“But, then, it’s rather bad——I suppose these little men you shut up,—some of them must have families.”
“You’re theorizing a bit this morning, Elly,” said Sir Isaac, looking up over his coffee cup.
“I’ve been thinking—about these little people.”
“Someone’s been talking to you about my shops,” said Sir Isaac, and stuck out an index finger. “If that’s Georgina——”
“It isn’t Georgina,” said Lady Harman, but she had it very clear in her mind that she must not say who it was.
“You can’t make a business without squeezing somebody,” said Sir Isaac. “It’s easy enough to make a row about any concern that grows a bit. Some people would like to have every business tied down to a maximum turnover and so much a year profit. I dare say you’ve been hearing of these articles in the London Lion. Pretty stuff it is, too. This fuss about the little shopkeepers; that’s a new racket. I’ve had all that row about the waitresses before, and the yarn about the Normandy eggs, and all that, but I don’t see that you need go reading it against me, and bringing it up at the breakfast-table. A business is a business, it isn’t a charity, and I’d like to know where you and I would be if we didn’t run the concern on business lines.... Why, that London Lion fellow came to me with the first two of those articles before the thing began. I could have had the whole thing stopped if I liked, if I’d chosen to take the back page of his beastly cover. That shows the stuff the whole thing is made of. That shows you. Why!—he’s just a blackmailer, that’s what he is. Much he cares for my waitresses if he can get the dibs. Little shopkeepers, indeed! I know ’em! Nice martyrs they are! There isn’t one wouldn’t skin all the others if he got half a chance....”
Sir Isaac gave way to an extraordinary fit of nagging anger. He got up and stood upon the hearthrug to deliver his soul the better. It was an altogether unexpected and illuminating outbreak. He was flushed with guilt. The more angry and eloquent he became, the more profoundly thoughtful grew the attentive lady at the head of his table....
When at last Sir Isaac had gone off in the car to Victoria, Lady Harman rang for Snagsby. “Isn’t there a paper,” she asked, “called the London Lion?”
“It isn’t one I think your ladyship would like,” said Snagsby, gently but firmly.
“I know. But I want to see it. I want copies of all the issues in which there have been articles upon the International Stores.”