I rattled my way to the Place de la Bourse, and walked up the stairs to the little office that Barings occupied. Again, you must remember that this was some years back; even the most powerful bank in the world felt no need to make a splash with gaudy offices, and had no need whatsoever for legions of employees to oversee their foreign business. Barings then employed ten people in Paris, of whom four were mere clerks, two were family members learning the trade with the remaining four doing all the work. These were, as was Barings' tradition, overworked and underpaid. The most underpaid and overworked, alas, hated me.
I can honestly say that no thought of Roger Felstead had passed through my mind for several years. He was a man of such diligence, stolidity and utter tedium that it was possible to forget him even when you were talking to him. He believed in order. He believed in rules. He believed in procedures. He believed in loyalty, and was sure it would be rewarded. Alas, every time he felt a reward was his due, his rightful prize had been given to me. He had wanted to go to Germany, I was sent. He had greatly desired to spend some time in New York, but it was I who got on the boat, not him. He had stayed in London, methodically learning his business, doing his duty and showing total loyalty, while I rushed around accumulating unjustified rewards.
I did not like Felstead. Felstead loathed me. On such trivial things can the fate of empires depend.
'A journalist now, aren't you?' he said, not even trying to hide the tone of superior commiseration in his voice.
'That's right,' I said brightly. 'Book reviews, interviews with actresses and society gossip. Great stuff.'
'I was sorry to hear about you leaving,' he went on, meaning the exact opposite. 'There was quite a lot of talk about it.'
'I'm glad to hear it. It would have been a great pity if no one had noticed.'
'Were you really fired? That's what I heard. That you messed up with a contract.'
'Certainly not,' I said. 'No. It was because I used the bank's money to set up as a pimp.'
He blinked, not knowing how to take that. Then the idiot decided I was joking. 'Well, come to see what you're missing? Everything seems to be running smoothly without you.'
'Good. I gather you are floating a big bond issue for the Argentinians. Water company?'
He nodded. 'The most ambitious ever. And I am in charge of syndicating the French participants. It's a big responsibility, I can tell you.'
'How's it going?'
'Oh, pretty well. Pretty well. It'll take time to line everybody up, of course. You know the French. No discipline. No ability to take decisions. They like their pound of flesh. Make us suffer, before they do what they're told.
'So if I said that I had heard through my contacts that Credit International has decided not to have anything to do with the loan, that in fact no bank in France is going to touch any more Barings paper, that Russian and Belgian banks are also beginning to wobble, then you will tell me that this is silly market speculation and that everything is really running smoothly.'
He blanched, and I could see from his reaction that he knew none of this. None of the banks had officially refused to participate as yet; they were saving it up as a big surprise. I wondered when that surprise was going to come.
'I certainly would,' he said, although the certainty in his voice was noticeable by its absence. 'Who told you this?'
'Contacts,' I said. 'It's what comes of spending time in society. You should try it. You think it's nonsense?'
'Absolutely. It is completely absurd. When has a Barings issue ever been snubbed? Occasionally you might get one bank scaling back on its participation. That's normal. You know that. But large numbers? They know our reputation. When has Lord Revelstoke ever put a foot wrong? Why, the man is a genius! You know all of this, and yet you give credence to a bunch of jealous gossip-mongers? It's clear you were not cut out for banking, my boy, if you're given to this sort of panic.'
I felt like replying that it was clear that neither was he, if he was given to that sort of imbecility. He reminded me of what I disliked about Barings, in fact: the smugness, and conviction of invincibility. Barings were the rulers of the fin de siècle. But then the Rothschilds had ruled at the beginning of the century, and were now a conservative shadow of their former selves. Did Barings think they would dominate the world forever?
'I'm glad to hear it,' I replied. 'So you think that I should ignore all these stories. I was thinking of writing something for
'Oh, you mustn't do that!' he said swiftly. 'That would be the grossest disloyalty. If people hear there are problems, then they will . . .'
'So there are problems?'
