Stone's Fall

'I do not know. Certainly it would be consistent with everything I knew about him. He was a terrible man, Mr Braddock. Utterly without principles or loyalties.'

The atmosphere was so heavy it felt oppressive. Seyd had alarmed me. But I was fascinated as well. And here, sitting in front of me with his dog-collar on was the first man to say something other than the standard line on Ravenscliff. Fair, decent, a wonderful husband, good employer. Kindly. A wizard with money. All that had been repeated endlessly. Finally, I had found someone with a different view – and he wasn't going to tell me why. I decided then and there I wasn't going to leave until he had.

'How far had the investigation progressed?'

'Not far. Not far enough for anyone in London to make sense of it. Not even Wilf Cornford. No one had yet put all the pieces together. Maybe they wouldn't have done, but I put them together, Mr Braddock,' he said defiantly.

'I thought you had no connection with that sort of thing?'

'Mr Cornford has a low opinion of my expertise. That is unwarranted. I spent many years at my father's side before his death, and I learned a very great deal about the way the modern company operates. He also taught me how to read balance sheets when most young children are playing games, or struggling over their Latin irregular verbs.'

'You must tell me what you found. You must.'

He shook his head.

'I am who I say I am,' I continued in the vague hope it would make some difference. 'A reporter, a writer. I want the truth, that is all.'

'Then you are an innocent. Or very brave.'

'I am neither. If you won't tell me, then at least answer some questions. Did your investigations deal with Ravenscliff sucking vast sums of money out of his companies and defrauding his shareholders?'

Seyd was deathly quiet, and looked at me carefully. 'Why do you say that?'

'Because he was,' I said recklessly. 'I discovered it. It had already started by the time you shut down your inquiry. Is that why? Is that what you discovered as well?'

Not the best way of playing, giving away your best cards with no guarantee of anything in exchange. Had Seyd been more like Ravenscliff, he would have smiled, snapped up the information and refused still to reply. Maybe he intended to, but instead he said nothing at all; he frowned, rubbed his hands together in a jerky, agitated movement, put some sugar in his tea, then, a few moments later, put some more in. Tasting the result brought him back.

'No,' he said. 'No, it wasn't. But it does explain why somebody wanted no investigation at that particular moment. Why was he doing this? Do you know?'

'You can't expect me to answer your questions if you don't answer mine, you know. That would be quite unfair.'

'I am trying to protect you.'

'So is everyone else I talk to. Very kind. But I don't want to be protected. I want to do a good job, which everyone else also seems to think I am incapable of doing.'

'Pride, eh?'

'If you want. Do you know, I was recommended for this job because my editor thinks I am a poor reporter.'

'Who's he?'

'McEwen, of the Chronicle.'

He looked interested at this, but I continued. 'And since then, every conversation has started: why you? Why you? Why you? I am heartily sick of it.'

'Spoken like a true twelve-year-old,' he said gently.

I glared.

'But McEwen is a good man. How very curious.' And he fell into a thoughtful mood, during which he poured some more tea into a clean cup.

'Do you consider yourself a patriot, Mr Braddock? A loyal Englishman?'

'Naturally,' I said, somewhat surprised. 'So much so that I never think about it.'

'Yes; few people do. No doubt that will change in the coming years. Mr McEwen does think of it. He is a good man, and a trustworthy one.'

'You know him?'

'Oh, yes.'

The change that had come over him had been slow but distinct. Apart from the ecclesiastical garb, there was nothing of the vicar left in him. The mild, slightly slow mannerisms had been replaced by a precision which momentarily shocked me.

'The investigation concerned lines of credit,' he began quietly. 'That is, the means by which Ravenscliff's gigantic operations are funded. The whole structure of his cash flow, credits, the loans he makes to others to buy his products. Where the money goes. Do you understand me so far?'

'He lends people money to buy his own goods?'

'What you see with Ravenscliff's operations is the material side. The factories, the goods. But there was also another side, the banks and the finance. Money flowed into the banks, was turned into goods, which were sold, and turned back into money again. No one truly understood it but him. No one can, I think. That is the main purpose. In the last two decades, Ravenscliff devised a financial structure so complex it is all but impossible to penetrate.'

'But I have read the accounts . . .'