Chapter 5 chapter Five

Even the best-designed plans often have flaws.George Lomax made a wrong move - there was a weakness in his scheme.That weakness lay in Bill. Bill was a wonderful kid.He was a good cricketer and an impromptu partner in golf.He had a lovely manner and a very gentle disposition.However, his position in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was not due to intelligence, but to good personal relations.He is competent and happy about the work he has to do.He was kind of like a puppy next to George.He is not in a job that requires responsibility or brains.His task was to be always by George's side, to meet guests that George didn't want to see, to run errands, and to do some general chores.All this, Bill can quite faithfully complete the task.When George wasn't around, he settled into the largest sofa chair, stretched his legs, and read the sports news in the newspaper in comfort.In doing so, he is simply practicing a time-honored tradition.

It was George's habit to always send Bill out on errands.So he sent him to the offices of the Union Fort Steamship Company to find out what time the Grannaborg would arrive.What Bill had in common with most educated young Englishmen was that he spoke in a pleasant but inaudible voice.He pronounced that "Granna" name so incorrectly that any lecturer could pick it up.His pronunciation made it sound like one could make any guesses.The clerk heard it as "Comfrey." The "Fort Confrey" arrives next Thursday.He said so.Bill thanked him and walked out.George Lomax believed his news, and arranged everything according to this date.He knew nothing about the Fort Union Steamship Company.So he assumed James McGrath would be there on Thursday.

So, while he insisted on keeping Lord Judham for a long talk on the steps of the clubhouse on Wednesday morning, the Grannaborg was moored at Southampton Docks the previous afternoon.If he finds out the news, he will be shocked.At two o'clock that afternoon Anthony Cade--in the name of Jimmy McGrath--got off the steamship company's car at Waterloo and hired a cab.After hesitating for a moment, he told the driver to drive to the Blitz Hotel. "It's great to be comfortable." Anthony thought so.At the same time he looked out the window with interest. Fourteen years had passed since I last left London.

He arrived at the hotel, got a room, and then swung out to take a walk on the embankment.It is quite a pleasure to be back in London now.Of course, everything changed.There used to be a diner there - just off Blackfriars Bridge - and that was where he went with a few other enthusiastic kids. He was a socialist at the time.He wears a flowing red tie.It was young—very young. He turned his head and came back to the Blitz Hotel.As he was crossing the road, a man bumped into him, almost knocking him off his feet.When they were all back to normal, the man apologized in a low voice, watching Anthony's face closely.He was a short, stocky, working-class man with a foreign-looking appearance.

Anthony went on and met the hotel.At this time, he thought, what is there in himself that deserves to be so carefully looked at by that person.That probably doesn't make much sense.His own sunburnt suntan made him stand out among the pale Londoners.Maybe it was this that caught that person's attention.He went upstairs to his room, and suddenly had an urge to go to the mirror on the other side of the room to study what he looked like in the town.Among the limited number of friends in the past—among the few good friends—if we met face to face now, would anyone recognize him?He shook his head slowly.

He was just eighteen years old when he left London—a fair-skinned, slightly round-faced boy with an expression that could easily be mistaken for innocence.Now this thin, brown-faced man, with a strange expression on his face, is unlikely to be recognized as the same child. The phone next to the bed rang.Anthony walked over and picked up the phone. "Hello!" The voice of the clerk serving at the counter answered: "Mr. James McGrath?" "Yes." "A gentleman wants to see you." Anthony was a little surprised. "Want to see me?" "Yes, sir, a foreigner."

"What's his name?" After a brief pause, the clerk said: "I'll send a waiter up with his card." Anthony put the phone away and waited.A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a short waiter entered with business cards on a small plate. "Anthony took it. Here is the name printed on the card: Lord Lora Priege he now fully understood why the clerk at the counter hesitated. He stood there Ruixiang looking at the film, and after a minute or two, he made up his mind. "Please come up this gentleman." "Yes, sir." A few minutes later, the Baron Lola Pritch let into the room.He was a tall man with a fan-like beard and a full, bald forehead.

He snapped his feet together and bowed to him. "Mr McGrath," he said. Anthony imitated his moves as much as possible. baron. he said. Then he pulled up a chair. "Sit down, please."I thought, I haven't had the honor to meet you Mianyang before? " "By the way." The Baron sat down and agreed with him. "That was my misfortune," he said politely. "It's my misfortune too." Anthony replied in the same tone. "Now let's get down to business," said the baron. "I am now representing the London branch of the Herzoslav Royalist Party."

"I believe that you are an excellent representative." Anthony whispered. The baron bowed cheerfully to his flattery. "You are very polite," he said dully. "Mr. McGrath, I have nothing to hide from you. Our restoration work has been put on hold since the martyrdom of His Majesty Nicholas IV. Now, the time for restoration has come." "Amen" Anthony said in a daze. "I mean: Well said! Well said!" "We want to support Prince Michael on the throne, and the British government supports him." "Excellent," Anthony said. "Thank you for telling me all this."

"Everything is in order - and then you start causing trouble." The baron looked at him sternly. "My dear Baron," protested Anthony. "Yes, yes. I didn't say it casually. You come with the memoirs of the late Lord Stiptitch." He fixed his eyes on Anthony with reproach. "So what if I bring it? What does Lord Stiptitch's memoirs have to do with this prince?" "That would cause gossip." "Most memoirs are like that," Anthony reassured him. "He knows a lot of secrets. If he reveals even a quarter, there could be war in Europe."

"Come on, come on," Anthony said. "It won't be as fine as this." "Unfavorable opinions about His Royal Highness O'Paulville will spread to the outside world. The personality of the British is very democratic." "I would easily believe that statement. That's it," Anthony said. "The royalist side can be a bit domineering at times. It's in their blood. But the British expected the Balkans to do something. I don't know why they expected it. But I know they were. .” "You don't understand," said the baron. "You don't understand at all. I can't explain it." He sighed. "What are you afraid of?" Anthony asked. "I didn't know until I saw the memoir," said the Baron simply. "However, there must be important discoveries in it. These diplomats are always not prudent. As the saying goes, the apple cart is about to overturn." "Be careful," Anthony reassured him. "I believe you take a too pessimistic view of the matter. I am familiar with the situation of publishers. They are like hens on their chicks. A manuscript must wait at least a year for publication." "You're either cunning or simple, young man. There's a weekly section of the paper that's scheduled to publish the memoir at once." "Ah!" Anthony was quite surprised. "But you can deny any legend," he said hopefully. The Baron shook his head distressedly. "Woo, no, you're talking nonsense. Now let's do business, and you'll get a thousand pounds, won't you? You see, I'm well-informed." "I do have to commend the Royalist Intelligence Department." "Then I can give you fifteen hundred pounds." Startled, Anthony stared at him, then shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it can't be done," he said regretfully. "Well, I'll give you two thousand pounds." "Baron, you are so touching, so touching. But I still say, it can't be done." "Then, tell me, what price do you want yourself?" "I'm afraid you don't understand the situation. I'd like to believe that you're on the side of the angels, and that the memoirs will jeopardize your cause. Nevertheless, since I've undertaken this business, I've got to follow through. Do you understand? I It will never be bought by someone on the other side. We can't do this kind of thing." The baron listened to him attentively.After Anthony finished his speech on the principle, he nodded repeatedly. "I see. This is the honor you British should have." "We don't say that ourselves, though," Anthony said. "However, if we take into account the different words applied, I dare say that much of the truth is the same." The Baron stood up. "I must respect the British honor," he declared. "But we'll have to try something else. Goodbye." He put his feet together with a snap, bowed deeply, straightened his body, and walked out of the room with big strides. "I don't know what he meant by that," Anthony thought silently. "Is that a threat? It's not that I'm afraid of Lola Priech. Still, he's a good name. I'll call him Baron Lola Priech from now on." He paced up and down the room once or twice, unable to decide what next step to take.There is still more than a week before the manuscript is scheduled to be delivered.Today is October 5th.Anthony figured it would be fine as long as it was delivered at the last minute.He wasn't going to send it early.To be honest, by now he was eager to see what this memoir had to say.He had intended to do this when he came by boat, but he was ill with a fever and had no energy to decipher the illegible handwriting.Since the manuscript had not been typed, he was now more determined to see what there was to make a fuss about. At the same time there is another thing to do. He couldn't help but pick up the phone book and look up the name "River."There were six "Rivers" in the phone book: Edward Henry Redford, surgeon, of Harley Street; James Lakeford, saddler; Lenox Redford, of Hampshire Miss Mary Redford, at Ealing; Mrs. Titruncey Redford, 487 Bond Street; and Mrs. Willie Redford, at Cadogan Square. Number forty-two.Apart from the harness company and Miss Mary Rifford, there are four names left to investigate--though we have no reason to suppose that the lady lives in London!So, he shook his head slightly.Close the phone book. "I'll just let it be!" he said. "There are always surprises." People like Anthony Cade in this world, their luck may be more or less due to their own confidence.Anthony suddenly found the information he was looking for while flipping through a newspaper.It was a drawing of a stage pose for the Duchess of Pass.The central figure in the painting is a woman in oriental clothing.Below this character there is this text: Dame Timothy River as Criptra.Mrs. River was formerly Miss Virginia Gosselin, daughter of Sir Edgar Baston. Anthony looked at the picture for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth, as if about to whistle.Then he tore off all the pages of the pictorial, folded them, and put them in his pocket.He went upstairs again, unlocked the suitcase, and took out the package of letters.He took the folded poster out of his pocket and tucked it under the string that bound the letter. Then, he suddenly heard a voice behind him, and turned around suddenly, only to see a person standing at the door.In Anthony's naive imagination, it was the kind of figure that can only be found in burlesque choruses, a fierce-looking person, with a short fat head, a rough appearance, and a grinning mouth that is slightly open. "What the hell are you doing here?" Anthony asked. "Who told you to come up?" "I go wherever I like." His voice was strange, with a foreign accent, but he spoke perfect English.