‘I’m proud of you. A good son. I hope I’ve been a good father to you. I suppose I haven’t.’
‘I’m afraid we’re extremely busy now, but we can talk again in the morning.’
My father was still looking at his hands as though he were faintly irritated by them.
‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better now,’ I said again and took my leave.
On descending, I found the kitchen on the brink of pandemonium, and in general, an extremely tense atmosphere amongst all levels of staff. However, I am pleased to recall that by the time dinner was served an hour or so later, nothing but efficiency and professional calm was exhibited on the part of my team.
It is always something of a memorable sight to see that magnificent banqueting hall employed to its full capacity and that evening was no exception. Of course, the effect produced by unbroken lines of gentlemen in evening suits, so outnumbering representatives of the fairer sex, was a rather severe one; but then again, in those days, the two large chandeliers that hang over the table still ran on gas – resulting in a subtle, quite soft light pervading the room – and did not produce the dazzling brightness they have done ever since their electrification. On that second and final dinner of the conference – most guests were expected to disperse after lunch the following day – the company had lost much of the reserve that had been noticeable throughout the previous days. Not only was the conversation flowing more freely and loudly, we found ourselves serving out wine at a conspicuously increased rate. At the close of dinner, which from a professional viewpoint had been executed without any significant difficulties, his lordship rose to address his guests.
He opened by expressing his gratitude to all present that the discussions during the previous two days, ‘though at times exhilaratingly frank’, had been conducted in a spirit of friendship and the desire to see good prevail. The unity witnessed over the two days had been greater than he could ever have hoped for, and the remaining morning’s session of ‘rounding up’ would, he trusted, be rich in commitments on the part of participants concerning action each would be taking before the important international conference in Switzerland. It was around this point – and I have no idea if he had planned to do so beforehand – that his lordship began to reminisce about his late friend, Herr Karl-Heinz Bremann. This was a little unfortunate, the topic being one close to his lordship’s heart and one he was inclined to explicate at some length. It should also be said, perhaps, that Lord Darlington was never what might be called a natural public speaker, and soon all those small sounds of restlessness that betray that an audience’s attention has been lost grew steadily around the room. Indeed, by the time Lord Darlington had finally come round to bidding his guests rise and drink to ‘peace and justice in Europe’, the level of such noises – perhaps on account of the liberal amounts of wine that had been consumed – struck me as bordering on the ill-mannered.
The company had seated themselves again, and conversation was just beginning to resume, when there came an authoritative rapping of knuckles upon wood and M. Dupont had risen to his feet. At once, a hush fell over the room. The distinguished gentleman glanced around the table with a look almost of severity. Then he said:
