Stone's Fall

So we set to work, each in our different way. I worked like a reporter: spending ten minutes reading, then jumping up and staring out the window, humming to myself. Picking up this pile, then the next, more or less at random, hoping that luck would give me something of interest. Franklin, in contrast, worked like a banker; starting at the top of the first sheet, working his way steadily down through the pile, then on to the next. Number after number, column after column, file after file. He sat still and impassively, only his eyes flickering across the tallies, his pen occasionally jotting a brief note on a pad of paper before him. He made no noise; he seemed almost to be in a dream – and a happy dream at that.

'Well?' I asked after about an hour and a half when I could stand it no longer. 'Have you found anything? I haven't.'

Franklin held up a hand for quiet, and he continued reading, then jotted down another note. 'What did you say?'

'I said, what have you got so far?'

'I've only just started,' he began. 'You can't expect . . .'

'I don't. But I want a break. Do you have any idea how bad his handwriting was? Each word is a torture. I want a diversion for a few moments so my eyes can recover.'

'I'll look at them myself another time,' he offered. 'This stuff, in contrast, is fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. But I suspect of no earthly use to you at all.'

I groaned. The worst of both worlds. Franklin was going to tell me more about stock prices.

He did. I absented myself mentally from the room after a few minutes, as he waxed lyrical about debenture stocks and dividend payouts, and operations in the market.

'Not as sound as everyone thought, you see,' he concluded some time later. How long – ten minutes or an hour I could not say.

'What isn't?'

Franklin frowned. 'Have you been paying attention?'

'Of course,' I replied robustly. 'I've been hanging on every word. I'd just like a useful summary. I'm a journalist, remember. I don't like detail.'

'Very well. A summary. Ravenscliff's enterprises in England have been burning up cash. He has been sucking money out of the operation at a quite phenomenal rate for almost a year.'

I stared hopefully at him. This was more my line. I could understand this. Hand in the till to pay for wine, women and song. Gambling debts. Racehorses. Jump out of the window to avoid the shame of ruin. How very disappointing. 'How much?'

'About three million pounds.'

I looked at him aghast. That was a lot of racehorses. 'Are you sure?'

'Pretty sure. That is, I've looked back at the past seven years' accounts. They are very complicated, but he had a private set prepared every year, which summarised his total operations. I imagine no one else ever saw them. Without those, I doubt I could ever have noticed what he was up to. But these are quite clear. Do you want me to show you?' He brandished a thick folder of complicated looking papers in my direction.

'No. Just tell me.'

'Very well. If you take the amount of cash at the start of the year, add on the cash received, subtract the cost of operations and other expenses, then you get the amount of cash at the end of the year. Do you understand that?'

I nodded cautiously

'The official accounts use one figure. These,' again he waved the file in the air, 'use another which is very different. All the shareholders, except for Ravenscliff, who evidently knew better, believe that the businesses have considerably more money than, in fact, they do. Three million, as I say.'

'And that means?'

'That means that if anyone ever found out, then not only Rialto but all the companies it owns shares in would drop like a stone. If you'll forgive me.' Franklin seemed momentarily alarmed that he could be frivolous on such a subject, even accidentally. 'The companies are not bankrupt, but they are worth nowhere near as much as people think. Including these people.'

I looked. It was a list of names, with figures on them. The Prime Minister, the Chancellor, the Foreign Secretary. Their opposite numbers in the Conservative party. And many other MPs, judges and bishops.

'What are these numbers?'

'Their shareholdings in Rialto. Multiply by the price. The Prime Minister in the case of a total collapse would lose nearly £11,000. The Leader of the Opposition £8,000.'

'Enough reason to get Barings in to prop up the share price?'

'More than enough, I'd say.'

'So what do I do about this?'

'You keep your mouth firmly closed. If you must do something, try to find out if any of the people on this list have been selling their shares. I have savings of £75, and £35 of these are in the Rialto Investment Trust. I intend to sell them first thing on Monday morning. It has taken me four years to save that much, and I don't intend to lose it. I imagine anyone else who knew about this would have the same reaction.'