Beyond This Place by A.J. Cronin

Author:A.J. Cronin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Classics
ISBN: 9780884115250
Publisher: Amereon Limited
Published: 1953-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

“There never was a more bare-faced snatch for publicity. They never knew what was coming till Birley stood up in the House. The Secretary for State was furious. That same night one of the Ancasters was giving a reception. Birley’s wife was there and she said publicly, ‘I always knew George was an idiot. But I thought he had enough wits not to shoot his own side!’ Did you ever know such imbecility? I’m told they won’t let him stand at the election.”

There was a short silence. Grahame kept his eyes lowered. At last he said:

“Perhaps his motives were sincere. In any case, don’t you think it’s better to be a tool than a knave?” He glanced at his watch.

BEYOND THIS PLACE

“Now if you’ll excuse me. I must be off.” He got up and civilly took his leave.

With darkened face Sprott poured himself another cup of tea, but it tasted bitter in his mouth. The interview had afforded him no satisfaction, and in Grahame’s abrupt departure he created for himself an added slight. At this, his expression hardened, and there swept over him a wave of resentful anger. Had he not, in the past, overcome far greater difficulties, survived much deeper malice?

Instinctively, he thought of his triumphs, his shoulders straightened, his lower lip protruded, and something of his “jury” manner descended upon him. He regretted the momentary phase of weakness through which he had passed. Was he losing his fire? Would he give up now, on the threshold of Parliament, when greatness lay within his grasp? No … a thousand times, no.

In a hard mood he rose and left the club. The porter who showed him out made a pleasant remark about the weather. Sprott, with studied incivility, made no answer. He stepped into a taxi, and curtly ordered the man to drive to Grove Quadrant.

At his home, he let himself in, and to his surprise, found his wife coming towards him in the hall. She kissed him, helped him out of his coat.

“Matthew, dear, there’s a young man waiting for you in the library. He’s been so patient … won’t you see him before dinner?”

He raised his eyebrows. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that for anyone to be allowed to trespass upon his privacy was quite contrary to his orders. But, because he adored her, he said nothing. He inclined his head and walked towards the library.

CHAPTER XXVIII

IT was a handsome room, this library, with a thick cream carpet, many books, and some fine etchings on the walls. Motionless as

BEYOND THIS PLACE

a statue, Paul had been waiting there for about ten minutes. The prosecutor’s wife had herself shown him in, a pretty woman of about forty, rather pale and delicate, wearing a soft grey dress. He could see that she thought he was from her husband’s office.

“I hope you have no more work for Sir Matthew,” she had remarked with her quiet smile.

Then she had asked him if he would take a glass of sherry and a biscuit.

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