James didn’t answer. How well they all knew each other now, he thought. In twelve weeks James felt he had come to know more about these three men than any of the so-called friends he’d known for twenty years. For the first time he understood why his father continually referred back to friendships formed during the war with men he normally would never have met. He began to realize how much he was going to miss Stephen when he returned to America. Success was, in fact, going to split them up. James would have been the last to go through the agony of another Prospecta Oil, but it had certainly had its compensations.
Stephen could never treat any occasion as a celebration, and as soon as the servants had brought in the first course and left, he banged the table with a spoon and declared that the meeting was in progress.
“Make me a promise,” said Jean-Pierre.
“What’s that?” asked Stephen.
“When we have every last penny back, I can sit at the top of the table and you won’t speak until you’re spoken to.”
“Agreed,” said Stephen, “but not until we do have every last penny. The position at the moment is that we’ve received $777,560. Expenses on this operation have totaled $5,178, making a grand total of $27,661.24. Therefore, Metcalfe still owes us $250,101.24.”
Stephen handed around a copy of the current balance sheet.
“These sheets are to be added to your own folders as pages 63C. Any questions?”
“Yes, why were the expenses so high for this operation?” asked Robin.
“Well, over and above the obvious things,” said Stephen, “the truth is that we’ve been hit by the floating exchange rate of sterling against the dollar. At the beginning of this operation you could get $2.44 to the pound. This morning I could only get $2.32. I’m spending in pounds but charging Metcalfe in dollars at the going rate.”
“Not going to let him off with one penny, are you?” said James.
“Not one penny. Now, before we go on I should like to place on record…”
“This gets more like a meeting of the House of Commons every time,” said Jean-Pierre.
“Stop croaking, frog,” said Robin.
“Listen, you Harley Street pimp.”
Uproar broke out. The college scouts, who had seen some rowdy gatherings in their time, wondered if they would have to be called in to help before the evening was completed.
“Quiet,” the sharp, senatorial voice of Stephen brought them all back to order. “I know you’re in high spirits, but we still have to get $250,101.24.”
“We must on no account forget the 24 cents, Stephen.”
“You weren’t as noisy the first time you had dinner here, Jean-Pierre:
The man that once did sell the lion’s skin
While the beast liv’d, was killed with hunting him.” The table went silent.
“Harvey still owes the Team money and it’ll be just as hard to acquire the last quarter as it was with the first three-quarters. Before I hand over to James, I’d like to place on record that his performance at the Clarendon was nothing less than brilliant.”
Robin and Jean-Pierre banged the table in appreciation and agreement.
“Now, James, we’re all ears.”
Once again the room fell into silence.
“My plan is nearly complete,” began James.
The others looked disbelieving.
“But I have something to tell you, which I hope will allow me a short respite before we carry it out.”
“You’re going to get married.”
“Quite right, Jean-Pierre, as usual.”