Ruined City by Nevil Shute Page B

from his desk. 'Tell him that. Tell him to go and have a look at what he's selling. And tell him to remember that there's somebody fool enough to offer him three thousand pounds for what he's looking at.'
    He paid five thousand five hundred in the end.
    Matheson bought it for him in his own name, transferring it next day to Lisle Court Securities Ltd., the company which represented Warren's personal fortune. Robbins the watchman continued to receive his weekly wage from Jacobson, as formerly. The deal concluded, Warren placed it in the background of his mind and plunged into the arrears of his work.
    He left the house in Grosvenor Square and went to live in chambers in Pall Mall, opposite his club. His divorce proceeded on its way; he treated it as a matter of minor business, to the distress of his solicitor. It seemed to Warren that his divorce was an affair of little consequence; he had started it off, and it would happen; let the lawyers get on with it. His entire waking thoughts were centred in his work, but with an added interest. He was looking for ships.
    In the next few weeks he learned a good deal about ships. With ships laid up in every creek and every river in the country, orders for new ships were a rarity. He heard of empty shipyards everywhere, of a few scattered orders bitterly competed for, and taken at prices that meant certain loss, but less loss than an empty yard. He heard of Government-assisted German and Italian yards competing in the slender markets that remained, content to make a loss on every ship to take the opportunity of world depression to build up their industry. He heard of queer ships for queer trades, and of rum runners.
    In the office one day Morgan said, 'The Laevatian Oil Development, sir. You remember you said it could wait over. Colonel Mavrogadato was on the telephone about a week ago. He wanted to talk it over with you.'
    'Elias Mavrogadato? The one who was Minister for Home Affairs?'
    'No, sir. This is Demetrios Mavrogadato. I think he's a cousin — a cousin or a nephew. He's over here with the Commission.'
    Warren nodded. 'I remember. How long was the pipe line going to be?'
    'About forty-eight miles from the wells to the coast, at Pitlonas.'
    Warren raised his head. 'What were they going to do with the oil then?'
    'Ship it, I suppose. They can place the greater part of the output in Italy.'
    They'd want tankers.'
    'I couldn't say, sir.'
    Later that day Warren rang up Colonel Demetrios Mavrogadato and invited him to lunch at the Savoy.
    Colonel Mavrogadato was pleased to detach himself from the Commission and to accept the invitation. It pleased him to lunch at the Savoy. He prided himself on his capacity as un homme d'affaires; he considered the language of his country to be uncouth, and endeavoured to avoid the use of it. He had travelled widely. He had been to Belgrade twice and several times to Sofia; his brother had been to Berlin. With this wealth of experience behind him he knew exactly what was implied by the invitation; he would be expected to eat in one meal the value of his salary for a month, and it would cost him nothing at all. It would cost him less than nothing, in fact, since by common consent the Laevatian Commission had resolved that private hospitality could not affect expense accounts. He was pleased, too, at the prospect of lunching alone with Mr Henry Warren. It must be that the banker required his help. On his side Colonel Mavrogadato was willing, nay, even anxious to assist Mr Warren. In the nature of things, he could hardly expect to serve upon another Commission for some years, and he must make sufficient out of this one to augment his salary till Fortune's wheel came round again.
    They met in the entrance hall. 'My dear Colonel,' said Warren in French. 'This is indeed a pleasure.'
    The swardiy features broke into a smile. 'Enchanté, cher monsieur, 'said the colonel and bowed stiffly from the waist. They went down into the dining-room, talking amiable