‘Fladong’s is used to naval people,’ said Jack. ‘When I was a young fellow, and happened to be in funds, they would feed me at two o’clock.’
Fladong’s was still used to naval people, and it fed them not indeed at two o’clock, but at a strangely early hour for London. When they had finished Stephen said ‘Bear with me, Jack, while I step round to Upper Grosvenor Street. I wish to call on Wray, who will be thinking of his dinner now. It is merely to make an appointment.’
‘If you mean to call on Wray,’ said Jack some minutes later, nodding towards the park end of the street, ‘you have a very fair chance of finding him at home.’
‘What eyes you have, brother,’ said Stephen. ‘I should not have distinguished him from here without a glass. Listen, now: unless you choose to come with me, take a pair of turns about the square till I rejoin you.’
‘Very well,’ said Jack, ‘but then I really must go back and change into civilian clothes. It is not at all the thing to walk about like a goddam lobster.’
They separated. Stephen walked along, rang the bell, sent in his name, heard that Mr Wray was not at home, and returned to the square.
‘I hope you found him in?’ said Jack.
Stephen might have replied that on the contrary he had found him out, but he lacked the spirit and only replied ‘The poor man owes me a terrible great card-debt, and believes I mean to dun him for it. In fact all I want is a simple date about another matter. Not that the money would be unwelcome either: sure, I risked my own and would have paid it had I lost.’
And when Jack came downstairs, wearing his scarecrow coat and drab pantaloons for the concert of ancient music they were about to attend, Stephen said ‘My dear, forgive me if I rat on you for Tuesday. I must attend the birthday levee, I find.’ He might have added ‘for I shall not see Wray at the Admiralty tomorrow either’ if such a remark had not been contrary to both his innate and his acquired habits of reticence.
He did not see Wray tomorrow; and in a way he was just as glad. He was not at all in form that day and the idea of having to put up with Wray’s pitying face, his decently but not entirely concealed civil triumph, set a fire of anger burning in his heart. Several times as he came down Whitehall to keep his appointment he was jostled and each time he repaid the shove with interest, a rare thing with him, since he usually avoided physical contact and kept his emotions under very strict control. He was shown into a rather grand room
that might have been Wray’s; it had a fine blaze in the bright hearth and a considerable expanse of carpet, but behind the spacious desk and the silver standish he saw a middle-sized dry man, dressed in glossy black, with an immense starched white neckcloth and an uncommon amount of powder on his hair, the very type of superior official. The habitual expression of his face was authoritarian and discontented but at present there was a certain nervousness upon it too. He presented himself as Mr Lewis, acting for the head of the department. and by way of establishing a moral superiority right away he observed that Dr Maturin was ten minutes late. It was now more than ten minutes past eleven o’clock.
‘That is possible,’ said Stephen. ‘Are you aware that I was kept waiting over an hour yesterday, without any sort of explanation or apology?’
‘It is regretted that you were kept waiting, but the Second Secretary’s deputy, the deputy to the Second Secretary of the Admiralty, cannot be expected to receive all and sundry the moment they choose to walk in.’
‘All and sundry,’ said Stephen, getting up and walking over to the fire. ‘All and sundry,’ he repeated, taking up the poker to make a better draught in the middle.
Lewis watched him with intense displeasure, but having consulted the notes on the desk he made an effort to be civil. ‘All and sundry is not quite the expression, however, as I see you have a key to the private door. I am directed to ask all holders to deliver up their keys, as the locks arc being changed. Have you yours with you?’
‘I have not.’
‘Then perhaps you will have the goodness to bring it or send it this afternoon. Now, sir, you wish to speak to me about the Danaë.’
‘Are you aware that I was desired to remove certain papers from her, in the event of a meeting in the Atlantic?’
‘I have all the details here,’ said Lewis, touching a folder bound with red tape and speaking in a particularly irritating tone of official, omniscient superiority. It was instantly apparent to Stephen that the man was lying, that he knew nothing about intelligence and next to nothing about the present affair – the file was ludicrously thin. He was an administrative person called in merely to hear what Dr Maturin had to say. Nevertheless Stephen went on, ‘The meeting took place and the papers were removed. In the circumstances I did not see fit to send them home by the recaptured packet.’ Stephen returned to his seat.
‘Did you at once inform the proper authorities?’
‘I did not.’
‘You landed in England on the seventeenth; why did you not inform them then?’
‘Let us understand one another, Mr Lewis. Your inquiry is not a question but a form of reproof; and I am not come here to be reproved.’
‘If you are come here with the notion of some additional grant, let me tell you that your superiors -‘
‘Christ’s blood in heaven, you ignorant incompetent
whey-faced nestlecock,’ said Stephen in a low venomous tone, leaning forward, ‘do you think I am a hired spy, an informer? That I have a master, a paymaster, for God’s love?’
To all his present bitterness there was added the spectacle of an efficient intelligence-service threatening ruin, and his own dedicated, highly-skilled form of warfare gone. ‘You little silly man,’ he said.
Lewis strained back in his chair, looking shocked and stupid: the look on Stephen’s face appalled him. He said ‘Calm yourself, my dear sir, calm yourself.’
Stephen’s hand shot across the desk, seized Lewis’s nose, shook it so furiously from side to side so fast that the hair-powder flew, then wrung it left and right, right and left; he flung the standish into the fire, wiped his bloody hand on Lewis’s neckcloth, said ‘If you wish to find me, sir, I am at Black’s,’ and walked out.
At Black’s itself he saw Sir Joseph making his slow way up the stairs. ‘How happy I am to see you, Blaine,’ he said. ‘Shall we take a dish of tea in the writing-room?’
‘A dish of tea would make me glad and fain,’ said Sir Joseph. ‘Or at least, fairly glad and fain.’ At this time of the day there was no one in the writing-room, and he closed all the windows directly: he hated a draught. ‘Have you seen how shares are rising?’ he asked, letting himself heavily down in his chair.
‘I have not,’ said Stephen. ‘Listen, do you know an animal called Lewis in the Admiralty?’
‘Oh yes. He was called in from the Treasury after the death of Mr Smith, who was reorganizing the accountancy. He is rectitude itself, and the letter of the law; a fount of platitude, and a very great affliction at a dinner-party.’
‘Would he be a fighting man, at all? I was led to pull him by the nose just now, and I told him where he might find me, if he chose to have satisfaction.’
‘No, no. Oh no. He would be far more likely to have you taken up and sworn to keep the peace; but in the present case that would never be allowed. No.
Good heavens no. But I am glad to hear what you tell me, about pulling his nose.’
‘And I am glad to hear your opinion. Had he been a man of blood I should have had to beg my friend to remain, and he is so longing to be away to his wife it is pitiful to see.’
Later that day he said to Jack, ‘I do beg, my dear, that you will go down to Ashgrove by this evening’s coach. I have an entomological and a chirurgical meeting tomorrow
– we shall see nothing of one another – and then I shall turn in before ten to be in form for the levee.’
‘Well, if you insist,’ said Jack. ‘But you must give me your word to follow as soon as it is over.’
‘As soon as ever I can.’
‘Sophie will be so pleased,’ said Jack; and then, unable to keep back a great smile, ‘Have you seen the papers today?’