“I’m only saying what you’ve been thinking,” said Dr Pryce. “Poor old Thomas messed his accounts at the Cabinet Club and he had to skip, and it’s supposed to be the same all the way up through the members. All we ask about a white candidate is how much he brought with him or can have sent out to him. If he can afford it he’s a member. Our rules are easy, but we don’t change members’ cheques, and it’s a recognised principle with us that we believe in the money we see and in no other money. If the cash isn’t on the table there’s no bet. That being so, ought we to put on side? Can we carry it?”
“Certainly not. Hear hear!” said Mr Bassett with enthusiasm.
“Sir John says we’ve got the whip-hand of King Smith now. True. So we have. So we shall still have if he’s made a member. Sir John thinks that if Smith opens the harbour and widens the trade the island will be grabbed and we shall be grabbed too. I should say rats!”
“Really?” said Sir John, frigidly.
“I mean, with all respect, that there’s not enough in Faloo to make any power restless in its sleep—except ourselves, and it is not likely to be known that we are here. As for Smith himself, he’s a clever blackguard, but I doubt if he’s as deep as our President thinks. There are good streaks about him. The natives get none of the filth that he brews in the still at the back of his office—that’s traded away under the rose to other islands. He’s got an open hand, and keeps good whisky, and what persuaded our reverend friend Mast to get tight on curaçoa last night beats me altogether. What I don’t like is that while his business is financed by some of us he’s lending money out of his share of the profits to others. Three of the men who underwrote him have got an advance on their remittances from him—Charley Baringstoke’s one of them. That might make awkwardness. He’s playing it all out for John Smith too, as our President says. Well, I’m playing it for Dr Pryce. If Bassett isn’t playing it for a man whose name begins with B I’m wrong. Fire in, Bassett. As I say, my mind’s still open.”
Mr Bassett spoke briefly and nervously, with a sickly, ingratiating smile, fingering at times that uncomely fringe of beard. He was sure that Sir John had presented the arguments on his side of the question with great skill and power. But he must confess that he thought the greater part of those arguments had already been fully answered in a few sentences by Dr Pryce. As for the absence of the Rev. Cyril Mast, that was really due to delicacy and good feeling; he had felt that the discussion of a candidate whom he had seconded could be more free and open in the seconder’s absence. That being so, Mast might possibly have felt free to indulge last night in the—er—lapse which Dr Pryce had described. Certainly, the money-lending to which Dr Pryce had objected was a serious point. But he believed that Mr Smith had only given way from good-nature, only in a few cases, and only for small sums. He would guarantee that an expression of opinion would be enough to stop it. There was one matter with which Dr Pryce had not dealt, and that was the native question. Here Mr Bassett became very impressive.
“It’s not foreign powers and extradition treaties we’ve got to fear. If John Smith wants to blast the reef, and can give us twenty per cent. for our money instead of ten, let him do it, and I’ve got more money waiting for him. But we’ve got to fear the natives of this island here and now.”
“I suppose it’s necessary for you to be in a funk of something,” said Mr Soames Pryce.
“Order,” said Sir John. “Really, that’s rather an insulting remark.”
“Sorry. I withdraw it,” said Pryce, placidly.