The White Monkey

The Chairman said:

“You put a pistol to our heads.”

“I am responsible to the shareholders,” said Soames, “and I shall do my duty by them.”

“So we all are, Mr. Forsyte; and I hope we shall all do our duty.”

“Why not confine the foreign business to the small countries—their currency is safe enough?”

‘Old Mont,’ and his precious ‘ring!’

“No,” said Soames, “we must go back to safety.”

“Splendid isolation, Forsyte?”

“Meddling was all very well in the war, but in peace—politics or business—this half-and-half interference is no good. We can’t control the foreign situation.”

He looked around him, and was instantly conscious that with those words he had struck a chord. ‘I’m going through with this!’ he thought.

“I should be glad, Mr. Chairman”—the manager was speaking—“if I might say a word. The policy was of my initiation, and I think I may claim that it has been of substantial benefit to the Society so far. When, however, a member of the Board takes so strong a view against its continuance, I certainly don’t press the Board to continue it. The times ARE uncertain, and a risk, of course, is involved, however conservative our estimates.”

‘Now why?’ thought Soames: ‘What’s he ratting for?’

“That’s very handsome of you, Elderson; Mr. Chairman, I think we may say that is very handsome of our manager.”

Old Dosey Cosey! Handsome! The old woman!

The Chairman’s rather harsh voice broke a silence.

“This is a very serious point of policy. I should have been glad to have Lord Fontenoy present.”

“If I am to endorse the report,” said Soames shortly, “it must be decided today. I have made up my mind. But please yourselves.”

He threw in those last three words from a sort of fellow feeling—it was unpleasant to be dragooned! A moment’s silence, and then discussion assumed that random volubility which softens a decision already forced on one. A quarter of an hour thus passed before the Chairman said:

“We are agreed then, gentlemen, that the report shall contain the a

Soames had won. Relieved and puzzled, he walked away alone.

He had shown character; their respect for him had gone up, he could see; their liking for him down, if they’d ever had any—he didn’t know! But why had Elderson veered round? He recalled the shift and blink of the fellow’s steely eyes at the idea of the question being raised at the general meeting.

That had done it! But why? Were the figures faked? Surely not! That would be too difficult, in the face of the accountants. If Soames had faith, it was in chartered accountants. Sandis and Jevon were tip-top people. It couldn’t be that! He glanced up from the pavement. The dome of St. Paul’s was dim already in evening sky—nothing to be had out of it! He felt badly in need of some one to talk to; but there was nobody; and he quickened his pace among the hurrying crowd. His hand, driven deep into his overcoat pocket, came into sudden contact with some foreign sticky substance. ‘Gracious!’ he thought: ‘those things!’ Should he drop them in the gutter? If only there were a child he could take them home to! He must get A

The hall porter came out of his box. A gentleman was waiting.

“What gentleman?” said Soames, sidelong.

“I think he’s your nephew, sir, Mr. Dartie.”

“Val Dartie! H’m! Where?”

“In the little room, sir.”

The little room—all the accommodation considered worthy of such as were not Co

He never saw his nephew without wondering when he would say: “Look here, Uncle Soames, I’m up a stump.” Breeding race horses! There could only be one end to that!

“Well?” he said, “how are YOU?”

The face in the glass turned round, and became the back of a clipped sandyish head.

“Oh! bobbish, thanks! YOU look all right, Uncle Soames. I just wanted to ask you: Must I take these screws of old George Forsyte’s? They’re dashed bad.”

“Gift horse in the mouth?” said Soames.

“Well,” said Val, “but they’re SO dashed bad; by the time I’ve paid legacy duty, boxed them to a sale, and sold them, there won’t be a sixpence. One of them falls down when you look at it. And the other two are broken-winded. The poor old boy kept them, because he couldn’t get rid of them. They’re about five hundred years old.”