“Get out and help us. They’re breaking Miss Foss’s windows.”
“Where are the police?” gasped Garstang.
“We’re the police,” said the Colonel, displaying a Special’s armlet. “They telephoned to us at Bredy for help. Come along….”
Garstang found himself hauled out of his car and linked in a line of men who were forcing their way through the crowd. Must keep my elbows down, he thought, must protect my ribs. He fainted, but must have remained upon his feet, because when he came to his senses again he was aware of a slackened pressure and found himself shouting, as the others shouted:
“Make way there! Police! Make way! Get home! Go home!”
The crowd was thinning. In front of him was Miss Foss’s neat little house with every window broken.
Mechanically he told several people to go home, which they were all doing as fast as they could, stumbling over the banners which had been flung down on the cobbles. Many of the women were sobbing with fright. He could not see the Colonel or any of the Specials, anywhere, until he found a farmer from Slane Bredy who wore an armlet and was bending over a huddled woman on the pavement.
“Where are the regular police?” he asked.
“Most of ’em were up on the hill, I reckon. It was there they looked for trouble. This lady’s hurt. We must take her to Orson’s; they’ve got the first aid there.”
Between them they raised the moaning woman and supported her across the square to Orson, the chemist’s.
“Where’s Colonel Harding?”
“Gone after ’em up Shotter Street. When they heard us coming they gave us the slip, but it’s likely the chaps from the Station might have caught them the other end.”
Orson’s was full of indignant, clamorous people. Some Red Cross workers were arriving. Nobody seemed to be badly hurt but everyone was much shattered. Mr. Orson hurried up with sal volatile for their charge, exclaiming:
“A houtrage! A houtrage!”
In general he talked like a B.B.C. announcer, but the shock had revived the speech of his youth.
“But what was it? Who was it?” asked Garstang, wistfully eyeing the sal volatile, but not liking to ask for any.
“Students from the Institute, so they say.”
“They come from the Institute,” cried a woman. “Well, they come down Church Lane. I sor’em.”
“There’s a child been trampled to death.”
“A houtrage!”
Garstang went back to the square. It was almost empty, but the Colonel had returned and was talking to some men by Miss Foss’s front gate.
“No sign of them,” he was saying, when Garstang came up. “They all got off before we could lay hands on them. How many would you say there were, Purdie?”
“Thirty or more, sir. They came into the square down Church Lane. They’d got their faces blacked and girls’ clothes, and I reckon some of them were girls too. They’d got banners. Something about the Institute. They were singing and creating. We thought it was the students out for a lark….”
He broke off as the door of the house opened. Dr. Blake came out with Miss Foss and her elderly maid. Both the little old women were crying quietly. They crossed the square and vanished into the Bank manager’s house.
“What a bloody shame!” exclaimed another man.
“She came to the window to see what the noise was,” said the first man. “Couldn’t seem to understand it was her own windows till she got half a brick almost in her face.”
A policeman appeared from Shotter Street with the news that three of the rioters had been caught and were down at the Station. Colonel Harding turned to go with him but paused to examine a banner which lay on the cobbles at his feet.
“Just look at this!” he exclaimed.
Garstang joined him and read:
JUSTICE FOR ANGERA!
“Good God!”
“Yes,” said the Colonel. “Well … we’d better get along to the Station.”
They went off up Shotter Street. The square was now deserted save for an ambulance outside Orson’s. The Swan had wisely closed its doors. The moon sailed high over the roof-tops and shone on torn banners, on shattered glass.
6
NO child had been trampled to death. Nobody had even been seriously hurt. The broken windows were quickly mended. Only three of the art students had been involved in the outrage. But everybody knew that Angera would now have to go.
He was summoned from Kidderminster, whither he had gone to see Nancy who was said to be ill there. Little progress was made in clearing up the mystery which shrouded the whole affair. The three students refused to give the names of their associates or to reveal who had instigated and organised the demonstration. They did say, however, that Angera had forbidden it and that they had acted without his consent. This did little good to his cause, for it was proof that he must, at some time, have known that such a scheme was in the air or he could not have forbidden it.
It was clear that most of the rioters had come from the lower town. Only two were arrested. One was a garage hand and the other a van boy from the M.M. They, too, maintained an obstinate silence. They denied having broken any windows. One said: “I never threw anything in Mrs. Frost’s windows.” The other said: “I saw Mr. Foster’s windows smashed but I did not do it.” Both thought that the guy had been ‘Lady Millwood’. They said that they had thought it was only for a lark but that they would not give their mates away. Their stupidity, in allowing themselves to be caught while most of their fellow rioters got away, suggested that they really knew very little.
As soon as Angera arrived, the Council met and called him to account. He seemed to be quite stunned and, though his statements were confused, they were made calmly, without protest or self-justification. He admitted that he had known of the scheme beforehand and had at one time encouraged it. Later he had called it off and forbidden his students to take any part in it. He named Basil Wright as the instigator, but this clue, when followed up, led to nothing. There was no evidence whatever to implicate Wright; at the time of the riot he had been dancing with Mrs. Meeker on the top of Gibbet Hill; he could bring fifty witnesses to prove it. Mrs. Meeker, who was as much shocked as anybody, regarded this attempt to vilify her partner as a personal insult.
The meeting was short. Angera was told that his resignation must stand and that he had better go at once. He agreed listlessly and withdrew. Nothing remained to be done save expel the three students and pass a vote of sympathy for Miss Foss who was said to be suffering severely from shock.
The whole Institute was aware that a Council meeting was in progress, and the fate of Emil was a foregone conclusion. But one issue had yet to be decided; the Staff had not debated the line to be taken over the rebuff they had had from the Council. Events suggested that they had been perfectly right in asking for an early meeting, and that a prompt reinstatement of Angera might have averted this disaster. They were in a strong position, but they had not met to discuss it, though each one had reached a private decision.
Lucy rehearsed the duel in Kings’ Meads. Miss Frogmore explained the difference between Aou! and Oh! Miss Payne taught five girls how to sit on a low sofa without hitching up their skirts. Bess hunted through the library catalogues for a lost book and Mr. Mildmay deciphered a marginal note. Rickie traced the history of the Tierce de Picardy, while Harry Dent and Mrs. Carstairs, each closeted with a pupil, discoursed on bowing and consecutive fifths. But all of them kept looking at watches and clocks, for at half-past four they would meet for tea in the Staff Common Room and the future would have to be discussed.
Lucy was the last to arrive, for she had wanted to finish her scene and thought it bad for the students to see that she was in any particular hurry to get away. She had expected to hear quite a babel of voices, a debate in full swing, when she got to the Common Room, but she walked into a silent assembly. They were all there, drinking tea, and nobody was saying anything. Then she saw the reason. Emil was with them; he was sitting
a little apart, in a window-seat overlooking the Ravon valley. She took a cooling cup of tea from Bess and raised her eyebrows. Bess shook her head and turned down her thumbs. Lucy went over to Angera and said:
“I’m sorry, Emil. It’s all been a mess….”
He turned and gave her a sad look. She realised how many undeserved disasters these mournful dark eyes had beheld before this final catastrophe which he had undoubtedly brought upon himself.
“Thank you, Lucy,” he said quietly. “Now you have come I wish to say something.”
He stood up and addressed the room with the mild voice of extreme fatigue.
“First I want to thank you all for what you have tried to do. I was a fool. I see that now. But since Thornley went I couldn’t feel I had any friend here. This has been my fault.”
There was an awkward murmur of sympathy and compassion.
“For the second: I want to warn you. I’ve said so many stupid things perhaps you won’t listen. But this is not stupid. It was not stupid when I said that this Council is going once. That will happen unless something is done very, very quick. There is a plot. I have been used.”
He looked round to see if anybody understood him. Lucy said:
“I think that too.”
“For you,” said Angera, “that will be bad unless you guard yourselfs. These people will use you only. They won’t care for you any more than they cared for me.”
“But what people are you talking about?” broke in Miss Frogmore. “Who are these mysterious people?”
“That I don’t know. But it’s necessary now you act. You should ask for Mr. Thornley to return. There is no Senior Director; the place is open. You are strong now. You could demand him. These bad things didn’t happen so much when he was here. You should ask now. Please forgive me. I know it’s very funny for me to tell you what to do. I’ve become quite sensible now that it is no use to me or to anybody else.”
He hesitated for a moment, and added:
“Please! I wish you all great happiness and good luck.”
He made them a little bow and went quickly out of the room.
“Well,” said Bess, “I do think, under the circs, that a lecture from Emil on sensible behaviour is not indicated.”
“But I think he’s quite right,” said Lucy.
“What?” cried several voices. “A plot?”
“Yes. I think there was some very clever organisation behind that business last night. I think ill feeling is being deliberately worked up so that the Council will go in the autumn.”
“I shouldn’t die of grief if they did,” said Miss Frogmore. “They’ve made a pretty good mess of things.”
“Yes, but who would we get instead?”
“You don’t understand, Lucy. You’ve never been at a meeting where they re-elect the Council. Hardly anyone comes, and they’re all people like Mr. Orson — staunch Millwoodites.”
“They have to prove they’re on the electoral roll to get a voting card,” explained Mr. Mildmay. “That’s rather a bother. Very few people take the trouble.”
“And the Council resigns?” asked Lucy.
“Yes, but somebody has always nominated them for reelection. Nominations have to be in a week before the meeting. Again it’s only friends of the Millwoods who bother to send in nominations.”
“You don’t think this business may have shaken the Millwood prestige a little?”
“It might. But the dissatisfied faction are just the sort of people who would never trouble to get cards.”
“I still think,” persisted Lucy, “that somebody very efficient is behind it all. Somebody who might see that people do bother to get cards.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk in this mysterious way,” said Miss Frogmore impatiently. “You’re as bad as Mr. Angera. Have you anybody in mind?”
Lucy decided to burn her boats.
“Yes, I have. I think Mr. Hayter is behind it all.”
There was a general gasp.
“What?” exclaimed Miss Payne. “Not the riot!”
“I shouldn’t wonder if he didn’t know about that too.”
“But you’re crackers!” expostulated Bess. “He’s on the Council himself.”
“Oh, he’ll be re-elected,” said Lucy, “whoever else goes off.”
She paused and waited for more comments, but none came. Bess and Rickie were obviously astounded. But the others … none of the others were surprised. And they were watching her warily, as if they were a little afraid of her, yet, at the same time, sorry. Because, if she must say these things, she would have to go, and none of them intended to go with her. She sighed, and added:
“But he’s talked you all round and persuaded you that it’s better to take no notice of the way the Council has treated us.”
Rickie was the first to find an answer to this.
“I don’t mind admitting that I’ve discussed it with him,” he said. “But I deny that he talked me round. I merely feel that there’s no point in resigning after the way Emil has let us down.”
“Absolutely crackers!” agreed Bess. “I’m sorry for Emil. But really …”
“It isn’t a question of Emil,” said Lucy. “Mr. Mildmay! You don’t think it’s a question of Emil, do you?”
Mr. Mildmay put down his tea-cup and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “It’s a question of our position. We were clearly in the right. We’ve been most contemptuously treated, and I think it’s deplorable that we should sit down under it. I would like to resign but … frankly … I can’t afford to do so. My wife’s health … and at my age another post wouldn’t be easy to find. I have discussed it with no one, Miss Carmichael. But I’m afraid I spoke hastily when I talked of resignation, at our last meeting. I was carried away….”
“I don’t look at it in that way at all,” said Miss Frogmore. “They’ve behaved badly, I agree. But I don’t think Lucy has any right to put it all onto Mr. Hayter. I can assure you that he’s not at all satisfied at the way we’ve been treated. He’s going to see that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again. He’s going to insist that we are better represented on the Council. Colonel Harding quite agrees. One of us should be on the Council, who can explain our point of view.”
“I wonder whom he has in mind!” said Lucy.
Miss Frogmore reddened, and exclaimed:
“I think the whole matter had better be dropped. I personally would prefer to forget Mr. Angera and everything to do with him, and I’m not at all sure that our intervention wasn’t a mistake. If some perfectly innocent person, who has always behaved well, receives unfair treatment, the case might be different.”
This was echoed by Harry Dent and Mrs. Carstairs, who both insisted that the present occasion was not a good one. But the Staff must assert itself as soon as a better chance was offered to them.
“If Mr. Hayter ever offers you a better chance,” said Lucy, “I take back all I’ve said about him.”
“I simply can’t see why you’ve got your knife into Hayter like this,” broke in Rickie. “He’s always been very nice to you and he got you the job here. He’s always ready to help any of us. Look what he did for me about the broadcast!”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Lucy. “He’s always been nice to me. If I was clever I think I could be Senior Director.”
“Yes,” said Miss Frogmore, “you could. And you’re simply throwing it away.”
“Umhm!” agreed Lucy. “I’m resigning. I’m leaving at the end of the term.”
There was a clamour of consternation and protest, from which the voice of Miss Payne emerged:
“But you can’t! You can’t! It puts the rest of us in such an awkward position.”
“We should all act together,” urged Harry Dent. “Either resign in a body, or stay on in a body. I think you should abide by what we all decide.”
“But I couldn’t stay,” said Lucy, “after I’ve come out into the open and said what I think about Mr. Hayter. There isn’t room for us both
on one Staff.”
“Oh, we’ll all forget what you’ve said,” promised Mrs. Carstairs. “But don’t force the issue like this.”
“No,” said Lucy. “I can’t stay. I don’t see any future here. He’s a crooked, unscrupulous man who oughtn’t to have any power, and he’s going to get a lot more. We’re all going to be completely at his mercy. But of course it’s different for all of you, if you really trust him. I don’t.”
She turned to leave them. Before she reached the door Mr. Mildmay exclaimed:
“I’m so glad! If I were your age, Miss Carmichael, I think I should do the same. I think you take rather too gloomy a view of the future. I hope you do. But I’m sure you are acting rightly in deciding to go.”
“Meaning that the rest of us are not?” demanded Miss Payne sharply.
“Every man must decide for himself, Miss Payne, what he’ll sell for his bread and butter. Miss Carmichael is not prepared to sell what we are selling.”
Lucy smiled at him and left them to it. She was sure that every word of this debate would get round to Hayter by some means or other, and hoped that Mr. Mildmay’s opinions would not cost him too dear. But she did not believe that they would if he behaved with submission.
That her decision might put her colleagues into a quandary had not occurred to her, and for the first few minutes after she left them she was so angry that she did not care if it did. On reflection, however, she resolved not to implicate them in the grounds for her resignation. She would not announce that she was going because the Staff had been improperly treated, for that might cause repercussions — enquiries, during which they might be forced to forswear themselves and humbly to aver that no slight had been put upon them. They were determined not to go. Hayter knew it, and he would lose no chance of engineering their cautious retreat into a total capitulation. She thought she might thwart him best by resigning because she did not like her ambiguous position — burdened with all the responsibility of a Senior Director and none of the prestige. She had been told that this would only last until Easter, but there was no prospect of a new appointment and she had real grounds for discontent.
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