Temporary Kings - Anthony Powell [103]
‘What was begun at Jacky Bragadin’s?’
‘Much to disorder the hierarchy of being. Elsewhere too. Pluto disports himself in the Eighth House.’
I should have liked to continue, try to persuade Mrs Erdleigh to show herself a little more explicit, but her attention was distracted by a young Labour MP, politely sceptical, also anxious to enquire into his own astrological nativity. Mrs Erdleigh’s engagement in this, other similar interrogations, took up the rest of supper. After we had moved away from the table, further opportunity came to talk to Stevens, who had for the moment renounced vintage cars, about Widmerpool, what had taken place to extricate him from his embarrassments. Stevens himself was greatly preoccupied with this question.
‘It’s been suggested he wrote an indiscreet letter. Realised he’d gone too far, then tried to withdraw. That might have been in office hours, or when he was being cultured in Eastern Europe. You can’t tell. It’s not denied now he’s a close sympathizer. Even so, he didn’t want to get in trouble with his own security authorities. A spot of blackmail seems to have been the result. I know the form. One of my own mob found himself in a tangle that way. Thought it all in the interests of “international goodwill” to hand over one or two quite important little items. They asked for more, he stalled – got cold feet – they gave him away to us.’
‘Somebody said there was a defection on their side.’
Stevens gave a sharp look.
‘Perhaps there was. Whatever happened, he’s got away with it.’
Stevens moved at ease through the world of secret traffickings of this kind. He was about to continue an exposition of what happened to such suspects, when – when not – convenient to prosecute, but was interrupted by Rosie. She came up in a state of some disquiet. Her little black eyes were popping out of her head with agitation.
‘Odo, come at once. Something rather worrying has happened.’
Stevens went off with her. Rosie’s anxiety might have any cause, the house on fire, an undesired invitation she wanted help in refusing, one of the children been sick, the degree of seriousness could not be estimated. Stevens’s comments had interest. What dreams of power, practical or phantasmic had long tantalized Widmerpool’s heart, what plans meditated to put them into effect? Stevens had spoken ironically of betrayals in the interest of ‘international goodwill’; Bagshaw, speculating on less highflown motives, satisfaction of a taste for wholesale destruction, vicarious individual revenge against society. Neither Bagshaw nor Stevens spoke without experience. Perhaps, in Widmerpool’s case, he managed to coalesce in himself both aspects. Chandler and Gossage passed. They said goodnight.
‘A nice turn of power in the middle notes, didn’t you think?’ said Gossage.’ A fine sensibility of phrase?’
‘Hugh didn’t look too well,’ said Chandler. ‘I hope he’s all right. I hadn’t seen him for an age.’
They passed on. It was time to leave. I began to look about for Isobel. Before I found her, Stevens returned to the room. I took this opportunity of saying goodbye, as he seemed on his way somewhere. He confirmed, as it were, the words spoken a minute before by Chandler.
‘Hugh Moreland’s not very well. He’s gone to lie down in the study. I’m on my way to get the car. I can run them home.’
Stevens, many of his characteristics uncommendable, was good at taking charge when certain kinds of awkward situation arose.
‘Is Hugh bad?’
‘Doesn’t look too good. He had a blackout, and fell. He’s all right now, all right in the sense that he doesn’t want to leave, because he says there are a lot of things about the Seraglio he still wants to discuss. We’ve persuaded him to take it easy for the moment. He’ll be better when he gets to bed.’
‘Can one see him?