The Campus Trilogy (45 page)

The Provost said the St Sebastian’s Latin grace before we sat down. But I was diverted by Sir William. He was looking
flustered
, almost angry. Had he perhaps been unsettled by the game with Elsa? I did not think this probable. He came from a culture which emphasised the importance of being a good loser. Anyway, he had enjoyed himself. Perhaps he had mislaid his speech? But no, I could see it was still in his dinner-jacket pocket. I was
mystified
. Something was very wrong, but I had no idea what it could be. As the Feast went on, Sir William did not calm down. I hoped the food and drink would have a soothing effect on him, but, if anything, he became more agitated. He kept glancing angrily in the direction of Luigi Mancini; then he frowned, shook his head and clicked his tongue. He left most of his dinner uneaten although I noticed that he did take several glasses of wine.

Flanagan, on the other hand, was having a splendid time. He and Luigi had quickly established a rapport and they were telling each other stories and roaring with laughter.

Apart from Sir William, it seemed to be a successful dinner. The food was good. The Great Hall, lit by candles, looked dark and romantic. The waiters were unobtrusive and each course succeeded the previous one seamlessly. Over us loomed Julian Bosie’s portrait of our patron saint, but in the shadowy light even that monstrosity looked rather elegant.

After the raspberry pavlova, coffee was poured out and port was circulated. Flanagan stood up, tinkled his fork against a plate and raised his glass. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘The Queen!’

There was a loud scraping of chairs as everyone stood and said in unison, ‘The Queen!’ Then we all sat down again and there was a general air of relaxation. However, Flanagan was not to be cheated of making a speech.

He began by welcoming Luigi Mancini, his brother-in-law Sylvester and the Mancini accountant Wolfie Goldberg to St Sebastian’s. This was a great occasion, he said, because it was the inauguration of an extensive building project to house the new Golden Arrow Casino Training College and to launch a full degree programme in Casino Management. The Mancini
organisation
from Las Vegas was funding this huge initiative in
conjunction
with its own training school, the King Midas Casino College in Nevada. There would be a constant exchange of
students
(I thought momentarily of Miss de la Rue), and both
institutions
would be enriched by the mutual contact.

Then the Vice-Chancellor turned to his neighbour on his other side. Sir William looked straight ahead as Flanagan leaned towards him and embarked on a lengthy introduction. Sir William, he said, was an important landowner in Shropshire, well-known for his enlightened attitudes towards his tenants. He was a scion of one of the noble families of England. One only had to look at him to see that he was a top bloke, both a sportsman and a gentleman. Then he gave a brief account of our stay in the Dormouse castle and he made a joke about the lack of central heating. Sir William smiled wanly. At the same time he
emphasised
the warmth and generosity of Sir William’s hospitality and his enthusiasm for this new venture at St Sebastian’s.

When Flanagan finally wound down, Sir William raised
himself
to his feet. He had taken the script of his speech out of the pocket of his dinner jacket, but he left it untouched beside his port glass. Clearly he was intending to speak impromptu …

‘Vice-Chancellor, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he began. ‘It is an honour to be with you this evening. What your Vice-Chancellor has initiated is a very excellent plan, very excellent indeed! There is no doubt that the government will be successful in its
determination
to establish super-casinos throughout the British Isles. Jolly good idea, in my view! Nothing wrong with a game of cards or two! Keeps people off the streets! And quite right to involve the university in the early stages. Train people properly from the
beginning, that’s the thing! Then we know that all the games will be sporting and above board …

‘Now, when I was a schoolboy, I played quite a bit of
blackjack
. There wasn’t much else to do in school in those days to tell you the truth. None of this modern emphasis on examinations. You either got wet and muddy playing rugger or you sat cosy and warm in front of your study fire having a flutter or two. Jolly good fun it was …

‘More recently I have become a serious player. I know some of you watched me have a few hands with that lady sitting over there.’ He pointed with his long bony finger at old Mrs Catnip who was placed far down the table. ‘Let me tell you, she was a worthy opponent! Probably the best player I have ever come across.’ Sir William bowed in Elsa Catnip’s direction and raised his glass. ‘My congratulations, Madam. First rate if I may say so! There should be more like you!’ Everyone took this as a cue for a round of applause. Mrs Catnip looked confused for a moment. Then she got to her feet and made a shy little bow before sitting down again. Her daughter, who was sitting opposite, looked almost apoplectic with fury.

Sir William returned to his theme: ‘So you see
Vice-Chancellor
, I fully support this admirable initiative of yours and I have every confidence that the St Sebastian’s Golden Arrow Casino and the degree course directed by Dr Glass will be a
triumph
for the university. And so it should be …’

If only he had stopped there, all would have been well. But he had not finished. There was a long pause while he looked down at Luigi Mancini who was smoking a very large cigar and drumming his fingers on the table. ‘However I must warn you Vice-Chancellor,’ continued Sir William, ‘I believe you have made a very serious error. One hesitates to accuse a fellow-guest, but I’m afraid there can be no mistake about this. That individual who is sitting beside you, Signor Mantovani or whatever he is called, is not a person you should be associating with. I’ve met him once before and I have incontrovertable evidence that he is neither a gentleman nor a sportsman. Indeed, Ladies and Gentlemen, I can only describe him as the very worst sort of cad!’

There was a hush in the Great Hall. This was not the kind of speech the company had been expecting. The evening was
certainly
 
turning out to be interesting. After a moment Sir William continued his tirade. ‘It is only right that you all should know the basis of my accusation. I will tell you the full history of our acquaintance. Last summer I took a short holiday in Las Vegas with my daughter whom many of you may know, Victoria, the wife of Professor Harry Gilbert. We stayed at the Cleopatra’s Palace Hotel and I was anxious to try my hand at blackjack!

‘I had recently read a most interesting and excellent book, which I hope will be required reading in your new Casino Management Degree programme. It is called
How to Win at
Blackjack in Ten Easy Lessons
and it is written by an American mathematician, Dr Ernest Ripper. Well I was anxious to try out his recommendations and strategies which involved observing very carefully which cards had been played. And I have to say, it was most effective. I spent an evening in the Cleopatra’s Palace Casino and, though I say it myself, I was doing very well. Indeed, I had high hopes that by the end of my holiday I would have made enough money to install central heating in my house and your Vice-Chancellor would never again have had to borrow a hot water bottle to keep himself warm at night.’ There was a ripple of laughter around the room. Everyone was fascinated by Sir William’s narrative.

‘After a couple of hours, I was just getting into my stride and was starting to win a great deal of money. I claim no credit for this. It was merely the result of the application of the principles as explained by the splendid Dr Ripper. But then I was rudely
interrupted
. The manager of the casino, instead of being pleased to see an elderly guest enjoy himself and win a well-earned thousand or two, decided to intervene.

‘My stack of chips was undoubtedly increasing and indeed reaching significant proportions when several very
sinister-looking
… well I can only describe them as thugs, surrounded me. It was most unpleasant. They were all wearing ill-tailored shiny suits and they all reeked of some very vulgar, cheap hair-oil. Without a by-your-leave, they had the audacity to frog-march me into some tart’s boudoir of a backroom where I was confronted by the very rascal, Vice-Chancellor, who is sitting on your right-hand side this evening.

‘He insisted I sit down and one of his appalling henchmen
offered me a glass of whisky. I thought I was being poisoned. It was totally unlike any whisky I had ever drunk in my life before. It tasted even worse than the stuff we used to brew up in the
officers
’ mess just before we embarked on the D-Day landings in the last war.

‘Then this fellow had the impertinence to tell me that card counting was banned. He said it was against the rules. And then he expelled me from his casino, and told me that I would be debarred from any premises he owned for life.’ Sir William paused at this point in his story. The memory had made him quite angry and he wiped his flushed face with a large white handkerchief.

‘As you can imagine, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he continued, ‘I was profoundly shocked. I always understood that our American allies, like ourselves, believed in free enterprise and personal
initiative
. I should have remembered my experience in the army. We always used to say amongst ourselves that the Yanks couldn’t be depended on. Rotten bad soldiers they were. Kept getting upset! Totally unreliable! In my view we’d have won the war much sooner without them!

‘Still I mustn’t get diverted from my subject. I was appalled at my treatment. Damned unsporting is all I can say! Just because that bandit there was going to have to pay out a pound or two in winnings, he stopped me from playing. I can only call that being a bad loser, a rotten bad loser!’ He turned the full force of his fury onto Luigi Mancini who sat as if he had been turned to stone. ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Your conduct is a disgrace to your profession! It is not cricket and it simply will not do!’

Having made this pronouncement in a voice of thunder, he turned back to Flanagan. His manner softened. ‘So you see
Vice-Chancellor
, I have a duty to warn you against this criminal. For the sake of your own reputation as a gentleman and to save your university from dishonour and disgrace, it is vital that you break all ties with him immediately. I am sure you are innocent in this matter and you had no idea of the snake in the grass you were harbouring, but, before it is too late, I must beg you to sever the connection.’

At this point, Luigi stubbed out his cigar. He stood up and
gestured
to Sylvester and Wolfie to follow him. Without a backward glance the three of them marched down the length of the Great
Hall and disappeared out of the far doors. They left a stunned silence behind them.

Then Flanagan came to his senses. He sprang to his feet and gave chase. ‘Wait!’ he cried. ‘Just wait a moment!’ But it was too late. The three men had hurried down the steps of the Old Building and had climbed silently into the white stretch-
limousine
which was waiting outside. As the Vice-Chancellor arrived on the pavement, the great car was already speeding round the corner and in a couple of seconds it had disappeared from view. Flanagan was left in the chilly street gazing after it.

The dinner broke up soon afterwards. Sir William seemed blithely unconcerned that he had wrecked the evening. Indeed, he appeared to feel that he had done the university a good turn. Flanagan was plainly furious. He barely said goodnight to his guest and he hustled Helga none too gently into his
Mercedes-Benz.

For the next few days rumours circulated around the university. Firstly, we heard that Helga was in hospital. The story was that she had tripped on the stairs and had fallen, hitting her head against the bannister. What was certain was she had bad
concussion
and possibly even a fractured skull.

Meanwhile all the plans to build a casino were put on hold. The Vice-Chancellor had tried to contact Luigi at the White Hart Hotel after the Feast, but there was no one there. The Mancinis had ordered the limousine to drive directly to London where the whole party had stayed at the Connaught. The very next day they caught a flight to Las Vegas from Heathrow. Sylvester, however, had telephoned to say that the Mancini organisation was no longer interested in establishing any sort of partnership with St Sebastian’s.

I received a note from the Vice-Chancellor’s secretary. He did not blame me for the debacle – mercifully he did not know that I had already heard of Sir William’s adventure in Las Vegas. He merely expressed regret that things had gone so badly. He was angry with Sir William. He felt he had been ungrateful and
tactless
. In the light of the lack of sponsorship, he could see no way that the proposed degree in Casino Management could now be established. This meant that I would have to revert to my
original
 
responsibilities and he would be informing Dr John Pilkington, my Head of Department, of this fact.

It also emerged that Joy Pickles had left St Sebastian’s. Wolfie Goldberg had telephoned her from London and she had joined him the next day and had flown with the Mancinis to Las Vegas. We heard that Sylvester had arranged for her to be given a job as the new administrator of the King Midas Casino College. I felt a certain satisfaction at this. With Joy’s level of efficiency, it was highly unlikely that the school would ever recruit any more ‘
students
’. The Registrar however was disconsolate and was taking time off work.

When I next saw Magnus in the Senior Common Room, he was reading a copy of the
St Sebastian’s Gazette
. On the front page was a picture of Luigi Mancini and the headline: ‘Scandal Dogs Uni Casino’.

‘So,’ he said, ‘we’re not going in for gambling after all.’