LLOYDS OR LONDON

North Canterbury Gazette, Volume 7, Issue 60, 30 November 1937, Page 3

LLOYDS OR LONDON

m (I MMKi § i Mss;® sg® & *7*,, a®®?! PETER B.KYNE

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: Jonathan Blake, penniless orphan, became the hero of Lloyds of London, insurers, by giving them information which saved them a small fortune in the "year 1770. John Angerstein, a wealthy member of the syndicate, became the boy’s patron, sending him through Eton, where he graduated with honours. The two are now seated in the Lloyds coffee house headquarters, discussing Jonathan’s future. As they w’atch the throng. Lord Everett Stacey, whom Angerstein detests, but who, none the less, seeks to invest in his insurance syndicate, enters the room, advances to the desk presided over by Polly, pretty coffee maid at the insurers’ favourite haunt.

Chapter Seven

■'yyfHlLE awaiting their coffee, Jonathan and Angerstein studied Lord Everett Stacy at Polly’s counter. The girl filled his snuff box for him and handed it to him in a business-like manner: “There you are, sir. The very best Maccaba. Two shillings, if you please, sir.” Lord Stacey gave the girl a sovereign; when she handed him his change he imprisoned her hand. “You keep the change, my pet,” he said. The girl gave him a quick appraising glance. It was evident that her experience with' this sort of masher had been very extensive; she knew how to handle his kind without driving away his trade. She simpered, permitted him to continue to hold her hand and, with mock sincerity, said: “Oh, I’d like to accept the gift, sir, I but—l can’t. Really, sir, you’re very kind, but—my mother always says: ‘Polly, wotever yer do, never tyke money from a gentleman.’ Please, sir, do not insist.” Reluctantly Stacy released her hand. “Mark the bounder,” Angerstein muttered. “He tried to win Polly’s favour by giving her the change for a sovereign, when every penny the fool has is borrowed from trusting money-lenders. They loaned him a frightful sum—at huge interest, of course—on the strength of his marriage to the largest fortune in' England. But Lady Stacy appears to be a sensible sort, from all I hear. She seems quite content to support him in her home in a reasonable way, even advancing funds for gambling. The fellow’s a rake.” Stacy’s voice reached them: “Sorry, Polly, but something about you suggested to me that you had outgrown your pinafore.” “Oh, no, me lord. A pinafore should never be outgrown. It keeps a girl so nice an’ clean.” Stacy chuckled patronizingly and crossed the room. As he passed the table where Angerstien and Jonathan sat he paused: “Ah, good morning, my dear Angerstien.” Angered by such a patronizing note from this youthful blade, Angerstein scowled and with a chilly nod returned Lord Stacy’s salutation, then buried his nose in his copy of the Times. However Lord Stacy’s hide was impervious to this plain announcement that Angerstien wanted nothing to do with him. He drew up a chair and, unbidden, sat down at the table. “Unless I am very much mistaken, Angerstien, you are rather well acquainted with my uncle, Lord Drayton, First Lord Of The Admiralty.” “I have the honor of Lord Drayton’s acquaintance— and you are not his nephew.” “Oh, well, why split hairs? I am his nephew by marriage. My mother, the Duchess of Chevenden—” “Yes.” “Lord Drayton gave me a letter of introduction to you, but somehow I appear to have mislaid it.” “We have met before—on at least two occasions, so i require no letter from Lord Drayton to commend you to me. You have 1 not—-on two previous occasions— been able to commend yourself to me. And I do not believe His Lordship ever gave you a lettef. Incidentally, you have not been invited to sit at this table, sir.” 7 Stacy blandly ignored this plain hint to be off about his business. He proffered his snuff box to Angerstien who declined it; Stacy next proffered it to Jonathan, murmuring; “I do not appear to have the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir.” Jonathan could not repress a smile at the fellow’s cool audacity. “You are Lord Everett Stacy, ”he said, “And I am the Akound of Swat. Thank you, but I do not use your brand of snuff.” Lord Stacy helped himself elegantly to a pinch. “My dear Angerstien,” he resumed, “I have recently come into

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an inheritance from my grandmother—far less than I had hoped for,l must admit, for the old harridan was shamefully extravagant. It occurred to me that it might be to our mutual advantage if I employed that money here at Lloyd’s—with you or with your syndicate.” “Impossible,” Angerstien replied, deliberately electing to misunderstand his lordship’s meaning. “I have no place for you in my office.” “My good man, I was not seeking a place in your office. I’ve my name and social standing to think of. I merely wanted to take an occasional risk—incognito.” “You are taking quite a risk now, Lord Stacy,” Jonathan reminded him grimly. “Just ‘good man’ Mr Angerstein once more, you blatant jackass, and you’ll go out of this coffee shop on your head.” Stacy gave him a cheerful nod to that and again addressed himself to John Angerstein. “I understand some of the underwriters make preposterous profits.” , “With occasional preposterous losses. However Lloyd’s is not a gambling house. No doubt you will find underwriters who will let you in on their syndicates, but I’ll have none of you. I hold neither with gambling, nor titled young profligates who scorn commerce as beneath their station, and yet seek to profit by it. Be off with you. The patience of the Akound of Swat is wasting rapidly.” Lord Stacy favoured both men with a beaming smile, which he terminated hastily as Jonathan started to rise, and bowed an elaborate farewell. “Now, what do you suppose that rake had in his mind by reminding me that he is a nephew, by marriage, to the First Lord of the Admiralty?” “I daresay he thought you’d be impressed by his noble connexion and hasten to ingratiate yourself with Lord Drayton by obliging his distant kinsman.” “He has something in mind, Jonathan. Well, whatever it is, we shall hear of it in due course.” On a morning three months later, as John Angerstein sat in the coffee shop enjoying a ten o’clock cup of coffee and wondering why Jonathan had not appeared at his desk that morning, a nervous, shabbily dressed little man approached the table, hat in hand, and murmured: “Mr Angerstein, sir.” “Yes, I’m Angerstein.” “I’ve a message for you, sir, from Mr Jonathan Blake. ’E said as ’ow you’d ’and me a quid if I delivered the message.” “If it’s worth a quid I’ll pay that for it.” “Mr Blake is in jail, sir.” “Great snakes! What’s the charge.” “ ’E’s charged with bein’ a Peepin’ Tom, sir. ’E’s at Bow Street station, sir. ’E arsks that you come an’ bail ’im out, sir. The bail’s a hundred pun, sir.” “Come to Bow Street with me, and if Mr Blake is indeed there, and charged with this disgusting offence, you shall have your quid.” At Bow Street station the police sergeant on duty confirmed the report that Jonathan was confined on a charge of peeping. “I’ll bail, him out,” Angerstein informed the sergeant. “Here’s the hundred pounds. Give me a receipt . and an order for his discharge. He will be available when the time for his trial is set.” In a few minutes Jonathan, wearing under his left eye what was known, even in that distant day, as a mouse, and looking much dishevilled and minus a hat, joined Angerstein in the lobby of the station house. Silently he led the way out to his carriage; as they drove away the older man said • “If this char go is true, Jonathan, your usefulness at Lloyd’s as a member of my syndicate and as an employee of it is at an end. I do not think you did it.” “Thanks for that vote of confidence, sir. I didn’t do it. I was moving around the roof of the house where this silly girl resides, and she saw me kneeling at the edge of the skylight, peering. She thought I was peering at her, whereas, I was peering through a night glass. I didn’t know there was a bedroom beneath me; I didn’t even know there was a girl in it, until she began to scream. Even then I didn’t know what she was screaming about until the policeman on the beat came charging up and took. ,me in charge.” “What the devil were you doing on the woman’s roof?”

“It adjoins my own and I foolishly stepped out on it without asking permission. I was testing my invention.” “What sort of invention ” “My invention for transmitting messages—telegraphing them in the right word. I had a man on a roof half a mile distant with a machine similar to my model, equipped for night work, and I was engaged in writing down the message he was sending.” “Quick news, early news, important’ news,” Angerstein murmured. “Well, the news that you are not a Peeping Tom but an inventor wrestling with time and space is very satisfactory, my dear Jonathan. Where is this model of your invention? I must see it.” “I prefer to show you an improvement I have designed upon it, following my tests. I can say this, however. Based on my experiments so far I am convinced that very shortly I shall be sending and receiving messages across the English Channel, not in two days, but in five minutes.” “Five minutes—from France?” “Aye, sir.” “You must be quite mad.” Jonathan merely smiled. “Do you remember that day, so long ago, when Jukes gave me the half crown and you gave me the devil for taking it? That day you said that news—early, honest news—was the very life-blood of insurance—that as Lloyd’s grew, so must British shipping grow and, hence, so must' grow England. That day you made me promise I should never let England down; subsequently you gave me a watch to commemorate that promise. Well, sir, I have never forgotten our conversation; ever since I have been trying to redeem my promise. And I shall succeed. If, with a small model, I can transmit messages at five miles on a slightly misty night I know I can, with one five times as large, do business at twenty-five miles. In clear weather, of course.” “It strikes me,” John Angerstein murmured, “that you had better abandon your work in my office for the nonce and devote all of your time to the development of your inventionCall upon me for what funds you may require. If you are successful Lloyds will reimburse me.” He laughed shortly. “They’d have to, lad, because, if I decided to be dishonest, I could bankrupt all of my colleagues with my early news of losses.”