• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction
• Famous-Fiction
• Historical-Fiction

By Root 5926 0

brother, I remembered, had made the same remark about the pennies. The fact that I might not be in a position to “drop in” to a restaurant in London “any night” did not appear to have struck my uncle, never very good at grasping principles that might govern other people’s lives and movements. His letter was written from Harrods, so that there was no means of sending an answer; and I made up my mind that, even if I were to visit London – as I was doing, so it happened, the following day, to dine with Stringham – I should not spend the evening at the Trouville Restaurant. Uncle Giles did not state the reason for his wish to meet me, which may have sprung from completely disinterested affection for a member of his family not seen for some time. I suspected, perhaps unjustly, that such was not the motive; and, since at that age behaviour of older people seems, more often than not, entirely meaningless, I dismissed Uncle Giles’s letter from my mind, as I now think, rather inexcusably. I had not seen Stringham since the summer, and had heard very little from him on the subject of his job. For one reason or another arrangements to meet had fallen through, and I felt, instinctively, that he was passing into an orbit where we should from now on see less of each other. I was thinking about this subject that afternoon, feeling disinclined for work, watching the towers of the neighbouring college, with the leaden sky beyond, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

It was Le Bas.

“I’ve been lunching with your Dean,” he said. “He mentioned your name. I thought I would look you up.”

For some reason I felt enormously surprised to see him standing there. He had passed so utterly from daily life. This surprise was certainly not due to Le Bas having altered in appearance. On the contrary, he looked the same in all respects: except that he seemed to have shrunk slightly in size, and to have developed a kind of deadness I had not remembered in the texture of his skin. He stood by the door, as if he had just glanced in to make sure that no misbehaviour was in progress, and would proceed immediately on his way to other rooms in the college, to see that there, too, all was well. I asked him to sit down. He came farther into the room, but appeared unwilling to seat himself; standing in one of his characteristic poses, holding up both his hands, one a little above the other, like an Egyptian god, or figure from the Bayeux tapestry.

“How are you getting on, Jenkins?” he asked, at last agreeing, though with apparent reluctance, to occupy an arm-chair. “You have a nice view from here, I see.”

He rose again, and stared out of the window for a minute or two, at the place where clouds had begun to darken the sky. The sound of undergraduate voices came up from below. Le Bas turned his gaze down on the passers-by.

“I expect you know the story of Calverley throwing pebbles at the Master of Balliol’s window,” he said. “Just to make him look out for the benefit of some visitors. Parkinson was some sort of a connection of Calverley’s, I believe. I saw Parkinson the other day. In fact I rowed in a Duffers’ Eight with him. Parkinson was in your time, wasn’t he? Or am I confusing dates?”

“Yes, he was. He only went down from here last year.”

“He missed his ‘blue,’ didn’t he?”

“I think he was only tried out a couple of times.”

“Who else is there from my house?”

“Stringham went down last term.”

“Went down, did he? Was he sent down?”

“No, he —”

“Of course I remember Stringham,” said Le Bas. “Wrote a shocking hand. Never saw such a fist. What was he sent down for?”

“He wasn’t sent down. He got a job with Donners-Brebner. I am going to see him tomorrow.”

“Who else?” insisted Le Bas, who had evidently never heard of Donners-Brebner.

“I saw Templer not long ago. He is in the City now.”

“Templer?” said Le Bas. “Oh, yes, Templer. In the City, is he? Did he go up to the university?”

“No.”

“Probably just as well,” said Le Bas. “Still it might have toned him down a bit. I suppose as it is he will spend the rest of his life wearing those startling socks. It