There was a moment’s silence. It was for the President to speak first. Sir John spoke with ease and fluency. He had addressed many meetings, and soothed for the time many angry shareholders.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Sir John, “Mr Smith comes before you under very good auspices. He is seconded by one member of the committee and underwritten by another. Among his supporters we have noted the names of Lord Charles Baringstoke and—er—others. But it must be remarked that his seconder is not here this morning to speak for him. Why is he not here?”
“He was so very drunk last night,” said Dr Soames Pryce. There was not the least shade of moral accusation in his voice; it was a plain statement of a cause having a certain effect.
“Nonsense!” snapped Mr Bassett.
“I assure you, my diagnosis is correct.”
“Gentlemen!” said Sir John, in mild protest. Both men apologised to the President for the interruption. He continued:
“From whatever cause it arises it is at least unfortunate that Mr Mast is not here; there are questions that I should have felt it my duty, unpleasant though it might be, to put to him. However, we will leave him and consider the candidature of Mr Smith.”
Here Sir John paused to light a cigar and refresh himself from the glass before him.
“Now, gentlemen, I think if I may claim any virtue at all it is the virtue of foresight. When the circumstances arose which made it advisable for me to leave England, I had already foreseen those circumstances and I knew that Faloo was the place. From its want of an accessible harbour, its small size, and its position out of the usual line of trading and other vessels, and also perhaps from a pardonable ignorance, Faloo has been omitted by statesmen and their advisers from treaties innumerable. It has independence on sufferance. Any European power that claimed Faloo would be met by a counter-claim from another power, and at present it is considered too obscure and insignificant for diplomacy, or for sterner methods of arbitration. Briefly, it is not worth fighting about. But I know that you will agree with me that it is just what we require. Life is soft and easy, and the climate is always summer. Nature has showered her gifts upon this island—gorgeous flowers and luscious fruits, the graceful and useful palm, the orange trees in the shade of which we sit.”
“Pardon the correction,” said Dr Soames Pryce. “The orange trees were brought by Smith’s grandfather from Tahiti, and they were not indigenous even there.”