‘There’s no escape,’ said Brown. ‘We can only hope that he’ll get through it all right. Perhaps he’ll feel the responsibility is too much for him and ask to be excused. If so, as Pilbrow isn’t here, it will devolve on you, Despard, and everything will be safe. But we shouldn’t be in order in passing over Gay. The only thing remaining is to let him know at once.’
Despard-Smith at once wrote a note to Gay, telling him the Master had died at 7.20 that night, explaining that it was Gay’s duty to call a meeting the following day, telling him that the business was purely formal and a meeting at the usual time need only take ten minutes. ‘If you feel it is too dangerous to come down to college in this weather,’ Despard-Smith added, ‘send me a note in reply to this and we will see the necessary steps are taken.’
The head porter was called into the combination room, and asked to take the letter to Gay’s house. He was told to see that it reached Gay’s hands at once, whether he was in bed or not, and to bring back a reply.
I went off to see Roy Calvert: the others stayed in the combination room, waiting for Gay’s reply.
The night was starless and a cold rain was spattering down. As I looked round the court, I felt one corner was strangely dark. No light shone from the bedroom window of the Lodge.
I found Roy alone, sitting at his table with one of the last pages of the proofs.
‘You know, of course?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Roy. ‘I can’t be sorry for him. He must have gone out without knowing it. But it’s the others who have to face what death means now, haven’t they?’
Soon Joan came into the room, and he had to devote himself to her and her mother.
I returned to the combination room, where Brown, Winslow, and Despard-Smith were still waiting.
‘It is nothing less than a disaster,’ Despard-Smith was saying, ‘that our statutes entrust these duties to the senior fellow.’ He proceeded to expound the advantages of a permanent vice-master, such as some colleges had; from Winslow’s expression, I guessed this ground had been covered several times already.
Before long the head porter arrived, his top hat tarnished from the rain. He handed Despard-Smith a large envelope, which bore on the back a large red blob of sealing-wax.
‘Did you find Professor Gay up?’ asked Brown.
‘Certainly, sir.’
I wondered if there was the faintest subterranean flicker behind that disciplined face.
Despard-Smith read the reply with a bleak frown. ‘This confirms me in my view,’ he said, and passed the letter to us. It was written in a good strong nineteenth-century hand, and read:
Dear Despard,
Your news was not unexpected, but nevertheless I grieve for poor Royce and his family. He is the fifth Master who has been taken from us since I became a fellow.
I am, of course, absolutely capable of fulfilling the duties prescribed to me by statute, and I cannot even consider asking the college to exempt me from them. It was not necessary for you to remind me of the statute, my dear chap, nor to send me a copy of the statutes: during the last weeks I have regularly refreshed my memory of them, and am now confident of being able to master my duties.
I do not share your opinion that tomorrow’s proceedings are purely formal. I think that such a meeting would not show sufficient respect for our late Master. However, I concur that the meeting need not detain us overlong, and I therefore request that it be called for 4.45 p.m. I have never seen the virtue of our present hour of 4.30 p.m. I request also that tea be served as usual at 4.0 p.m.
Yours ever,
M H L Gay
‘The old man is asserting himself,’ said Brown. ‘Well, there’s nothing for it but to obey orders.’
Next afternoon most of the society, apart from Gay, arrived later than usual for tea in the combination room. They ate less and talked more quietly. Yet most of them were quiet through decorum, not through grief. The night before, there had been a pang of feeling through many there; but grief for an acquaintance cannot last long, the egotisms of healthy men revive so quickly that they can never admit it, and so put on decorum together with their black ties and act gravely in front of each other. All the fellows were present but Pilbrow; but only three bore the marks of strain that afternoon.
There was Chrystal, brusque and harsh so that people avoided his company; Roy Calvert, who had dark pouches under his eyes after a night in the Lodge; Jago, whose face looked at its most ravaged.
Even of those, I thought, Jago was tormented by anxiety and hope. Perhaps only two mourned Royce enough to forget the excitement round them.
At half-past four many of us began to sit down in our places, but Gay finished his tea at leisure, talking loudly to anyone near. The clock struck the quarter before he said: ‘Ah. The time I fixed for our meeting. Let us make a start. Yes, this is the time.’
He took the chair, and looked round at us. The hum died away. Then slowly and with difficulty Gay rose unstably to his feet, and supported himself by gripping the table with his hands.
‘Remain seated, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘But I should like to stand, while I speak of what I have summoned you to hear today.’ He looked handsome and impressive; his beard was freshly trimmed, it took years from his age to be presiding there that day. ‘I have grievous news. Indeed I have grievous news. Yesterday evening our late Master passed away. In accordance with the statute I have requested you to meet on this the following day. First I wish to say a few words in honour of his memory.’ Gay went on to make a speech lasting over half an hour. His voice rang out resonantly; he did not seem in the least tired. Actually, it was a good speech. Once or twice his memory failed him and he attributed to Royce qualities and incidents which belonged to earlier Masters. But that happened seldom; his powers had revived that afternoon; he was an eloquent man who enjoyed speaking, and he remembered much about Royce which was fresh to many of us. The uncomfortable nature of the speech was that he made it with such tremendous gusto; he was enjoying himself too much.
‘And so,’ he finished, ‘he was stricken with the disease, which, as my old saga-men would say, was his bane. Ah indeed, it was his bane. He bore it as valiantly as they would have borne it. He had indeed one consolation not granted to many of them. He died in the certainty of our Christian faith, and his life was so blessed that he did not need to fear his judgement in the hereafter.’
Then Gay let himself back into his chair. There was whispering round the table, and he banged energetically with his fist.
‘Now, gentlemen,’ he said briskly and chidingly, ‘we must set ourselves to our task. We cannot look back always. We must look forward. Forward! That’s the place to look. It is part of my duties to make arrangements for the election of a new Master. I will read the statutes.’
He did read the statutes, not only that on the election of the Master, which he kept till last, but also those on the authority, qualifications, residence, and emoluments. He read very audibly and well, and a good many more minutes passed. At last he came to the statute on the election. He read very slowly and with enormous emphasis. ‘“When the fellows are duly assembled the fellow first in order of precedence attending shall announce to them the vacancy…”’ He looked up from his book, and paused.
‘I hereby announce to you,’ said Gay resoundingly, ‘a vacancy in the office of Master.’