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Title:      Death of a Viewer
Author:     Herbert Adams
eBook No.:  0500741.txt
Edition:    1
Language:   English
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Date first posted:          August 2005
Date most recently updated: December 2007

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Title:      Death of a Viewer
Author:     Herbert Adams




1. Conspiracy

"Sandra, we are broke."

"More than usual?"

"Infinitely more. Finally, definitely and completely broke."

"What is it--cards or racing?"

"Both, and something on the Stock Exchange. I am sorry, darling, but
never in my life have I known such damnable ill-luck. Everything at once.
To get square I plunged on Last Chance for the big race. It was a cert
and it won. But the jockey was disqualified. That put the lid on."

There was no reply. The room was luxurious rather than poverty-stricken
and the two people in it showed no signs of penury. It was an apartment
in a South Kensington hotel. Not perhaps the most fashionable quarter in
that area--if there is one--but its charges were high and its
appointments adequate.

The man perched on the arm of a well-padded settee looked less rueful
than his words might have suggested. He had good features and dark wavy
hair. He was in evening clothes of the latest style, complete except that
he had not yet donned his "tails.” His trousers, shirt and shoes left
nothing to be desired. The girl, sitting in front of the mirror, was
using her lipstick. Over her dainty underwear she had a quilted, silken
bed jacket, partially fastened. The dress she was to wear lay on the bed.
From his perch the man could see her reflection in the glass, the curves
of her neck and the fine contours of her breasts. He could also see
himself. They were in fact as good-looking a couple as one could easily
find. He noted with pleasure, as he always did, her feminine shapeliness,
her golden hair and clear blue eyes. He was watching the expression on
her face. It had not changed as he told of his misfortunes and when she
spoke her voice showed no emotion.

"How exactly do we stand?" she said at last.

"As the bankruptcy people, unfeeling brutes, will put it--liabilities
£4,000, assets nil. I have enough cash to keep us here for another two or
three weeks but I owe a tidy bit to Marcus Galloway. Nothing further
doing there. Have you anything?"

"The price of a cab fare. My little bit gone?"

She could see his head as he nodded. "I am afraid, darling, everything is
gone."

There was another uneasy silence. How would she take it? He watched her
anxiously, as well he might.

"I was a fool to marry you, Ossie." The words were still cool. "I suppose
all girls have that sort of madness when they are young. With some it
turns out all right. They get the prizes. I got only--you."

"You enjoyed it while it lasted."

"Five years," she murmured.

He got up and kissed her shoulder. "Darling, I still love you and we have
each other."

She made no response. Broke! The word was familiar enough to her. Her
parents had been strolling players, as it was once called, or members of
touring companies in more modern parlance. They were not good enough to
get London engagements of any value, and although not often out of work
there had been times when only loans from their friends kept them going.
They had hoped for great things from her, but she had disappointed them.
They got her chances but her talents did not lie that way.

"You have the looks, Sandra," her mother sometimes told her, "far better
than most girls, but you say the words as though you were reading a
story. You must be it, you must live it."

"She may wake up when she falls in love," her father had said. They both
died when she was seventeen. She got a job as a model in a W End
dressmaking establishment and her poise and her promising figure gave her
some success. Before she was nineteen she met and married Captain Oswald
Henshaw.

She thought she loved him and she imagined he was rich, He certainly
spent money freely. She heard mention of five thousand pounds and
supposed that was his annual income. She did not know it was his entire
capital, left him by his father, and he was busy getting rid of it as
quickly as he could. It is a tribute perhaps to his skill as a
gambler--or to his luck--that it had lasted so long. At his suggestion
she had put her modest savings, about three hundred pounds, into what he
called their joint account so that they could both draw on it. Now that
was gone, too. Luckily she had no debts, her parents had at least taught
her the folly of that.

"I suppose I can go back to old Harbottle," she said at last. "What will
you do?"

"I don't want you to go back to Harbottle, darling, to wear his rags from
evening gowns to swim suits and be stared at by the other women and the
men they bring with them, like a prize beast at a show."

"That is how we met."

"I took you from it. I don't want you to go back."

"What will you do?" she asked again, perhaps with a show of derision.

"What can I do? I would like the sort of job Tony Somers got--secretary
to a rich American who really only wanted to see the high spots. But such
chances are few and far between."

"You have your car."

"It went on Last Chance. I must hand it over at the end of the month. I
sold my pearl studs too; these are fake."

"You never told me."

"It has been pretty sudden, my dear. I hoped to the last to get square."

Again there was silence. Her hands dropped to the dressing-table. They
looked at each other in the mirror, perhaps as they had never done
before. She had loved him and she was not very worldly-wise. She had
realised for some months that things were not going well with them, but
she had never thought they would be as bad as this. Perhaps it was the
loss of her small savings that hurt most. She had accumulated them so
slowly, so carefully, with a good deal of self-denial, in the days before
she married "wealth." Something for a rainy day had been one of her
father's maxims, even if he could seldom live up to it. Now, without a
word to her, all was gone, gone with nothing to show for it to a
bookmaker already over-rich.

"One hears on all hands that men are wanted," she said slowly.

"Men of experience, darling. What can I do? You would not have me drive a
bus or tend a bar?"

She did not answer. After a time he spoke again.

"As a matter of fact I have a plan, but it needs your help."

"What is it?"

"You know Ewen Jones?"

"Of course I do."

"He admires you tremendously."

She turned from the mirror and faced him.

"You have sold everything you possess, Ossie. If you think of selling me
you must find someone with a lot more money than Ewen Jones." There was
contempt in her tone.

"It is not that at all, darling. You may be the only precious thing left
to me but I would not lose you for all the gold in the world. It hurts me
that you should for a moment suggest such a thing."

"Then what are we talking about?"

"You say Ewen is not rich. That of course is true. He is a Member of
Parliament--"

"For some squalid place in the East End."

"Yes, but it means nearly two thousand a year. I was at school with him
and we were in the army together. His father, formerly Jimmie Jones and
now Lord Bethesda, was as fiery Socialist as you could find in all Wales.
Then they put him in the House of Lords and he married Connie Marden, the
only daughter of the late Josiah Marden, the brewer. Josiah's father or
grandfather started with a single pub but they acquired more and started
brewing. When he died Josiah left something over half a million to his
daughter after all duties had been paid."

"And if what Ewen says is true," Sandra commented, "Lady Bethesda still
keeps a tight hand on it. How does this interest us?"

"When Socialists get into the House of Lords," her husband smiled, "they
often tend to moderate their opinions. When they marry wealthy women the
process may be quicker. Connie would not accept him if he kept the old
name as many of them do. Lord Jones would sound a little foolish. So they
became Lord and Lady Bethesda, after the place where he was born."

"How does this interest us?" Sandra repeated. "Ewen has little to do with
his stepmother and his opinions are as strong as his father's used to be.
His wife thinks like he does."

"His wife?"

"Gwennie Wren. I know she writes and speaks in her own name but she is
his wife."

"How do you know that?" Ossie asked, smiling again.

"Isn't it true?"

"I very much doubt it, though it might be better if it were so. Certainly
they have lived together for a time in that queer place in dockland, but
marriage may or may not have come into it. They do not always agree and
he is very tired of her. I don't blame him. You cannot have two
tub-thumpers in one house, each trying to shout down the other."

"Is this leading anywhere?" Sandra asked.

"Yes, darling. One thing I want to make clear. Connie Bethesda has piles
of pelf and oceans of pride. She would pay handsomely to prevent any
breath of scandal coming to her family, or rather to the family she had
honoured with her alliance."

"There is scandal already if Ewen and Gwennie Wren live together and are
not married."

"East is east and west is west. Dockland to Connie is much farther away
than the Riviera or New York. She only knows of Gwen as a writer of
society gossip with a tendency to poisonous socialism. She keeps away
from such things; won't allow them to be mentioned."

"What about Ewen's father?"

"If he knows or suspects anything he is too wise to tell his wife about
it. The thing is this. Ewen admires you. If you encouraged him a little
he would fall for you completely. If I discovered you and him in what we
will call compromising circumstances and threatened an action for the
alienation of my wife's affection Connie would pay up handsomely to
settle out of court. You and I, happily reconciled, would be in clover."

Sandra looked at him for some moments without speaking. It would have
been difficult for anyone to tell what she was thinking. In the curious
world in which she had been brought up strict morality had been more
conspicuous by its absence than its rigid observance.

"Say that again," she said slowly.

"I am not suggesting there should be anything wrong," Ossie replied. "I
could not allow that. Heaven forbid. But if Ewen made love to you, as he
would like to do, I see no reason why he or his family should not pay for
it. It is just a little drama in which you and I would play our parts and
it should have a happy ending. I believe in happy endings!"

"A sort of blackmail?"

"Not in the least, darling. I should demand nothing. I said I should
threaten an action. If they offered me something not to bring it I should
be forced to listen to them. Not only the slur on the noble Bethesda name
would be involved but Ewen would be dropped by the party and lose his
seat. With two thousand we could carry on. Connie might be good for ten."

"I never thought you were such a blackguard, Ossie."

"I am not. Desperate ills call for desperate remedies, that is all. Can
you suggest anything better? You do not want me to drive a bus?"

She did not answer the question. She said, "If Ewen and Gwennie Wren are
married Gwen might bring the action against Ewen and me. That would not
help you. Lady Bethesda would not pay for mud already thrown."

"Clever of you, Sandra, to have thought of that. I had not overlooked it,
but Ewen and Gwen are not married and never will be. I assure you that is
a fact. She wants to have a life of her own. So does he. He is ambitious,
and as I told you he is tired of her. You cannot have two kings in one
castle."

"You are his friend."

"Of course I am! That is what makes it so bad for him to covet my wife."

Again she looked at him as though seeking to read the thoughts behind his
smile. She did not doubt the truth of what he said about Ewen and Gwen.
His plan would be so foolish if it were otherwise. She spoke slowly.

"I think I understand. Would you put your proposals in writing, promising
me half of anything you receive?"

He stared at her. Then he laughed.

"I never thought you were mercenary, Sandra."

"I am not," she said. "But I am learning."

"Of course I could not write anything like that. If you lost it, if
anyone else got hold of it, we should be cooked. Might be charged with
conspiracy."

"That is what I thought." She again spoke very slowly. "Suppose I really
fell for Ewen?"

He bent forward and kissed her.

"I am not afraid of that. He is too stodgy for you and you love me. Come
along, darling. We are late already. Slip on your frock and we will go to
Pegano's for a drink. To the end of our troubles! We might meet him there
and you could start the good work!"

2. Old Nick's Folly

Roger Bennion became involved in what was to be known as the Television Murder in
rather a curious manner. His father, old Sir Christopher, before and
after the First World War had added to his considerable wealth by
judicious speculations in house property. The ground leases of houses in
fashionable Belgravia were getting very short. Built nearly a hundred
years before, many of them were still in their primeval state. Noble
families had houses without bathrooms, or at most with one. They lacked
electric light and the servants' quarters were dark and dismal.

Sir Christopher was able to buy them for a few pounds--in some cases they
paid substantial sums to be relieved of the liability to redecorate and
put them in repair. On undertaking to bring them up to modern standards
he secured new and longer leases. Then three or four bathrooms, central
heating, up-to-date sanitation, dinner lifts, parquet floors, tasteful
decorations and, where necessary, bigger windows were installed. He had a
genius for such things and only asked a reasonable profit on his outlay.
He found a ready market.

He felt he was doing a good work, but when the housing problem became
acute and domestic help almost disappeared he turned his attention to
country properties. Many an old manor house became adapted as a school, a
convalescent home, or was cut up into flats. He also created what some
called Old Nick's Folly.

It was nothing of the sort. It was a deliberate attempt to offer houses
to disabled soldiers, sailors or civilians at rents they could afford,
regardless of the losses he thereby incurred. He saw it as a
thank-offering for a long and successful life. Many people in the past
had left money to endow almshouses. He thought it better in his lifetime
to erect them and have the pleasure of seeing the right folk enjoy them,
not as almshouses but as homes of which they could be proud. An example
others might emulate.

He bought some land not far from the London docks and built between
thirty and forty little dwellings of tasteful design with labour-saving
comforts and conveniences. Each had a small garden and was let to a
suitable tenant at a rent of six shillings a week, with the landlord
paying the rates and doing the repairs. He lost heavily on them but it
was his little village and became a cheery oasis amid the grime and
squalor of its surroundings. He might have done more in the same way but
building restrictions, higher costs and his own increasing age prevented
it.

As his second name was Nicholas many laughed at him and the enterprise
became known as Old Nick's Folly.

He had a reliable agent to look after the property but he liked his son
Roger, who had been his partner in some of his ventures, though not in
that, to visit there occasionally and report personally to him. It thus
happened that on the day after Ossie Henshaw announced his financial
difficulties to Sandra his wife, Roger was strolling amid the freshly
painted cottages, mostly bright with gay flowers.

At one of them he stopped. As he did so the occupant, a big and certainly
able-bodied man, came out.

"Major Bennion," he boomed. "Pleasure to see you here. An unusual
pleasure if I may say so."

"I came to see you," Roger said.

"I am honoured. Come inside."

Roger followed him into a pleasant room that served as sitting-room and
study. Meals were generally eaten in the neat, little kitchen behind it.
Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom.

"Sit down, Major Bennion. What can I do for you?"

"Do you know a man named Daniel Floss?"

"Old Dan, my father's gardener?"

"I believe so."

"Of course I know him," was the hearty reply. "An excellent fellow,
though I fear his gardening days are done. Crippled with arthritis.
Getting on in years, too."

"So I understand. His wife is a decent woman?"

"Excellent, excellent. I believe she still helps sometimes in the house."

"They have been recommended," Roger said, "as a suitable couple for one
of these cottages. They have friends here. Your father wants their
present cottage for a new and younger man, and is willing to help them
get something else."

"Quite right. You could not have worthier people. Worked hard and I would
like them to end their days in a nice little place like one of these."

He spoke heartily. He had a big voice and possessed a thick crop of
curly, reddish-brown hair over a strongly featured face. His age was
about thirty-five. "I can recommend them in every way," he added.

"I am glad of that, Mr. Jones," Roger said. "The trouble is we have
nothing available for them. I was wondering if you would move out and let
them come here?"

"That is not quite reasonable, is it?"

"Very reasonable, I think. You, as a Member of Parliament, are not the
sort of person these places were meant for."

"Maybe, maybe not. Here I am and here I stay." Ewen grinned as one who
knew his rights. "If it is a question of rents you will find me open to a
fair settlement."

"As you should know," Roger replied, "it is nothing of that sort. My
father intended these to be homes for the veterans of the services, or of
industry generally. You got this by a sort of trick. You knew the
Maxwells, a worthy old couple. When Maxwell had to go to hospital you
suggested to his wife that you should come as a lodger. What you paid
would help her. Lodgers, by the way, are not allowed or each house might
take them, perhaps several of them, and the nature of the place would be
changed. When Maxwell died you stayed on with Mrs. Maxwell as your
housekeeper. When she died some months later you still stayed on. Mason,
my father's agent, unfortunately accepted rent from you--"

"And so created a tenancy," the M.P. smiled. "I know the law on these
things. If you wanted to live here yourself--"

"I do not. I have told you who it is for. Should you not be ashamed that
a man of your position and of your means, son and heir to Lord Bethesda,
should occupy a home meant for the aged and infirm and so keep your old
gardener out of it?"

"Not a bit. Look here, Major Bennion, you talk of my means. I know most
of the people here are old-age pensioners and thanks to you or your
father they are very comfortably off but round the corner there are
scores of houses, hundreds perhaps, with three or four wage-earners in
the family who bring in twice as much in their pay packets as I get. I
like living near my constituents and they like me to be here. It is handy
for the House, just an easy run on the Underground."

"If you refuse to go," Roger said, "we might apply for an eviction order.
That would test the validity of the tenancy."

"No doubt of its validity. But as I said, if anything more is due to you
I am willing to pay it."

"Even the new Rent Act would not protect you and there may be other
grounds for action."

"Such as?"

"Some of your neighbours suggest that the lady who is living with you is
not your wife."

Ewen Jones laughed. "Because she writes and speaks as Gwennie Wren? That
is just what they would suggest."

"Are they wrong? The question would of course be put to you when the case
is heard. You can easily dispose of it by showing when and where you were
married."

The M.P. still regarded him good-humouredly.

"Would it surprise you, Major Bennion, if two people, a man and a woman,
having mutual interests and engaged in the same sort of work agreed to
share a home? Would there be anything wrong in it?"

"I do not know what conclusion a Court would draw. My father designed
these places, as I said, for the old and partially disabled. For two
young and very able people, each earning a considerable income, to get
possession of one of them would appear wrong to most people. It does to
me."

"Assuming you were right, Gwennie Wren might not wish to marry me. We do
not agree about everything. But we do agree that to have our incomes
lumped together and so get lower allowances and a higher rate of tax
would not be to our advantage."

"The law in that respect may be bad," Roger said. "If it is you are more
responsible for it than we are. Do you think it would be good for you or
your father if this came out in court?"

"I see your point," Ewen replied more seriously, "but do you see mine? It
suits me to live here and I could not get alternative accommodation at
anything like the same figure. Would it alter your views if Gwen left
me?"

"That is your affair," Roger said. "We want the accommodation for Daniel
Floss."

Ewen pondered for some moments.

"Look here, Bennion, suppose you spent a weekend at Welton Priory, my
father's place--or rather, his wife's. You could see Floss and you could
also see my father. You could put the case to him and you might suggest
he should buy me a house or enable me to take a flat handy for
Westminster."

"He makes you no allowance?"

"Not a farthing. His wife is a wealthy woman. She is not very fond of me
and they think I ought to be able to manage. I can, living here, but not
otherwise. If you, as an independent party, supported me it might help,
especially as it would rid them of old Dan."

"How am I to be invited to Welton Priory?"

Ewen's smile returned. "Nothing easier, and it will give you a peep
behind the scenes. In my view our party, call it Labour or Socialist as
you like, wants pep. My father has agreed to my getting together in a
fortnight's time at the Priory a Ginger Group to work out a plan of
campaign. You could come then."

"Politics are not in my line," Roger said.

"So much the better. An independent view might be helpful. I am quite
serious about it and I hope it will do my father good. He was once called
the Welsh Lion. He led two successful strikes. He was in the Cabinet but
since he married this wealthy woman he has lost his fire. I would like to
re-kindle it. If you are not interested in our talk, the grounds run down
to the river and you might get some trout."

That, as it happened, was artful bait. Roger was a keen angler but Ruth,
his wife, was not. It seemed selfish to indulge in the sport alone,
especially as he was trying to interest her in golf. But she was shortly
to take their infant, Penelope Ann, to visit her grandparents, the Dean
and his wife, at Fenchester, and he was not going with them. It was a
chance worth considering.

"Who will be in your party?" he asked.

"It is left to me. There will be a moderate houseful on Friday and on
Sunday several more come over for the day. It is very hush-hush at
present. It would not do for our party bosses to get wind of it. I would
like to include a few non-politicians so that it shall not look
suspicious. Do you know Captain and Mrs. Henshaw?"

"I think I have met them."

"They may come the day before. Of course Gwen will be there in her own
right. Not a word to anybody, please of what we were saying just now. A
few Trade Union M.P.s are bringing their wives and I hope to get Jeremiah
along."

"Who is Jeremiah?" Roger asked.

"Don't you know him--old Tom Dayton? He always says Woe, woe and Doom. On
Sunday there will be some of our heavy-weights."

"Sounds amusing. The Press?"

"Certainly not. Top-drawer secret. If anything leaked out you and the
Henshaws would make it look like an ordinary house party. You could get a
bit of fishing and you will see Floss and my father."

"Should not the invitation come from Lady Bethesda?"

"No. I just let them know who to expect and they fix it up. Good food and
all the latest mod. con. You are not likely to see much of my worthy
step-mother. She does not approve and she does not know who is coming,
but she will not let us down. Too proud for that. She may spend most of
her time with her son."

"She has a son--by your father?"

"Not a doubt of it! The precious Ambrose. A decent kid really; spoilt of
course; about five years old. You will come?"

"I think I might manage it. But it makes no difference to my wanting this
place."

"Good. I hope we shall arrange that you get it. Don't forget your rod."

3. Welton Priory

It is sometimes impossible to fix the precise impulses that govern our
actions. We think we are free agents yet those actions may have results
we were far from foreseeing. Is it possible that Fate--or
Providence--spins a web much wider than we imagine and our choice is part
of it?

Roger Bennion might have found it difficult to say exactly why he had
accepted the rather odd invitation to visit Welton Priory. Ewen Jones had
been fairly honest with him. He felt some liking for the fellow, though
he was still determined to get him out of the house to which he should
never have been admitted. The fact that Ruth and their infant were to be
away for a time and the prospect of some fishing carried weight. It might
be amusing to see a political plot in the making and he was always
interested in genuine old buildings. All these things influenced him but
it may be that Fate--or Providence--wanted him there for the part he was
to play in the early but unexpected future. Whether or not fore-knowledge
would have deterred him it is impossible to say. Those who know him best
may think it would have whetted his appetite for the startling and
sensational.

Having seen Ruth and Penelope Ann well on the way to Penchester he turned
his car towards the Priory which was in that charming part of the country
where Sussex joins Hampshire. The residence--which he had been told had
been built earlier than Hampton Court Palace--appeared smaller than he
had expected. The elevation was of mellowed red brick and had tall gables
and lofty twisted chimneys. As he approached it through a long and
well-kept drive, with glimpses of pretty flower garden on either side, it
certainly looked attractive. He was to learn later it was larger than he
had thought, though smaller than it once had been. Most mansions that
have lasted for centuries have undergone changes. Many have been added to
by succeeding owners, often with architectural crime and conglomerate
hideousness.

The Priory, though reduced in size, retained much of its original charm.
Shaped somewhat like the letter U it formed three sides of a quadrangle.
The frontage was not great but the two wings continued for some depth,
enclosing another, well kept flower garden. It would be expensive to
maintain and what, had induced the millionaire brewer to acquire it and
bequeath it to his daughter could only be surmised. But it was certainly
a wonderful home for the former coal-miner, the one-time Lion of Wales.

It was about tea-time when Roger arrived, apparently a little earlier
than he was expected. Contrary to Ewen's prediction he speedily made the
acquaintance of Lady Bethesda. He was shown into a small room on the
ground floor that was generally referred to as her ladyship's room. It
could hardly be described as a model of good taste. The curtains and
chair covers were of bright colours that would have offended a sensitive
eye, and a few pieces of undoubtedly period furniture were alongside
chairs of the metal tube design, comfortable but hardly in character.

He was interested rather than critical, and after a few moments his hostess
entered leading a little boy by the hand.

"I am so pleased to meet you, Major Bennion," she said. "Ewen has gone to
fetch some of his friends. He should be back soon. I am sorry my husband
is not down yet. He has not been very well and has to reserve himself for
what may be a late night. This is my son, Ambrose."

Roger bowed over the extended hand. Lady Bethesda was tall and thin. Not
beautiful, but with dark eyes and straight black eyebrows. It was rather
a hard face but he had the impression she could be pleasant when she
tried--and she was trying.

As to Master Ambrose, he was a solemn-looking boy with dark eyes like his
mother's. He was wearing black velvet knickers with a white silk shirt,
something in the Fauntleroy style of a bygone age.

"You must tell me the games you play," Roger said to him genially. The
boy offered a limp hand but made no reply.

"Tea will be here almost at once," Lady Bethesda remarked; "You will not
mind if Ambrose has it with us? His nurse is out this afternoon."

"Nice and cosy," Roger smiled. "I had an idea Captain and Mrs. Henshaw
might be here."

"They are. They came on Wednesday, but they went with Ewen. At least
Sandra did. Her husband said he would try his luck fishing."

"I believe your stream is famous," Roger returned, "but perhaps you are
more interested in politics, Lady Bethesda. With a husband so
distinguished and with his son a Member of Parliament, you could hardly
fail to be. Do you take an active part yourself?"

"I am afraid I do not. Frankly, politics bore me. Why cannot people be
contented with things as they are instead of clamouring all the time for
changes?"

"Then it is very good of you to allow this meeting in your beautiful
home."

"I am not all that selfish. These things mean a lot to my husband, and it
gives us a chance to see something of Ewen. He prefers to live in
London."

Then the tea was wheeled in. Choice china, old silver and a profusion of
cakes and sandwiches. It kept them busy for a time.

"You may be helping to make history," Roger remarked. "Do you know what
Ewen's proposals will be?"

"I do not," was the rather acid reply. "He means well, I only hope he is
not making mischief."

"Time will tell," Roger smiled. "History and mischief have always been
intertwined."

They chatted for some time. He asked questions about the old abbey but
she replied very briefly, attending more to the little boy, telling him
what cakes he might take. He was certainly well behaved and did not
clamour for what was denied him. Then the footman who had brought in the
tea returned and whispered that someone wanted her ladyship on the
telephone.

"How annoying," she said. "Will you excuse me, Major Bennion? I am sure
Ambrose will be safe with you. He has finished his tea."

"Quite safe. Have you finished?" he asked as she left the room.

"Mum said so," was the reply.

"And Mummies always know, don't they?" It was not for him to undermine
authority, even with the chocolate eclair at which the boy looked rather
longingly. "Tell me, Ambrose, about the games you play?"

"My father is a lord."

"I know, but that doesn't prevent you having a bit of fun sometimes, does
it Are there any little boys in the village you can play with?"

The big, rather expressionless eyes looked at him. "My father is a lord,"
was again the reply.

"I have a little girl. She is younger than you but she is full of
mischief. Don't you ever want to get into mischief? I know your father is
a lord," he added to forestall the reply, "but wouldn't you like to throw
stones or climb a tree sometimes?"

"Brigid wouldn't let me."

"Brigid is your nurse? What games do you play with her?"

"Snakes 'n' ladders.' She reads to me. I've got a pony."

"Good. Can it run fast or jump?"

"Brigid gen'rally leads him."

"Do you ever get your clothes in a mess?" He shook his head.

"Have you any friends?"

"Rhoda said she was my friend."

"Good. Is Rhoda a little girl about your age?"

Another shake of the head. "She's growed up."

"That is a pity. What would happen if you did mess your clothes and were
naughty?"

"I'd be put in bed till it was time to be dressed again."

"Not smacked?"

"Mummie said no one mustn't touch me. My father is a lord."

"What exactly is a lord?" Roger was almost impatient.

"My father is. Everyone obeys him."

At that moment, rather to his relief, the mother returned.

"That tiresome Mr. Ruttle," she said. "Something wrong with his car. He
will be an hour late. What would you like to do?"

"Don't let me be in the way. If I may I will get my rod and find my way
to the river. I may meet Henshaw."

"You cannot miss your way. Cross the lawn and the path leads straight to
it."

"Thank you. Do you fish?"

"No. I think it cruel."

"But you eat fish?"

"Certainly I do if it is caught in a net, not with a hook in its mouth."

"That is a point of view," Roger said. "I have seen the boats coming in
loaded with gasping fish. I almost believe they would prefer to be hooked
and despatched quickly."

She did not deign to argue. "The maid will show you your room," she said.
"Come, Ambrose."

Roger soon fetched his tackle and made his way to the stream. The lawn,
as Lady Bethesda had called it, stretched for almost the entire width of
the property. At one time the village cricket matches had been played
there but her ladyship had discontinued the practice after the arrival of
her son.

As he crossed it Roger felt he had not made too good an impression on his
hostess. After all, it was the promise of fishing that had brought him
there, though she probably was not aware of the fact. She might be a very
humane woman but she was certainly narrow-minded. He was more interested
in her son. She was hardly fitting him to play his part in the world. A
nicely mannered little boy, but too much cotton wool is bad for anyone.
Things might be better when he went to school--if she could find a school
fit for him to go to!

At the far end of the lawn, between the trees, was the broad pathway
leading to the river. Near the river but inside the garden was a wooden
hut used perhaps by bathers as a changing room. At the side of the hut he
saw a young couple in a very loving attitude. Was the girl the absent
nurse or were they both members of the house party? He paused for a
moment. Although they were holding each others’ arms they did not appear
to be talking or expressing affection. They had a tense look as though
listening to something.

He coughed and took a step forward. The girl heard him and at once turned
away. The young man followed her and they were lost in the bushes that
apparently bordered the stream.

He went on. As he did so the door of the hut opened and two other people
looking rather angry came out.

"Captain Henshaw?" Roger said, going forward. "Lady Bethesda told me you
were trying your luck. I thought I would have a cast."

"May your luck be better than mine," was the terse reply. "Nothing
doing."

"How are you, Mrs. Henshaw?" Roger smiled to the young woman. "Lady
Bethesda thought you had gone with Ewen to pick up some of his friends."

"She should have done," Oswald said. "Then I might have caught
something."

"More perhaps than you expected," Sandra remarked. "Ewen's car is small;
there might not have been room enough."

"He is expected back soon," Roger said. "I think I will look round and
see if fortune is kind."

They did not encourage conversation. He walked on. Beyond the hut was a
gate opening on to a footpath beside the stream. It looked inviting but
his luck was no better than Henshaw's.

4. The Ginger Group

Cocktails were served before dinner. All the guests, including Mr.
Ruttle, had arrived. Roger was greeted by Ewen and introduced to his
fellow M.P.s. There appeared to be seven of them. He had heard there was
a new aristocracy in the Labour party, the Intelligentsia as opposed to
the Horny-handed, the public school class in distinction from those who
had got their start in the mines, the railways or the factories. Of the
former Hugh Gaitskell and his predecessor Lord Attlee stood pre-eminent.
Of the latter he thought of Keir Hardie, I. H. Thomas Bevin, Nye Bevan
and many others. The more credit to those who from humble beginnings had
risen by their own efforts and personality to the highest rank.

Of the men he now met the only one whose name was known to him was Bill
Ruttle, whose car mishap had so annoyed Lady Bethesda. He was big in
build, loud in voice and self-assured. He had often been in trouble with
the Speaker in the House of Commons. He had been "named" on more than one
occasion. To be named is not to be famed, but it may be a short road to
notoriety.

The one of the group who might have belonged to the intelligentsia was
introduced as Fred Gibbons. He appeared more cultured, quieter and with
some sense of humour. Roger was no active partisan but if there was
mischief brewing it might be interesting to hear what it was.

He was not introduced to their ladies, mostly stout and middle-aged, who
formed another group by themselves. He was how ever surprised to see
among them the young girl he had disturbed beside the hut. He could not
identify her companion. She and the Henshaw were helping to circulate
drinks.

As soon as he could Roger went to Lord and Lady Bethesda, who were a
little apart from their guests. She introduced him to her husband and
then moved away. Roger remembered the Welsh Lion as he had been in his
stormier days. Then his hair had been dark like his son Ewen's. It was
now almost white. He had in some way shrunk. He looked a sick man.

"Years ago I attended one of your rallies in Trafalgar Square," Roger
said to him. "Things have changed a bit since then."

"There is still room for improvement," the old man replied.

"How horrible if there were not! The thought of a world where any change
must be for the worse is quite frightening. It is good of you to let your
son and his friends put us on the right road."

"Provided it is the left road."

"You travel with him?" Roger asked.

"I don't know yet where he is going. There can be a smash if you travel
too fast in any direction. Have you seen my boy Ambrose?"

It was an abrupt question. Roger gathered his lordship did not want to
commit himself on any line in politics.

"I have. A nice little chap; not a lion cub yet, but there is no knowing
what he may become."

Then they were joined by Sandra Henshaw and Ewen.

"Dad," said the latter, "we want you to settle a bet. When did women
first get the vote and who was Prime Minister at the time? Sandra says
women are naturally more conservative than men."

"Female Suffrage," Lord Bethesda replied. "That brings back memories of
those marvellous people Mrs. Pankhurst and her daughters Christabel and
Sylvia. But I doubt if one woman in ten who now have the vote know even
their names. Very clever and determined they were. I was once at a
meeting addressed by Christabel. She was telling her audience what her
mother and her friends were suffering for the cause they believed in;
imprisonment, forcible feeding and every kind of indignity. 'Two of us,'
she said, 'hid in the House of Commons for twenty-four hours without food
or water so that when proceedings started they might shout our slogan
Votes for Women. How many of you men would have the pluck and endurance
to do a thing like that?' A heckler shouted, 'We do not go where we are
not wanted.' Christabel replied in a flash. 'I am glad you were so sure
of your welcome tonight!' There was a roar of laughter and the heckler
shut up."

"A very smart retort," Roger said.

"Very," Ewen agreed, "but what is the answer to our problem?"

"Memories are short," his father replied. "Women got the vote in 1918 and
Lloyd George was Prime Minister. It was an agreed measure as women had
done such splendid work in the war. I should say most women vote as their
husbands tell them--but an increase in the price of eggs will always be
more important to them than foreign policy."

"Quite right, too," said Sandra. "Thank you, Lord Bethesda. I lose my bet
but I am at least right in that."

"I hope the loss is not a heavy one," Roger smiled.

"Purely a question of currency," Ewen smirked, looking at Sandra, who
cast down her eyes.

Then dinner was announced and they went into what had no doubt been the
refectory room in former days. There were twenty of them in all and the
table was a noble sight with gay flowers, burnished silver and sparkling
glass. The food was equally stimulating. Roger guessed Lady Bethesda was
responsible for it and wondered why she had not thought plainer fare
sufficient for the company. No doubt she had her reasons. He had noticed
before that the men did most of the talking and their wives, unused to
such grandeur, had grouped together to whisper among themselves. Now the
attention of all was devoted to what was placed before them. It was a
demonstration of what a Labour leader might achieve if he married wealth,
but its wisdom was open to question. Four menservants did the waiting and
did it well.

Roger found himself next to a Mrs. Doodell whose husband was a Trade
Union M.P. She was not talkative and he was glad to turn to the girl on
his left, none other than the one he had seen outside the hut. He noticed
that Ewen and Sandra were opposite to them and seemed to be getting on
very well. The dress of the ladies was somewhat remarkable, as while
three or four wore dark clothes almost up to their chins, others went to
the further extreme and showed their breeding by a display of bosom that
would have satisfied a film star. Lady Bethesda had a pale green
sleeveless frock doing justice to her necklace and bracelet of diamonds
and emeralds.

The attire of the men was equally varied. Lord Bethesda wore a dinner
jacket suit, as did Roger Bennion, Oswald Henshaw and Fred Gibbons. The
others were in ordinary dark clothes or tweeds, perhaps to show their
democratic convictions or maybe the limitations of their wardrobes. Ewen
had been in two minds in the matter. He had at first kept to his day
suit, thinking it would be more in character with the part he had to play
and might possibly save some of his guests from embarrassment. Then he
had seen Sandra in a lovely off-the-shoulder blue frock that toned well
with her beautiful eyes. He decided he could not sit beside her as he was
and had dashed off hastily to change into a suit like his father's.

"Nobody yet has told me who you are," Roger remarked to his younger
neighbour. "You do not look like an earnest orator, but I may be wrong.
Are you so famous that I ought to know?"

She turned and smiled at him. A very charming smile. She had red hair,
green eyes and pleasing features. She wore a simple frock of primrose
yellow with a single string of pearls. Her hands were good and had no
rings.

"It is rather tempting to tell you something wonderful about myself; or
to hint at something mysterious," she said in a sweet voice with a
musical little laugh, "but you would soon find out the truth. I am Rhoda
Rees."

"That does not convey a great deal, except that you are a friend of
Master Ambrose whose father is a lord."

"Who told you that?" she asked quickly.

"He did. Are you in any way responsible for his upbringing?"

"I am not. He is a dear little boy really, but--I had better not say what
I think. I am the niece of the lord, the daughter of his sister, and also
his secretary. I help Aunt Connie in somethings but not with Ambrose. I
might have a bad influence! He has a maid and a nursery governess who
bring him up in the way his mother thinks he should go."

"Poor little devil," Roger murmured. "It may be better when he goes to
school. Does his father approve of it all?"

"I don't think he does. Aunt Connie is devoted to him but she won't let
him grow up naturally."

"I gathered that she approves of you?"

"Not whole-heartedly."

"What a shame! There is something else I know about you, Rhoda--if I may
call you that."

"What is it?"

"If I were a fortune teller I should say there was a tall dark man in
your life--"

"So you saw us!" she flushed. "You are very inquisitive. I don't think I
like you."

She turned away and Roger caught a remark from his other neighbour who
was mopping up some gravy with a piece of bread. She was a buxom woman
somewhat like a famous and popular M.P. from Liverpool, though not built
on quite such generous lines.

"Jolly good, this stew," she was saying. "I'm a fair hand at a stew
myself; though Mr. Doodell likes something he can get his teeth into."
From her speech she was a Londoner.

It figured on the menu as Ris de veau Mercelle, a delicious compound of
sweetbreads, mushrooms and other things. Roger beckoned the waiter who
brought her a further portion.

"Do you help your husband in his constituency?" he asked.

"I do my best, but I ain't a speaker like what he is. At election times I
call on the women and ask 'em what they want. When they tell me I say
vote for my husband and you'll get it. Generally it's more pay and
cheaper food."

"If everyone got more money, food and everything else would be dearer,
wouldn't they?" Roger asked.

"I don't argue," Mrs. Doodell said, "I just tell 'em."

"Fair enough," Roger smiled. "Where is your husband's constituency?"

"North London. Lived there all our lives; we both have. Boy and girl
sweet'earts as you may say. Never wanted no one else. I always encouraged
him going to his night classes. See how he's got on, as good as any of
'em. It was a Tory strong'old once but never since they got my Bert."

A sincere tribute if not an impartial one. Having delivered it she
attacked the food. Rhoda in the meantime had found her  further
neighbour, a Mr. Edmonds, deep in a political argument across the table.
So she turned back to Roger.

"I am sorry," she said, "but I ought to have asked if you found Brother
Gregory's room comfortable?"

"Who may Brother Gregory be?" he asked.

"The monk whose cell has been allotted to you. All the rooms in that wing
were originally occupied by the brothers. The Prior had good rooms in the
front which my uncle and aunt now use. Of course there have been a lot of
alterations through the ages and Aunt Connie's father threw two cells
into one, but they are still quite small. All are the same on that
passage."

"So I may be displacing Thomas as well as Gregory?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not provided the bed is a little softer than those holy men fancied."

"I can promise that," she laughed. "My uncle does not often entertain. We
tried to give decent rooms to the married couples but single men like
you, and of course, Ewen, have to be content with the cells."

"I cannot claim to be a single man, but the room is very adequate for one
who deserts his wife, even for a weekend. How are you quartered?"

"I have a very nice room but I gave it to Mr. and Mrs. Boyne. Don't let
them know! Even then we should have been rather puzzled but Captain and
Mrs. Henshaw offered to take two little rooms--plenty of them--and that
gave another big one."

"Where do you put the crowd that is to come on Sunday?"

"There will be about thirty of them, but only for lunch. We can manage
that."

"Housekeeping is more of an art than I realised. Do you always live in
this style, with these faithful servitors?"

“Good heavens, no! We have two who live in and the gardener's wife
sometimes, and some help from the village. On special occasions like this
Aunt Connie borrows from one of her hotels."

"Lucky Aunt Connie! Tell me, Rhoda, who is the dark handsome young woman
on your uncle's right?"

"You ought to know her. Her photograph is often in the papers. She is
Gwennie Wren. She writes a lot and speaks, too. Ewen thinks her
marvellous."

"Is she also in a cell? Or have you underground dungeons for women who
talk?"

She laughed. "She has quite a nice cell not far from yours. There are
queer places below though we do not use them. There are the Little Ease
we sometimes show people."

"A cell where one can neither stand up nor lie down?"

"Yes. They had some nice ideas, hadn't they? I suppose it was a
punishment or penance. I sometimes wonder how they endured it. I suppose
we are getting softer. We take the greatest care of our athletes yet they
are continually crocking up. Those people lived for years in damp cells
and often had a bit of torture, too. How do you account for it?"

"It does seem odd," Roger said, "but you must remember Brothers Gregory
and Thomas were content to hobble about their duties. They were not
called on to run a hundred yards in under ten seconds or play football
and cricket against champions. You have not yet told me about the ghost."

"We haven't got one."

"No ghost? A place of this age, with underground torture chambers and no
ghost? How do you account for mysterious noises at night?"

"Are you trying to frighten me? I don't hear them. If I did I'd say to
myself we must get the rat man again."

"You are a girl with strong nerves. You were not vexed with me for seeing
you this afternoon, were you? It was not really my fault."

She again gave that charming blush. "I suppose not. Can you keep a
secret?"

"The oyster is a chatterbox compared with me."

"Then I'll risk it. Jeremy Valiance and I are engaged, but are not
supposed to be."

"Why not?"

"Aunt Connie does not approve. She says if I wait a bit she will find me
someone worthy of Lord Bethesda's niece."

"The son of another lord?"

"Something like that, but I only want Jeremy. She says he must not come
to the house so I have to meet him in the garden when I can."

"What does your uncle think about it?"

"He leaves it to Aunt Connie."

"What does Jeremy do? Are you dependent on your aunt and uncle?"

"Jerry is the village schoolmaster and they are on the committee that
runs these things. If they knew about us they might get him transferred
to the other side of the county. We don't want that. I am over twenty-one
but Aunt Connie says she will give me a dowry when I marry the right man.
Jerry and I are saving as hard as we can and when we have a certain
amount we shall just marry and tell them afterwards."

"Jerry is a lucky fellow. Have they anything against him except that he
has no blue blood?"

"We haven't blue blood either, only coal dust! Uncle was a miner and my
mother married a miner. I don't pretend to be what I am not. Uncle Jim
helped me to get a decent education and that is how I met Jerry. He says
Uncle Jim was a grand chap before he married Aunt Connie, but now she is
poisoning him with riches!"

"Many people would consider it a very slow poison and a pleasant one,"
Roger said, "but I see his point. How do you get on with cousin Ewen?"

"He is all right. He likes Jerry but we have not told him. Aunt Connie
does not really approve of Ewen either."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Somewhere in the East End of London, in his constituency. He once said
it was called Old Nick's Folly."

"Old Nick being my father--"

"Oh--I am sorry Rhoda murmured. "I never thought--"

"Why should you? I came here to try to get Ewen to clear out. Do you not
think Aunt Connie might help him to move to a neighbourhood more worthy
of the family?"

"She might," Rhoda said doubtfully.

"My father's folly was perhaps the finest thing he has done. He built
those houses for deserving old people. Ewen got his by a sort of mistake.
Now we want it for Dan Floss, your gardener."

"How splendid. Ewen ought to go at once."

"He says he cannot afford to unless the parents help. That is why I am
here. Will you speak a word if you get a chance?"

"Of course I will."

"Good, and if I can help you and Jerry you may rely on me. Do you know
Gwennie Wren pretty well?"

"Not really. Ewen thinks a lot of her."

"Are they likely to marry?"

"He seems in no hurry."

"More interested at the moment in Sandra Henshaw?"

"I don't know. She is very pretty, isn't she? I like her but I do not
care much for her husband."

"I met them as I passed that hut," Roger said, changing the subject. "Are
there good fish in the stream?"

"I believe so."

"I did not get a bite. I thought perhaps they had all been caught for us
to eat tonight." They were tackling roast duck at the moment.

"Why so?" Rhoda asked.

"Friday at the Priory. I am sure Brother Gregory would have been busy
with rod and line. His only chance of supper."

"I am afraid that is one of the customs we do not observe," she laughed.

"Perhaps the fish are specially wary on Fridays. Is the fishing free?"

"No. It is ours for quite a stretch. When Mr. Marden, that is, Aunt
Connie's father, first came he wanted to close the footpath, too. There
was a bit of trouble about it and he had to give way."

"Did not make for popularity?"

"He didn't understand the village people. Of course newcomers are always
regarded as foreigners for a generation or two."

"How did they take to your uncle?"

"He does his best to be friendly with them."

A little later, when all had eaten and drunk well, that uncle at the head
of the table rapped on it with his knife and everyone turned towards him.

"As you know," he said, "my son Ewen thinks, rightly or wrongly, that our
Party needs a more progressive policy if we are to win the next election.
He says we want a Ginger Group and hopes he can get our leaders to adopt
his views. I think it would be a good thing if he told us tonight what
these views are; a sort of agenda. Then you can consider and discuss them
among yourselves tomorrow and be prepared to say at the bigger meeting on
Sunday how far you support them. He has only given me a vague outline but
I am sure you will listen carefully to what he proposes."

There was none of the old roar about the Lion's speech. He spoke slowly
and clearly and to Roger, at any rate, he was committing himself to
nothing. There was a burst of applause which was renewed when Ewen rose
to his feet.

"Would the ladies prefer to withdraw?" he asked. "They may find it dull."

"They are as much concerned as the men," Gwennie Wren said loudly. "They
have votes and they pay taxes."

"And 'ave to run the 'omes," added Mrs. Doodell, to more applause.

5. The Programme

"It is very good of my father and Lady Bethesda to have given us this
opportunity of getting together to settle some of our problems. I think
we can agree on that if on nothing else."

Ewen smiled, and there was again a ripple of approval. He was a
fine-looking man and his big voice boomed through the lofty rooms. Sandra
sitting beside him clapped her little hands.

"I should like to make it clear I am speaking only for myself. Some of
you are aware to some extent of what I have in mind, but I do not want
anyone to be victimised because they have listened to me. I hope however
before we have finished I shall persuade some if not all of you that what
I say is right. I will be as brief as I can though there is a lot of
ground to cover.

"The first point is this: Are we a Labour Party or a Socialist Party?
Sometimes one name is used, sometimes the other, but the two are very
different. I say we should declare boldly and clearly that we are a
Socialist Party and should build our programme accordingly."

"Hear, hear," rumbled round the room.

"I can find a simple illustration of what I mean. Our late leader, whom
we all greatly respected, retired was awarded an hereditary earldom with
a pension I believe of two thousand a year. That was all right in a
Labour Party but all wrong in a Socialist one."

There was less applause at this.

"I will return to that later. My next point is that the worker must rule
but the worker must work. Socialism is not a plan by which the drones eat
all the honey. There are drones in every section of society, from the
capitalists who put money but no effort into work, to the shirkers who
seek to do as little as possible and to get more than they should for it.
We must fight them all. We must stop these little strikes that do no good
to anyone except the foreigner who is waiting eagerly to collar our
markets."

Doubt showed in some faces. "The Unions won't stand for that," Bill
Ruttle cried with some emphasis. He was a burly man and had an aggressive
way of speaking.

"Don't misunderstand me," Ewen went on. "I am not against the Unions. I
want to see them more powerful but we must not let little sections cause
stoppages over trifles. A Union must seek the good of all. I am strongly in
favour of equality of opportunity but there must also be equality of
responsibility."

"What d'you mean by that?" someone asked.

"I will soon tell you. I favour more Unions and smaller Unions so that
they may be closer to the workers. There should of course be the Regional
Councils but I would like to see a Grand Council and only that Grand
Council should be able to call a strike. Think what that would mean! The
local Union that has a grievance reports it to the Regional Council. If
they cannot settle it, it passes to the Grand Council. If the Grand
Council consider it right they call on the employers or the commissioners
or whoever is concerned to do what they demand. If this is not done they
call a strike--not of one trade but of every trade! It  is a standstill
for the whole country. Nothing and nobody could resist it!"

He paused and there was some commotion. One or two seemed to support the
idea, some called it impossible. "A steam hammer to crack a monkey nut,"
someone remarked.

"The Grand Council would not call a strike over trifles," Ewen said.

"How long would this Grand Council take to act?" asked Gibbons, a stout
little man from an East London constituency. "My men won't wait. They
want action."

"It would end strikes," declared Edmonds, a friend of Ewen's. "The
Council would fix a wage structure taking due account of the cost of
living and of foreign competition. Everyone would be better off in the
long run."

"Sounds like Russia to me," muttered Ted Boyne.

"Aye," said Ruttle. "Who would be on this Grand Council and who would be
the Stalin or Kruschev at the head of it?"

Ewen waved a hand.

"It would be quite unlike Russia. The Soviet has practically abolished
Trade Unions. We should be all for them. We should have freedom of
speech, a free Press and free elections. Russia has none of these things.
They may be on the way but the way is long and slow. Our Grand Council
would be elected by the workers, not appointed by anyone."

"What about the Chief?" Ruttle asked.

"Of course there must be a chairman or chief; he would be no Stalin.
Stalin has been debunked by his own people but the dictator system
remains. Our chairman would be no dictator but a man of cool judgment,
respected by all. I have in mind one who could admirably fill the post
and give us a good start.  His work for the toiling masses is well known
and his sense of justice and fair play are recognised everywhere. If he
has some means he would be able to help us in the early days before we
were established. Need I say I allude to my father?"

There were murmurs of approval, hesitant and polite rather than
enthusiastic. Roger saw Lady Bethesda frowning angrily at her stepson,
but that was unnecessary. Her husband held up his hand to check the
applause.

"Not me, Ewen," he said. "You will want a younger man. Yourself if you
like, but not me."

"The question hardly arises," Ewen smiled, "but someone asked it. The
point I am getting at is this. We want work to be regarded from a new
angle. As you know, even if we do not all acknowledge it, the worker
today in many cases has no heart in his job. He couldn't care less. We
must change that; we want him to have pride in his work as his fathers
and grandfathers did. There are somethings we can learn from America."

"What?" a voice asked.

"I will tell you. The miners there have their own pension fund and it
does not cost them a penny. In one year they paid out 127 million dollars
in pensions, medical care and other benefits, and they have a reserve of
more than that. How is it got? Nearly half a dollar is a first charge on
every ton of coal mined. The Unions therefore have a direct interest in
increasing production. They are proud of it. It is in part due to more
mechanisation but the welfare fund takes care of those who lose their
jobs. We want something like that."

"Are there no strikes in America?" Gibbons asked.

"Of course there are, but not a lot of silly petty ones. Their welfare
leaves them free to negotiate wage claims."

"No strikes means slavery," Gibbons declared.

Ewen disregarded him. "In a Socialist state as I see it the individual
works not only for himself and not for the boss but for all his fellows
and for his country. As Edmonds said, it means greater benefit for
everyone."

"Co-partnership," Mr. Doodell suggested.

"Yes and no," Ewen replied. "Co-partnership is definitely anti-labour.
Some concerns make bigger profits than others, therefore the workers in
one concern, perhaps because it has a lower capital, would receive in
wages and profits much more than others doing precisely the same job in
another and similar concern. Nothing would be more certain to produce
discontent. Certainly no one would want to share losses. As I see it the
Grand Council would fix the wage, a higher figure I hope than at present.
But they would also fix a ceiling for dividends. All earnings above the
profit necessary to pay that dividend would be pooled for the national
benefit, for the good of all. In every public company one or more of the
directors would be elected by the workers so that their interests were
safeguarded."

This received more applause than before, though there were some dubious
shakes of the head and Lady Bethesda looked definitely displeased.

"How that pool would be allocated is not for me to say. I am no
specialist in these matters. If the ceiling for dividends were fixed at,
let us say, ten per cent, the pool, taking everything above that figure,
would soon run into many millions. Countless commercial concerns pay from
fifteen to twenty per cent and quite a number up to eighty or a hundred
per cent. That excess could be used to reduce taxation or still better,
as I hope to show, to pay off our National Debt. We cannot for ever
continue to pay interest on the thousands of millions we spent on the
wars.

"Some may object that this would be a form of capital levy and would fall
on one section of the community only. Also that the large dividends do
not represent the return to the share holder, some of whom paid three or
four pounds for a five-shilling share. I recognise the difficulty but it
is not a capital levy. The shareholders retain their capital and after a
time when our economic position has re-established itself the old
dividends, in whole or in part, might be resumed.

"This brings me to what I will call our Five Years' Plan. Of course we
have read and we accept the official pronouncements of our Party. One
journalist described them as a thorough analysis of the obvious
interlaced with a lot of long-hairy theory. We want actions not words!"

He paused and was rewarded with some mild "Hear, hears." 

"Not all people are shareholders of public companies are shareholders of public companiesto all wealthy persons as well as to workers and the Unions. During the
five years all estates of over ten thousand pounds should be valued for
death duties and one half the death duty should be paid during that term
and credit given for it when death occurs. But death makes one think of
the Statute of Mortmain. Are you familiar with that?"

"Tell us," Gibbons said, perhaps a little scornfully.

"The first Statute of Mortmain was in the reign of Henry III. It was to
deal with lands held by a corporation or dead hand so that the Crown or
others might be deprived of the incidents of seignery. It has been
amended from time to time but we still find enormous estates held by the
Church, by corporations and city guilds, by the universities, Trade
Unions and other such bodies No death duties are payable on them nor is
any income tax charged. A wealthy man may pay tax up to 8/6 in the £.
These, rich concerns pay only the statutory rate of 8/6. Is that fair?"

"No! No!" said several voices.

"Their funds support charities," Gibbons remarked.

"I would set up a commission to see what they could fairly be charged
during the five years and I think a vast sum would be realised. You may
ask and rightly ask what is the purpose of the collection of this
enormous amount of money. I can tell you in a word. It is to pay off or
very greatly reduce our incredible load of debt."

"Wants a lot of thinking about, that do," Bill Ruttle muttered.

"It does," Ewen agreed. "You must remember that so far no party has made
any real endeavour to reduce or wipe out our nation's debts. All they do
is to urge us to save, or in other words to add to our debt, for the
savings have to be repaid. It is in fact pure inflation. Reduction of
debt must be our priority number one. Statistics are dull things and I am
not particularly good at them, but from the best sources available I
gather our National Debt is now over twenty-seven thousand million
pounds. We can hardly understand such astronomical figures. Recently we
were adding about a million pounds a day to our debt. The interest on it
and the expenses of dealing with it cost nearly two millions a day. Yet
nobody does anything to cut it. When we do that the reduction of taxation
will fellow."

"Who will live to see it?" Gwennie Wren asked.

"All of us, I hope. It will not be easy, it may not be pleasant, but
self-denial is not thinking what the other fellow can do without; it is
willingness to bear our share. Twenty-seven thousand million pounds! Can
you realise it? If you could pay off five pounds a second in every hour
of the twenty-four, day and night, it would take a hundred and seventy
years to meet it."

"Do I understand our workers must wait a hundred and seventy years for
their benefit?" Gibbons asked. "Some of them, at any rate the older ones,
might get impatient."

Ewen was irritated at the laughter that followed.

"The benefits would start the moment we got the power to enforce them,"
he said. "My illustration was only to show to the meanest intelligence,
including Fred Gibbons's, the magnitude of the task. The dividend limit
would reduce the cost of living enormously and at once. The prices of
most things would topple as the incentive of gain disappeared. That would
benefit everyone."

"Then what happens to your pool?" Ruttle queried. "You cannot have it
both ways."

"Oh, yes, you can! The companies would want to maintain their output and
would realise the benefits debt reduction would bring. Let me remind you
that when the Tories proposed the issue of Premium Bonds some of the
bishops and many of our own people opposed them. They swallowed the camel
of football pools by which millions lose money every week and strained at
the gnat of these bonds by which no one loses anything. What they did not
see was that all such bonds add to our debt and make real recovery more
difficult. The crazy thing is that if you draw £1,000 or one of the other
prizes the Government still owes your original pound. In theory a man
might draw £1,000 a month for the rest of his life and still be entitled
to have his pound back! Debt reduction is our first duty. Then the
British pound will return to something like its old value."

6. More Ginger

Roger had been listening to all that was said and had watched the faces
of the hearers. Two or three seemed willing to back Ewen in all he
proposed; a few were definitely hostile; more appeared to foresee trouble
with the Unions and would not commit themselves to that. The women for
the most part were bored. They had enjoyed a good dinner and would have
liked to take off their shoes and go to sleep.

Such was not the case with Gwennie Wren. She was watching Ewen closely
and had made some angry comments. Had they quarrelled? Did she know she
was to be ejected from the house she had shared with him? Sandra gave
every appearance of being interested, in all Ewen said. She generally
murmured "Hear, hear" when others did. Ossie, her husband, made no such
pretence. Half the time his eyes were closed.

Coffee had been served and cigars and cigarettes handed round. Some of
the men preferred their pipes. Gwen took a cigar, but she soon allowed it
to go out. Lord Bethesda was attentive but gave no indication of his
feelings. There was no doubt of his wife's disapproval.

"Enjoying it?" Roger asked softly of his neighbour.

Not much," Rhoda replied. "I have heard most of it before. I doubt if
they will ever agree."

"So much for our main object," Ewen was saying. "We want to be free of
debt as soon as we can and our appalling taxation will disappear. Some
may think with such vast realisations of property we shall all be sellers
and value will vanish. How wrong they are! The money will not go up in
smoke as it does in war. It will be paid to the bondholders who will have
to re-invest it. So there will be as many buyers as sellers. We shall be
cutting out dead wood. I foresee such a boom in business as we have
seldom if ever known before."

There was some applause, though Dayton murmured, "I wonder," and Ruttle
muttered, "Dream-land!"

"Anyway let us leave that and return to something I mentioned before. All
hereditary titles must be abolished. I was talking recently to one of our
peers and he told me his title dated back to the Conquest. Why should I
bow down to him and call him My Lord because of something done by a
remote ancestor nearly a thousand years ago? In every reign since then
men have been created dukes, earls, viscounts and barons because they did
good work for the nation or assisted in the amours of the King. I say
they must all go. The older the title the further off the good works that
occasioned it and the greater the reason for discontinuing it."

His voice boomed more loudly and the applause was more sustained, though
some looked a little doubtfully at their lordly host.

"I am at least disinterested in this," Ewen resumed with a smile. "It
would wipe out any chance of my becoming a peer, but why not? Do not
think I am opposed to titles. Quite the reverse. If a man renders
exemplary service to his country by all means give him a title to show
appreciation of his work But why should his son or his brother or his
cousin, who may have done nothing for the public weal, inherit that
title? Earl Attlee by all means, but why a line of Earl Attlees, unless
they earn the honour? In our Church the most eminent churchman may become
an archbishop but his son is not an archbishop or even a rural dean. He
is a plain mister unless he also merits some distinction. What is good
enough for the Church should be good enough for us!"

The "Hear hears!" were loud. Bill Ruttle asked, "What about the House of
Lords?"

"That, of course, must go. I believe in a second chamber but it must be
on a democratic basis. We know what the Tories propose but it does not go
far enough. I suggest each county council should appoint a member to the
Senate. Each university should do the same. The Trade Unions might
nominate a certain number. Every profession, medical, legal, scientific,
and the stage should be represented. Each Church should have a member. It
would be an assembly of the finest brains in the country. The outgoing
lords like everyone else would be entitled to stand for election to
either House should they wish to do so."

"What of the Royal Family?" Gwennie Wren asked.

"A Socialist State and a Monarchy are contradictions in terms.  I yield
to none in my admiration for our beautiful young Queen. She and her
husband have done more than seemed possible for the cause they
represent."

"She and her family are the most popular people in the land," Gwennie
asserted. "The Crown is the symbol of unity throughout the Commonwealth."

"They give good copy to the Press," Ewen said dryly. "Suppose the heir to
the throne had been a fat and foolish woman like Queen Anne, would the
cause of Royalty have been so popular? Perhaps you remember Lander--

'George the First was always reckoned
Vile, but viler George the Second,
And what mortal ever heard
Any good of George the Third?
When from earth the Fourth descended
(God be Praised!) the Georges ended.'"

"The writer of these lines was, of course, wrong. The next King was
tolerantly known as Silly Billy. Queen Victoria did much to restore the
prestige of the Royal House and we can agree that George the Fifth and
George the Sixth played their parts well. But as to the Crown being a
symbol of unity, what of Ireland and India and Ceylon? What of the
countries all over the world that are clamouring for independence?
Canada, Australia and New Zealand acknowledge the Queen but they are
independent nevertheless. They would still be our kith and kin when
Royalty ceased. I say Monarchy must go."

"I pity the party that went to the country with such a cry," Gwennie
declared.

"If we are Socialists we must nail our colours to the mast," Ewen
retorted. "Mind you, I did not say the Queen should be deposed. I only
object to the hereditary principle. Elizabeth the Second might be our
greatest Monarch but she would be the last."

At this several people started talking at once. There were exchanges
across the table in which some of the women joined. The Queen meant a
good deal to them and so did her young children. They also got on to the
subject of Princess Margaret. After a time Lord Bethesda rapped on the
table for silence.

"Have you anything else to say, Ewen?" he asked.

"I might talk all night," his son replied, with a smile. "Much might be
said about Zeta but you would probably not understand what I was saying
and neither should I myself."

"Hear, hear," and some laughter followed.

"It is hoped that in twenty years Zeta will transform the world. That and
the conquest of space are problems for the scientists. They should not be
party matters. If possible they should be under international control,
provided always that Britain, the pioneer, be not squeezed out by bigger
and wealthier states. Our first step should be to strengthen our finances
in the way I have suggested. Then we shall be able worthily to play our
part and the bogey fear of war may disappear."

This was applauded. He continued: "There is the immediate foreign policy.
Has our Party a foreign policy?"

"What of the United Nations?" Doodell enquired.

"Which are the united nations?" Ewen retorted. "If they formed an
impartial tribunal their influence would be enormous. But they do not.
Was Russia deterred by their opinions when it let loose its tanks in
Budapest? The so-called organisation is split into three or four groups
which bargain with each other to get their own ends, irrespective of the
merits of a case. In the Suez affair our party was arm in arm with
Russia. There must be something wrong when that can happen. But we are
not concerned with that tonight. My programme will amend some of our
marriage laws. I would certainly disestablish the Church--"

"And dis-endow it?" someone asked.

"Not entirely. I would appoint a commission to examine its endowments.
Those made specifically to the Church of England would remain its
property. Those made to the Church of Rome prior to the Reformation would
be forfeited. The Non-Conformist Churches have to pay their own
ministers, why should not the Church of England? When we are rid of our
terrible millstone of debt, or have greatly reduced it, together with the
two million pounds a day it costs to administer, our opportunities for
good will be almost incalculable. Better schools, more pay for teachers,
increased wages for all the Services including the police, improved
prisons and better conditions for the prison staffs--but I have said
enough. As my father pointed out we have all tomorrow to think things
over. Then on Sunday when our friends join us we shall know what we have
to tell them."

There was a generous meed of applause when he sat down. Before it
subsided Gwennie Wren was on her feet. She was handsome, though not a
beauty. Her black hair and eyebrows and her dark eyes showed her as a
strong and intelligent woman.

"I would like Ewen to answer one question," she said. "He has talked of a
Ginger Group to rouse the party to more forceful action. Does he or does
he not wish to win the next election?"

"I most certainly do," Ewen replied.

"Then you are going the wrong way about it. To unite against us all who
are loyal to the Crown, to the Church, and to the present Trades Unions
is to ask for the biggest defeat in our history. It is madness."

"I agree with Gwennie," Bill Ruttle declared. "The Unions have done and
are doing splendid work. They will not consent to be under a Grand
Council that can overrule their decisions--even if he is the chairman!"

Then it was Fred Gibbons's turn; He stood up and spoke with an easy
smile.

"There is much that is good in what Ewen said, but in some respects I
agree with Bill Ruttle. There are two old maxims I have in mind. In this
hundred and seventy-five year plan--"

"Five year plan," Ewen amended.

"We often hear of the start of a five year plan, do we ever hear of its
end? It is generally followed by a second five year, then by another and
so on. The first maxim is 'Union is Strength.’ Most of us are where we
are thanks to our Unions. We all dislike unofficial strikes, but if they
spread they become official. To have a Grand Council that could squash
them means withholding strike pay. Would not that cause anger and split
the entire Socialist movement?"

"Sure it would," said Ruttle.

"My second maxim, and I almost hesitate to mention it seeing the princely
hospitality we are enjoying, is 'Don't bite off more than you can chew.’
I have never been more tempted to disregard it."

He pointed to the still laden table. There was a general laugh in which
Lord Bethesda joined and the hard line of his lady's mouth relaxed into
something of a smile.

"But I agree with Gwennie Wren if you unite too many people against you
you accomplish nothing. You must proceed step by step. To try to take a
flight of stairs in one leap means a crash with perhaps a bloody head and
broke limbs. Without discussing Ewen's proposals in detail I think he
wants to do too much too quickly. We all respect your lordship's judgment
and experience, will you not tell us what you think about it?"

All eyes turned to their host. He did not rise but shook his head.

"Some of my son's views impressed me," he said. "Especially his ideal of
a land without debt, but at this stage I express no opinion. It is for
you younger men to get together and hammer out your programme. Then I
might comment on it if asked to do so."

At this Joe Edmonds, Ewen's friend, spoke.

"We must think of it as a whole," he said. "Of course there are details
to discuss but by and large it would make a new and better England."

Then Tom Dayton got up. He was the wild-looking man with long hair and an
untidy beard who had been called Jeremiah. "I could go a long way with
Ewen," he said, "but in his programme he omits the most important point
of all--moral uplift. Our country is plunging headlong to ruin. Many of
our popular papers are devoted mainly to sex and to the display of
pictures of women as nearly nude as they dare. Modesty is a thing of the
past and juvenile delinquency increases. There is talk of easier divorce
and it was even suggested that a Bill should be brought in to legalise
the very sin for which Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed. Gambling is one
of our greatest national industries. A few men are making huge fortunes
out of the follies of the rest. The government shares the plunder. We
spend far too much on drink and tobacco. I want to see sterner measures
taken to stop these things. If this is not done our doom is certain. Who
will have the courage to stop the rot?"

There was silence when he sat down. Then two or three others spoke,
addressing themselves rather to what he had said than to Ewen's
proposals. Some of them seemed frightened at what might seem an attack on
the Unions and preferred to talk of other things.

"You will never stop gambling," Ted Boyne declared. "Why should you? To
try to win a big prize is the hope that keeps many people going
Nationalise the pools if you like but don't rob the average man of his
dream of wealth and independence."

"Is that Socialism?" someone asked.

"We appreciate Dayton's ideals," Gibbons said, "but the taxes on tobacco
and alcohol bring in about a thousand million a year to which the
teetotal non-smoker contributes nothing. Can he suggest substitutes by
which the moralist may pay a fair share?"

Others followed on somewhat similar lines. Then Lord Bethesda asked Major
Bennion if he had anything to say.

"As a holder of Her Majesty's commission," Roger said, "I dissent
entirely from your son's remarks as to the Monarchy. I am a Queen's man
and always will be, together I think with all her loyal subjects. As to
the other matters, I am no politician. Some of Ewen's proposals were
possibly good, others seemed contradictory. He believes in the House of
Commons and would have an Upper Chamber comprising the best brains in the
country, but he also wants an omnipotent Grand Council of the Trade
Unions. The country would therefore have two if not three governments!
That would not work for long; it might mean Civil war. Then he talks of
levying Death Duties while we are still alive! Does he appreciate the
loss in annual income that would cause? You cannot cut a cow in half and
expect the same flow of milk as before! For the rest, while we have a
Royal Family that is tireless in good works and is an example to us all I
agree with Miss Wren that the nation will not willingly lose them."

Roger had more applause than most of the speakers. Then Ewen sprang up,
obviously disappointed at the reception of his proposals.

"I am sorry so many of you are not Socialists at all. I am, and I hope
when we meet our friends on Sunday they will realise the need of an
active Socialist programme. I would sooner work and wait for several
elections than abandon my faith. I still hope when you think it over you
will see that courage, not cowardice, should be our watchword."

7. In The Night
The next word was from Lord Bethesda.

"If you will excuse me, my wife and I will now withdraw. Drinks will be
found in the lounge. This is Ewen's party and I hope he will see you all
get what you want. My niece will help. I do not know if you will be able
to agree on your agenda but I trust you will all enjoy your stay here. I
have to obey doctor's orders. So I wish you good night."

He went to Lady Bethesda and gave her his arm. Everyone stood up as they
moved to the door.

"J.J. is very much my lord, isn't he?" Gibbons remarked when the couple
had gone. J.J. stood for Jimmie Jones, and in the past Bethesda was often
so known.

"Too wily to commit himself," Ruttle said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

If that were so, he was not the only one to doubt the wisdom of their
proceedings. Ewen however acted on his father's suggestion. He led the
way to the lounge where many varieties of drinks were waiting, from tea
and coffee to whisky and old brandy. There were also tasty snacks of many
kinds which were attacked as voraciously as if the company had not seen
food for forty-eight hours. They broke into little groups and tongues
wagged more freely. Ewen plied them with drinks, and the more they drank
the more they agreed there was a lot in what he had said. They hoped the
Party would support him. Each vowed he would if the others did.

Roger Bennion had a word here and there with different people and then
met the acting host.

"Have you spoken yet with your father as to a new home?" he asked.

"No chance," Ewen said. "Y'know I'm beginning to be dam' sorry I brought
you here."

"That is unfortunate. Why?"

"I never thought you would speak against me. Talk of milking half a cow!
Things like that stick."

"I agreed with what you said as to the worker doing his best for the
country," Roger replied. "You should not invite people unless you know
their opinions. How many of these men will vote for you against the Party
bosses?"

"Quite a number, I hope."

"Ruttle is not a keen supporter is he?"

"Jealousy really. In politics your enemies are not the fellows in the
other Party but in your own. They want a job and are afraid you might get
it. When I propose Ruttle for the Grand Council he will come in all
right. That is why I asked him."

Then there was more brandy, more argument and more agreement. It
continued for some time. Even Ruttle thought their differences could be
adjusted. Everyone agreed that Ewen had a lot of good ideas.

“Let ush drink to the Ginger Group," someone said a little unsteadily.
They did.

"And to Ginger Ewen," someone else proposed, pointing to his curly red
hair.

This was honoured with laughter and cheers. Someone began to sing "For
he's a jolly good fellow," but was hushed lest Lady Bethesda should be
disturbed. So with just one more they decided to go to bed.

The ladies had retired some time before, and Roger had slipped away when
they did. If the proceedings of the evening had been dull at the start,
they were lively at the finish and before the night was through there was
to be a touch of comedy--or farce.

The rooms that had previously given sanctuary to Brothers Gregory and
Thomas were not large when the two became one, but there was no
austerity. The bed was reasonably soft, hot and cold water were laid on
and the furniture was adequate. Roger wondered who would have the
apartments next to him and on the other side of the narrow corridor,
bearing such names as Theodosius, Nathaniel and Zebedee.

He did not immediately go to bed. He donned his dressing-gown and
slippers and started the letter he usually wrote to his wife Ruth when
they were separated. There was plenty to tell her. He knew he would be
interested in wan little Ambrose whose father was a lord. A lesson in how
not to bring up a child. As to the political angle, he said he doubted if
the Ginger Group would be a very large or united one. There was a touch
of foreboding about his final paragraph.

"There appear to be many cross-currents and latent jealousies. I shall
try to get away before their big meeting on Sunday. I have a feeling that
some serious or even tragic clash might so easily occur. We will hope
not!"

He added a few words of affection and then he heard voices outside his
door. He opened it a little way and saw to his surprise that Sandra
Henshaw and Gwennie Wren were there.

"Come in," Sandra was saying, and she and Gwennie disappeared in the
space sacred to the memory of Brother Nathaniel.

Roger wondered what the two young women had in common.

Each apparently had been favoured by Ewen Jones, but that would hardly be
a bond of friendship. The room was allotted to Sandra. Why should she
invite the companionship of the woman who had been Ewen's mistress?

He heard other doors open and close. Then there was quiet. Apparently all
were settled for the night. He had not heard Gwennie Wren leave but
presumed she had done so. But a soft shuffling of approaching footsteps
rekindled his curiosity. He looked out and saw Ewen himself; also in
dressing-gown and slippers, seeking Nathaniel's shelter!

That was certainly odd. Roger had no wish to spy and he closed his door.
Of what followed he heard little, but was later on to hear a good deal.
Ewen opened the door very quietly but paused on the threshold when he saw
the two young women together, for Gwen was still with Sandra. Both were
fully clad, smoking cigarettes.

"Come in, Ewen," Gwen said. "What can we do for you?"

"I heard voices," he muttered awkwardly, rather thickly. "I thought it
might be Rhoda. I have been looking for her, to ask her something about
tomorrow." Then more resourcefully he added, "Whose room is this? I
thought they were all shingle rooms."

"Rhoda is in the other wing," Sandra said.

"I must find her. But tell me how you thought things went tonight?"

"Were you satisfied?" she returned.

"More or lesh. A lot of 'em have neither guts nor brains. They follow the
crowd. The great thing is to get a start." He slurred his words a little.
He had perhaps over-estimated his brandy capacity.

"Is it a comfort to you to remember what someone said four hundred years
ago?" Gwen asked sarcastically.

"Don't s'pose so. What was it?"

"Treason doth never prosper; what's the reason? Why, if it prosper, none
dare call it treason."

"I am not concerned in treashon," he retorted angrily. "A dem-democrashy
can vote as it likes and if it votes for a change no sane person calls it
treashon."

"Can one be false to one's friends, to one's Party and to one's Queen and
not be guilty of treason?"

It must have been at about that point that Roger heard other footsteps
approaching. This time there was no shuffling step. It was a firm tread
that everyone might hear. Once again it stopped at the Nathaniel door.
Roger could not resist the impulse to see who it was. At the me moment a
voice from within--Sandra voice--told him.

"Ossie--what do you want?"

Captain Henshaw must have been as astonished as Ewen had been to find
that his wife was not alone. He looked at the three of them and the words
he had meant to say died on his lips. He was too surprised to close the
door.

"Is this a committee meeting?" he muttered.

"In a way," Ewen replied. "I wondered what they thought of our
dishcussion tonight."

"What do you want?" Sandra asked again. "I am getting sleepy." She
stubbed out her cigarette.

"Have you--have you got my toothbrush?" he asked. "I cannot find it."

"How have you managed these last two days?" his wife asked derisively.
"You packed your own bags. But of course the holy men here never used
such things. Who knows when toothbrushes were invented?" She yawned.

"I agree with Sandra," Gwen said. "We had better all clear out and let
her get to sleep."

"I might see if Rhoda has a spare one." This was Ewen's suggestion. The
unexpected arrival of Sandra's husband had somewhat sobered him. He moved
towards the door and the others followed. Then the door was locked and
there was silence.

Roger was asking himself what it all meant. Why had Sandra wished to have
Gwen with her? Why had Gwen stayed? What was the meaning of Ewen's
stealthy arrival? Why had Oswald Henshaw followed him there?

Had he known what was to happen before another day was over he might have
pondered the questions more deeply.

8. Morning and Afternoon

Many a poet has remarked that cool reflection comes with the morning. How
far this applied to those who had finally applauded Ewen Jones overnight
might be hard to say. When Roger went down to breakfast only three others
were with him. Ewen and Rhoda as representing the host and hostess, and
Jeremiah Dayton. The others were having the meal in their bedrooms. It
was rumoured that the ladies did justice to the good things brought them;
the men were mostly content with coffee and aspirin. Jeremiah being both
an early-bedder and a teetotaller was his usual cheery self--if cheery be
the right word.

"Were you able to provide Captain Henshaw with a spare toothbrush?" Roger
asked Rhoda.

"Did he want one?" she replied.

"He decided he could manage," Ewen said.

He spoke rather shortly, wondering perhaps what Roger knew of the matter.
It was the only reference to the odd happenings in the Nathaniel room.

"I do not want to suggest another world war in our time is inevitable,"
Jeremiah remarked, "but is it not an extraordinary thing that the end of
the world as depicted in the Bible, fire from heaven, fugitives seeking
refuge in caves, and mountains crashing on them is just what we imagine
atomic warfare would be?"

He threw out the question as a sort of challenge, but no one seemed
inclined to take it up. He persevered.

"According to prophecy the Armageddon that will start the final
catastrophe is to be fought somewhere near the Garden of Eden where our
history began, the Mesopotamia region more or less where our oil comes
from. Is it fanciful to suppose that a fight for oil will start the
conflict?"

He looked hopefully at the others, but no one was in the mood for such
discussions. They ate in silence until Rhoda asked Roger what he would
like to do that morning.

"I want to see Dan Floss." Roger said. "Shall I find him in his cottage?"

"If not, his wife will tell you where he is," she replied. Actually Dan
was rolling the lawn when Roger found him. A bent figure of a man, he
could not push the roller by hand. He had a sort of harness round his
body and with slow steps was dragging it behind him. It was a pathetic
sight, as in his younger days he had been very active and muscular. No
doubt he wanted to show he was still of use, but to roll that vast lawn
in such a way was beyond human possibility.

"I am Major Bennion. I believe you have applied for one of my father's
cottages in London," Roger remarked after watching him for some moments.

"Aye, that be so," was the answer in broad country accent. "A cousin o'
mine has one and I know some o' the folks there. A little bit house and a
patch o' garden. I've allus wanted that."

He paused in his work and wiped his forehead. He was not a typical
faithful old retainer. His voice was rough and his manner had a note of
independence, blended perhaps with anger. He had worked hard all his life
and felt it was unfair his poor gnarled hands should have let him down.
The faithful retainer implies old and honoured employers. There may have
been something lacking in that respect.

"Lord Bethesda wants your cottage for the new gardener?"

"Aye, leastwise 'er leddyship does."

"You know Mr. Ewen has one of our cottages?"

"Aye," was the laconic reply.

"What do you feel about that?"

"It doan seem fair. I doan say as I've any rights to it, but I've more
rights nor he if what my cousin says be true."

"How long have you worked here?"

"Forty year. Long afore them come. I 'ad two three lads under me then.
Mostly I laid out the gardens as they is now. 'Er leddyship thinks one
man with a motor mower and such like could keep it goin'. I can't manage
motors." He held up his mis-shaped hands and added, "Me knees ain't much
better."

"What help do you get now?"

"Two men from th' village 'casionally."

"That must leave you a lot to do."

"Aye. 'Er leddyship reckons I must give up."

"What has your cousin to say about it?" Roger asked.

"No use o' my repeatin' wot 'e said. If Sir Nick'las meant the places for
the likes o' Mr. Ewen it bain't no business of ourn. I s'pose me and the
missus'll get lodgin's somewhere. 'Er leddyship talks of an ejec'ment
order."

Roger was inclined to like the old fellow. He was not obsequious, and his
was the sort of case his father would like to help.

"I came down," he said, "to see if I could persuade Mr. Ewen to go. If he
does you shall have the first offer of the place."

"That be mighty kind of 'ee sir. 'Twas what I allus 'oped for, something
like that. I promise 'ee me and my missus'll keep it in good order and
the bit of’ garden we could manage fine."

"All right," Roger smiled: "My father may have to talk of ejectment
orders, too."

He was carrying his rod and he strolled to the river to see if it looked
hopeful for a cast. It was a bright morning and gave promise of a very
hot day, not an angler's ideal by any means.

As he went along he saw Ambrose with a young woman, presumably his
nursery governess. The little boy was clad as many other little boys were
about that time in the outfit of a "Redskin.” No doubt his colourful
clothes and his bow and arrows were correct enough but how can anyone
play Indians by himself? His rather stolid companion did not seem to
enter into the spirit of the game at all.

"Hullo, Chief White Bull," Roger said "Out hunting?"

The boy looked solemnly at him and shook his head.

"You should, you know. Can you use the bow and arrows?"

"Her ladyship does not like him to kill things," the girl answered for
him.

"Not much risk of that," Roger said. "Could you hit that tree?" Ambrose
fitted an arrow to the bow. He made the shot and actually hit the tree.
The arrow fell to the ground.

"Let me try," Roger said. His arrow, with more bend to the bow,
penetrated the bark and stayed there. "Now you have another go."

He took the boy's hands and repeated the shot. The arrow struck close to
the first. Little Ambrose was clearly delighted. "Again," he said.

They did it again and there were the three well-feathered arrows close
together.

"I do not think her ladyship would like that," the girl said.

"Do you play with him sometimes?" Roger asked.

"I take him for his walks."

"But what is the use of dressing him up like this if he doesn't get any
fun out of it?"

"I do as her ladyship wishes," was the prim reply. "We must go in now."

Roger gathered the arrows. It was not for him to interfere and she was
obviously rather afraid of what had been done.

"Has he no playmates?" he asked.

"His little cousin comes sometimes."

"That is good. Farewell, brave-chief. We must have a real game someday."

Ambrose nodded and turned obediently towards the house. Roger strolled on
past the hut to the stream.

He tried a few casts, but with no luck. He was thinking what a queer
place he had come to. Some of Ewen's revolutionary ideas had surprised
and shocked him. He recognised that many people who called themselves
Socialists did not realise the logical consequences of their theories,
but he could not conceive that the party as a whole would adopt his
proposals. Lord Bethesda was no longer the roaring lion of the past. He
was a sick man and it was doubtful if he would endorse his son's policy.
It was certain Lady Bethesda would not and there was much to which
orthodox Trade Unionists might well object.

Then he pondered over the curious gathering of the night before in
Sandra's room. What lay behind that? Did Sandra expect Ewen to visit her?
If so, why had she pressed Gwennie Wren to stay? What was the meaning of
the arrival of Ossie Henshaw? Was he suspicious?

That Sandra and Ewen were more than a little interested in one another
was fairly obvious. She had lost her bet about the women's vote. Ewen had
suggested payment in a special currency. Judging from her self-conscious
expression that currency might be kisses. Or was it something more
serious?

It was all rather baffling and he did not like to be baffled. Possibly
Rhoda Rees might throw some light on things. She was intelligent as well
as charming. And there was his own little plot to be remembered, the
ejectment of Ewen after a word with his father. He was to get light on
some of the matters before the day was through, though not from Rhoda.

When he went in for lunch he learned that many of the party had spent
much of the morning exploring the neighbourhood. Lord Bethesda had
chartered two motor coaches and invited those of his guests who cared to
do so to visit some of the beauty spots of the neighbourhood. Nearly all
of them had gone.

This not only put an edge on their appetites but gave them fresh topics
for conversation. There was a good spread of cold viands and for the most
part they helped themselves. Lady Bethesda did not appear. She was
lunching in the nursery.

It was curious that no one seemed anxious to talk politics. If anyone
started such themes there was generally a response "Let us see what they
say tomorrow." The men had lost their headaches but many of them were not
quite clear as to what they had committed themselves the night before.
If, as we are told, wine is a mocker, what may not old brandy be?

"I met our young friend this morning," Roger remarked to Rhoda. "I was
surprised at his warlike attire. Who is responsible for that?"

"It is rather a sad story," she replied. "Before Brigid came, that is
about three months ago, he was in charge of a very nice girl, Myfanwy
Lloyd."

"Also Welsh?"

"How clever of you," she smiled. "We do rather favour the Welsh. Myfanwy
was teaching him to read and he was getting on quite well. But she also
smuggled into the house some of those lurid illustrated papers about
cowboys and Indians to read to him. He loved them. She always looked
through them first to make sure they were not too blood-thirsty. She
persuaded Aunt Connie to let him have that outfit. He looked sweet in it.
But soon after that Aunt Connie unfortunately found some of the papers.
She was furious and exit Myfanwy in a hurry. Aunt Connie would have
destroyed the costume but I persuaded her not to. He might wear it
sometimes when he was a very good boy. So that is how it happened."

"I am glad he has some boyish instincts," Roger said. "I taught him to
shoot arrows. Don't let Brigid get thrown out for that!"

"I don't think she'll mention it. Nor will he. Aunt Connie dotes on him
but he ought to have been a little girl."

"What does Brigid read to him?"

"Tales his mother chooses."

"Very improving, I expect. Do you ever read to him?"

"Never," Rhoda laughed. "I just tell him stories."

"That you make up?"

"No. There are some juicy bits in the Bible, you know. David and Goliath
and Daniel in the lion's den."

Ewen was again sitting beside Sandra, but, although attentive to her
wants, he seemed less buoyant than usual. It had become very hot and when
someone suggested it would be pleasant to have a swim in the river later
in the afternoon quite a number  welcomed the idea.

"We will have tea on the lawn," Ewen said. "I will have the seats put
out."

That also met general approval. Some of the non-swimmers may have
mentally decided to go as far as those seats and no further.

When the meal was over Roger got a chance of a word with his host and
decided to broach the real object of his visit. They were in a shady
corner of a verandah and lit cigars, though Roger would have preferred
his trusty briar.

"Were you aware of the nature of your son's proposals?" he asked as an
opening.

"I was not," was Bethesda's short reply.

"If I may ask it, do you support them?"

It was some moments before there was a reply. Then--"All political
movements need ginger at times, but dynamite is dangerous!"

Roger made no comment and after a further pause the old man went on--"I
may have said some foolish things when I was young, but if you go too
fast and too far you may find you are not leading a Party, you are
leaving it. For progress the engine must pull the coaches, not rush on
without them! But you are not interested in politics?"

"I am not an extremist in any direction," Roger said. "I like to
understand things. But it was not politics that brought me here."

"What was it?"

Roger explained as briefly as he could his father's idea in creating his
"folly" and the feeling that Ewen was not the sort of tenant for whom the
cottages were intended.

"We had an application from your gardener Dan Floss for one of them. He
has a cousin there. He seemed a suitable person but there was nothing
vacant. That led to the discovery that your son had one, though it had
not been let directly to him. I saw him and suggested he should go and
Floss could have it. He said he could not afford to live elsewhere unless
he was in some way assisted. He asked me to explain the matter to you. I
do so with reluctance as it touches on things that are no concern
whatever of mine. But that is how it stands."

Lord Bethesda looked very uncomfortable while Roger was speaking.

"Of course I knew his address," he said, "but I had no idea he was living
in any way on the charity of your father or anyone else. He must go. As
to his needing assistance, when I first went to the House there was no
salary for the members. We had to manage as best we could with help from our
local associations or a Trade Union. We got nothing like the salary he
receives. I was married and had him to provide for. He lives alone,
employing I believe a housekeeper. He should manage easily, unless he has
expensive tastes. It has upset me very much. I will see him about it."

"Thank you," Roger said. He did not know if Gwennie Wren was an expensive
taste, but it was not for him to mention her. "I did have a few words
with Floss. May I tell him there is a prospect of his getting what he
wants?"

"Leave it till I have seen Ewen," the father replied.

There was a pause. Then, abruptly changing the subject he said--"I
believe I have heard of you, Major Bennion.  Did you not have something
to do with those murders at a golf club? Sir Cowdray Hood told me so."

"I tried to help."

"And before that there was what they called the Judas Kiss?"

"That is so."

"Are you still working with Scotland Yard?"

"Oh, no," Roger laughed. "Things just happened that way."

"You impressed Sir Cowdray very much."

"Nice of him to say so," Roger replied.

A little later he got his rod and made his way again to the river bank.
He had spotted a wily old trout in the morning but had been unable to
tempt it. As he crossed the lawn he saw several of the company in their
shaded seats, already happily if not beautifully asleep. Open mouths are
seldom becoming. A few had been in the water but most of them appeared
content to bathe in the warm sunshine. They were suitably unclothed for
the purpose. Both Sandra and Gwen had reduced their garments to a
minimum. Very alluring, but he crept quietly by lest he should disturb
anyone.

The spot he was seeking was a little down-stream in the shade of a
dangling willow. He soon got busy. He had a fly he called Devil's Charm,
gaudy and fairly large. He did not expect it to be successful but he
thought it might attract attention if the fish were still there. It was,
but although he made three casts there was nothing doing.

He changed it for Baby's Breath, a dainty and fluffy thing which he laid
carefully just where the contemptuous old trout lurked. He withdrew it
almost as quickly. After another cast or two he changed it for the
Angel's Kiss. This he drew more slowly and his victim became alert. It
seemed to be thinking it foolish to miss so much good food. Perhaps its
appetite grew keener. Another tempting cast--a rush--and a good bite. The
old trout sped away and the fight was on.

It was only a matter of time. Roger had plenty of patience and knew his
job. In due course the speckled monster--not perhaps quite as large as he
had thought, but a good two-pounder--lay on the bank.

He tried again but with no further luck. He glanced at his watch and saw
it was later than he had supposed. The bathers would have gone back for
tea. Putting his rod and his flies away--the Angel's Kiss in his cap as
a mark of triumph--he walked to the broad path that led to the lawn.

As he approached the hut he heard a voice.

"Major Bennion!"

It came from the hut. He turned towards it and the voice came again.
Sandra's voice.

"That beast Gwennie Wren took part of my costume to mend it. Can you get
me a coat or something?"

"Will my jacket do?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not in the least. I will shut my eyes!"

A white arm came through the narrowly opened door and took the coat. A
few moments, later Sandra emerged clad in his jacket with the briefest of
briefs beneath it.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The others left us. Then Gwen said the string of my bra was broken--or
she broke it. She said she would run in and mend it or would bring me a
coat. I was to wait in the hut. We hadn't a spare stitch between us. It
must have been at least half an hour ago. She did it purposely. There is
no way to the house except across the lawn where they are having tea. She
wanted me to look a fool before them all!"

Sandra spoke in short, angry sentences. If what she said was true it was
certainly a nasty trick for one girl to play on another. Roger had often
wondered how the female of the species could approach so closely to
nudity and yet place such importance on the remaining strips of ribbon.
Sandra was a finely developed young woman and it would undoubtedly have
caused some sensation if she had approached the party as a human mermaid!

"I thought you and Gwen were such friends," he said.

"What made you think that?"

"Your room is just across the passage from mine. Last night I heard you
ask her in."

"She did not need much asking! Did you hear anything else?"

"I thought Ewen and your husband joined you."

She laughed bitterly. "Quite a party, wasn't it? She hates me."

They were then in full sight of the company on the lawn. Gwen was sitting
in a low chair with a wrap over her shoulders. She was making a good and
leisurely meal.

"Oh, Sandra," she cried. "Sorry I was so long. I couldn't find any thread
and I just had to have a cup of tea."

"What happened?" Ewen asked. "I was just coming to look for you."

Sandra did not reply. She strode on to the house. Roger took attention
from her by displaying his catch.

"Some people have all the luck," Gwen said to him with a mischievous
smile.

9. Tragic Night

Dinner that evening was a more sociable affair than it had been the night
before. For one thing the guests, particularly the womenfolk had become
better acquainted and so were more chatty. For another, there were no
speeches. Politics were left alone. A further reason may have been that
Lady Bethesda told them there was a play on television that her husband
wished to see and which he thought might interest them. It lasted about
an hour and they could resume their discussions afterwards if they
desired to do so. It started at 8.15 so the meal was a little shorter
than previously.

They mostly occupied the same seats as before. Sandra was again next to
Ewen and as Gwennie Wren was on the same side of the table they could not
exchange the hostile glances they might have done had they been
vis-à-vis.

Roger was pleased to find himself still beside Rhoda. She was looking
very pretty, and said in answer to his question that she had not seen her
Jeremy that day.

"A martyr to duty," he smiled.

"No worse than having a class of children to look after," she said.

"Meaning us? You were in charge of the tea?"

"More or less."

"Did our Gwennie make a good meal?"

"I think so. Did you miss her?" Her green eyes sparkled at him.

"I did not, but someone did."

In a low tone he told of his rescue of the forlorn Sandra. "Did Gwennie
go to the house for a needle and thread?"

"Not as far as I know. Had she asked me or one of the maids she could
have had them at once."

"So I imagined. What would you have done in Sandra's place?"

"It couldn't happen to me. If I sunbathe I do not walk about quite so
airily and I always have a wrap. But it was a mean trick, especially with
all these fat old men about."

"That is begging the question. Had you been Sandra what would you have
done?"

"Probably have waited for help as she did. Or I might have fashioned an
apron of leaves like Eve."

"A good idea, if adequate," he smiled. "Has Gwen been here often?"

"Two or three times with Ewen for week-ends. I rather thought he to marry
her."

"He is a man of errant tastes?"

"He is impetuous," Rhoda said. "I am fond of him, but he may get into
trouble if he is not careful."

"With the Henshaws? What about them?"

"They have been here before. I like Sandra, but I hope Ewen won't be
silly about her."

"Enough of them," Roger said. "Tell me more about Jeremy. Is he
impetuous?"

"Not in the same way. He is very determined."

They chatted on and with that and some attention to the lady on his other
side the time passed. It was on the whole a quiet meal. The host and
hostess had little to say, while the male guests were mostly men of
one-track minds. Some of them no doubt had amusing stories to tell in a
smoking room, but that did not seem the occasion for them. Their women
could generally discuss the Royal Family at considerable length and the
prices of fish and vegetables, but such themes also appeared out of
place. The food and wines again were good; they received due attention.

"Are you seeing the television?" Roger asked Rhoda.

"I don't know. It is a story founded on the Battle of Britain. A lot of
shooting and that sort of thing. We have had it before. I do not really
care for it, though uncle does."

"Not in my line either," Roger said. "I had my share of the real thing. I
think I will give it a miss."

Most of the others however, decided to see it and went with their host
and hostess to the room specially fitted for its reception.

Roger went to the billiards room where Captain Henshaw promptly
challenged him to a game of snooker. Old "Jeremiah" Dayton followed them
as an onlooker, but he found a comfortable chair and was soon asleep. It
was a very warm night. There seemed thunder in the air.

"What will you play for?" Ossie asked. "A tenner?"

"I am not a robber," Roger laughed, "and I don't want to be robbed. A
quid if you like."

"Twenty shillings? I thought you would say twenty pounds."

"I play for the fun of the game. A pound is my limit."

Reluctantly Ossie agreed. He was expert with the cue and the balls ran
his way. He won fairly easily.

"I was lucky," he said. "What start do you want to play for a tenner?"

"No start," Roger replied. "Level terms again for another quid."

He did not mean to be lured as his trout had been that afternoon! But he
was by no means a poor player and that time things went kindly. He had
two good breaks and a fine run at the end, winning by a narrow margin.

"Major Bennion, if you have finished, there is something I want to ask
you." This was from "Jeremiah" who had woken from his little nap.

"Certainly," Roger said. "You do not want to play any more, Henshaw?"

"No. I think I'll get a little fresh air. Very hot in here." He walked
out. Why waste time playing for doubtful shillings?

Roger took a seat opposite the old man and lit his pipe. "You are not a
TV fan?" he asked.

"Certainly I am not. Our only hope for sanity is to avoid it. That and
the radio pour out a turgid stream of so-called instruction and amusement
all day and far into the night. Religion followed by jazz. Science and
low comedy, dancing and sport, politics and buffoonery. They pump poison
into us. There is no time for reading or for thought. What sort of people
shall we become?"

"We still have the right to switch off," Roger said. "One of the few
privileges left us. What was it you wished to ask me?"

"What we were talking about last night. Is it an indictable offence for
Members of Parliament to discuss deposing the Monarch to whom they have
sworn fealty."

"Perhaps it ought to be." Roger said, "But we pride ourselves on freedom
of speech. Some people have always had Republican ideas."

"Should they enter parliament and take that oath without abandoning them?
You would not?"

"Certainly not," Roger smiled, "but I have no parliamentary ambitions.
Britain has been at its greatest under its Queens: Elizabeth, Anne and
Victoria. Things are not too bright at the moment but, as Ewen said,
Elizabeth the Second may be the greatest of them all."

"I would like to think so." "Jeremiah" nodded, rubbing a hand through his
whiskers. "I did not hear it all very clearly. I was thinking more of the
end of things. Is that at hand? The signs all point that way. Can you
believe that man will know how to destroy the World without someone
wanting to try?"

"Yes, if the man would thereby destroy himself."

"But if a Hitler, making a bid for world power, knew he had failed, would
he not destroy himself and humanity, if he had the means of doing so,
rather than give in?"

"Possibly," Roger said, not wishing to prolong the discussion. "But
talking of Queens, I have sometimes wondered if we should do better if
the royal descent was in the female line. There have been many notable
Queens in history; Catherine the Great of Russia, Maria Theresa,
Cleopatra, Balkis the Queen of Sheba, Boadicea, Theodora--"

"Who was Theodora? I haven't heard of her."

"Some woman in her day," Roger said. "Early sixth century I believe. A
slave, a circus performer, a courtesan and finally an empress. She
married Justinian and they ruled the Roman Empire on a fifty-fifty basis.
She was the better man of the two. When there was a rebellion the Emperor
would have run away but she told him the best shroud was the imperial
purple. They won through. Bees and ants have queens, so have wasps. In
some ways it is easier and more chivalrous for men to serve under a
Queen--"

He was speaking half in jest, but there was a sudden crash of thunder
that seemed to shake the house. He went to the window and pulled back the
curtain. "A real storm at last," he said. "It should clear the air a
bit." Further peals followed, with vivid flashes of lightning. But
"Jeremiah" disregarded them.

"I am not really a party man," he rambled on. "People think I am a
pessimist, but I am not--unless a pessimist is a disappointed idealist.
If there is no spiritual awakening Britain's doom is certain. Eat, drink
and be merry seems to be our motto. Do you believe in an afterlife, Major
Bennion?"

It was a strange change of subject. Stranger still had they known what
was happening at that moment.

"I once put that question to an eminent archaeologist and geologist,"
Roger replied. "Had his researches into the remote past, before man
appeared on earth, given him any idea as to his future?"

"And his answer?"

"He said definitely yes. The more we understood the past the better we
realized its plan and its ordered progress until its object, Man, was
attained. It was impossible to believe that the Creator, or the
Originator, would thereupon scrap His wonderful achievement. There must
be further progress, though what form it would take he could not tell,
any more than the first jelly fish could foresee homo sapiens!"

"He was right," "Jeremiah" said. "It would be senseless--"

Suddenly he stopped: There was a scream, a piercing scream, very
different from the thunder.

"What was that?" Roger cried. "It came from the TV room. I must see."

Captain Henshaw had left the door open. The hall was in darkness but
light showed through the obscured glass panel in the adjacent door of the
television room. As Roger opened it a swirl of wind blew forward the
heavy window curtains, almost threatening to upset the apparatus that
stood in front of them. Hastily he closed the door.

It was a curious sight that he beheld. A ceiling light was on;  the TV
set was not functioning. Most of the people were standing. They clustered
round something he could not at first see, in the front row of the seats.
Some of them looked at him when he entered. Pale, with horror in her
eyes, Rhoda came to him.

"It is Ewen," whispered. "He--he is dead!"

"Struck by lightning?"

"I--I don't think so."

Lord and Lady Bethesda were standing beside the recumbent figure on the
central seat just in front of the TV set. The others surrounded them.
Shock and horror showed in every face.

Roger went forward. They made way for him. But for the fact that his head
was sunk on to his chest Ewen might still have been looking at the
picture. Blood was trickling down his cheek and more blood was staining
his soft white shirt. He was leaning back in his chair, his hands hanging
inertly at the sides. Roger took one of them. There was little doubt the
man was dead. He examined the TV set. Was it possible that some mechanism
there could have caused so terrible an accident? He could hardly believe
it, even in such a storm. The light came on at once and soon a voice was
speaking normally, though with crackles due to atmospheric disturbance.
He switched off. Another flash of lightning and a roll of thunder
followed by shrill screams from some of the women added further grimness
to the scene.

"What happened?" Roger asked.

"He has been shot," Lord Bethesda replied in a hoarse tone. "You
understand these things. What must we do?" He was obviously suffering
from the shock and seemed quite unable to deal with the tragic situation.

At his word Roger took command. He felt the horror of the occasion but he
knew what had to be done.

"Rhoda," he said, "will you please telephone your uncle's doctor. Tell
him what has happened and ask him to inform the police and request them
to come at once."

Then he turned to the rest of the company.

"Will you all return to the seats you were occupying while you were
watching the picture."

"The police!" some of them muttered.

"What do our seats matter if he was shot from outside?" Lady Bethesda
asked. "He must have been. The window was open." She was pale and spoke
with some effort.

"That we have to be sure of," Roger replied. "Please do as I say."

No one questioned it and, as they moved, the body moved, too. It remained
in the chair but rolled a little to one side. They were deep arm-chairs,
no doubt very comfortable. Roger raised the sagging head. It appeared
there were two wounds, one in the right eye and the other lower down in
the region of the heart. Either might have been speedily fatal.

"Did anyone leave the room?"

No one answered, except that one woman muttered it was dark.

"If there were shots, did anyone hear them?"

Again there was no reply though Mrs. Doodell said there was shooting and
bombing all the time and after that the thunder.

Roger glanced round the room. The TV apparatus stood in the recess of the
bay window. It was a fairly large box showing a seventeen-inch picture.
It stood on four stout legs high enough to give good vision for all: In
front of it were five rows of seats, each with five chairs except the one
nearest the screen where there were only three. No doubt the picture
would be distorted from the extreme side. Fourteen seats were now
occupied leaving nine empty.

On the centre of the three front seats, the dead man sprawled. No one
claimed the seat on either side of him.

"Did he sit there alone?" Roger asked.

"He liked to be able to turn the knobs," Lady Bethesda said. "Most people
prefer to be further back."

She was sitting with her husband in the last row of all, at the side.
Then Rhoda returned.

"They are coming," she said in a very subdued voice.

"Where did you sit?" Roger asked her.

"I thought it was here." She indicated the first seat in the third tow.

"I sat here," said Mrs. Boyne who was already in occupation. "Next my
husband."

"I was a little late and it was dark," Rhoda admitted. "It was an end
seat; I thought it was that."

"You are right," Sandra said from the seat behind. "You touched my
shoulder when you came in. I think that lady and gentleman had moved up
to be nearer the centre."

"That's right, Lil," Mr. Boyne said. "I was straight behind Ewen. Might
have been shot myself!"

That left eight vacant chairs.

"It was light enough for you to recognise her?" Roger asked Sandra.

"I wouldn't say that, but I knew who it was. Later, of course, when the
light came on, I saw her."

"Was it dark in the hall when you came in?" Roger enquired, this time of
Rhoda.

"There was a light in the front part. It was dark here."

"Is that usual?"

The girl hesitated. "Uncle Jim likes it dark. If people come in and go
out it is rather an interruption when the light outside is on."

Roger noted the switch by the door. It apparently turned on the ceiling
light that illumined the whole room. There are more modern appliances
that throw the light upwards and so leave a soft glow in the that does
not affect the picture. Since visitors were infrequent and the Bethesdas
were generally alone they had not troubled about that.

"No one heard the shots," Roger remarked. "When was the tragedy
discovered?"

"When the lights went on," Mrs. Boyne said.

"Who turned them on?"

"I did," Lady Bethesda replied. "The picture ended. There was silence
except for the thunder. Then something started we didn't want to see. So
I switched on the light and called to Ewen to turn off. Then someone
screamed. I think it was Mrs. Doodell or Miss Wren."

"It wasn't me," Gwen said.

"I couldn't help it," Mrs. Doodell muttered. "He hadn't moved so I bent
forward to speak to him.... It was horrible."

"I screamed, too," Mrs. Dayton said. "His head was sunk forward and I saw
the blood."

"A great shock," Roger said sympathetically. "The picture was showing, I
believe, from 8.15 to 9.15. The thunderstorm started as far as I can
judge just after nine."

"There were atmospherics before that," Joe Edmonds remarked.

"Yes, but if the shots came from outside they would probably have been
before the storm."

"Why so?" one of the men asked.

"Anyone would have been soaked in a few minutes and might have been shown
up by the lightning. Did any of you speak to Ewen or notice him in any
way during the play?"

Sandra answered. "Someone asked for it to be louder. But that was near
the beginning. I think it was Lady Bethesda."

"That is right," the lady said. "His lordship is slightly deaf: We could
hear the noises but not the words. Ewen was all right then."

"I have made a rough sketch showing where you were all sitting. Is it
correct?"

Roger passed it to Lord Bethesda who took it with rather a shaky hand.

"I think so--except--"

"Naturally we do not know where everyone sat," Rhoda remarked. "A few
moved, like Mr. and Mrs. Boyne, and one or two came in later."

"How late? When the play had started or later than that?"

"Soon, after it started."

"Can any of you recall anyone else who was here for any part of the time
and is not here now?"

There was no reply. They mostly shook their heads. "And no one left?"

Again there was no answer, except that Lady Bethesda said, "They could
hardly do that without obstructing our view."

Then the door opened. Dr. Strange and the police had arrived.

10. Among Those Missing

Once again the window curtains billowed and the door was quickly shut.
The storm had lessened but not fully abated.

Dr. Strange, an elderly man with greying hair, was accompanied by
Inspector Bellairs of the local police and two constables. At a sign from
Roger the doctor and the inspector went forward to look at Ewen's body.
They were soon satisfied that life was extinct. The doctor, of course,
recognised him and glanced round the room. He saw his old patient at the
back and went across to him.

"This is very very distressing," he said. "You and Lady Bethesda have my
deepest sympathy. How are you feeling yourself?"

"Not very well," Lord Bethesda replied shakily. "I would like to go to my
room if I may. Major Bennion can tell you all about it."

"Everyone might go," Roger said "We are all staying in the house. Here is
a chart showing where each one is sitting now, and where, as far as they
know, they were sitting when the shots were fired. There are five other
guests who were not present. I did not come in until afterwards."

The inspector took the chart and checked it with the num