t spend your time dodging him. And this man had a slice that fascinated me. I felt at the time that it was my mission in life to cure him, so I had a dash at it. But I don’t see how on the strength of that I could expert the old boy to adopt me. He probably forgot my existence after I had left.’
‘You said you met him in London a month or two afterwards, and he hadn’t forgotten you.’
‘Well, yes, that’s true. He was walking up the Haymarket and I was walking down. I caught his eye, and he nodded and passed on. I don’t see how I could construe that into an invitation to go and sit on his lap and help myself out of his pockets.’
‘You couldn’t expect him to go out of his way to help you; but probably if you had gone to him he would have done something.’
‘You haven’t the pleasure of Mr Ira Nutcombe’s acquaintance, Claire, or you wouldn’t talk like that. He wasn’t the sort of man you could get things out of. He didn’t even tip the caddie. Besides, can’t you see what I mean? I couldn’t trade on a chance acquaintance of the golf links to–‘
‘That is just what I complain of in you. You’re too diffident.’
‘It isn’t diffidence exactly. Talking of old Nutcombe, I was speaking to Gates again the other night. He was telling me about America. There’s a lot of money to be made over there, you know, and the committee owes me a holiday. They would give me a few weeks off any time I liked.