The Doors Open (23 page)

“It will undoubtedly have occurred to you to wonder,” he said, “what my standing in this matter may be. However, if you are prepared, for the time being, to take that on trust, I will merely mention that this gentleman with me here is Mr Curtis, one of the legal advisers to the Director of Public Prosecutions. And it is with the consent of the Director that I am taking this course.” He paused for a moment, then went on, picking his words carefully: “You must all of you be aware, from what I have already told you, that the great corporation whose interests you represent stands in danger. But if you are to appreciate the real gravity of the position, I shall have to go back some years, and tell you something about your General Manager.

“It is the history of a young communist, a single-minded enthusiast, a drinker of the undiluted waters of Marx, who joined the great steel firm of Impeys at Deptford, at the beginning of this century, and quickly made his mark – in more ways than one. As an active and intelligent worker, and as a political organizer. He became, at a very early age, a shop steward – or what passed for one in those days – and he organized and took part in a series of strikes and demonstrations which culminated in his dismissal by the firm. The matter, unfortunately, did not end there. There was a scene in the staff manager’s office, a policeman was called in, and Legate – or Lake, as he called himself in those days – struck him. As a result, he got a prison sentence.

“Incidentally, it was suggested at the time that he may not have been entirely responsible for his actions. On the previous day he had been involved in an affair in Hyde Park and had suffered a sort of delayed concussion from a truncheon blow. I don’t think we shall ever know the real truth about that, but there is a certain amount of evidence that Legate regarded that day as the turning point in his life. When he was suffering the effects of concussion he talked in the most lucid way about his life’s plans and ambitions to a doctor who happened to be attending to him. Whether or not they were exactly those plans which he eventually followed up we do not, of course, know. But in view of the fact that he later thought it necessary to have this doctor traced, and later still, when his plans were very near to fruition – to have him murdered – well, it seems probable. For make no mistake about it, gentlemen, he was a very patient, very determined, very far-seeing man, infinitely capable of subordinating himself to an objective.

“He had the weakness of his strength, too. He was a great hater. He didn’t forget things. I suppose you must have noticed that he had an etching of the north-west corner of Hyde Park hanging in his office. I am told that it went with him wherever he worked. Well, that sort of thing was typical, and in the end it brought him down. However, I am getting ahead of myself.

“When Lake came out of prison he changed his name – a reasonable enough action in a man who wished to live down his one criminal indiscretion – and he joined the army. He had an undistinguished career, but he got what he wanted – commissioned rank – and a few contacts. After the war he went into his CO’s firm, and soon made his mark. He was the type who gets on, and he had the additional advantage of knowing exactly where he was going. He changed firms, joining Moody and Van Bright in, I think, about 1926. They were a smaller business, and he was very soon in virtual control. When he made his money, during and after the 1931 financial crisis, he bought out the existing partners and put in young Philip Van Bright as his nominee. So that when he came to you as General Manager he retained – although of course you weren’t to know it – the control of that firm.”

“No wonder we did such a lot of business through them,” said Mr Atkinson drily.

“And they hold most of our securities,” squeaked Mr Chattell, appearing for a moment above the surface.

“Yes, we’re coming to that. But there’s one thing I should like to clear up first. When Lake joined you – did you ask
him
to take the post, or did he apply for it?”

“He applied for it,” said Sir George Burroughs. “But even if he hadn’t we should probably have asked him. There wasn’t another man of his standing or special knowledge available. We congratulated ourselves that we had made a very good bargain. Even now I can hardly see–”

“Don’t be silly, George,” said Lord Stallybrowe. “He joined us to ruin us. To ruin us. And he has ruined us.”

The solvent of personal danger was quickly reducing each of them to primary elements.

“Personally,” said Mr Atkinson coolly, “I’d welcome a few more details about this ‘ruining’. We’ve got very good auditors and the last balance sheet looked healthy enough to me.”

“Right,” said Lord Cedarbrook. “I hoped you’d say that, because it brings me to my next point. When Legate joined this corporation his objects, as I see them, were twofold. To get his own back on the world of big business, and to line his pockets in the process. It is difficult to weigh the Marxist against the rogue and say which object was the more important. Possibly they seemed to him equally so. For a number of years he worked steadily, to gain your confidence and to get the feel of his position. Also he had some preparations to make. He needed at least one confederate. If necessary, I think he would have installed him. But it wasn’t necessary. He found Brandison, whom he promoted to chief cashier, just the man for the job. Brandison was a drug addict–”

“Drugs,” moaned Sir Hubert Fosdick.

“Also there were certain outside agencies which had to be prepared. But when he was ready he wasted no time. About a year ago he set to work, on three distinct lines. First, on one pretext or another he lodged a good many of your soundest securities with Moody and Van Bright. An auditor, as you know, will accept a certificate from a reputable firm of brokers as to what stocks and shares they hold on behalf of a client, without actually bothering to see the share certificates. In your last three quarterly audits you will see, I fancy, that an increasing number of your most valuable securities are described as ‘lodged with Moody and Bright’. In effect, of course, that certification came not from Moody and Van Bright but from Legate. I think that a number of those securities may be regarded as non-existent. They have been quietly sold over a period of months. The total loss under that head alone may amount to something like three-quarters of a million pounds.”

No one seemed disposed to break the silence that ensued, so Lord Cedarbrook went on:

“Now the second matter. Recently, as you must have noticed, you have been placing your money in a number of rather speculative concerns. I will mention one – Syn-ol Company–”

“But, Cedarbrook,” – Mr Chattell seemed to have found his voice. “I was present at the Directors’ Meeting when the purchase was discussed. I resent the word ‘speculative’. We went into it very thoroughly. Why, I remember an article in
Market News
by their City Expert which gave the most convincing reasons–”

“Exactly,” said Lord Cedarbrook drily. “I suppose you know that Legate owned
Market News
. He probably contributed the article himself
.
” He went on: “There’s no evading the conclusion, gentlemen, that with his own brokers, his own financial press and your unbounded confidence in his judgement, he had you in blinkers. He had you hypnotized. I’m not blaming you – I’m just stating the fact. If you look now with a fresh and unbiased eye on some of your recent purchases – Syn-ol, West African Hostels, those Czechoslovakian Bonds, Factory Fitments – I’ll say more about them in a moment – Syndicat Universal – and a dozen others.”

“You’re right about the hypnotism,” said Mr Atkinson. “Recently, about nine months ago that is, we formed a finance sub-committee. Myself, Chattell and Sir George, with Legate as a permanent member. Any three of us to form a quorum. This committee approved all those purchases you have mentioned – and I must have sat on most of the committees. And yet the matters were so cleverly presented that I, for one, never questioned them.”

Lord Cedarbrook said: “If it’s any comfort to you, it was, I think, the formation of that committee which caused Legate his biggest headache – and in a way, it led to his discovery. You see, until very recently he tended to be a bit short of money. Until the last moment he couldn’t actually realize too many of the securities which Moody and Van Bright were holding. And I must emphasize again that any actual stealing of money from the Corporation was out of the question. Your internal security measures were too good. So what he did was, like all his tactics, very simple. He got you to authorize double and treble his salary and allowances. It wasn’t too difficult. As you know, he had a basic salary, and on top of that you paid him a commission on profits, on a sliding scale, with a bonus on certain big deals, and there was an arrangement by which he could draw lump sums against this money. I think that’s correct, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Mr Chattell, “but the cheques had to be signed by a director. Surely we should have noticed–”

“Not if he was careful, where he drew money twice, that the duplicate cheques were signed by different directors. That was where Brandison came in. He used to make out lists of cheques for your signature at each meeting. Three months ago, for example, you allowed Legate an advance of two thousand five hundred pounds against accrued bonus. Do you realize that you paid it him no less than three times? One cheque was signed by Mr Atkinson, one by Mr Chattell and one by Sir George Burroughs. Of course, that was an extreme example – in the earlier days he didn’t overreach himself to that extent. Besides, as I said, in the early days, when he might have been dealing with any two out of six directors it was easy. Latterly, with only three of you on the finance committee, it got more difficult.”

“Look here, Cedarbrook,” said Lord Stallybrowe, “is this true? Where did you hear it. It sounds far-fetched.”

“I heard most of it from Brandison this morning. But if you want a practical example of the cheque business let me tell you what happened in January. At the beginning of this year, as you may remember, Brandison was ill. Your second cashier was away, too. So the duty of preparing the list of cheques for your signature devolved on Mr Britten, one of your junior cashiers. Legate gave him the original list – and told him to have four or five copies made – one for each director and one or two spare. Britten was incurably careless. He typed out the copies himself, and – I think entirely by mistake – instead of leaving the cheques as they were, he put both Legate’s duplicate pay cheques – a small matter of a thousand pounds each on account of salary – into your column, Sir George.”

Sir George Burroughs went very red and said, “Do you mean to say that I signed the same cheque twice over.”

“A different cheque, of course,” said Lord Cedarbrook, “but the same payee and the same amount. Legate was in the room when you did it. I suppose he would have explained it away somehow, if you had noticed it. But it must have given him a bad five minutes. But the remedy was worse than the malady. Because he got it into his head that Mr Britten had done this on purpose. There I think he was entirely wrong. I think it was just an example of Britten’s usual inefficiency and muddle-headedness. But the implications were alarming. If Britten had done it on purpose, then Britten knew what Legate was up to. Legate was too far committed by this time to draw back. I must say, he acted very quickly. First he had Britten sacked – not only to get him out of the way, but in order to create a convincing motive for suicide. Then, on Britten’s last night with the firm, he hired two men to follow him home, knock him on the head, and push him into the river – first searching his pockets and afterwards his house in order to make sure that he had left no documentary evidence behind. They were professional murderers, and they did their work in a very neat and professional way and Legate must have been very pleased with them. But unknown to him fate had already dealt another hand into the game.”

Lord Cedarbrook explained the part played by Paddy on that memorable night and finished by saying: “When Yeatman-Carter turned up a few days later and actually outlined to Legate the whole truth of the crime – with a few important exceptions – well, it must have been a ticklish moment. Carter, remember, had seen that very list, with Mr Chattell’s initials and Mr Atkinson’s and yours, Sir George. He remembered the first two – ABC and CBA. If he’d once realized what they signified the whole game would have been up.

“Legate improvised brilliantly. But at the end of the interview one of those silly things happened which confirm one’s belief in Providence. Carter said something uncomplimentary about communists and this casual remark touched Legate on the raw. He must have been mad enough in a general way with this young fellow who had blundered in and was threatening to upset his carefully stacked apple-cart. Here was the last straw. As soon as Carter had left, Legate sat down to think out how he could hurt him most effectively. And since Carter was a very junior member of a firm of accountants which depended on your goodwill for a lot of their work – well, it didn’t take him long to think out a stupid little piece of retaliation.

“And that was really the beginning of the end. First Britten, then Carter. Two unimportant people, who incurred Legate’s displeasure. And two of the proximate causes of his failure. The third was Bairsted. Some of you know that story, so I won’t waste your time with it now. Enough to say that as soon as we heard that Legate was on Henry Bairsted’s trail, we tracked back and we found Lake. And when we found Lake, we knew all about Legate. An inefficient cashier, a sacked accountant, a bankrupt industrialist. How shall the small confound the great.”

“Some time ago,” said Mr Atkinson, “you said that Legate’s object was to make money and to ruin us. Was there anything more to it than that?”

“At first,” said Lord Cedarbrook, “possibly not. Unfortunately for all concerned, the facts of the case became known to a certain Power – I needn’t elaborate the matter – a Power which has always thrived on the misfortunes of its neighbours – and for some reason is able to reap particular advantage if it can promote a really stinking financial scandal. You remember the Mont de Piété revelations which nearly brought down the French Government in the thirties – or more recently the Vatican currency-smuggling scandal which might have had a decisive effect on the Italian elections.”