Stone's Fall

'As you say. And now you know the story as well, so you had better be careful. Ravenscliff was utterly single-minded. He is dead, but his spirit, as they say, lives on in people like Xanthos and Neuberger and Bartoli. He chose them and trained them. The company embodies his methods. It is alive, and can work without him. You might say he transferred his soul into it, so that he will live as long as his companies exist. It is the only form of immortality a man like that could expect, and more than he deserves.'

'Did you ever meet him?'

Seyd shook his head. 'Never. I got to know him through numbers. It is not a bad way of making an acquaintance. And safer.'

'What did your numbers tell you? You see, I am having trouble. What was it all for? I'm a simple man, myself. I dream of a house and a garden and a wife. I want enough money never to have to worry. I do not want to end up in the poor house, or a pauper's grave. Ravenscliff had all that, decades ago. What did he want?'

Seyd looked thoughtfully at the carpet. 'Well,' he said. 'Not money. I really think he had no great interest in money. That is often the case with these people. Not fame or position, either. He took the peerage with the greatest of reluctance and never sought any sort of public role. Few people had ever heard of him and he liked it like that.'

'What does that leave? Power?'

'No, I don't think so. I've no doubt it pleased his vanity, but not greatly. No, I believe his motivation was pleasure.'

'I beg your pardon?'

Seyd smiled. 'Pleasure, Mr Braddock. Not something usually associated with heavy industry or armaments, I know. But he seems to have approached what he did rather as an engineer approaches a problem, or an artist a picture. He took pleasure in creating something that was harmonious, integrated and balanced. He could have been an architect, I think. Or maybe he would have liked these new crosswords, where the delight lies solely in solving the puzzle. He liked taking an insuperable problem, and conquering it. I've no doubt he liked the admiration that generated, and certainly never refused any profits, but I suspect he would not have done it had he gained no delight from it. You might even call him an aesthete. The pleasure was in the mind. He set out to create the most perfect organisation the world has ever seen, and he succeeded.'

'Numbers tell you that?'

'They hint. The rest is guesswork and experience.'

'I think I am more confused than ever.'

'Maybe so. But it is the only explanation of Ravenscliff which answers. Now, you know what I know, in an abbreviated version. What are you going to do about it?'

'Knowing him through numbers, what do mine tell you?' I summarised what the single file had contained. Seyd listened attentively, frowning in concentration as I spoke.

'So he's burning up his cash, is he? Well, I would rule out fraud, if I were you.'

'Why?'

'He was too elegant a man to be fraudulent in that way. It is too crude for him.'

'So?'

'He was using the money for something.'

'What?'

'How should I know? You seem to have taken that task on yourself. Find out, if you want, and if you can.'

The interview was over. All reporters with a little experience know when there is no more information to be extracted and I knew that I had got as much out of Young Seyd as he was able, or willing, to give. I stood up. The vicar, out of politeness, stood as well. He did not urge me to stay, to sit down again.

I walked to the door, then turned. 'One question then, which you should not mind answering. The man who came to see you at your club. What was he like?'

Seyd considered, trying to find an objection, but coming up with nothing. 'He was in his late forties, fair hair, thinning on top. Medium build. No moustache or beard, a large, unusually large, mouth. Entirely unremarkable. I do not know who he was, and have never seen him again.'

CHAPTER 17

I got back to London at eight that evening, and went straight to the Ravenscliff residence. I had nothing particular to do there, no reason not to go home via a chop house or pub for a good night's sleep. The only reason I went to St James's Square rather than Chelsea was because I wanted to see her. I was almost aware of it.

I did not, of course, have a key, but I had been given free run of the house and could go in and out as I pleased. I noticed a slight hesitation when the door was opened, as though the servant thought it unbecoming for a young man to turn up to a house of mourning so late in the evening. She was probably right. I asked about her mistress and was told she had already retired for the evening, which made my heart fall. I then realised there was nothing I wished to do there; but I could hardly turn on my heel and leave, so I walked up the stairs to Ravenscliff's office to make a pretence of studying his papers.