House of All Nations (75 page)

Commodity prices in the U.S.A. had fallen and Léon, forewarned, had not only made considerable money selling short, but his expected advices had come through from Copenhagen and Swiss informants and his ‘check technique' had worked … Jules, in so far as he owned gold in his branches abroad, found his position worse on the books. Towards the end, just before the steel trap closed, he had sold the pound short in a small quantity, and the gold he owned abroad (a virtual short sale on the pound) resulted in another profit. But he sat and mourned the ‘lost opportunity.'

‘Down on the Côte d'Azur I said I was going to sell the pound till Kingdom Come and that fellow Bomba talked me out of it; and Stewart with his ‘everything's splendid,' and Plowman, with his patriotism!' He laughed helplessly. Hardly had he said it than Carrière appeared in their midst, very jolly.

‘Well, Jules, I had you that time! Eighteen months to go on my brewery contract! What do you say to that? I called the turns nicely. Ah-ha, I bet that'll just about clean you out, my boy.'

‘Don't stay awake at night congratulating yourself,' jeered Jules. ‘I can always pay your drafts out of my petty-cash drawer.'

‘Indeed? I hope to see it. Well, I'm celebrating on the strength of it. I'll be seeing you.'

‘Can't you keep bad news to yourself?' Jules joked. ‘Don't spend too much: Snowden's going to limit the pound.'

When Carrière had gone and William had cleared out Plowman, Cambo, and the great crowd of lively folk who had come in to discuss the pound, he inquired, ‘Carrière seems to think you're still going to pay him on those drafts?'

‘He thinks so. I'll see. If I have the petty cash, I'll pay him. If not, not.'

* * *

Scene Sixty-two: Sealed Orders

F
irst,' said Jules, ‘let's send Constant to England again to find out about the Carrière brewery transaction: I know there's something very fishy about it. The Comtesse de Voigrand told me his mother, Madame de Benezech, was very persuasive about it and begged Voigrand to put me into the bet with Carrière.'

William said their English solicitors, Ledger, Ledger, and Braves, could find out more than a lost Frenchman like Constant. But no, Jules had to send his own envoy. He haggled and heckled for Constant. William was cantankerous and asserted that he only wanted to attach a good honest hard-working boy to his team of necromancers. Alphendéry, out of friendship for Constant, exclaimed, ‘Why no: Constant is ideal. No one will suspect him; no one but Ledger knows him. He can represent himself as a student, say of finance, at the London School of Economics: that explains his inquiries, his accent.'

They called in Adam.

‘Adam, I want you to go to London. Can you leave this afternoon?'

‘Yes. What am I to do?'

‘Never mind that. We'll tell you before you leave. You must have lunch with Mr. Alphendéry. You can leave by the 4.40 this afternoon?'

‘Yes … When will I get my instructions?'

‘At lunch. Run home and get your bag now, and meet Alphendéry for lunch. Tell Mr. Husson to arrange for a first-class return ticket for you, for this evening's train.'

Alphendéry said hastily, officiously, ‘If you'll kindly have lunch with me at one at the Brasserie Universelle, downstairs first: I'll tell you over the
apéritif
…'

When Constant had gone, dazed, Alphendéry said, ‘Now what do you want Constant to do, Jules? I don't know more than he does.'

Jules was surprised at the rapidity of events himself, but he passed it off. ‘Oh you just leave it to Constant: he'll find it all out. He's smart. We don't have to give him instructions. Let him work it out his own way. Just sketch it: you know how. We want to find out about Carrière's alleged sale of a brewery. Tell him to go to Ledger and Braves, in High Holborn. They'll go over it with him. He'll probably suggest something to them.'

‘Good gracious! they don't know anything about it themselves. And they don't need his help.'

‘Well, let Adam tell them what we want and let them put their heads together. Let him find a way. Say, he's maybe smarter than all of us.'

‘But, it's not necessary.'

‘I want him to go to London for me.'

‘You ought to have an ambassador permanently in London,' said William.

‘That's an idea too,' Jules smiled back, impudently. ‘I'll consider it. You're coming along nicely.'

At lunch Adam brought out a notebook and pencil. ‘Will you let me itemize everything I have to do? I want to use my time economically, and I had the curious feeling last time that I hadn't got the gist of the thing at all: I mean, I felt ridiculous, I didn't understand my mission, or its importance.'

Alphendéry said, ‘To tell the truth, Mr. Bertillon and I had little time to go over it this afternoon. I can give you an outline. I'm going to go to his home this evening and go over things with him quietly. The best thing is for you to take this afternoon's train—he's very keen on that, and I don't want to disappoint him—and then I'll telegraph you at your hotel first thing tomorrow if there are extra instructions … You may as well get straight away; the sooner, the better.' Adam looked puzzled. Alphendéry laughed. ‘In the meantime, another St.-Raphaël? My favorite.'

‘Yes, thanks, but the? …' Constant was baffled: he wondered, if by some trick of strained attention, he had missed out a whole sentence of Alphendéry, explaining the purpose of his visit. Alphendéry suddenly spilled the whole affair, though.

‘Dr. Jacques Carrière signed an exchange contract with Mr. Jules Bertillon some six months ago, whereby Mr. Bertillon was to receive drafts in pounds sterling and to change these into the equivalent in francs and to pay to Dr. Carrière the stipulated amount in francs. You see, it is a long-term exchange operation. The pound sterling was always to be paid out at a rate of 122 francs in the pound. In other terms, Mr. Bertillon bet that the pound would not fall and that when the draft came in, the pound would be either at 122 francs or even above that figure. And Dr. Carrière bet that the pound would fall to below 122 francs, and arranged that even if the pound fell to say, one hundred francs, Mr. Bertillon would be obliged to pay him at the rate of 122 francs and therefore would be twenty-two francs out of pocket for every pound in the draft. These drafts are still coming in: therefore Mr. Bertillon is still losing money, the pound having dropped considerably. Clear, so far?'

Adam made a grimace. ‘Yes, I've heard about it and the brewery at Burton-upon-Trent …'

‘Now, although I have not seen the contract, I believe it is in order and that Mr. Bertillon is obliged to pay out this loss unless it is proved that the alleged sale of the brewery did not take place. In which case, Dr. Carrière is guilty of misrepresentation and the contract (which I am pretty sure exists, although I have not seen it) can be contested …'

‘Hasn't Mr. Bertillon a copy of the contract?'

‘If he has, he won't show it to us.' Alphendéry grinned, looked round, then softly
:
‘A secret: he
says
there isn't one; but we are pretty sure—never tell this to anyone, not even Ledger, Ledger, and Braves. Just act as if the contract existed. It does, I'd stake my last franc— However, you see how it stands. If no sale of the brewery ever took place, then Carrière is just having his agent present drafts in sterling at pleasure. His theory, you see, was that he was to be paid for the brewery by two-monthly drafts of two thousand pounds each. He did not want to lose on the two thousand pounds in terms of francs, if the pound were to fall. Therefore he got his guarantee of 122 francs per pound from Mr. Bertillon. The pound is now at 96 … But if the brewery was not sold, then he is simply presenting drafts of two thousand pounds each two months, through a dummy agent, the two thousand pounds (devalued) coming out of his own pocket. Do you see? In other words, he is paying Jules two thousand pounds at 96 francs to the pound and receiving at the rate of 122 francs to the pound; or he is giving Jules 192,000 francs and receiving from him in exchange 244,000 francs, a profit of fifty-two thousand francs every two months, for nothing! You understand! Now, if Jules had made the contract outright, there would be no help for it. But as the contract was made theoretically for payments on a brewery, we could charge misrepresentation … Do you think you could by any means discover whether that brewery was sold or not?'

‘Nothing should be easier,' remarked Adam coolly. ‘This is very simple. Why don't you write to the solicitors and let them do it? …'

‘Well,' Alphendéry was embarrassed, ‘Jules is very anxious to have someone on the spot. It is his mania … don't cross him!'

Adam laughed.

Alphendéry argued his case (his nature, he did it unconsciously in every dilemma): ‘You get a trip to England, you improve the tongue, you get to know our solicitors, you get the opportunity of presenting a case, and of ferreting around; you have full authority—and no doubt while you're there, we'll find other work for you. And you'll get a holiday from Suzanne: she'll like you better when you come back …'

‘Oh, I don't mind. Would it be necessary to go to Burton-upon-Trent?'

‘If it's necessary, you've only got to telegraph me and you'll get the funds or you can draw on our London brokers or on Ledger's: I'll advise them.'

Adam asked, ‘Good! But don't you think you could find out whether there really is a contract or not?'

Alphendéry said controversially, ‘There must be! A man like Jules doesn't pay out debts of honor: the idea is ridiculous. To Carrière? No. You pay a debt of honor to avoid being expelled from a club, but for no other reason. However, as you say, if we had our hand on it—I'll try again!' He sighed. ‘You don't know Jules.'

Adam smiled. ‘I'm beginning to. He's fascinating! 'Tis pity he's a banker. He's only made to be a flier, a dancer—a messenger of the gods.'

‘Well, is it all right now? You know what you're going for? We want you to trace this alleged sale of a brewery, go to Burton-upon-Trent,
take advice with Ledger, Ledger, and if you don't want to go, instruct someone to go up there for our account. I don't need to say that this is entirely confidential … Also, you can pop in on Dacre-Derek Caudal, the chap you employed for Mr. Bertillon on the last occasion, for the loan company and see how he is getting along. He's probably doing nothing. Cheer him up. Tell him we'll make money one of these days.'

When Alphendéry got back to the bank he found Jules delighted that Adam had gone and almost believing that his troubles were all dispelled.

‘Telegraph him when he gets there and tell him—tell him to see your friend Buck Fellowes, the secretary of Lord Reddermere. Mme. de Benezech had an English mother who belonged to the Chemicals gang, and Mme. de Benezech was brought up in England, knows Reddermere intimately … Then tell Constant to go to the communists. He is one: he'll be
persona grata
. They're always muckraking; tell him to tell them we'll pay them—how much would they work for? —they'd be glad of twenty pounds, wouldn't they?—see how much they want to trail Carrière's operations and show him up.' Alphendéry laughed. Jules said in a spirited tone, ‘Sure, they'll do it: it's a pleasure and they're paid for it … Then tell him to go to the
Investors' Critic
and see that little fellow who came here once or twice: Smethers—he's a good sleuth and always needs dough, like all the journalists. Get a dozen people on his trail: you're sure to get something on him …'

‘Did you ever think that the papers here (not suffering from the English libel law) are full of the true oil and triple-bottom lowdown on Carrière and
that
doesn't do you any good … You don't need such an enlistment, to find out if the sale really took place.'

‘You don't know the Carrière gang: they'd even close their ranks and stop squabbling for a month to get my head under water … You see, you can't tell Ledger, Ledger, and Braves all that; they're righteous Englishmen probably; they haven't got the worldly style of our own lawyers; they'd probably be offended and hypocritical if I told them the truth …'

‘You're fantastic, Jules: lawyers are never offended. The higher you go, the better the name, the less offended they are. The poor lawyer is offended because he's raising his price; the expensive lawyer knows that if you walk into the office, you'll pay the price.'

Jules persisted, childishly, ‘Then if he's good at this, we can use him for other secret missions.'

‘What secret missions have we got?'

‘Besides,' Jules ignored him. ‘Besides, he has the instinct of an amateur, not hidebound in presuppositions, you see. He's like a woman: he'll put his finger on the spot.'

‘There is something in that,' conceded Alphendéry. ‘All right, Jules. Good night. Then you don't want to see me tonight?'

‘No, no. Tomorrow is time enough. Just write him to see the communists and Buck Fellowes and so on.'

Alphendéry laughed and rolled himself out of the room. He was confused: he felt as if Jules had yet some other scheme in mind and had not yet the courage to put it forward. He was puzzled and did not know how to tie Jules down to the main issue: that of getting the goods on Carrière and breaking the (apparent) contract.

Two days later though Ledger, Ledger, and Braves had yet received no letter from Bertillon's confirming Adam's mission, Adam himself received the following letter from Alphendéry explaining a further discussion that he was to have with the lawyers. It was as follows,

Dear Adam,

Please ask James Ledger the following questions. 1. In time of war would the English government confiscate the gold of aliens and if so, 2. Would it recompense at the statutory rate? 3. Would the British government ever violate the integrity of a safe-deposit vault for the sake of confiscation in wartime or similar panic? 4. Would an English bank visit its own vaults and report gold holdings to the government; could it be forced to do so? 5. If the deposit of gold became known and the declaration of gold holdings had become obligatory, would the government confiscate and pay the holder off (with penalty or not), or would it permit him to exchange the gold for partnerships, estates, or other property, etc., in England?