Charles Snow - George Passant

FOR some time we heard no further news. Friday nights went on in their usual pattern. But one day in November, when I was having tea with George, I found him heavy and preoccupied. I tried to amuse him. Once or twice he smiled, but in a mechanical and distracted way. Then I asked: ‘Is there a case? Can I help?’

‘There’s nothing on,’ said George. He picked up the evening paper and began to read. Abruptly he said, a moment later: ‘Martineau’s letting his mania run away with him.’

‘Has anything happened?’

‘I found out yesterday,’ George said, ‘that he was asking someone to value his share in the firm.’

‘You actually think he’s going to sell?’ I said.

‘I shouldn’t think even Martineau would get it valued for sheer enjoyment,’ said George. ‘Unless he’s madder than we think.’

His optimism had vanished now.

‘I thought he was a bit more settled,’ I said. ‘After he was headed off the plays.’

‘You can’t tell with him,’ said George.

‘Whatever can he be thinking of doing?’

‘God knows what he’s thinking of.’

‘There may be enough to live on,’ I suggested. ‘He might retire and go in for his plays and things — on a grandiose scale. Or he might take another job.’

‘It’s demoralising for the firm,’ George broke out. ‘I never know where I’m going to stand for two days together.’

‘You’ve got to forgive him a lot,’ I said.

‘I do.’

‘After all, he’s in a queer state.’

‘It’s absolute and utter irresponsibility,’ said George. ‘The man’s got a duty towards his friends.’

George’s temper was near the surface. He went to the next Friday night at Martineau’s; and sat uncomfortably silent while Martineau talked as gaily as ever, without any sign of care. Then, as for a moment Martineau left the room, George came over to Morcom and myself and whispered: ‘I’m going to tackle him afterwards. I’m going to ask for an explanation on the spot.’

When, at eleven, the others had gone, George said rapidly: ‘I wonder if you could spare us a few minutes, Mr Martineau?’

‘George?’ Martineau laughed at the stiffness of George’s tone. He had been standing up, according to his habit, behind the sofa: now he dropped into an armchair and clasped his fingers round his knee.

‘We simply want to be reassured on one or two matters,’ George said. ‘Sometimes you are an anxiety to your friends, you know.’ For a second, a smile, frank and affectionate, broke up the heaviness on George’s face. ‘Will you allow me to put our questions?’

‘If I can answer,’ Martineau murmured. ‘If I can answer.’

‘Well then, do you intend to give up your present position?’

‘My position!’ said Martineau. ‘Do you mean my position in thought? I’ve had so many,’ he smiled, ‘that some day I shall have to give some of them up, George.’

‘I meant, do you intend to give up your position in the firm?’

‘Ah,’ said Martineau. Morcom leant forward, half-smiling at the curiously naïve attempt to hedge. ‘It’d be easier if you hadn’t asked—’

‘Can you say no?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t — not a No like yours, George.’ He got up from the chair and began his walk by the window. ‘I’ve asked that question to myself, don’t you see, and I can’t answer it properly. I can’t be sure I’ve made up my mind for certain. But, perhaps I can tell you, I sometimes don’t feel I have any right to remain inside the firm.’

I had a sense of certainty that the hesitation was not there: I felt that he was speaking from an unequivocal heart. Whether he knew it or not. I wondered if he knew it.

‘Right,’ said George. ‘Of course you have a right. According to law and conventional ethics and any conceivable ethics of your own. Why shouldn’t you stay?’

‘It isn’t as straightforward,’ Martineau shook his head with a smile. ‘We touched on this before, George. I’ve thought of it so often since. You see, I can’t forget I’ve got some obligations which aren’t to the firm at all. I may be wrong, but they come before the firm if one has to choose.’

‘So have I,’ said George. ‘But the choice doesn’t arise.’

‘I’m afraid it does a little,’ Martineau replied. ‘I told you, I shouldn’t be able to stop the things that I feel I’m called for most. I can’t possibly stop them.’

‘No one wants you to,’ said George.

Martineau rested his hands on the sofa.

‘But I haven’t been able to see a way to keep on with those — and stay in the firm.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I oughtn’t to be part of a firm and doing it harm at the same time, surely you agree, George? And these other attempts of mine — that I can’t give up, they’re damaging it, of course.’

‘You mean to say the firm’s worse off because of your—’ George shouted, stopped and said, ‘activities?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘What’s the evidence?’

‘One or two people have said things.’ Martineau stared at the ceiling.

‘Have they said, plainly and definitely, that they think the firm’s worse off than it was a couple of years ago?’

‘They haven’t said it in quite so many words, but—’

‘They’ve implied it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who are they?’

‘I forget their names, except—’

‘Except who?’

‘Harry Eden said something not long ago.’

‘Then Eden’s a fool and a liar and I shall have pleasure in telling him so to his face,’ George was shouting again. ‘He wants to get rid of you and is trying a method that oughtn’t to take in a child. It’s simply nonsense. This is a straightforward matter of fact. The amount of business we did in the last nine months is bigger than in any other twelve months since I came. And we did more last month than during any similar time. It’s only natural, of course. Anyone but Eden would realise that. And even he would if he hadn’t a purpose of his own to serve. We’re bound to have more cases, considering the success we had not long ago.’

‘What do you mean?’ Martineau, who had been frowning, inquired.

‘It’s only reasonable to imagine,’ George said in a subdued voice, ‘that the case in the summer had something to do with it.’

‘Oh yes,’ Martineau became passive again.

Morcom said: ‘Do you think George is wrong, Howard? Do you really think the firm is suffering?’

His voice sounded cold and clear after the others.

‘I think perhaps we’re talking of different things,’ said Martineau. ‘I’m sure George’s figures are right. I wasn’t thinking of it quite in that way. I mean, I believe, I’m doing — what shall I say? — a kind of impalpable harm — just as the work I’m trying to do outside the firm is impalpable work. Which doesn’t prevent it’ — he smiled — ‘being the most practical in the world, in my opinion.’

‘I want to know,’ George’s voice was raised, ‘what do you mean by impalpable harm to the firm?’

They argued again: Martineau became more evasive, and once he showed something like a flash of anger.

‘I’m trying to do the best thing,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry you seem so eager to prevent me.’

‘That’s quite unfair.’

‘I hoped my friends at any rate would give me credit for what I’m trying.’ Then he recovered his light temper. ‘Ah well, George, when you do something you feel is right, you’ll know just what to expect.’

‘Have you definitely made up your mind’, said Morcom, ‘to sell your share in the firm?’

‘I can’t say that,’ said Martineau. ‘Just now. I will tell you soon.’