do nothing to prevent Germany swallowing up Austria?’
Scannon nodded. ‘In practical terms, what could we do?’
‘It’s natural justice,’ Hepple-Keen said. ‘We won’t go to war about the union of two peoples who share a language and a culture – a
voluntary union. If the union happens, in my view it will be an expression of true democracy.’
‘Maybe you won’t go to war when Herr Hitler walks into Austria, sir, nor when he walks into Czechoslovakia or Poland, but there will be time a when the Reichsführer will walk
into France and then you will have to fight and, without wishing to give offence, gentlemen, you’re going to lose.’
There was a stunned silence after Harbin had finished speaking. A cold shiver ran down Edward’s spine. He didn’t like Harbin. There was something bloodless about him but he could not
deny the man saw clearly and his vision was by no means comfortable. Edward remembered how his mother had called these shivers ‘someone walking over my grave’. The American had
expressed Edward’s own views on what would happen if Britain did not stand up to Hitler, but hearing Harbin spell out the future in so menacing a way was like finding death itself at the
dinner table. And Harbin hadn’t quite finished. He was determined they should hear the truth even if they did not like it. ‘Where I come from,’ he went on, ‘we have enough
oil to mobilize an army or two but, I have to tell you, there is no way the American people would do that except to defend their own frontiers.’
Scannon said, ‘That’s what President Wilson said in the last war but in the end you had to come and help sort out the mess.’
‘And we learned our lesson,’ Harbin said flatly.
Edward noted with interest that the American was hardly eating anything but merely messing his sole about with his fork. On what oil did this man run, he wondered. If Harbin was voicing the
President’s own views, it was a bleak lookout for England.
The Hepple-Keens were, in their way, just as curious as Mr Larry Harbin. Lady Hepple-Keen – Daphne – was placed next to Edward and sat almost silent during the first two courses. He
tried valiantly to find a subject on which she felt strongly enough to express a view but to no effect. She seemed not to like her husband, which Edward thought perfectly reasonable as he put the
man down for a bullying cad after being in his presence less than five minutes. She was uninterested in her husband’s career and, to judge from her monosyllabic replies to his questions,
thoroughly disliked his politics. She was scared of him, Edward decided, and he felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had just lapsed into what he thought might be terminal silence when she
suddenly mentioned a child and, to Edward’s relief, she now became almost voluble. She had three children, she told him. Little James was only eight and her ‘precious little
angel’, a boy of ten and a girl of eleven who worried her mother sick by refusing to talk. Edward hardly dared guess what the child might be trying to deny by remaining silent. He saw
Hepple-Keen looking at him strangely. He was clearly far from pleased to see his wife spilling out family secrets to a complete stranger.
Dinner drew painfully to a close. It had been a dreary affair and Edward was heartily glad when Scannon declared it at an end. Instead of the ladies withdrawing to leave their menfolk to talk
politics and smut over the port, Scannon suggested a tour of the house and Edward for one was happy to accede. Molly, too, seemed enthusiastic though she had stayed in the house several times
before and knew it well. She grasped Edward by the arm and the rest followed more or less reluctantly. Scannon said, ‘We’ll go first to the long gallery. My father bought a lot of
pictures when the house was being planned and he wanted to show them off. The architect suggested a long room like those you see sometimes in Elizabethan houses. They
Scannon nodded. ‘In practical terms, what could we do?’
‘It’s natural justice,’ Hepple-Keen said. ‘We won’t go to war about the union of two peoples who share a language and a culture – a
voluntary union. If the union happens, in my view it will be an expression of true democracy.’
‘Maybe you won’t go to war when Herr Hitler walks into Austria, sir, nor when he walks into Czechoslovakia or Poland, but there will be time a when the Reichsführer will walk
into France and then you will have to fight and, without wishing to give offence, gentlemen, you’re going to lose.’
There was a stunned silence after Harbin had finished speaking. A cold shiver ran down Edward’s spine. He didn’t like Harbin. There was something bloodless about him but he could not
deny the man saw clearly and his vision was by no means comfortable. Edward remembered how his mother had called these shivers ‘someone walking over my grave’. The American had
expressed Edward’s own views on what would happen if Britain did not stand up to Hitler, but hearing Harbin spell out the future in so menacing a way was like finding death itself at the
dinner table. And Harbin hadn’t quite finished. He was determined they should hear the truth even if they did not like it. ‘Where I come from,’ he went on, ‘we have enough
oil to mobilize an army or two but, I have to tell you, there is no way the American people would do that except to defend their own frontiers.’
Scannon said, ‘That’s what President Wilson said in the last war but in the end you had to come and help sort out the mess.’
‘And we learned our lesson,’ Harbin said flatly.
Edward noted with interest that the American was hardly eating anything but merely messing his sole about with his fork. On what oil did this man run, he wondered. If Harbin was voicing the
President’s own views, it was a bleak lookout for England.
The Hepple-Keens were, in their way, just as curious as Mr Larry Harbin. Lady Hepple-Keen – Daphne – was placed next to Edward and sat almost silent during the first two courses. He
tried valiantly to find a subject on which she felt strongly enough to express a view but to no effect. She seemed not to like her husband, which Edward thought perfectly reasonable as he put the
man down for a bullying cad after being in his presence less than five minutes. She was uninterested in her husband’s career and, to judge from her monosyllabic replies to his questions,
thoroughly disliked his politics. She was scared of him, Edward decided, and he felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had just lapsed into what he thought might be terminal silence when she
suddenly mentioned a child and, to Edward’s relief, she now became almost voluble. She had three children, she told him. Little James was only eight and her ‘precious little
angel’, a boy of ten and a girl of eleven who worried her mother sick by refusing to talk. Edward hardly dared guess what the child might be trying to deny by remaining silent. He saw
Hepple-Keen looking at him strangely. He was clearly far from pleased to see his wife spilling out family secrets to a complete stranger.
Dinner drew painfully to a close. It had been a dreary affair and Edward was heartily glad when Scannon declared it at an end. Instead of the ladies withdrawing to leave their menfolk to talk
politics and smut over the port, Scannon suggested a tour of the house and Edward for one was happy to accede. Molly, too, seemed enthusiastic though she had stayed in the house several times
before and knew it well. She grasped Edward by the arm and the rest followed more or less reluctantly. Scannon said, ‘We’ll go first to the long gallery. My father bought a lot of
pictures when the house was being planned and he wanted to show them off. The architect suggested a long room like those you see sometimes in Elizabethan houses. They
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