“You didn’t mean it, and you’ll probably laugh at it. It was about a fortnight ago, and we’d just finished a committee meeting after dinner. There were Pryce, Bassett, you and I sitting out on the verandah. Bassett kept jigging about in a wicker chair that squeaked horribly, and you said you’d give us some better music than that, you remember?”
“Yes, I remember. What about it?”
“You pulled out that swagger presentation watch of yours—the one that plays the tunes—and set it going. The night was quite still, and I sat listening to the tinky-tink of ‘Home, sweet Home.’ That brought back Histon Boys to my mind—village where I was, you know. Old chaps hobbling out of church, bad with rheumatism; they used to touch their hats to me then. They didn’t know. I was welcome anywhere in the village. I dined with the farmers and played tennis with their pretty daughters. People walked in from the next village, three miles away, to hear me preach on Sunday evenings. Yes, it won’t seem much to you, but I’ve lost it all, and I can never have it again or anything like it. Why, if I showed myself in Histon Boys now, they’d set their dogs on me. That infernal tune made me think, and thinking drove me mad.”
“I’m not concerned with your sins, Mr Mast. Being a parson you repent ’em, and being what you are, you repeat ’em. You spend your time in alternate sobbing and soaking. But I’m concerned with your follies, because they’re dangerous. You showed yourself a dangerous fool in the matter of the native women. You’ve showed yourself still more dangerous in bringing Lechworthy here. Lechworthy’s hand-in-glove with the King. Lechworthy may sail for home with a list of our names in his pocket-book.”
“I realise all that,” said Mast. “If there’s anything I can do about Lechworthy I’ll do it. I don’t care what it is.”
“Remember you’ve said that. I may take you at your word later. At present that matter is in the hands of a stronger man than you are. Lechworthy’s niece is ill, and Dr Pryce is attending her. Something may be worked that way.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Don’t you? Well, there are more ways than one of paying the doctor who saves the life of somebody to whom you’re devoted. But don’t bother about that yet. At present that’s in Dr Pryce’s hands and mine. You’ve made an unlimited offer, and I think you were right to make it—you’ve risked the skins of every man in the club, and you ought to be ready to risk your own skin to save them. Probably it won’t come to that, but if it does I’ll tell you. Meanwhile there’s another thing to settle. Who’s to be secretary?”
“Mandelbaum says he would take it if a small salary were attached. He has asked me to propose that.”
“We can’t pay a salary and I wouldn’t take Mandelbaum if he paid to come in. He must find somebody else to propose that nonsense. You can tell him I said so if you like. Mandelbaum doesn’t happen to be one of the things I’m afraid of just now. The fact is, Mast—and you’re a good deal responsible for it—we are getting too disorganised and demoralised here. I don’t want to turn the place into a Sunday-school, but I will have some decency and order. And I want a strong committee, because in consequence of this Lechworthy incident it may be necessary for the whole club to take action as the committee directs. Pryce is all right, but you admit your own weakness. You were elected, because you had the gift of the gab, and you can make it useful to us. I want you to propose Hanson. Bassett was never a strong man, and that fat German who flatters himself that he’s worth a salary is no better. Hanson is the man. He’s steady and he knows things.”