Джон Голсуорси - The White Monkey

The sounds which greeted this moderate speech were so inextricable that Michael could not get the sense of them. Not so with the speech which followed. It came from a shareholder on the right, with reddish hair, light eyelashes, a clipped moustache, and a scraped colour.

“I have no objection whatever to having the Board in,” he said in a rather jeering voice, “and passing a vote of no confidence in their presence. There is a question, which no one has touched on, of how far, if we turn them out, we could make them liable for this loss. The matter is not clear, but there is a good sporting chance, if we like to take it. Whereas, if we don’t turn them out, it’s obvious we can’t take it, even if we wish.”

The impression made by this speech was of quite a different order from any of the others. It was followed by a hush, as though something important had been said at last. Michael stared at Mr. Tolby. The stout man’s round, light, rather prominent eye was extraordinarily reflective. ‘Trout must look like that,’ thought Michael, ‘when they see a mayfly.’ Mr. Tolby suddenly stood up.

“All right,” he said, “‘ave ’em in!”

“Yes,” said the dead shareholder. There was no dissent. Michael saw some one rise and ascend the platform.

“Let the Press know!” said Mr. Tolby.

When the door had closed behind the departing directors, Soames sought a window as far as possible from the lunch eaten before the meeting.

“Funeral baked meats, eh, Forsyte?” said a voice in his ear. “Our number’s up, I think. Poor old Mothergill’s looking very blue. I think he ought to ask for a second shirt!”

Soames’ tenacity began wriggling within him.

“The thing wants tackling,” he grumbled; “the Chairman’s not the man for the job!” Shades of old Uncle Jolyon! He would have made short work of this! It wanted a masterful hand.

“Warning to us all, Forsyte, against loyalty! It’s not in the period. Ah! Fontenoy!”

Soames became conscious of features rather above the level of his own.

“Well, Mr. Forsyte, hope you’re satisfied? A pretty damned mess! If I’d been the Chairman, I’d never have withdrawn. Always keep hounds under your eye, Mont. Take it off, and they’ll go for you! Wish I could get among ’em with a whip; I’d give it those two heavy pug-faced chaps—they mean business! Unless you’ve got something up your sleeve, Mr. Forsyte, we’re dished.”

“What should I have up my sleeve?” said Soames coldly.

“Damn it, sir, you put the chestnuts in the fire; it’s up to you to pull ’em out. I can’t afford to lose these fees!”

Soames heard Sir Lawrence murmur: “Crude, my dear Fontenoy!” and said with malice:

“You may lose more than your fees!”

“Can’t! They may have Eaglescourt tomorrow, and take a loss off my hands.” A gleam of feeling burned up suddenly in the old eyes: “The country drives you to the wall, skins you to the bone, and expects you to give ’em public service gratis. Can’t be done, Mont—can’t be done!”

Soames turned away; he had an utter disinclination for talk, like one standing before an open grave, watching a coffin slowly lowered. Here was his infallibility going—going! He had no illusions. It would all be in the papers, and his reputation for sound judgment gone for ever! Bitter! No more would the Forsytes say: “Soames says—” No more would old Gradman follow him with eyes like an old dog’s, grudging sometimes, but ever submitting to infallibility. It would be a nasty jar for the old fellow. His business acquaintances—after all, they were not many, now! – would no longer stare with envious respect. He wondered if the reverberations would reach Dumetrius, and the picture market! The sole comfort was: Fleur needn’t know. Fleur! Ah! If only her business were safely over! For a moment his mind became empty of all else. Then with a rush the present filled it up again. Why were they all talking as if there were a corpse in the room? Well! There was—the corpse of his infallibility! As for monetary loss—that seemed secondary, remote, incredible—like a future life. Mont had said something about loyalty. He didn’t know what loyalty had to do with it! But if they thought he was going to show any white feather, they were extremely mistaken. Acid courage welled up into his brain. Shareholders, directors—they might howl and shake their fists; he was not going to be dictated to. He heard a voice say:

“Will you come in, please, gentlemen?”

Taking his seat again before his unused quill, he noticed the silence—shareholders waiting for directors, directors for shareholders. “Wish I could get among ’em with a whip!” Extravagant words of that ‘old guinea-pig’s,’ but expressive, somehow!

At last the Chairman, whose voice always reminded Soames of a raw salad with oil poured over it, said ironically:

“Well, gentlemen, we await your pleasure.”

That stout, red-faced fellow, next to Michael, stood up, opening his pug’s mouth.

“To put it shortly, Mr. Chairman, we’re not at all satisfied; but before we take any resolution, we want to ‘ear what you’ve got to say.”

Just below Soames, some one jumped up and added: “We’d like to know, sir, what assurances you can offer us against anything of this sort in the future.”

Soames saw the Chairman smile—no real backbone in that fellow!

“In the nature of things, sir,” he said, “none whatever! You can hardly suppose that if we had known our manager was not worthy of our confidence, we should have continued him in the post for a moment!”

Soames thought: ‘That won’t do—he’s gone back on himself!’ Yes, and that other pug-faced chap had seen it!

“That’s just the point, sir,” he was saying: “Two of you DID know, and yet, there the fellow was for months afterwards, playin’ ‘is own ‘and, cheatin’ the Society for all he was worth, I shouldn’t wonder.”

One after another, they were yelping now:

“What about your own words?”

“You admitted collective responsibility.”

“You said you were perfectly satisfied with the attitude of your co-directors in the matter.” Regular pack!

Soames saw the Chairman incline his head as if he wanted to shake it; old Fontenoy muttering, old Mothergill blowing his nose, Meyricke shrugging his sharp shoulders. Suddenly he was cut off from view of them—Sir Lawrence was standing up between.

“Allow me a word! Speaking for myself, I find it impossible to accept the generous attempt of the Chairman to shoulder a responsibility which clearly rests on me. If I made a mistake of judgment in not disclosing our suspicions, I must pay the penalty; and I think it will clear the—er—situation if I tender my resignation to the meeting.”

Soames saw him give a little bow, place his monocle in his eye, and sit down.

A murmur greeted the words—approval, surprise, deprecation, admiration? It had been gallantly done. Soames distrusted gallantry—there was always a dash of the peacock about it. He felt curiously savage.

“I, apparently,” he said, rising, “am the other incriminated director. Very good! I am not conscious of having done anything but my duty from beginning to end of this affair. I am confident that I made no mistake of judgment. And I consider it entirely unjust that I should be penalised. I have had worry and anxiety enough, without being made a scapegoat by shareholders who accepted this policy without a murmur, before ever I came on the Board, and are now angry because they have lost by it. You owe it to me that the policy has been dropped: You owe it to me that you have no longer a fraudulent person for a manager. And you owe it to me that you were called together today to pass judgment on the matter. I have no intention whatever of singing small. But there is another aspect to this affair. I am not prepared to go on giving my services to people who don’t value them. I have no patience with the attitude displayed this afternoon. If any one here thinks he has a grievance against me, let him bring an action. I shall be happy to carry it to the House of Lords, if necessary. I have been familiar with the City all my life, and I have not been in the habit of meeting with suspicions and ingratitude. If this is an instance of present manners, I have been familiar with the City long enough. I do not tender my resignation to the meeting; I resign.”