It was strange to leave the combination room, and walk into such an evening. But the strain was growing more acute. There had been only one action which took away from it in the slightest; Francis Getliffe had been as good as his word, and, by what means I did not know, had stopped the threats to Luke.
One night when Brown and I were both dining, Chrystal sharply asked if we could spare half an hour after hall. Brown and I each looked at him; we knew from his expression that he had something active to propose. I thought Brown even at that moment was a shade uneasy; but he took us to his rooms, and opened a bottle of hock, saying: ‘I’ve a feeling it will be rather refreshing in this weather.’
He went on to talk of Sir Horace. At the end of the long vacation, they had persevered with schemes to get in touch with him again; finally they settled that Brown should write a letter, telling Sir Horace that they had been discussing his nephew’s future and wondered whether it would not be wise for him to have a fourth year — ‘not necessarily reading for a Tripos’ — Brown said he could not endure that risk again. This letter had been sent and evoked several telephone calls from Sir Horace. For once they had got him undecided. He nearly sent the young man back, and then thought again; in the end he decided against, but there was a long telephone conversation, thanks of unprecedented cordiality, and a half-promise to visit the college during the winter.
Brown was willing to speculate on that visit, but for the first time Chrystal brushed all talk of Sir Horace aside.
‘We’ve shot our bolt there. It’s up to him now,’ he said. ‘I want to hear your views about this mess we’re in.’
‘You mean we haven’t succeeded in making things safe for Jago?’
‘It’s not our fault. I don’t accept any blame,’ said Chrystal. ‘But we’re in a mess.’
‘Well,’ said Brown. ‘We’ve still got a lead of one. It’s 6–5 providing Pilbrow troubles to come back. There’s always a chance we might win someone over at the last minute. I’ve always thought there might be a chance with Gay.’
‘I didn’t get any change from him. I regard him as fixed,’ said Chrystal.
‘Well, then, it’s 6–5.’
‘And 6–5 is stalemate. It’s lamentable.’
‘I’m certain our wisest course,’ said Brown firmly, determined to get in first, ‘is to sit tight and see how things pan out. Funny things may happen before we actually get into the chapel. I know it’s a confounded nuisance, but we’ve got to sit tight and have some patience. We’re not in such a bad position.’
‘I don’t agree,’ said Chrystal. ‘The place is more like a beargarden than ever. And it’s stalemate. I don’t see how you can hope to make any progress.’
‘It’s worth trying Gay again,’ I said.
‘You’ll be wasting your time. I rule him out,’ said Chrystal.
‘At the very last,’ I said, ‘we ought to try old Despard. We haven’t shown our hand completely.’
‘You can try,’ said Chrystal with scorn.
He went on: ‘I see it like this. The present position is the best we can hope for. We may lose a vote. We shan’t gain one. Do you take me up on that? We can’t expect anything better than the present voting.’
‘I don’t admit that it’s certain,’ said Brown, ‘but I should regard it as a probability.’
I agreed.
‘I’m glad you see it the same way,’ said Chrystal. ‘Where does it get us?’
‘If the voting does stay in the present position,’ Brown replied, ‘and I admit we haven’t any right to expect better, then the decision goes to the Visitor, of course.’
By statute, if the fellows could not find a clear majority of their number for one candidate, it was left for the Visitor to appoint. The Visitor had always been, right back to the foundation, the bishop of a northern diocese. I was sure, by the way, that Brown and Chrystal must have thought of this possibility as soon as Jago’s majority was broken. I had myself at moments, though it took time for any of us to believe that a stalemate was the likely end.
‘What happens then?’ said Chrystal, pressing his point.
‘I shouldn’t like to guess,’ said Brown. ‘I suppose the greatest danger is that he would prefer the one who is more distinguished outside the college.’
‘He couldn’t appoint Jago,’ said Chrystal. ‘He’s not a churchman, and he hasn’t got any reputation for his work.’
‘Surely Crawford’s politics would be against him,’ I remarked.
‘I wish I were absolutely certain of that,’ said Brown. ‘Isn’t the Bishop a bit of a crank himself? Isn’t he one of those confounded Churchill men who want to make trouble? I’ve heard that he’s not sound. We can’t rely on him to do the statesmanlike thing.’
‘He’ll never give it to Crawford,’ Chrystal announced. ‘Everyone knows that he’s an unbeliever too. He’s never kept it dark. I can’t credit that he’d give it to Crawford. You can rule that out.’
‘I very much hope you’re right. It’s extremely reassuring to hear,’ said Brown, smiling but with his watchful eyes on his friend. ‘I’m becoming quite reconciled to the idea of the Visitor.’
‘I don’t intend you to be. In my view, he’s certain to bring in an outsider.’
Chrystal spoke with assurance, almost as though he had inside knowledge. In fact, I suspected later that he had actually heard something from the other side.
It puzzled me, and it also puzzled me that he had asked me to join him and Brown that evening. Normally he would have discussed it in secret with Brown, and they would have decided their policy before any of the party, or anyone else in the college, had a chance to know their minds. It puzzled me: I could see that it disconcerted Brown. But soon I felt that Chrystal knew, right from the beginning, that he and Brown were bound to disagree. In his curiously soft-hearted way, Chrystal fought shy of a scene; he did not want to quarrel; he was afraid of the claims of friendship.
So he had asked me to be present. He had avoided an intimate scene. He could not have borne to be prevented. He had seen a chance to act, and all his instincts drove him on.
He said: ‘He’s certain to bring in an outsider. That would be the biggest disaster.’
‘I don’t agree with you there,’ said Brown. ‘I could tolerate most outsiders in front of Crawford.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Chrystal. ‘I like to know whom we’re getting. If it came to the worst, I should prefer the devil we know. With Crawford, we should be certain where we were from the start. No, I don’t want an outsider. I don’t want it to go to the Visitor.’
‘Nor do I,’ I said. I turned to Brown. ‘It would mean that we had lost it for Jago.’
‘I see that,’ said Brown reluctantly.
‘It’s just conceivable the Visitor might put Crawford in,’ I said. ‘But he’d never give us Jago over Crawford’s head. Jago’s junior and less distinguished. If it goes to the Visitor, it will either be Crawford or a third person.’
‘I don’t see any way out of that,’ said Brown.
‘There isn’t,’ said Chrystal. ‘But there’s one thing we’ve never tackled. There are the two candidates themselves. I come back to them. We’ve got to force them to vote for each other.’
‘Well,’ said Brown, ‘I don’t for the life of me see how you’re going to do that. You can’t expect Crawford to make a present of the Mastership to Jago. That’s all you’re asking him to do. I don’t see Crawford suddenly becoming a public benefactor.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Chrystal. ‘Suppose he’s convinced that a stalemate means that he’s out. He knows there’s only one vote in it. As you said, funny things happen in elections. Don’t you think he might gamble? It’s the only chance he’s got. It only means he has to win another vote. He may.’ Chrystal looked with his full commanding eyes at Brown, and repeated: ‘He may. Someone may cross over. Are you dead certain of Pilbrow?’