‘I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you, sir.’
‘Let me put my cards on the table, Stevens. Sir David is a very old friend. And he’s been invaluable in organizing the present conference. Without him, I dare say, we’d not have secured M. Dupont’s agreement to come.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘However, Stevens, Sir David has his funny side. You may have noticed it yourself. He’s brought his son, Reginald, with him. To act as secretary. The point is, he’s engaged to be married. Young Reginald, I mean.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Sir David has been attempting to tell his son the facts of life for the last five years. The young man is now twenty-three.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘I’ll get to the point, Stevens. I happen to be the young man’s godfather. Accordingly, Sir David has requested that I convey to young Reginald the facts of life.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘Sir David himself finds the task rather daunting and suspects he will not accomplish it before Reginald’s wedding day.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘The point is, Stevens, I’m terribly busy. Sir David should know that, but he’s asked me none the less.’
His lordship paused and went on studying his page.
‘Do I understand, sir,’ I said, ‘that you wish me to convey the information to the young gentleman?’
‘If you don’t mind, Stevens. Be an awful lot off my mind. Sir David continues to ask me every couple of hours if I’ve done it yet.’
‘I see, sir. It must be most trying under the present pressures.’
‘Of course, this is far beyond the call of duty, Stevens.’
‘I will do my best, sir. I may, however, have difficulty finding the appropriate moment to convey such information.’
‘I’d be very grateful if you’d even try, Stevens. Awfully decent of you. Look here, there’s no need to make a song and dance of it. Just convey the basic facts and be done with it. Simple approach is the best, that’s my advice, Stevens.’
‘Yes, sir. I shall do my best.’
‘Jolly grateful to you, Stevens. Let me know how you get on.’
I was, as you might imagine, a little taken aback by this request and ordinarily the matter might have been one I would have spent some time pondering. Coming upon me as it did, however, in the midst of such a busy period, I could not afford to let it preoccupy me unduly, and I thus decided I should resolve it at the earliest opportunity. As I recall, then, it was only an hour or so after being first entrusted with the mission that I noticed the young Mr Cardinal alone in the library, sitting at one of the writing tables, absorbed in some documents. On studying the young gentleman closely, one could, as it were, appreciate the difficulty experienced by his lordship – and indeed, by the young gentleman’s father. My employer’s godson looked an earnest, scholarly young man, and one could see many fine qualities in his features; yet given the topic one wished to raise, one would have certainly preferred a lighter-hearted, even a more frivolous sort of young gentleman. In any case, resolved to bring the whole matter to a satisfactory conclusion as quickly as possible, I proceeded further into the library, and stopping a little way from Mr Cardinal’s writing desk, gave a cough.
‘Excuse me, sir, but I have a message to convey to you.’
‘Oh, really?’ Mr Cardinal said eagerly, looking up from his papers. ‘From Father?’
‘Yes, sir. That is, effectively.’
‘Just a minute.’
The young gentleman reached down into the attaché case at his feet and brought out a notebook and pencil.
‘Tire away, Stevens.’
I coughed again and set my voice into as impersonal a tone as I could manage.
‘Sir David wishes you to know, sir, that ladies and gentlemen differ in several key respects.’
I must have paused a little to form my next phrase, for Mr Cardinal gave a sigh and said:
‘I’m only too aware of that, Stevens. Would you mind coming to the point?’
‘You are aware, sir?’
‘Father is perpetually underestimating me. I’ve done extensive reading and background work on this whole area.’
‘Is that so, sir?’
‘I’ve thought about virtually nothing else for the past month.’
‘Really, sir. In that case, perhaps my message is rather redundant.’
‘You can assure Father I’m very well briefed indeed. This attaché case’ – he nudged it with his foot – ‘is chock-full of notes on every possible angle one can imagine.’
‘Is that so, sir?’
‘I really think I’ve thought through every permutation the human mind is capable of. I wish you’d reassure Father of that.’
‘I will, sir.’
Mr Cardinal seemed to relax a little. He prodded once more his attaché case – which I felt inclined to keep my eyes averted from – and said:
‘I suppose you’ve been wondering why I never let go of this case. Well, now you know. Imagine if the wrong person opened it.’
‘That would be most awkward, sir.’
‘That is, of course,’ he said, sitting up again suddenly, ‘unless Father has come up with an entirely new factor he wants me to think about.’
‘I cannot imagine he has, sir.’
‘No? Nothing more on this Dupont fellow?’
‘I fear not, sir.’
I did my best not to give away anything of my exasperation on discovering that a task I had thought all but behind me was in fact still there unassaulted before me. I believe I was collecting my thoughts for a renewed effort when the young gentleman suddenly rose to his feet, and clutching his attaché case to his person, said:
‘Well, I think I’ll go and take a little fresh air. Thanks for your help, Stevens.’
It had been my intention to seek out a further interview with Mr Cardinal with minimum delay, but this proved to be impossible, owing largely to the arrival that same afternoon – some two days earlier than expected – of Mr Lewis, the American senator. I had been down in my pantry working through the supplies sheets, when I had heard somewhere above my head the unmistakable sounds of motor cars pulling up in the courtyard. As I hastened to go upstairs, I happened to encounter Miss Kenton in the back corridor – the scene, of course, of our last disagreement – and it was perhaps this unhappy coincidence that encouraged her to maintain the childish behaviour she had adopted on that previous occasion. For when I inquired who it was that had arrived, Miss Kenton continued past me, stating simply:
‘A message if it is urgent, Mr Stevens.’
This was extremely annoying, but, of course, I had no choice but to hurry on upstairs.
My recollection of Mr Lewis is that of a gentleman of generous dimensions with a genial smile that rarely left his face. His early arrival was clearly something of an inconvenience to his lordship and his colleagues who had reckoned on a day or two more of privacy for their preparations. However, Mr Lewis’s engagingly informal manner, and his statement at dinner that the United States ‘would always stand on the side of justice and didn’t mind admitting mistakes had been made at Versailles’ seemed to do much to win the confidence of his