Jack gave him a long-suffering look and reached for his pipe. ‘Look, old thing, before you eat too much dirt, you might remember she was virtually engaged to Maguire. So far it seems even stevens to me.’
‘Rubbish,’ said George robustly. ‘She was the widow, poor soul, of a really sound bloke. She thought all men were like Thomas. She’d never come across a persuasive devil like Maguire. It’s not remotely the same.’ He turned to the window again. ‘It’s South Africa for me.’
Jack sighed and filled his pipe. It was going to be a long time until the funeral.
‘I can’t,’ said Anne Lassiter firmly.
‘But why not?’ asked Peggy Culverton. ‘You do like him, Anne, you know you do.’
‘Don’t be silly, Peggy. He hardly spoke to me at the inquest. I suppose he’s still sore about that woman.’ Peggy said nothing, but merely raised an eyebrow. ‘I know I still feel pretty chewed up about Roger.’
‘You never committed yourself though,’ said Peggy thoughtfully. ‘Something was holding you back. Why don’t you ring George, Anne?’
‘I can’t possibly do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t understand. I just can’t, that’s all.’
‘It’s hardly the weather for a walk, is it?’ grumbled George as they went down the stairs to the hall. ‘It’s raining cats and dogs and so gloomy you can hardly see your hand in front of your face.’
‘Well, stay here then, George,’ said Jack in mounting exasperation. ‘But I’m damned if I’m watching you march up and down all day like a caged lion. I thought we could go through the park and call at the Criterion for a spot of lunch. It’s about time you saw some of the better places London has to offer. It’s not all dodgy nightclubs and dingy boarding houses.’
‘I know, I know.’ George hefted his umbrella and opened the front door to the street. ‘Well, if we are going, let’s get it over with.’
The telephone in the hall started to ring. ‘Hang on a minute.’ Jack stepped back into the house and picked it up, a slow grin spreading across his face as he listened. ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s standing right beside me.’
He passed the phone over to George and stood back with a smile. ‘It’s for you.’
Author’s Note
In June 1919, Alcock and Brown completed the first non-stop crossing of the Atlantic by air. In November of that year, the two brothers, Ross and Keith Macpherson Smith, flew from England to Australia. These flights, and subsequent record-breaking voyages, demanded huge feats of endurance from both pilots and mechanics. To produce a passenger aircraft – a commercial airliner – that could cross oceans was a truly daunting enterprise.
Short Brothers designed such an aircraft (see Jane’s for 1919) but this was never built, and it fell to Nigel Lassiter, of the Lassiter Aircraft Company, to try and make the dream a reality. The present volume, as the reader will know, sheds some light on exactly what happened to this ambitious project. Suffice it to say no attempt was made to revive plans to build the twin-hulled, four-engined, forty-seater flying-boat, Pegasus.
The British state-aided airline mentioned in the text is, of course, Imperial Airways Ltd, which was formed in 1924.
The ancient Egyptians first recorded the use of trances over five thousand years ago and the great Chinese healer, Wong Tai, described an induced altered state in c.2600 BC. This knowledge, associated with both religion and medicine, is found in virtually every age and culture, but, as far as Western science is concerned, its father is Franz Mesmer (1734–1815). Two Scots, the physician James Braid and the surgeon James Esdaile, working independently of each other, built on Mesmer’s work, Esdaile performing a remarkable series of operations without anaesthetic. In France, such men as Charcot, Richet and Coué added to both theoretical and practical knowledge of the subject, with which Dr Alistair Kincraig was well acquainted.
As a parting note, it is a sad fact that the damage sustained by Waterloo Bridge proved to be greater than first thought. In December 1923 the centre piers subsided and it was necessary to close the bridge to wheeled traffic for some months afterwards. Jack Haldean always felt a twinge of remorse when walking over ‘the finest bridge in Europe’ after his part in the story. The reader will be able to judge if he had anything with which to reproach himself.
As if by Magic Page 31
