“I shall, of course, keep a diary in London, and I was going to get a
Raphael Tuck diary; but I shall buy a Pepys now.”
Looking back, I don’t think either of them heard this. At any rate, that
night when my Aunt Augusta explained about it, I prayed to God in my
prayers that they might not have heard. The footmen, however, must have.
But I made Mr. Benyon Pepys laugh with a remark which, curiously enough,
was not in the least amusing nor intended to be. I said:
“Of course, the business of a Director is to direct?”
Because I thought it would show a proper spirit to be interested in his
great work. But he laughed, and said:
“Not always, Mr. Corker, not always! I am not myself a man of business;
but a connoisseur and creator. Art is my occupation. Do not, however,
think that I am not exceedingly interested in the Apollo. You will find
upon the face of each policy an allegorical representation of the
sun-god in a chariot drawn by four horses. I cannot claim that the
actual design is mine, but the conception sprang from my brain
twenty-five years ago. The creation, though severely Greek, is my own.”
He explained that he had found the greatest difficulty to get anybody to
accept his nomination to the Apollo Fire Office.
“But fortunately,” he said, “your aunt, the accomplished artist, was
able to help me, and I feel under no little obligation to her—and you.”
In this graceful and gentlemanly way he spoke to me. He told me that the
staff was very large and included men of all ages—many brilliant and
some ordinary.
“You will begin work in the Country Department,” he said; “they are a
bit rough-and-ready up there, I fancy, but I speak only from hearsay.
Certain adventurous members of the Board have penetrated to those savage
regions, though I cannot honestly say that I have ever ventured. After
signing a hundred or two policies, my intellect reels and I have to
totter over to Murch’s for turtle-soup. It is a curious fact that turtle
restores brain-fag quicker than any other form of food.”
“I am glad it has such a good effect on you, sir,” I said.
Miss Pepys left when the magnificent dessert was served. She never
touched so much as a grape, though they were the largest I had ever
seen; and after she had gone, Mr. Pepys asked me to smoke. Knowing, of
course, that a cigarette is nothing on a full stomach, and also knowing
that my own stomach was now perfectly adapted for it, I consented, and
had a priceless box of chased silver containing rare Egyptian cigarettes
handed to me by one of the footmen. With it he brought a lamp, which
appeared to be—and very likely was—of solid gold. We then had coffee;
and when all was over, Mr. Benyon Pepys proposed that we should again
join Miss Benyon Pepys; so we returned to the drawing-room and he showed
me a portfolio of his etchings. They were black and grubby and
mysterious and no doubt great masterpieces, if I had only understood
them. Even as it was, I rather came off over the etchings and recognised
many things about them in a way that everybody didn’t. At least, I
gathered so from the fact that Mr. Benyon Pepys was surprised and
pleased. He said that “chiaroscuro” was the secret of his success, and
no doubt it may have been. He praised my Aunt Augusta very highly; and I
was exceedingly glad to hear him speak so well of her great genius in
her art.
At ten o’clock I got up to go, and a footman whistled at the door for a
cab, and I luckily had a sixpence which I pressed into his hand as I
leapt into the cab. But the effect was spoiled, because I forgot my
overcoat and had to leap out again. The footman helped me into it, but
didn’t mention the sixpence. I dare say to him it was a thing of nought.
So I returned to Aunt Augusta’s flat, and told her all about the wonders
of the evening; and she was pleased and said that she hoped Mr. Benyon
Pepys would some day ask me again. But no such thing happened. And, of
course, there was no reason why it should. Probably they _did_ hear what
I said about the diary, but were too highly born and refined to take any
notice.