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By Root 1417 0

in the loft over the stables, have his horse saddled, his cloak and boots fetched. The streets would be quiet. At this hour even crime was sleeping … But he made no move yet to leave. His white baton was still there by the bed where he had let it fall. He went to pick it up. The movement sent shoots of pain through his head. Holding the baton he stood for some minutes longer in the dim room, going over things in his mind, recapitulating his assets. He had passed his initiation triumphantly – he knew it. Everything lay in his hands. He was acknowledged leader of the younger set, and his position in the Association would enable him to influence events and steer business the way of Fletcher and Kemp. Fletcher was old and he had no sons; day by day he was relinquishing control. Now that the debts were paid, more money would be free for investment. He would go into banking on his own account. The future lay with those who dealt in money, not commodities … It lay with people like himself, people who could see. Why then did he feel this desolation, which was not sickness of body, which would not be dismissed as the aftermath of debauch, coming as it did at other times and often quite unexpectedly, a feeling of being thrust without shelter under remorseless skies? The successful cannot be unhappy – it was a contradiction in terms. But as he stood there, in this time of licensed introspection, with night over and duties of day not yet resumed, he fell again to rehearsing in his mind the actions he was about to take, as if seeking to give them, and with them his life as a whole, some fuller reality. Crossing the greasy cobbles, shouting for the stable-lad … Perhaps he would climb to the loft to shake him awake. His horse would be led out, snorting in the cold air. And he would turn her head south towards the river and ride through the empty streets … Suddenly he felt like a man who has played by the rules and been cheated by an opponent more cunning – so cunning that it was not possible to see how the trick had been done.

THIRTY-EIGHT

At home he found his man, Hudson, already up and dressed and waiting with his usual discreet blend of deference and reproof. Hudson had been with him for almost eight years now and was licensed in various ways, but Erasmus cut him short this morning, sending him off in a hurry to make tea and get water heated for a bath.

He stayed a long time in the scented tub, Hudson labouring back and forth with buckets of warm water to pour over him. When he rose from this long immersion, he was feeling slightly languid but triumphant again. He dressed as usual with the greatest care, in a plain shirt and a suit of dark broadcloth. He was intending to spend the rest of the day at the offices of the bank, on Cheapside, where he was due to meet the owners of a shipping company in need of short-term credits.

However, he had scarcely finished dressing when Hudson came to announce a visitor, a Captain John Philips, who had called without appointment.

‘A sea-captain?’

‘Yes, sir. A merchant captain, by the look of him.’

‘There is none of that name on our books. Does he say what he wants?’

‘No, sir. When I asked him to state his business, he spoke short to me, as if he thought I should be hauling on the ropes. All he will say is that he has something of interest to impart to you.’

Erasmus sighed. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said. ‘But whose interest, his or mine? That is the question, Hudson.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, you had better show him into the study.’

Making his way there some minutes later, Erasmus found himself facing a thickset, weathered-looking man of middle years, in nankeen trousers and a buff-coloured top coat.

‘I am Erasmus Kemp,’ he said, advancing to shake his visitor’s hand. ‘You have some business with me, I believe. I am rather pressed this morning …’

‘Not business, sir, not exactly business,’ the captain said. He hesitated for some moments, as if not sure how to proceed, though his gaze remained firmly on Erasmus. ‘I knew your father,’ he said. ‘By repute, I mean, not personal. I am a Liverpool