“I say, Granger! I say, Granger....”
I pushed the folding-doors apart and went slowly down the gloomy room. I heard the doors swing again, and footsteps patter on the matting behind me. I did not turn; the man came round me and looked at my face. It was Polehampton. There were tears in his eyes.
“I say,” he said, “I say, what does it mean; what does it mean?” It was very difficult for me to look at him. “I tell you....” he began again. He had the dictatorial air of a very small, quite hopeless man, a man mystified by a blow of unknown provenance. “I tell you....” he began again.
“But what has it to do with me?” I said roughly.
“Oh, but you ... you advised me to buy.” He had become supplicatory. “Didn’t you, now?... Didn’t you.... You said, you remember ... that....” I didn’t answer the man. What had I got to say? He remained looking intently at me, as if it were of the greatest moment to him that I should make the acknowledgment and share the blame—as if it would take an immense load from his shoulders. I couldn’t do it; I hated him.
“Didn’t you,” he began categorically; “didn’t you advise me to buy those debentures of de Mersch’s?” I did not answer.
“What does it all mean?” he said again. “If this bill doesn’t get through, I tell you I shall be ruined. And they say that Mr. Gurnard is going to smash it. They are all saying it, up there; and that you—you on the Hour ... are ... are responsible.” He took out a handkerchief and began to blow his nose. I didn’t say a single word.
“But what’s to be done?” he started again; “what’s to be done.... I tell you.... My daughter, you know, she’s very brave, she said to me this morning she could work; but she couldn’t, you know; she’s not been brought up to that sort of thing ... not even typewriting ... and so ... we’re all ruined ... everyone of us. And I’ve more than fifty hands, counting Mr. Lea, and they’ll all have to go. It’s horrible.... I trusted you, Granger, you know; I trusted you, and they say up there that you....” I turned away from him. I couldn’t bear to see the bewildered fear in his eyes. “So many of us,” he began again, “everyone I know.... I told them to buy and ... But you might have let us know, Granger, you might have. Think of my poor daughter.”
I wanted to say something to the man, wanted to horribly; but there wasn’t anything to say—not a word. I was sorry. I took up a paper that sprawled on one of the purple ottomans. I stood with my back to this haggard man and pretended to read.
I noticed incredulously that I was swaying on my legs. I looked round me. Two old men were asleep in armchairs under the gloomy windows. One had his head thrown back, the other was crumpled forward into himself; his frail, white hand just touched the floor. A little further off two young men were talking; they had the air of conspirators over their empty coffee cups.