Part 16 (1/2)
”There's always supposed to be a kind of honour among thieves,” I said.
I was still rather nettled by the contemptuous a.s.sumption that Gorman must be a blackguard simply because he is an Irish Nationalist. After all, Sir Bartholomew's own profession is not a very respectable one.
He is a diplomatist, and diplomacy is simply the name we have agreed to give to lying about national affairs. I cannot see that Sir Bartholomew has any right to take up a high moral tone when speaking of Gorman or any other Member of Parliament, Irish or English.
”I'll look up the man to-morrow,” said Sir Bartholomew. ”I daresay I'll find him in the House of Commons during the afternoon.”
Sir Bartholomew gave me no hint about the nature of his confidential business. I suppose he did not feel I could be trusted. However, Gorman told me all about it next day.
Sir Bartholomew came on Gorman in the smoking-room of the House of Commons. He was wearing, so Gorman a.s.sures me, the very best kind of official manner, that interesting mixture of suavity and pomposity with which our mandarins approach the public. They hope, in this way, to induce us to believe that they have benevolent dispositions and immense ability. I do not know whether any one is ever deceived by this manner or thinks of a mandarin otherwise than as a fortunate person who earns a large salary by being stupid. Certainly Gorman was not in the very least impressed. Being an Irishman, Gorman knows the official cla.s.s thoroughly. Ireland is a kind of laboratory for the culture of the mandarin bacillus.
”May I,” said Sir Bartholomew, ”intrude on your time, and ask you one or two questions on a matter of some little importance?”
Gorman had no objection to being asked questions. Whether he would answer them or not was another matter.
”I think,” said Sir Bartholomew, ”that you know King Konrad Karl of Megalia.”
That was not a question, so Gorman gave no answer. He merely puffed at his pipe which was not drawing well and looked at Sir Bartholomew's round plump face.
”A rather wild young man,” said Sir Bartholomew. ”Dissipated would perhaps be too strong a word. What do you think?”
”It is a strongish word,” said Gorman.
Sir Bartholomew tried another cast.
”Mr. Donovan is a friend of yours, I think,” he said, ”and his daughter?”
”I've met them,” said Gorman.
Sir Bartholomew realized that he was not getting on very fast with Gorman. He relapsed a little from his high official manner and adopted a confidential tone.
”There has been a certain amount of talk in diplomatic, or shall we say semi-diplomatic circles, about King Konrad Karl, mere gossip, of course, but----”
”I never listen to gossip,” said Gorman.
This was untrue. Gorman listens to all the gossip he can and enjoys it thoroughly.
Sir Bartholomew found it necessary to unbend a little more. He unb.u.t.toned, so to speak, the two bottom b.u.t.tons of the waistcoat of pomposity which he wore.
”I was told a story the other day,” he said. ”Perhaps I'd better not mention the name of my informant; but there can be no harm in saying that he is one of the attaches of the Emba.s.sy of a great Power, a friendly Power.”
I expect Sir Bartholomew thought this way of talking would impress Gorman. It impresses most people. Your story has a much better chance of being believed and repeated if you tell it on the authority of some one unnamed and vaguely described than it has if you merely say ”young Smith, the cas.h.i.+er in my bank, told me to-day, that....”
”I am alluding,” said Sir Bartholomew, ”to a report that has reached us of an escapade of Miss Donovan's. That young lady--very charming I'm sure--and her father's immensely rich, but--well, you know what young girls are.”
”Got engaged to a Royal Duke?” said Gorman, ”or run away with the chauffeur?”
”Oh no, nothing of that sort. Not at all. The statement with which I'm concerned is that her father has bought an island and some kind of t.i.tle for her from that unfortunate young King of Megalia.”
”So long as he paid for it,” said Gorman, ”I don't see that it's anybody else's business.”