‘Are you suggesting that we ask Rothschild’s again?’ said Burke, anxious to assist his friend.
‘No, I am not,’ said Powerscourt, ‘But it was the principle I was thinking of. In this case the Bank cannot ask for help from the wealthy houses in the City, either because it would not be forthcoming, or because approaches to a variety of houses could not be kept secret. The Government cannot employ the taxpayers’ money on such a scale at this notice because the House of Commons would not stand for it. But if the Government were to borrow the money from just one individual, then those difficulties might be overcome. I have only just thought of this scheme, gentlemen, forgive me if it is not properly formed.’
The Prime Minister looked hard at Powerscourt. Maybe he wouldn’t have to organize a trumped-up row with the Russian Ambassador after all.
‘Do you have anybody in mind, Powerscourt?’ he said.
‘I am not sure about specific individuals, Prime Minister,’ Powerscourt replied, ‘but I have a very clear idea of the type of individual who might be prepared to give assistance. Mr Burke was talking earlier about outsiders who want to be insiders, somebody who wants to be embraced into the bosom of the English upper classes. My candidate would not be a peer, but he would be eternally grateful for a peerage.’
‘Bloody expensive for a peerage, five million pounds, even these days,’ said the Prime Minister, laughing for the first time that evening.
‘No doubt there are other inducements that could be offered,’ Powerscourt went on. ‘Some of our more fashionable clubs are very desirable for the simple reason that they are so hard to get into. I was thinking of the MCC or the Royal Yacht Squadron at Cowes for example. Some of the Pall Mall establishments may have been too quick in the past with their blackballs. That could, no doubt, be corrected. The Garter might be out of reach, Prime Minister, but surely the Chairmanship of a Royal Commission on some subject of little importance would not be. Invitations to spend the weekend with the Prince and Princess of Wales at Sandringham perhaps? Dinner with the Queen Empress herself at Windsor?’
Now it was Rosebery’s turn to laugh. The tension was ebbing from the room.
‘Come, Francis, you must have somebody in mind, surely?’ said Rosebery. ‘I am not a financier,’ said Powerscourt, secretly amazed at how quickly the plan had unfolded in his mind, ‘my only qualification is that when I began the investigations into Harrison’s Bank I read the back copies of the Economist and other financial papers for the past three years. I was thinking of one of those diamond people, not Rhodes of course, but one of the more shadowy ones who must have made more money than he ever did.’
‘Messel!’ Burke broke in. ‘Franz Augustine Messel. He might be our man. Or that other fellow, Sprecker, Hans Joachim Sprecker. They have both made enormous fortunes out of gold and diamonds in South Africa, Prime Minister. They are both resident in this country. Neither, to the best of my knowledge, has yet been elevated to the peerage.’
‘What do we put on the recommendation, Burke?’ asked the Prime Minister. ‘Even nowadays you have to say something about charitable good works or help for the deserving poor.’
‘Services to the financial community?’ suggested Powerscourt. ‘That could cover a multitude of sins. Usually does, I believe.’
‘Let us be serious, gentlemen.’ The Prime Minister’s hand had stopped looking for his train ticket. Maybe he would have to remain at his post a little longer yet. ‘Do either of you financial gentlemen believe this scheme to be possible? Governor?’
The Governor had turned pale. Life with Darjeeling and Earl Grey, Assam and Lapsang Souchong had not prepared him for this.
‘I think it is a most, a most interesting proposal,’ he spluttered. ‘I could not commit the Bank to saying whether it would succeed or not. I’m afraid -’
‘Mr Burke?’ the Prime Minister cut the Governor off brutally.
‘Well, Prime Minister . . .’ Something told Burke that bravery, even recklessness, might be better than prudence and his banker’s caution at this moment. ‘I think it could well work. It could get us out of all our difficulties. There is only one problem, now I think of it. I spoke a moment ago as if we had two possible candidates. I fear, with the time at our disposal, we have only one. Sprecker has made huge investments in some Central European railroad. Unlike almost all his contemporaries in the City he goes out in person to check on the progress of the schemes he has funded. We could not get to him in time.’
‘But Messel?’ said the Prime Minister. ‘Where is he?’
‘I believe he is at his place in Oxfordshire, Prime Minister. They call it the Chiltern Versailles. We could reach him tomorrow morning. We have nothing to lose.’
‘We have nothing to lose,’ said the Prime Minister grimly, ‘but the interest rate. What do you think he would charge for a loan in these circumstances?’
‘I fear we would have to pay over the odds, Prime Minister, however many inducements we were able to throw into the pot.’
‘Never mind.’ The Prime Minister was gathering his papers once again. ‘Bring him here. Bring him here tomorrow. On second thoughts, don’t bring him here. The place is full of these foreign persons and their reporters at present. Where do you suggest we meet, Mr Burke?’
‘Well,’ said Burke, ‘the Bank of England is out of the question. So is any office in the City. I would offer my house in Chester Square but my wife is having it repainted for the Jubilee.’ He smiled an apologetic smile. ‘Could I suggest, Prime Minister, that we meet in Lord Powerscourt’s house in Markham Square? Number 25. We could let you know when Messel is expected to arrive.’
‘Excellent,’ said the Prime Minister. He looked round at his predecessors on the walls, his gaze coming to rest on Disraeli’s wicked eyes. ‘I’m going to take a leaf out of Disraeli’s book, gentlemen. He sent his private secretary Montagu Corry to handle the negotiations with Rothschild about the Suez Canal. I shall use my equivalent. Schomberg McDonnell may look like a junior clerk in a solicitor’s office, but he bargains with straying backbenchers and rebellious members of the Cabinet as though he had been born in an Oriental bazaar.’
‘Does that mean, Prime Minister,’ Powerscourt was taking his duties as host very seriously, ‘that you won’t be coming to the meeting yourself?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Powerscourt!’ The huge frame shook with laughter. ‘McDonnell can talk to the fellow downstairs. Then he reports back to us upstairs. I don’t care if you have to hide me behind the arras, Powerscourt, I shouldn’t miss it . . .’ He paused suddenly and looked balefully at the Governor of the Bank of England. ‘I shouldn’t miss it for all the tea in China.’
28
Michael Byrne was a very superstitious man. He had never lost his faith in the Roman Catholic Church. Years of exposure to its teachings had left their mark. Nobody who had attended the Christian Brothers’ school in Clontarf, the prayers and religious instruction reinforced with regular communion with the strap, could ever truly escape. So he had decided to send his last messenger to London disguised as a nun. With wimple and crucifix, rosary and prayer book, he believed his envoy would surely avoid detection if the agents of the British Government were watching the ports. The nun would always get through.
But the susceptibilities of Ireland were not shared by the policemen of Liverpool. Sister Francesca, like the two previous emissaries, was followed all the way to London.
Lord Francis Powerscourt was feeling cheerful as he walked back to Markham Square. The sun was still shining and the warm weather had brought the crowds out into Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, young lovers lying happily on the grass. It looked as though this difficult case was nearly over. Tonight, he decided, he would take Lady Lucy out to dinner. A new restaurant had opened just off Sloane Square, specializing in fish. Lucy was very fond of fish. Then, when the Jubilee celebrations were complete, he would take her away, maybe to Naples and the ruins of Pompeii.