“My dear fellow,” Hartfeld exclaimed, flourishing a delicate hand, “why this passion for black and white? Everything depends upon the fluctuations of circumstance——”
“Lord help us! Why not say of ‘Change’?”
Mr. Fane-Herbert gave him a glance which advised that, since these were not business men, they should not be treated as such. They must be allowed to talk if they wanted to. “You were saying, Hartfeld—the fluctuations of circumstance?”
“Upon the fluctuations of circumstance and the—er—signs of the times. Definite commitments in affairs of this kind are always dangerous, and are only to be obtained at the price of elasticity.”
“In other words,” said Street, “we want to give you the freest possible hand.”
Three of them nodded wisely. Ordith’s fingers moved lightly on the arms of his chair. He had not wanted these people brought into it. “They can’t help,” he had said. But Mr. Fane-Herbert had taken him by the shoulder; “No, they can’t help—granted. But they can hinder. Look on their talk as the price you pay for a retainer, see?”
“Then what it comes to,” Ordith said, “is that you are concerned in these contracts that we hope to obtain simply from the point of view of the national interest, eh?” So far as he knew the question was meaningless, but he felt that it would please them.
“Exactly,” they answered together.
“And you afford facilities?—a diplomatic phrase, surely?”