The Nice and the Good by Iris Murdoch

Saturday. Anyway, to tell the tale as briefly as possible, Droysen was around last night in his old haunts in Fleet Street, and it seems that the press have got hold of some sort of story about Radeechy.”
    “What sort of story?”
    “This is what we haven’t found out yet, but it sounds like the usual sort of story, at least it’s got the two familiar elements, women and money.”
    “You mean blackmail?”
    “Well, it sounds like it. It features a girl who’s known as Helen of Troy. I think we can guess her profession. And there’s something about ‘a large sum of money changed hands’. That’s the phrase, isn’t it, Droysen? ‘A large sum of money changed hands’.”
    “Whose hands?” said Ducane.
    “Don’t know.”
    “But they haven’t published this stuff?”
    “No, no, it’s far too hot. As far as Droysen could gather one of the larger nastier dailies has bought it. A pretty large sum of money probably changed hands there! And now they’re sitting on it to see what happens next, and mean-while every sort of rumour is going about.”
    “You don’t know who provided the story?”
    “No, but it’s said to have been someone inside the office. Not nice!”
    “Radeechy didn’t have access to any secret material, did he?”
    “Well, not officially. But that isn’t going to impress anybody.”
    “Have Security been on to you?”
    “Not yet. I telephoned to tell them of course, since they’re so mad keen to know every little thing, and they just grunted, but the PM’s been on to me.”
    “He’d heard about the story and the rumours?”
    “Well, he’d heard something , and I told him the rest and he was not pleased.”
    “It’s a bit early to get upset,” said Ducane. “We don’t even know what this story is.”
    “No, but you know as well as I do that politicians aren’t concerned with justice being done, they’re concerned with justice seeming to be done as a result of their keen-eyed vigilance. Apparently he’s already being pressed to have an official enquiry.”
    “Which kind?”
    “That hasn’t emerged yet, but the point is, this is where you come in.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes. You’d be surprised how well thought of you are amongst our leaders. The PM wants you to conduct an enquiry.”
    “What status would I have?” said Ducane.
    “Well, thank God you’re taking it so coolly, I thought you’d explode! Strictly speaking you wouldn’t have any status, that is the enquiry would be a purely departmental one. I would instruct you to enquire and you would enquire. The rest would have to be played by ear.”
    “I see. I suppose quick action is the point.”
    “Precisely. The PM doesn’t want this thing to snowball.If we can clear it all up quickly, establish what went on if anything, and demonstrate that there’s no Security interest, we can avoid an official enquiry which the PM doesn’t want any more than we do.”
    “It’s one of those things which it’s not easy to demonstrate,” said Ducane. “If Radeechy had a fishy private life, and if the press keep dropping hints, people will believe anything. It’s become a sort of cliché. However, I’ll certainly have a go. It doesn’t look as if I’ve got much choice anyway! I suppose there isn’t the faintest chance that poor Radeechy was being blackmailed into handing over secret stuff?”
    “Not the faintest,” said Octavian. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you, you two?”
    “One never knows about anyone,” said Biranne, “but I shouldn’t have thought it of Radeechy.”
    “I agree,” said George Droysen. “And I knew him reasonably well as far as meeting in the office goes.”
    “That doesn’t go very far,” said Ducane. “However it appears he was being blackmailed?”
    “So the tale runs.”
    “And he did shoot himself. Why did he shoot himself?”
    “And in the office too,” said Octavian. “That does strike me as somehow odd and significant. Why couldn’t he shoot himself decently at