England Made Me by Graham Greene Page A

he would be suffering the usual cross-examination: did he see any hope at all for rubber? what were the chances of a boom in silver? Saõ Paulo coffee, Mexican railways, Rio improvements, and finally the thank-offering, the patronage: I told my broker to buy two hundred of your last flotation, as if Erik Krogh should be grateful to the author of Viol and Vine for the loan of two hundred pounds.
    The voices came towards him in waves, breaking where the Minister stood above his Rockingham china, rippling towards him, dying out several yards away, receding in a rush, to rise and fall again over the tea-table. Even the hawk-faced woman had retired; no more than the others did she feel capable of talking financially; not all his patient vigils at the opera, his stately fox-trots with Kate in conspicuous places, his evening parties in the presence of collected editions, had served to convince them that he was a man who cared for the same things as themselves. And certainly, he thought, opening Viol and Vine again at random, they are right: I don’t understand these things. If only Kate were here.
    The man-servant opened the door and padded to his side. ‘A long-distance call from Amsterdam, sir.’ The phrase braced him, and he was momentarily happy, following the servant from the room, down the bright pictured passage to the Minister’s study. He waited till the man had gone before he lifted the receiver. ‘Hullo,’ he said in English, ‘hullo. Is that Hall?’ A very small, very clear voice replied, scraped and cleaned and polished by the miles between: ‘It’s me, Mr Krogh.’
    â€˜I’m speaking from the British Legation. Tell me. What happened on the Exchange?’
    â€˜They are still dumping stock.’
    â€˜You bought, of course?’
    â€˜Yes, Mr Krogh.’
    â€˜You kept the price steady?’
    â€˜Yes, but . . .’
    Yes, but – it was the same doubting voice, with the faint Cockney intonation, that had inserted itself into the bed-sitting-room at Barcelona. I tell you there is no serious friction. Yes, but – He thought of Hall with irritation; the man had no quality but fidelity; it was odd to think how they had once spoken on such level terms that they had been Jim and Erik (not Hall and Mr Krogh), borrowing each other’s boiler-suit, drinking together at the wine shop near the Bull Ring.
    â€˜Go on buying. Don’t let the price fall more than half a point.’
    â€˜Yes, Mr Krogh, but –’
    If he had been less trustworthy he would have been a director now and not Laurin. Hall and Kate. Kate and Hall. ‘Listen,’ Krogh said, ‘the stock is nearly worthless. Much better for it to be in our hands. We don’t want questions.’ One had to explain things to Hall as to a child.
    â€˜If the I.G.S. can afford it . . .’
    â€˜Of course it can afford it. We have Rumania now, in a week or two America.’
    â€˜Money’s close.’
    â€˜I can always get money.’
    â€˜Three-minute call up,’ the exchange said.
    â€˜One moment,’ Hall said, ‘one thing more.’
    â€˜What’s that?’
    â€˜Three-minute call up.’
    â€˜Dongen’s . . .’ Hall’s voice was snipped in two like a piece of tin; the telephone whistled and moaned, a fading voice said: ‘ Une femme insensible ,’ and then silence and a gentle tapping at the door.
    â€˜Come in,’ Krogh said.
    â€˜My dear fellow,’ the Minister put his head round the door, entered on tiptoe, ‘I don’t want to disturb you, but I must snatch a moment away from these harpies. A disgusting woman has just chipped one of my cups. Oh dear, I see you are still phoning.’
    â€˜No,’ Krogh said, ‘I’ve finished,’ and he hung up the receiver.
    â€˜What a life,’ the Minister said, ‘tied to the end of a phone. Money, figures, shares,