Twenty-three
T he streamlined secretary brought Harold Crackenthorpe his usual afternoon cup of tea.
“Thanks, Miss Ellis, I shall be going home early today.”
“I’m sure you ought really not to have come at all, Mr. Crackenthorpe,” said Miss Ellis. “You look quite pulleddown still.”
“I’m all right,” said Harold Crackenthorpe, but he did feel pulled down. No doubt about it, he’d had a very nastyturn. Ah, well, that was over.
Extraordinary, he thought broodingly, that Alfred should have succumbed¹ and the old man should have comethrough. After all, what was he—seventy-three—seventy-four? Been an invalid² for years. If there was one personyou’d have thought would have been taken off, it would have been the old man. But no. It had to be Alfred. Alfredwho, as far as Harold knew, was a healthy wiry sort of chap. Nothing much the matter with him.
He leaned back in his chair sighing. That girl was right. He didn’t feel up to things yet, but he had wanted to comedown to the office. Wanted to get the hang of how affairs were going. Touch and go. All this—he looked round him—the richly appointed office, the pale gleaming wood, the expensive modern chairs, it all looked prosperous enough, anda good thing too! That’s where Alfred had always gone wrong. If you looked prosperous, people thought you wereprosperous. There were no rumours³ going around as yet about his financial stability. All the same, the crash couldn’tbe delayed very long. Now, if only his father had passed out instead of Alfred, as surely, surely he ought to have done.
Practically seemed to thrive on arsenic⁴! Yes, if his father had succumbed—well, there wouldn’t have been anything toworry about.
Still, the great thing was not to seem worried. A prosperous appearance. Not like poor old Alfred who alwayslooked seedy and shiftless, who looked in fact exactly what he was. One of those small-time speculators, never goingall out boldly for the big money. In with a shady crowd here, doing a doubtful deal there, never quite renderinghimself liable to prosecution⁵ but going very near the edge. And where had it got him? Short periods of

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