The Ka of Gifford Hillary (40 page)

Such a possibility would have hardened into a certainty as he went on: ‘Of course, I shall sell this place. No one but a fool would squander half his income keeping it up. And as the land runs down to the foreshore it must be pretty valuable. We ought to raise quite a packet by selling the whole estate as a building site.’

At this display of vandalism I was delighted to see Johnny’s patience give out. ‘That,’ he said sharply, ‘is a matter for myself and my co-trustee, Mr. Compton. All your affairs are in our hands until you are twenty-one.’

Harold stared at him, then replied truculently: ‘It’s your job, and his, to get for me the biggest income that you can. That’s a trustee’s duty. It’s what they are for.’

‘On the contrary,’ retorted Johnny. ‘Short of robbing a trust they can do with it what they like; and they are under no obligation other than to protect its capital from depreciation to the best of their ability. As far as I am concerned I shall do my best to carry out what I believe would have been your father’s wishes. To sell Longshot would not have been one of
them, and I am pretty confident that Mr. Compton will agree with me about that.’

How right he was! To have sold this gracious old family home, which had been built, furnished and cared for by several generations of our forebears, while there were still ample funds to support it would have been the act of a barbarian. The idea of its being turned over to demolition squads in order that rows of jerry-built bungalows might be erected on its site made me see red. I could take only small comfort in the thought that Johnny and James would protect it for the next three years, and hope that during them Harold might come under the influence of someone with a better appreciation than himself of real values. But that anyone so boorish and self-centred was likely to be loved or changed by a sensitive young woman seemed highly improbable.

Reduced to surly silence by Johnny’s having poured cold water on his immediate hopes of turning Longshot into money, Harold concentrated on his food until, just as they were finishing their meal, Johnny said:

‘May I ask what has brought you down here?’

‘Why, to take possession, of course,’ came the surprised answer. ‘Ankaret was no friend of mine, and I’m hanged if I’ll let her relatives have the run of the place for a moment longer than is necessary. What is more, I mean to tell old Wiltshire so.’

I squirmed at this further breach of good taste; but Johnny was more than a match for Harold. With a frosty smile, he said:

‘Do you, now? I wouldn’t if I were you, or you may regret it. You seem to have overlooked the fact that it is James Compton and myself who will decide what is to be done here. Lord Wiltshire is naturally greatly distressed by his daughter’s death. He will leave here in his own good time and not before. Should you be so rude as to suggest his departure to him I’ll get Longshot listed as an Ancient Monument. Then you will never be allowed to do anything with the property which might be detrimental to the house.’

Harold jumped to his feet, his face working with rage. ‘You can’t do that! Houses for the workers are more important than preserving old houses like this just because they were built a hundred and fifty years ago.’

‘Stop talking claptrap,’ Johnny admonished him, standing up and throwing his napkin on the table. ‘You know very well that you don’t give a damn for the workers. Most people would feel overwhelmed by their good fortune at coming into a lovely old place like this. All you are thinking of is to cash it in for as much money as you can get to spend on yourself.’

‘Well, I’ve a right to if I wish, haven’t I? I think you’re being beastly. I bet you’ve got some private axe of your own to grind. But I won’t stand for that. I’ll consult a solicitor.’

Johnny gave a mirthless laugh. ‘The best thing you can do is to ring up for a taxi and go home. Consult who you like. I don’t give a damn. But get out of here. I’ve enough worries without having to put up with impudent young cubs like you.’

I don’t think he would have shown his dislike and contempt for Harold quite so openly if worry had not already frayed his nerves to near breaking point. But he had never spoken a truer word, and within another minute he was given still further cause for anxiety about his own affairs. Silvers came in with a slip of paper on a silver salver and, presenting it to him, said:

‘A telegram for you, Sir. I have just taken it down over the telephone from the Post Office.’

Johnny took the paper and, looking over his shoulder, I read:

Your leave cancelled. Stop. Report to me personally immediately on your return. Benthorpe
.

There could be little doubt what that meant. On the previous afternoon the Admiral had done his worst, and the unfortunate Johnny was being recalled to answer his allegation.

Thrusting the paper into his pocket, Johnny glanced at Harold and said: ‘I have urgent private affairs to attend to; so I shall be leaving shortly. If you wish to stay here to attend Lady Ankaret’s funeral on Saturday, and in the meantime have a look round, ask Lord Wiltshire if he will be good enough to give you a bed for a couple of nights. You had then best go home and wait till you hear from Mr. Compton or myself. You are clearly to understand that you are to remove nothing from the house. If you can manage to behave yourself
like a gentleman, we may decide to increase your allowance; but if I hear that you have been in any way rude to Lady Ankaret’s relatives or the servants, we certainly shall not.’

Silvers, of course, had already left the room and Johnny now followed him. He found Bill in the library. Although it was only half-past ten, His Lordship was measuring out with scrupulous care his first brew of very dry Martini. After all, he had nothing else to do and a head like a rock; so why shouldn’t he. Johnny said to him:

‘I’ve had a telegram recalling me to duty; so I’ve got to leave at once, but I’ll try to get back for the funeral. Sorry not to be able to help you about the arrangements after all; but there it is. I’m sorry to tell you that that young bounder, Harold, may inflict himself on you for a couple of nights. But the place belongs to him now so one can hardly chuck him out. You might keep an eye on him though, and see that he doesn’t make off with anything of value when he does leave. He’s quite capable of it.’

Bill nodded. ‘Poor old Giff. Fancy him producing a son who is such an outsider. Still, my own boy gives me no cause for parental pride. Sorry you’ve got to leave, Johnny, but it can’t be helped. Care to join me in a snifter before you go?’

‘No thanks. It’s a bit early for me.’ Johnny declined the offer with a smile.

Ten minutes later I was once more with him on the road to London. In all the years I had lived at Longshot I had never made the trip so frequently in so few days, and I was getting a little tired of it. But I was now greatly concerned for him and all my thoughts were centred on what sort of reception he would meet with when we arrived.

As the morning was fine we made the run in good time. Instead of going to his office he drove straight to the Air Ministry and at a quarter to two parked his car outside it. Going into the building he followed the same route as he had when I had accompanied him there on the previous Sunday. On pushing open the door labelled ‘Air Commodore Benthorpe, Director of Plans’ he came face to face with the same young woman seated behind her typewriter. Giving him a surprised look, she said:

‘I thought you were on leave, Wing Commander.’

‘So I was,’ he replied. ‘But I’ve been recalled.’

‘Really!’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t see the telegram; and there is no particular flap on.’

Johnny smiled at her. ‘There is always some sort of a flap going on in these parts. No doubt the P.A. sent it.’

‘I suppose so.’ She smiled back, showing two rows of excellent teeth. ‘Did the Air Commodore ask you to report to him personally?’

‘Yes. But at this hour I take it he’s at lunch.’

‘That’s it,’ she nodded. ‘You might just as well have had your own before coming in. But perhaps you have?’

‘No,’ Johnny told her, with a light-heartedness that he could scarcely have been feeling. ‘My reporting while still hungry is just a demonstration of my zeal for the Service.’

She showed her pretty teeth again in a laugh. ‘Well, he won’t be back till half-past two or a quarter to three; so you had better get some.’

‘I will,’ he said. ‘I’ll go down to the canteen. Perhaps you would be good enough to give me a buzz there when Master has returned and is ready to see me.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that, Wing Commander,’ she agreed decorously.

Downstairs in the canteen Johnny did not make much of a lunch, and afterwards he remained at his table nervously chain smoking. It was past three before the summons came and he went up again to his Chief’s office.

In the inner room, the short square-shouldered little Air Commodore was sitting behind his desk. On a chair nearby sat a tall heavy-featured Group Captain with a fluffy grey moustache. As Johnny entered his master came to the point at once.

‘Good afternoon, Norton. I’m sorry that I had to recall you from leave in the middle of family troubles; but a very serious charge has been made against you.’ He waved a hand towards his tall companion. ‘I don’t know if you know Group Captain Kenworthy; but he is the Assistant Provost Marshal, and he has been instructed to go into the matter.’

The Group Captain and Johnny exchanged polite nods, and the Air Commodore went on: The information was laid against you at the Admiralty, and passed to us first thing this morning. It is to the effect that you disclosed official secrets to your late uncle and to other persons. What have you to say about it?’

Johnny shrugged. ‘That it’s a mixture of moonshine and malice, Sir. From the start to finish it is utterly untrue. The whole thing emanates from the over-heated imagination of a retired Admiral who refuses to face facts, and will go to any lengths rather than see his own Service take second place to the Royal Air Force. I hope you will treat it as it deserves and throw it in the waste-paper basket.’

‘No.’ The Air Commodore tapped a finger on some sheets of foolscap that lay in front of him on his desk. ‘We can’t do that. These are not the ravings of a lunatic. The report is far too circumstantial. Perhaps I had better read it to you.’

He did as he proposed and it took a good ten minutes. The report was a perfectly fair one; but it contained full details of all that had occurred at the Hillary-Compton board meetings since I had launched my bomb-shell, and a very well-remembered account of my impromptu second speech to my co-directors, which made things look so bad for Johnny. When the Air Commodore had done he laid it down and said: ‘Now! What have you to say?’

‘All that about my uncle’s proposal to refuse the contract for the E-boats is perfectly true, Sir. But I didn’t brief him for the arguments he produced. I give you my word that I had never discussed such matters with him at any time.’

‘Then who did?’

‘I haven’t an idea. I’ve been worrying myself to death about it. I’ve been through his papers to try to find out; but I’ve had no luck. I haven’t a clue.’

‘It’s all very well to say that, Norton; but reading between the lines of this report you can see for yourself the sort of information to which your uncle had obtained access. There is an obvious reference to “Project Frying Pan”, another to the results of “Exercise Drastic”, and several to Future Operational Plans which are of the highest secrecy. There are less than fifty people in the whole country from which your uncle could have learned about things of that kind; and you are one of them.’

‘I can’t help that, Sir. I can only repeat that he did not get his information from me.’

‘You had knowledge nearly a week ago that this extraordinary breach of security had taken place; why did you not report it immediately?’

For the first time Johnny appeared shaken. After hesitating a moment he faltered. ‘I … I don’t quite know, Sir. I suppose I ought to have. But it was my uncle. I had complete trust in him and …’

‘That is a pretty damning imputation you’ve just made,’ cut in the Air Commodore.

‘I didn’t mean it that way, Sir,’ Johnny protested. ‘And anyway, within a few hours of the board meeting he was dead.’

‘That is no excuse for failing to report what he had said.’

There was a moment’s silence, then the Air Commodore turned towards the Group Captain and shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I have no alternative but to do as your department requests.’

The Group Captain stood up and addressed Johnny in formal tones: ‘Wing Commander. It is my duty to place you under close arrest pending a full enquiry. Be good enough to come with me.’

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Matters had gone even worse than I had feared—much worse. The fact that Johnny was under a liability to report any leakage of secret information that came to his knowledge had not occurred to me. That he had failed to do so meant his being found guilty on that charge, anyhow; and it might seriously prejudice a court against him when considering the more serious one. It was certain they would argue that, as the Admiral had accused him from the beginning of being the source of my information, had he been innocent he would have cleared himself of complicity by reporting the leakage at once. That he had not now made the case against him very black.

Most unfortunately, too, he had not kept his head in front of his seniors as well as he had when surprised by Constable Cowper. He had been flurried into saying that he ‘trusted me,’ and the Air Commodore had pounced upon the admission as an indication of his guilt.

Poor Johnny. Even if, as no direct evidence could be brought against him, they gave him the benefit of the doubt, his career would be irretrievably ruined. And all because, in my eagerness to win over my co-directors, for a quarter of an hour I had let my tongue run away with me.

I could not help but feel that Sir Charles had been much to blame. Having taken me into his confidence he should have specified precisely what I could or could not divulge as an aid to getting my board to agree to his project. I suppose the fact of the matter was that he was used to attending conferences at which other officials, who were not privy to vital secrets, had to be persuaded to agree to measures by the disclosure of only limited knowledge of what lay behind them. No doubt, when he had given me powers of discretion, he had credited me with the same facility, not realising that I had had no experience of that sort of thing.