The Red Hand of Ulster Part 15

"What on earth am I to do?" said Moyne.

"You can write to the papers, to-morrow," I said.

"But now?" said Moyne, "now."

"The only thing I can think of," I said, "is to start them singing 'G.o.d Save the King.' That will commit them more or less--at least it may."

Moyne rose to his feet and asked all the bands present to play "G.o.d Save the King." Babberly backed him and the bands struck up.

Considering that the audience had just pledged themselves with inarticulate oaths and most terrifying psalmody to march in Malcolmson's army, their enthusiasm for the King was striking. They sang the National Anthem quite as whole-heartedly as they had sung the hymn. They are a very curious people, these fellow-countrymen of mine.

Moyne cheered up a little when we got back to the club.

"That was a capital idea of yours, Kilmore," he said. "I don't see how they can very well accuse us of being rebels after the way we sang the National Anthem."

"I wonder if they'll impeach Babberly," I said.

"Oh, that's only a Labour Member," said Moyne. "He doesn't really mean it. Those fellows never do."

"Do you think our people really meant it to-day?" I said.

"Meant what? G.o.d Save the King? Of course they did."

"I was thinking of the hymn," I said.

"I hope to G.o.d," said Moyne, "they didn't mean that."

This is a curious view of hymn-singing for a religious man to take.

CHAPTER XIII

I cannot make out why everybody thinks I am a Liberal. Lady Moyne was the first who mentioned to me this slur on my character. Babberly evidently believed it. Then, shortly after the Belfast meeting, I had a letter, marked "Private and Confidential," from Sir Samuel c.l.i.thering. Although c.l.i.thering is not a member of the Government, he is in close touch with several very important Ministers. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances I should not mention c.l.i.thering's name in telling the story of his letter. I know him to be a conscientious, scrupulously honourable man, and I should hate to give him pain. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, that is, if things had gone in Ulster in the way things usually do go, c.l.i.thering would have felt it necessary to a.s.sert publicly in the papers that he did not write the letter. This would have been very disagreeable for him because he does not like telling lies; and the unpleasantness would certainly be aggravated by the fact that n.o.body would believe him. So many important and exciting things, however, have happened in Ulster since I got the letter that I do not think c.l.i.thering will now want to deny that he wrote it. I have, therefore, no hesitation in mentioning his name.

This letter was written in the best politico-diplomatic style. I had to read it nine times before I could find out what it was about. When I did find out I made a translation of it into the English of ordinary life, so as to make quite sure of not acting beyond my instructions.

I was first of all complimented on not being a party politician. This, coming from one of the Government wire-pullers, meant, of course, that I was in his opinion a strong Liberal. I have noticed for years that the only party politicians in these islands are the people who are active on the other side; and that party politics are the other side's programme. My correspondent evidently agreed with Lady Moyne and Babberly that as I was not a Conservative, I must be a supporter of the Government.

Having made this quite unwarranted a.s.sumption, the letter went on to suggest that I should ask Conroy if he would like a peerage. The point was not made quite clear, but I gathered that Conroy could have any kind of t.i.tle that he liked, up to an earldom. I know, of course, that peerages are given in exchange for subscriptions to party funds, by the party, whichever it may be, which receives the subscriptions. I did not know before that peerages were ever given with a view to inducing the happy recipient not to subscribe to the funds of the other party. But in Conroy's case this must have been the motive which lay behind the offer. He had certainly given Lady Moyne a handsome cheque. He was financing McNeice's little paper in the most liberal way. He had, I suspected, supplied Crossan with the motor car in which he went about the country tuning up the Orange Lodges. It seemed quite likely it was his money with which Rose's young man bought the gold brooch which had attracted Marion's attention. Conroy was undoubtedly subsidizing Ulster Unionism very generously. I suppose it must have been worth while to stop this flow of money. Hence the suggestion that Conroy might be given a peerage. This, at least, was the explanation of the letter which I adopted at the time. I have since had reason to suppose that the Government knew more than I did about the way Conroy was spending his money, and was nervous about something more important than Babberly's occasional demonstrations.

My first impulse was to burn the letter and tell my correspondent that I was not a politician of any sort, and did not care for doing this kind of work. Then my curiosity got the better of my sense of honour.

A man cannot, I think, be both an historian and a gentleman. It is an essential part of the character of a gentleman that he should dislike prying into other people's secrets. The business of the historian, on the other hand, is to rake about if necessary through dust-bins, until he finds out the reasons, generally disreputable, why things are done.

A gentleman displays a dignified superiority to the vice of curiosity.

For the historian curiosity is a virtue. I am, I find, more of an historian than a gentleman. I wanted very much to find out how Conroy would take the offer of a peerage. I also wanted to understand thoroughly why the offer was made.

Some weeks were to pa.s.s before I learned the Government's real reason for wanting to detach Conroy from the Unionist cause; but luck favoured me in the matter of sounding Conroy himself. I had a letter from him in which he said that he was coming to our neighbourhood for a few days. I immediately asked him to stay with me.

Then I tried, very foolishly, to make my nephew G.o.dfrey feel uncomfortable.

"Conroy," I said, "is coming here to stay with me next Tuesday."

"How splendid!" said G.o.dfrey. "I say, Excellency, you will ask me up to dinner every night he's here, won't you?"

"I thought," I said, "that you wouldn't like to meet Conroy."

"Of course I'd like to meet him. He might give me a job of some kind or get me one. A man like that with millions of money must have plenty of jobs to give away."

When G.o.dfrey speaks of a job he means a salary. Nearly everybody does.

"If I can only get the chance of making myself agreeable to him," said G.o.dfrey, "I'm sure I'll be able to get something out of him."

"I'm surprised," I said, "at your wanting to meet him at all. After the post-card he wrote you--"

"Oh, I don't mind that in the least," said G.o.dfrey. "I never take offence."

This is, indeed, one of G.o.dfrey's chief vices. He never does take offence. It was Talleyrand, I think, who said that no man need ever get angry about anything said by a woman or a bishop. G.o.dfrey improves on this philosophy. He never gets angry with any one except those whom he regards as his inferiors.

"It would be a good opportunity," said G.o.dfrey, "for your second menagerie party. We've only had one this year. I expect it would amuse Conroy."

"I'm nearly sure it wouldn't."

"We'll have to do something in the way of entertaining while he's here," said G.o.dfrey. "I suppose you'll have the Moynes over to dinner?"

I knew that the Moynes were in London, so I told G.o.dfrey that he could write and ask them if he liked. I tried to be firm in my opposition to the garden-party, but G.o.dfrey wore me down. It was fixed for Wednesday, and invitations were sent out. I discovered afterwards that G.o.dfrey told his particular friends that they were to have the honour of meeting a real millionaire. In the case of the Pringles he went so far as to hint that Conroy was very likely to give him a lucrative post. On the strength of this expectation, Pringle, who is an easy man to deceive, allowed G.o.dfrey to cash a cheque for 10.

Conroy arrived on Sunday afternoon, travelling, as a millionaire should, in a motor car. G.o.dfrey dined with us that night, and made himself as agreeable as he could. Conroy had, apparently, forgotten all about the post-card. I did not get a minute alone with my guest that night and so could do nothing about the peerage. I thought of approaching him on the subject next morning after breakfast, though that is not a good hour for delicate negotiations. But even if I had been willing to attack him then, I hardly had the chance. G.o.dfrey was up with us at half-past ten. He wanted to take Conroy on a personally conducted tour round the objects of interest in the neighbourhood.

Conroy said he wanted to go to the house of a man called Crossan who lived somewhere near us, and would be very glad if G.o.dfrey would act as guide. It is a remarkable proof of G.o.dfrey's great respect for millionaires that he consented to show Conroy the way to Crossan's house. They went off together, and I saw no more of Conroy till dinner-time.

He deliberately avoided my garden-party, although G.o.dfrey had explained to him the night before that my guests would be "quite the funniest lot of bounders to be found anywhere."

The Pringles must have been disappointed at not meeting Conroy. Miss Pringle, whose name I found out was Tottie, looked quite pretty in a pink dress, and smiled almost as nicely as she did when Bob Power took her to gather strawberries. Mrs. Pringle asked G.o.dfrey to dine with them that night, and Tottie looked at him out of the corner of her eyes so as to show him that she would be pleased if he accepted the invitation. Pringle himself joined in pressing G.o.dfrey. I suppose he must really have believed in the salary which G.o.dfrey expected to get from Conroy.

G.o.dfrey promised to dine with them. He explained his position to me afterwards.

"I needn't tell you, Excellency," he said, "that I don't want to go there. I shall get a rotten bad dinner and Mrs. Pringle is a rank outsider."

"Miss Pringle," I said, "seems a pleasant girl. She's certainly pretty."

"Poor little Tottie!" said G.o.dfrey. "That sort of girl isn't bad fun sometimes; but I wouldn't put up with boiled mutton just for the sake of a kiss or two from her. The fact is--"

"Your banking account," I said.

"That's it," said G.o.dfrey. "Pringle's directors have been writing rather nasty letters lately. It's perfectly all right, of course, and I told him so; but all the same it's better to accept his invitation."

G.o.dfrey is the most unmitigated blackguard I've ever met.