Probably with a view to avoiding the attention of the Press, the meeting was held elsewhere than at No. 10 Downing Street. I found myself in what looked like a Board meeting-room. A fire burned in the grate, for it was a chilly day. Down the centre of the room stretched a long table around which a number of men were sitting, some of whom were familiar as great figures in the industrial world. At the head of the table I recognised the Premier, flanked on either hand by a Cabinet Minister. A chair was vacant half-way up the table, opposite the fireplace; and I took it on a gesture from the Premier.

Almost at once, the Prime Minister rose to his feet. He looked worn and agitated; but even under the evidences of the strain he endeavoured to assume a cheerful and confident air. He was a man I had never trusted; and I now had my first opportunity of examining him at close quarters. In repose, his face fell into the heavy lines of the successful barrister; but when he became animated, a mechanical smile flitted across it which in some way displeased me more than the expression which it veiled. He seemed to me a typical example of the faux bonhomme. In politics he had gained a reputation for dilatory conduct combined with a mastery in the art of managing a majority; and his mind was saturated with the idea of Party advantage. Of real loyalty I suspect he had very little; but when one of his Cabinet blundered heavily, he would step into the limelight with a fine gesture and assume all responsibility. In this way he kept his Government intact and gained a reputation for fidelity without losing anything; for he well knew that no one would call him to account for the responsibility which he had assumed.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you will probably wonder why we have invited you to meet us here to-day. We all know the unhappy state of affairs into which the country has fallen. There is dissatisfaction abroad; and the Government is being held responsible for conditions which were none of its making. I will speak plainly to you, for it is no time for reservations. Something must be done to allay public anxiety, which is growing more intense as time goes on. I am not one of those who take these passing scares seriously; but we cannot afford to ignore the present feeling: and some measures are necessary to satisfy this clamour. It is a time when all of us must come to the aid of the Executive.

“The Cabinet is dispersed at the moment. Many of the members are abroad and are unable to return at present, owing to a disorganisation of transport. But pending their return and the decisions which we shall then be forced to take, I thought it right to call together you gentlemen, large employers of labour, and to enlist your aid in the work we shall have to do. It is essential that the Government should retain public confidence at the present time. I think we are agreed upon that point. Nothing could be more fatal than a General Election forced upon us under the reigning conditions.

“We have taken steps to call Parliament together immediately, in order to lay before it certain measures which we believe will enable us to tide over this crisis. But in the meantime we must try to pacify the working classes, who are being agitated by the dismal forecasts of the newspapers. I have no desire to inquire into the origin of the jeremiads which are being printed daily in a certain group of papers; but I cannot help noticing that they all tend towards a discrediting of myself and my colleagues. There is a cry for action; whereas I think all of you will agree that consideration is required, so that the action, if it should become necessary, may be well-contrived.

“It is in these circumstances that we have called you gentlemen together. We propose to lay before you the main points of our scheme; and when you have heard them, we count upon you, as great employers of labour, to lay the matter before your employés. We shall use the newspapers also to disseminate our proposals; but personal efforts can do more than any printed appeals. I trust that we shall not look in vain for the cordial co-operation which is absolutely requisite at this crisis.”

As this speech proceeded, I had become more and more uneasy. Through it all ran the governing thought that something must be done, which was true enough; but the thing which he proposed to do, it appeared to me, was to persuade the country that all was well, whereas I felt that the essential matter was to prepare against a practical calamity.

“We have given a great deal of thought to our proposals, though we have not wasted time in the consideration of details. The broad outlines are all that are required for our present purpose; and we have confined our attention to them. My friend the Home Secretary”—he indicated the colleague who sat on his left—“will be good enough to read to you the heads of our decisions. I may say, however, that these decisions are only of a temporary nature. We may find it necessary to modify some of them in due course; and they must not be regarded as in any way final. Possibly”—he let the mechanical smile play over the company—“possibly some of those present may be able to suggest certain modifications at this meeting. If these modifications are such that we can adopt them, we shall be only too glad to do so.”

He sat down; and the Home Secretary rose in his turn. Saxenham had the reputation of being dull but honest. He had no force of character, but he had won his way into the Cabinet mainly because he had never been known to stoop to a false action in the whole course of his career. On this account he represented a mainstay of the Government, which in other ways was not too scrupulous. His brain was one which worked slowly; and his personal admiration for the Prime Minister was such that he followed him blindly without seeing too clearly whither he was being led. He cleared his throat and took up a sheet of paper which contained the Government proposals.

“I think that it will be best if I take the various proposals seriatim and elucidate each of them, as I come to it, by a short commentary.