The Satanist Read Free Page A

asked.
    Again C.B.’s voice sank to a conspiratorial low. ‘Sinews of war, young fellow. That’s our line of attack. Men who come out unofficially don’t get strike pay. Yet some of these unofficial strikes go on for months. Meantime the strikers have got to live and feed their families. How do they do it?We know the answer to that one. At least we know it to apply in some cases, and have good reason to suppose that it applies in many more. They are given enough cash to keep going on the side from secret funds controlled by the Reds.’
    ‘Don’t some of the better types query where it comes from?’
    ‘Those who do are told that it is from subscriptions raised among sympathisers.’
    ‘But, in fact, it comes from Moscow.’
    ‘For such considerable sums, that seems the only possible source of origin. One of Russia’s prime objects is to disrupt our industry, in order to create the unemployment and discontent which always results in the spread of Communism; so they could hardly spend their money to better purpose. Yet the fact remains that we have failed to uncover any link between the leaders of these unofficial strikes and any of the Iron Curtain country Embassies, or any other Soviet-controlled set-up.’
    ‘Quite a number of the top Reds go to Russia from time to time, Sir.’
    ‘Yes, and although they give out that they go there only for a holiday, I don’t doubt they return with plenty of ideas that don’t do British industry much good; but they could not bring back any considerable sums of money with them – not without our knowing about it.’
    ‘And you want me to try to find out the source of supply?’
    ‘That’s it; then we could think up some way of cutting it off.’ C.B. pulled at his pipe for a moment, then said with a change of tone, ‘Now, a word about yourself. What led you to join this outfit?’
    Barney grinned. ‘I was broke. My creditors in Dublin had made Ireland too hot to hold me. I decided that I’d got to take a steady job, but I knew that I’d never settle down to a humdrum office routine. It had to be something that would provide me with a bit of excitement now and then, and my uncle, General Sir Geoffrey Frobisher, got me in here.’
    ‘So that was it, eh! Of course, I knew that old “Frosty” Frobisher had vouched for you, and looking up your file the other day reminded me that you are the Earl of Larne. How come that you have never used your title?’
    ‘Well, it was this way, Sir. I’ve practically no family, only my mother’s brother, the General. Both my parents died when I was quite young and he became my guardian. He did very little about it, though; but I can’t really blame him for that. I lived in Ireland and he lived in England. During most of the time I was at school he was up to his eyes in the war. Then for the greater part of the next six years he was stationed abroad – doing tours of duty in the Middle East, then in Germany. No one else had any right to call me to account, so I’m afraid my high spirits led to my becoming rather a bad hat. I got sent down from Trinity for leading a pretty hectic rag, but I had quite a generous allowance and plenty of friends. The fathers of several of those with whom I used to stay in the holidays reared bloodstock, and I’ve always been good with horses; so I naturally gravitated to that as a means of earning a living. I won quite a few steeplechases and received handsome presents from the owners. But it was a case of easy come easy go, and most of what I made over the sticks I lost by backing losers on the flat.
    ‘Thanks, Sir.’ Barney took another of C.B.’s long cigarettes, lit it and went on. ‘They were an expensive crowd to live with, too, so I was soon up to my eyes in debt. But I was in my last year at the University when I was sent down, and becoming twenty-one a year later saved me from disaster. My father didn’t leave me a fortune, only a few thousands, and if I’d had any sense I should have