‘Well,’ I said, ‘you’re not far off the mark.’
‘You see,’ said Gay, in high feather, ‘you can’t pull the wool over my eyes.’
‘Yes,’ said Roy, ‘we want you to think again about those two. You do remember them, don’t you?’
‘Of course I remember them,’ said Gay. ‘Just as I remember your address in Berlin last summer, young man. Jago — that’s our Senior Tutor. He’s not taken quite enough care of himself these last few years, he’s lost a lot of hair and he’s put on too much weight. And Crawford. A very sound man. I hear he’s well spoken of as a man of science.’
‘Do you want a scientist as Master? Crawford’s field is a long way from yours,’ I said.
‘I should never give a second’s thought to such a question,’ Gay rebuked me. ‘I have never attached any importance to boundary lines between branches of learning. A man can do distinguished work in any, and we ought to have outgrown these arts and science controversies before we leave the school debating society. Indeed we ought.’
I had been snubbed, and very reasonably snubbed. The only comfort was, the old man had his mind and memory working, and we were not fighting in a fog.
‘What’s your opinion of Jago?’ asked Roy.
‘Jago’s a very sound man too. I’ve got nothing but good to say for Jago,’ Gay replied.
I tried another lead. ‘At present you’re in a unique position. There are six votes for each man without you. If it’s understood that you vote for Crawford, the whole thing is cut and dried and the chapel election is just a formality.’
‘Cut and dried,’ Gay repeated. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘It means,’ said Roy, extremely quick, ‘that the whole thing is settled from today. It’s all over bar the empty form.’
Gay’s faded blue eyes were screwed up in a frown.
‘I certainly indicated support for Crawford. He’s a very sound man. Jago is a very sound man too, of course.’
‘Need that be final?’ I asked. ‘In those days it didn’t look such a near thing. But you’ve had the opportunity, which none of the rest of us have, of surveying the whole position from on high.’
‘Ah. Those old gods looked down from Odin’s hall.’
‘I should have thought,’ I said, ‘you might now consider it best to remove yourself from the contest altogether. Mightn’t it be best to stand aloof — and then in your own good time decide the election one way or the other?’
‘It would make every one realize how grave a choice it was,’ said Roy.
Gay had finished his last cup of tea. He smiled at Roy. In looks he might have been Roy’s grandfather. But I thought at that moment how young he was at heart.
‘You two are still trying to bamboozle me into voting for Jago,’ he said.
This time Roy did not blush.
‘Of course we are,’ he said. ‘I very much hope you will.’
‘Tell me,’ said Gay, ‘why do you prefer him so much?’ He was asking the question in earnest: he wanted to know.
‘Because we like him better,’ said Roy.
‘That’s spoken like an honest man,’ Gay said. ‘I congratulate you, Calvert. You’re much closer to these two men than I am. I may survey the position from on high’ — he was actually teasing us — ‘but I’m too far away. And I’ve always had great faith in the contribution of youth, I respect your judgement in this matter, indeed I do.’
‘Will you vote for Jago?’ asked Roy.
‘I won’t give you an undertaking today. But I am inclined to reserve my vote.’ Then he went on: ‘The election mustn’t be taken for granted. Our founders in their wisdom did not lay it down for us to meet in chapel just to take an election for granted. Why, we might just as well send our votes by post.’
‘You will think of Jago, will you?’ I persisted.
‘I shall certainly think of Jago. I respect your judgement, both of you, and I shall take that very considerably into account.’
As we got up to go at last, Gay said: ‘I congratulate you both on presenting me with the situation in this splendid way.’
‘We’re the ones who’ve learned something,’ I said.
‘I will write to Despard telling him I propose to reserve my vote. Casting vote, that’s the line for me. Thank you for pointing it out. Thank you, Calvert. Thank you. Old heads on young shoulders, that’s what you’ve got.’
In the dark, Roy and I walked down the Madingley Road. He was singing quietly in his light, clear, tuneful voice. Under the first lamp he glanced at me. His eyes were guiltless and sparkling.
‘Well done,’ he said.
‘He didn’t do so badly, either.’
‘Shall we get him?’
‘I shall be surprised if we don’t,’ I said.
‘Just so. Just so.’
37: ‘Six Nights to Go’
I left Roy at the great gate, and walked round to Jago’s house. Mrs Jago received me with a hostile, angry explanation that she had not been feeling well yesterday. Perhaps she could make amends by offering me some ‘refreshment’? She was so self-conscious that it was painful to be near, jarringly apologetic, more resentful of me with each apology she made.
‘I badly want to see Paul this evening,’ I said.
‘I can perfectly well understand that,’ she replied. ‘You naturally don’t want to take the risk of me making an exhibition of myself again.’
‘You don’t think I mind, do you? It would have done you more harm to stay by yourself.’
‘I know some people are willing to bear with me out of charity — but I won’t accept it.’
‘You’ve not been offered it,’ I said. Perversely, I was coming to have more fellow feeling for her. ‘Is Paul free? I’ve got something to tell him that’s fairly important.’
‘He’s very busy,’ she said obstinately. ‘I don’t think he can be disturbed.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I want to tell him that this election is not lost.’
‘Has anything happened, has anything really happened?’
‘Yes. Don’t hope too much. But it’s not lost.’
Her face exploded into a smile. She looked like a child, suddenly made happy. She ran out into the passage. ‘Paul! Paul! You must come and see Mr Eliot at once! He’s got something to tell you.’
Jago walked into the drawing-room, tense to his fingertips.
‘It’s extremely good of you to take this trouble, Eliot. Is it something — worse?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not impossible that Gay may finish on your side. He may not — but it’s worth holding on for.’
‘Old Gay?’
I nodded.
Suddenly Jago broke into roars of laughter.
‘Gay! He’s the vainest old boy I’ve ever met in my life.’
He went on laughing. ‘The vain old boy!’ It was an odd response, I thought later: yet on the spot it seemed completely natural.
Then he wiped his eyes and settled down; his tension returned in a different mode.
‘I’m most grateful to you, Eliot,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I should have done without you right through this wretched business. This news changes everything. I think I was just teaching myself to face the humiliation. But this changes everything.’
I warned him, but it had no effect. He was always capable of being possessed by a rush of hope. Now there was no room for anything else. It all lay in his hands, the college, his whole desire. He looked at his wife with love and triumph. When I had gone, they would get busy on their plans again. He was alive with hope.
I tried once again to make him more moderate. In some ways it would have been kinder not to tell him about Gay at all.
‘There is one thing you needn’t warn me of, Eliot,’ he said with a smile. ‘There are still six nights to go. We’ve still six nights to get through.’