Many Dimensions - Charles Williams (books for 9th graders TXT) 📗

Chapter Twelve

NATIONAL TRANSPORT

 

The General Secretary of the National Transport Union listened to his

subordinate the next morning with considerable incredulity. It was, in

fact, only the caution necessary to his official position that

prevented him being openly contemptuous, and even that caution was

strained.

 

“Do you expect me to believe that a man can fly through walls and

ceilings?” he asked.

 

“No, sir,” Carnegie said deferentially. “I don’t expect you to believe

anything—I don’t know that I do. But I thought you’d like to know what

was being’said.”

 

“But who’s saying it—except some friend of yours?” the General

Secretary asked. “I mean—it’s not evidence, is it?”

 

“My friend mentioned Lord Arglay, sir,” Carnegie ventured. “That’s

really what made me decide to tell you.”

 

“What!” the General Secretary said, “I’d forgotten that bit. D’you mean

the Chief Justice?”

 

“Yes, sir. This girl is his secretary.”

 

Mr. Theophilus Merridew got up and went across to the fireplace, at

which he stood staring.

 

“It’s obviously got twisted round somehow,” he said at last irritably.

“But what on earth could get twisted into such a fantastic tale? I

think I’d better see your friend, Carnegie.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Carnegie said. “You won’t forget that he may not really

have meant to tell me so much?”

 

“I shouldn’t think he did,” the General Secretary answered. “If I

hadn’t always found you a very reliable fellow—and if it wasn’t for

Lord Arglay—I met him once on a Commission

and he seemed a very level-headed sort of man. But this…. No, I

won’t. The whole thing’s too ridiculous…. But what the devil can it

be they’ve got hold of? Tell me all about it again.”

 

Carnegie did so, stressing his own unbelief and his anxiety merely to

bring it to his chief’s notice as part of his official duty, however

wild the rumour might be, in anything that had to do with transport.

 

“Can’t we get hold of a bit of this precious Stone?” Merridew asked at

the end. “Who’s got it?”

 

“Well, sir, the girl’s got a bit—because Lindsay wanted it, and I

understood Lord Arglay had, and of course the Government because of

this affair at Rich. I don’t know who else. O! Sheldrake.”

 

“What!” said Merridew. “What, the Atlantic Airways man? Why didn’t you

say so before? I know Sheldrake well enough—I’ll go and see him.

Whatever bit of truth there is behind this he’ll have got hold of. And

if the bit of truth is anything we ought to know about—he won’t want an

upset any more than we do.”

 

“I thought he was on the other side, sir,” Carnegie said smiling.

 

“Profits mean employment, employment means profits,” said Mr. Merridew.

“Didn’t we agree on that at the last Conciliation Conference? Very well

then. I’ll see if I can get him at once.”

 

It happened therefore a little later that morning that Sheldrake was

asked if he could see Mr. Merridew, who for one reason or another was a

fairly frequent caller and was admitted.

 

“I’ve come on a funny, business,” he said cheerfully, sitting down. “I

want to know anything you can tell me about this Stone of yours.”

 

“Eh?” said Sheldrake, really surprised, for he could imagine no reason

why Merridew should take an interest in a medicinal

stone. And there had been nothing else in the papers. “The Stone? Why

do you want to know about the Stone?”

 

The General Secretary, equally in fear of ridicule and negligence, went

carefully.

 

“I want to know what truth there isin this rumour that Lord Arglay’s

putting about,” he said, “that it’s going to do something queer to

transport.”

 

“Transport?” Sheldrake asked with a pretence of renewed surprise. “Does

Lord Arglay say that?”

 

“No no,” Mr. Merridew said. “You don’t catch me committing myself to

that, not with a lawyer. I don’t mind letting his name drop in, so to

speak, between you and me, but actually perhaps I’d better say—what

truth there is in this rumour that’s got about? I needn’t tell you

that, whatever it is, we don’t want transport reduced any more than you

do.”

 

Sheldrake thought for a minute or two. On the one hand he wasn’t

anxious to bring anyone into the secret; on the other, to have the

Union at his back would bring extra pressure to bear on the Government,

of whose intentions he still remained doubtful. It had been desirable

that he should recover his own Stone, but it was absolutely necessary

that he should stop any ideas—still more than copies—of it from

getting about. That would be, if not ruin, at least very considerable

inconvenience. And it would mean very considerable inconvenience to Mr.

Merridew’s clients also, of that he was sure. Weighing all this in his

mind, and throwing into the balance Mr. Merridew’s own reputed and

experienced discretion, he decided to speak. He gave, without names, a

summary of how it had reached him, of the concern felt in high

quarters, of its powers medicinal and expeditory. And finally he drew

from his inner waistcoat pocket the absurd Thing itself, and, very

carefully holding it, displayed it to Mr. Merridew, who sat staring at

it.

 

“Well,” he said at last, “that’s not going to damage transport, is it?

It looks like nothing on earth. What’s it supposed to do? What… what

is it?” he ended helplessly.

 

Sheldrake shook his head. “Tumulty says something about it being an

original.”

 

“Ooriginal enough,” Mr. Merridew murmured, still staring.

 

“And Lord Arglay told my wife it was the centre of the derivations,”

Sheldrake added.

 

“Centre of what derivations?” Merridew asked, more bewildered than

ever. “Look here, Sheldrake, can’t you show me what it’ll do? What

happens when you… use it, if that’s the word?”

 

Sheldrake being not unwilling to convince him, Mr. Merridew emerged

from the next few minutes in a startled and very anxious condition. It

seemed clear indeed that transport was going to be in a serious state

of collapse if the Stone was multiplied. On the other hand he very

naturally and very badly wanted it.

 

“But what’s this girl doing with it?” he asked. “Carnegie told me that

his friend said she was Arglay’s secretary and she had one.”

 

“I know, I know,” Sheldrake said. “Arglay and she have them, and I wish

they hadn’t. But I can’t get Birlesmere to do anything drastic; this

Chief Justice is too important to be… just dealt with, so he says. I

don’t suppose he’ll do anything with it, but I wish to God we had them

all under lock and key. It’s not safe while they’re about in the

world.”

 

Merridew got up meditatively. “Well, anyhow,” he said,

“we run together in this. You’ll let me know of any developments?”

 

“I will,” Sheldrake answered. “And keep it quiet. You won’t want your

conferences to get nervy. Tell me if you manage to get hold of

Arglay’s.”

 

“I don’t know about Arglay’s,” Merridew said, “but I wonder whether…

All right. Goodbye for now.”

 

He returned to his office still in profound meditation and when he had

reached it sent for Carnegie.

 

“This friend of yours,” he began, “the fellow who told you about the

Stone—I’ve seen Sheldrake, and I’m bound to say

it seems a serious business—you keep your mouth shut, Carnegie, and

stand by me, and I’ll look after you… understand? Very well. As I

was saying, this friend of yours—who is he?”

 

Carnegie explained Frank Lindsay.

 

“Well offl”’ asked Mr. Merridew. “No, of course not. And he was a bit

up in the air over it, was he? Is he a… sensible fellow? The kind

that can see where his own interests lie?”

 

“I think so, sir,” Carnegie said. “He always seemed to me a pretty

level-headed chap. Reads a good deal, but I suppose he has to do that.”

 

“Yes… -umph… well,” said the other. “Get him round here, will

you, Carnegie? Ask him to look in here at lunch time; ask him to lunch—no, better not; that would look too eager. Ask him to look in and see

me. You needn’t let him know what you’ve told me. just that I was

speaking of the Stone and you mentioned you knew someone who knew this

Miss Burnett who is the Chief Justice’s secretary. See?”

 

Carnegie saw at any rate sufficiently well to lure Frank round to the

offices of the Union, and there introduced him to Mr. Merridew, who was

extremely interested and affable.

 

“Ah, Mr. Lindsay, how kind of you! Do sit down. Don’t go, Carnegie,

don’t go. It’s a shame to trouble you about this, Mr. Lindsay, but if

you can help us I needn’t say how grateful I should be. Of course I

quite understand that this is all confidential. Now I’m in a state of

great anxiety, very great anxiety indeed, and when Carnegie let out

that he knew you and that you were in touch with the Lord Chief Justice

and so on, I thought a little chat couldn’t at any rate do any harm.

It’s all about this Stone of yours.”

 

“Not of mine, I’m afraid,” Frank said. His first feeling on waking that

morning had been that he had been rather hard on Chloe, but as he

dressed and became more clearly aware that the examination was one

morning nearer this had given

way to the feeling that Chloe had been very hard on him. In which

opinion he still remained. “I’ve not even seen it properly.”

 

“It’s Miss Burnett who has it?” Mr. Merridew asked halfcasually.

 

“It is,” said Frank. “And of course Lord Arglay.”

 

“Ah, yes, Lord Arglay,” Merridew assented. “Lord Arglay -have you ever

met him?”

 

“Once,” Frank said.

 

“Lord Arglay is a delightful man in himself, I believe,” Merridew went

on, “but I’m not sure that he isn’t in some ways a little narrow-minded. A lawyer is almost bound to be perhaps. However, that’s neither

here nor there. My own trouble is quite simple. I’m responsible, as far

as any man is, for all the members of this Union getting