Dangerous Sea Read Free

vigour.
    ‘Very kind of you but . . .’
    ‘But what am I doing here? Shall I tell him, Lord Benyon, or will you?’
    ‘You go ahead.’
    ‘Right you are.’ Ferguson was playing the hearty ‘good fellow’ you might meet on a racecourse but Edward was not deceived. This man, despite his insignificance, was dangerous. ‘Cigarette?’
    Edward was about to take one and then remembered Ferguson favoured a particularly noxious Egyptian brand. Ferguson laughed to see him hesitate. ‘I had a small bet with myself that you’d remember.’ He replaced his cigarette case in his breast pocket and they all sat down.
    ‘Major Ferguson hasn’t got long. He won’t lunch with us so I knew you wouldn’t mind if we disposed of our bit of business before eating,’ Benyon said apologetically.
    Edward nodded, rather bemused. ‘Business? What business?’
    ‘Not business exactly,’ Ferguson said airily. ‘A week from now Lord Benyon is going to the United States ostensibly to accept an honorary degree from New York’s Columbia University. He is also giving two lectures – one to the New York Press Club and another to a group of influential businessmen. He then goes on to Washington and will have a meeting with Mr Lauchlin Currie, the President’s chief financial adviser, and will give two more lectures there before returning home.’
    ‘I see. And how does that . . .?’
    ‘Affect you?’ Ferguson had a habit of completing people’s sentences. ‘I’ll tell you, but I need hardly say that this is all in the strictest confidence.’
    ‘Except certain people already seem to know!’ Benyon broke in.
    ‘Yes. There’s a leak somewhere right enough, at the very top of government, but we haven’t yet put our finger on who the wagging tongue might be. Anyway, Lord Benyon has a much more important object in going to Washington than giving a few lectures, interesting though they will no doubt be,’ he said, smiling insincerely at Benyon. ‘The real purpose of the trip is a private meeting with President Roosevelt and two of his closest advisers. The Prime Minister has, as you know, begun to strengthen our armed forces in the light of the international situation . . .’
    ‘Too little and too late!’
    ‘Probably, Lord Edward,’ Benyon agreed, ‘but there’s no point in crying over spilt milk. The fact is that millions of pounds are being spent on rearmament but Britain is no longer the financial power it used to be. Neville Chamberlain – and, whatever I think of him as a human being, he’s a sound man to have as Chancellor of the Exchequer – has said that the fifteen hundred million pounds the government plans to spend on the Navy and the Army in the next five years is almost certainly inadequate. The Chancellor will have to raise taxes and borrow at least two hundred million. That’s not going to be easy. Most people are quite unaware of it but, to be blunt, Britain is bankrupt, so far as a country can go bankrupt. Most of our foreign investments had been disposed of by 1918 and it’s little more than sheer bluff that we can sit as equals at the same table with our North American friends.’
    ‘And your object is to borrow money off the United States?’
    ‘Beg, borrow or steal,’ Benyon said emphatically. ‘We cannot fight another war without American financial support. Roosevelt has made it plain that the United States will not come in on our side if there is a war. Fifty thousand “doughboys” were killed on the Western Front. It may not be many compared to our losses but American public opinion is absolutely firm in its opposition to any policy other than isolationism. No more young Americans will die on the battlefields of Europe.’
    ‘I understand and I wish you good fortune, Benyon. You have clearly got a Herculean task ahead of you but I don’t see how I can be of any assistance.’
    ‘We have it on good authority,’ Benyon went on as if Edward had not spoken, ‘that the German government knows