Paid In Full/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
WHAT CHARITY COVERS
Captain Dale Conway rose to his feet, amid applause from the crowded little drawing-room—or, rather, drawing-and-breakfast-room made one by throwing open the double doors between. The applause was led by Denny and Leo, who, flushed with triumph in the matter of the Darnborough Vase, were inclined to be boisterously tolerant of everything in general—even the activities of Laura Meakin.
‘May I sum up for you very briefly,’ he suggested, ‘the results of this meeting—this admirably organised meeting?’ He bowed gallantly to Laura, who bridled consciously. ‘Before doing so, though, I must thank you on Miss Meakin’s behalf for the very practical manner in which you have expressed your sympathy, by your attendance here this afternoon, with the aims’—he glanced covertly at the agenda paper on the table before him—‘of The League of Educative Science.’
‘Tea, really,’ observed Joan, in a painfully audible undertone.
‘And,’ continued the speaker, ‘may I also take this opportunity of expressing my personal sense of the honour you have done me in appointing me your Chairman? As I stand here in the presence of that Elder Statesman, that retired Pro-Consul of our Eastern Empire, Sir Anthony Fenwick, I am painfully conscious that he and not I ought to be occupying that position.’
‘Hear, hear!’ cried Denny and Leo cordially.
There was much laughter at this, in which Cradock joined.
‘Anyhow, here I am, he said, ‘and I hope I have not made an utter mess of things.’
‘Rather!’ said the indefatigable Leo.
‘Order!’ cried Laura Meakin, in a deep voice.
‘But you have not only made me Chairman of this meeting; you have appointed me Treasurer of your Society as well—a mark of confidence which moves me very deeply. I know, of course, that that confidence is derived, in great measure, from the affection and esteem in which you hold my very dear friend and sponsor, our hostess of this afternoon—’
The applause this time was quite spontaneous. Mildred, sitting alone, a little apart from the table, bowed her head, presumably in modest gratification.
‘Still,’ continued the Chairman, ‘sentiment is one thing and business is another. Let me say, here and now, that I will not and cannot accept this responsible post unless the accounts of the Society are regularly and properly audited by an outside authority.’
‘Hear, hear!’ remarked Sir Anthony, who was acting as corner-man at the left end of the front row. Cradock bowed in his direction.
‘I am glad to be supported in my contention by so eminent an authority,’ he said. ‘Fortunately, we have not far to go for our auditor. By the greatest good fortune, Mr. Augustus Moon, of the widely known firm of Chartered Accountants of that name in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Messrs. Moon, Moon, and Moon, happens to be present in our midst this afternoon. As an old rowing-man, he has been lured here by the Regatta, in company with Mrs. Moon, whom I know we are delighted to welcome among us—’
He paused, significantly, but there was no response. It was clear that Mr. Moon’s name was not quite so well known in Ripleigh as in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
‘Go on, you fool!’ hissed Leo to Denny. ‘Clap!’
‘Oh, sorry!’ said Denny; and the pair applauded lustily, with the respectful assistance of the rest of the company, now awakened to a tardy sense of the honour which Mr. Moon’s presence conferred.
‘Mr. Moon,’ explained Cradock, ‘has kindly undertaken to examine the accounts of the Society without charge of any kind, both now and at any other date that may be necessary; and I am sure we are all most proud and grateful to possess such a distinguished Honorary Auditor.’ He bowed in the direction of a twitching figure in a distant corner. ‘Mr. Moon, on behalf of the members of the Society, I thank you!’
The audience, now quite carried away by the nobility of Mr. Moon’s conduct, broke into prolonged applause. Mr. Moon promptly lost his head. He rose to his feet.
‘Mr. Chairman, Ladies, Gentlemen, and feller-sports—’ he began.
Mr. Chairman had not quite bargained for this.
‘In a minute, Mr. Moon,’ he said smoothly, with an almost imperceptible glance towards Mrs. Moon. An iron hand promptly drew Mr. Moon down into his seat, and the formal business of the meeting was resumed.
‘The sums actually handed in to date,’ announced Cradock, consulting a paper of figures handed to him by Laura Meakin, ‘amount to eighty-seven pounds, eleven shillings, and fourpence. A very encouraging total! But’—his voice rose firmly above a gentle murmur of gratification—‘it has one feature to which I object. It is not a round sum. Now, I have a little suggestion to make. I am going to ask Miss Meakin to hand all these cheques and postal orders to me, as a free gift, to be my very own, to be sent to my bank and placed to my private account.’ (Mild sensation.) ‘In return, I shall write a cheque for one hundred pounds, and shall present it to myself, as Treasurer, for the use of the Society. If you will sanction my action, you will be getting rid of this tiresome, untidy tale of shillings and pence, and at the same time conferring a very real favour upon your Chairman. May I do that, please?’
The audience, completely hypnotised by this time, applauded frantically. But Cradock held up a hand.
‘Just one point,’ he said. ‘Let us be quite frank. It is not always wise to accept cheques from strangers.’
‘Hear, hear!’ remarked an approving voice from the corner seat.
‘I am glad, Sir Anthony, that we again see eye to eye,’ said Cradock, smiling. ‘Now, I am a stranger. Yes, I am!’—this against a faint murmur of dissent—‘a comparative stranger, anyhow! But Mrs. Cradock is no stranger to you. You all know Mrs. Cradock. I, too, know Mrs. Cradock. I have known her for more years than her appearance would lead you to believe—’
There was appreciative laughter, but Joan reddened angrily at the familiarity.
—‘So I am going to ask Mrs. Cradock, when I draw my cheque for the hundred pounds, to write her name on the back of it; and I venture to think that such an endorsement will make that cheque as good as a Bank of England note.’ He turned with an eloquent gesture to his hostess. ‘Mrs. Cradock, will you do that?’
Mildred, helpless but composed, bowed her head, amid more hand-clapping.
‘Thank you!’ cried Cradock enthusiastically. ‘I knew you would! Now I think we might disperse. I know one or two gentlemen who have to go and collect Regatta Prizes. Is there any other business?’
There was none, except a laborious vote of thanks to the chair, proposed by Sir Thomas Mobberley, the local M.P.; seconded by Leo Bagby, who contrived with great presence of mind to cut in during one of the proposer’s portentous pauses; and carried by acclamation, before Sir Thomas, or his lifelong prompter, Lady Mobberley, had time to realise what was happening. After that came a general upheaval, and the meeting streamed out of the open windows on to the lawn. Foremost in the retreat one might have observed the hurrying figures of Mr. and Mrs. Augustus Moon.