The Complete Works: Fantasy & Sci-Fi Novels, Religious Studies, Poetry & Autobiography. C. S. Lewis
Oh, of course you know Tony. That little dark man from the Bank. Laird is going to be there. He’s some kind of cousin of the P.M.’s. I was wondering if you could join us. I know David’s very anxious to meet you. He’s heard a lot about you from some chap who used to go to your lectures. I can’t remember the name.”
“Well, it would be very difficult. It rather depends on when old Bill’s funeral is to be. I should have to be here for that of course. Was there anything about the inquest on the six o’clock news?”
“I didn’t hear. But, of course, that raises a second question. Now that the Blizzard has gone to blow in a better world, we have two vacancies.”
“I can’t hear,” yelled Curry. “Is this noise getting worse? Or am I getting deaf?”
“I say, Sub-Warden,” shouted Ted Raynor from beyond Feverstone, “what the devil are your friends outside doing?”
“Can’t they work without shouting?” asked someone else.
“It doesn’t sound like work at all to me,” said a third.
“Listen!” said Glossop suddenly, “that’s not work. Listen to the feet. It’s more like a game of rugger.”
“It’s getting worse every minute,” said Raynor.
Next moment nearly everyone in the room was on his feet. “What was that?” shouted one. “They’re murdering someone,” said Glossop. “There’s only one way of getting a noise like that out of a man’s throat.”
“Where are you going?” asked Curry. “I’m going to see what’s happening,” said Glossop. “Curry, go and collect all the shooters in College. Someone ring up the police.”
“I shouldn’t go out if I were you,” said Feverstone, who had remained seated and was pouring himself out another glass of wine, “it sounds as if the police, or something, was there already.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen. There!”
“I thought that was their infernal drill.”
“Listen!”
“My God . . . you really think it’s a machine-gun?”
“Look out! Look out!” said a dozen voices at once as a splintering of glass became audible and a shower of stones fell onto the Common Room floor. A moment later several of the Fellows had made a rush for the windows and put up the shutters: and then they were all standing staring at one another, and silent but for the noise of their heavy breathing. Glossop had a cut on the forehead, and on the floor lay the fragments of that famous east window on which Henrietta Maria had once cut her name with a diamond.
Chapter Five
Elasticity
I
Next morning Mark went back to Belbury by train. He had promised his wife to clear up a number of points about his salary and place of residence, and the memory of all these promises made a little cloud of uneasiness in his mind, but on the whole he was in good spirits. This return to Belbury—just sauntering in and hanging up his hat and ordering a drink—was a pleasant contrast to his first arrival. The servant who brought the drink knew him. Filostrato nodded to him. Women would fuss, but this was clearly the real world. After the drink he strolled upstairs to Cosser’s office. He was there for only five minutes, and when he came out his state of mind had been completely altered.
Steele and Cosser were both there and both looked up with the air of men who have been interrupted by a total stranger. Neither spoke.
“Ah—good morning,” said Mark awkwardly.
Steele finished making a pencil note on some large document which was spread out before him.
“What is it, Mr. Studdock?” he said without looking up.
“I came to see Cosser,” said Mark, and then, addressing Cosser, “I’ve just been thinking over the last section but one in that report——”
“What report’s this?” said Steele to Cosser.
“Oh, I thought,” replied Cosser, with a little twisty smile at one corner of his mouth, “that it would be a good thing to put together a report on Cure Hardy in my spare time, and as there was nothing particular to do yesterday I drew it up. Mr. Studdock helped me.”
“Well, never mind about that now,” said Steele. “You can talk to Mr. Cosser about it some other time, Mr. Studdock. I’m afraid he’s busy at present.”
“Look here,” said Mark, “I think we’d better understand one another. Am I to take it that this report was simply a private hobby of Cosser’s? And if so, I should like to have known that before I spent eight hours’ work on it. And whose orders am I under?”
Steele, playing with his pencil, looked at Cosser.
“I asked you a question about my position, Mr. Steele,” said Mark.
“I haven’t time for this sort of thing,” said Steele. “If you haven’t any work to do, I have. I know nothing about your position.”
Mark thought, for a moment, of turning to Cosser; but Cosser’s smooth, freckled face and non-committal eyes suddenly filled him with such contempt that he turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was going to see the Deputy Director.
At the door of Wither’s room he hesitated for a moment because he heard voices from within. But he was too angry to wait. He knocked and entered without noticing whether the knock had been answered.
“My dear boy,” said the Deputy Director, looking up but not quite fixing his eyes on Mark’s face, “I am delighted to see you.” As he heard these words Mark noticed that there was a third person in the room. It was a man called Stone whom he had met at dinner the day before yesterday. Stone was standing in front of Wither’s table rolling and unrolling a piece of blotting-paper with his fingers. His mouth was open, his eyes fixed on the Deputy Director.
“Delighted to see you,” repeated Wither. “All the more so because you—er—interrupted me in what I am afraid I must call a rather painful interview. As I was just saying to poor Mr. Stone when you came in, nothing is nearer to my heart than the wish that this great Institute should all work together like one family . . . the greatest unity of will and purpose, Mr. Stone, the freest mutual confidence . . . that is what I expect of my colleagues. But then as you may remind me, Mr.—ah—Studdock, even in family life there are occasionally strains and frictions and misunderstandings. And that is why, my dear boy, I am not at the moment quite at leisure—don’t go, Mr. Stone. I have a great deal more to say to you.”
“Perhaps I’d better come back later?” said Mark.
“Well, perhaps in all the circumstances . . . it is your feelings that I am considering, Mr. Stone . . . perhaps . . . the usual method of seeing me, Mr. Studdock, is to apply to my secretary and make an appointment. Not, you will understand, that I have the least wish to insist on any formalities or would be other than pleased to see you whenever you looked in. It is the waste of your time that I am anxious to avoid.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Mark. “I’ll go and see your secretary.”
The secretary’s office was next door. When one went in one found not the secretary himself but a number of subordinates who were cut off from their visitors behind a sort of counter. Mark made an appointment for ten o’clock to-morrow which was the earliest hour they could offer him. As he came out he ran into Fairy Hardcastle.
“Hullo, Studdock,”