Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [100]
“You testified that Sir Arthur had recently expressed some irrational opinions,” Pitt said with an effort to keep his temper.
“As I have just said, Mr. Pitt, that is a matter of public record.” He was standing in the middle of the blue Turkish carpet, rocking very slightly on the balls of his feet. He reminded Pitt vaguely of a more ill-tempered Eustace March.
“Can you tell me what these opinions were, sir?” Pitt asked, looking directly at him but keeping his voice light and his tone courteous.
“I don’t wish to repeat them,” Osborne replied. “They were ludicrous, and to no one’s credit.”
“It is important that I know,” Pitt insisted.
“Why?” Osborne’s rather thin eyebrows rose. “The man is dead. How could it matter now what nonsense he said in his last few months?”
“Since he is dead,” Pitt said quietly and very firmly, “he cannot now withdraw them.” He made a rash decision. He smiled very slightly. “There are men of goodwill, honorable men who prefer to remain anonymous, whose names he has slandered, by implication if not directly. I know that you understand what I am saying, sir. Mr. Farnsworth …”—he pronounced the name carefully—“is concerned that no taint should linger….” He let the suggestion speak for itself.
Osborne stared at him, his dark gray eyes hard and level.
“Then why the devil didn’t you say so, sir? There’s no need to be so coy.”
Pitt felt his stomach lurch. Osborne had understood him and believed the lie. He thought he was speaking to a fellow member of the Inner Circle.
“I am used to being careful,” Pitt replied with a modicum of truth. “It is a habit hard to forget.”
“Has its uses,” Osborne conceded. “Very bad business. Of course the wretched fellow was making all sorts of rash accusations. Had hold of the wrong end of the stick altogether.” His face was tight, his lips a thin line. “No vision. No vision at all. Decent enough chap, but bourgeois at heart. Totally impractical. A well-intentioned fool can do more real harm than a wagonload of villains who know what they are about!” He looked at Pitt dourly. There was still a suspicion in him. In his judgment Pitt was not Inner Circle material. He was neither a gentleman nor a loyal servant.
On both points he had made, he was correct. Pitt had no desire to argue the first. The second was another matter.
“I agree with you, sir,” he said honestly. “A well-intentioned fool can be extremely dangerous, if given power, and frequently brings about the downfall of many others, although it may be the last of his intentions.”
Osborne looked surprised. Apparently he had not expected Pitt to agree with him. He grunted. “Then you will take my point, sir.” He stopped abruptly. “Precisely what is it you wish to know, and who is in danger of being slandered by all this wretched nonsense?”
“I should prefer not to give names,” Pitt answered. “And in truth, I do not know them all. In the interest of discretion, much of it was kept from me.”
“Rightly so.” Osborne nodded. After all, Pitt might be a member, but he was merely a person of use. “The charges Sir Arthur made were that certain gentlemen, our friends, were secretly organized together to fund a settlement expedition in Central Africa,” he explained, “which would at once exploit both the native African tribal leaders and the British government’s financial and moral backing in the venture. The suggestion was that when the settlement proved successful, and vast wealth was found, both real and potential, then they would profit unfairly, in terms of money and of political power in the new country to be established, nominally under British suzerainty, but in fact a law unto itself. And then they would prevent others from sharing in this fortune by excluding them, by means of these secret dealings and agreements.” Osborne’s face was bleak and angry, and he stared at Pitt, waiting for his response.