‘But that’s over £80,000,’ gasped Stephen.
‘£81,240 to be exact, sir. But why don’t I call it $250,000.’
Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre were speechless. James alone was left to command the day. This was the opportunity he had needed to show why his great-grandfather had been one of Wellington’s most respected generals.
‘We accept. But it would have to be anonymous,’ said James. ‘I think I can safely say in the circumstances that the Vice-Chancellor would inform Mr Harold Macmillan and Hebdomadal Council, but we would not want a fuss made of it. Of course, Vice-Chancellor, I would ask you to consider an honorary degree.’
Robin was so conscious of James’s obvious control of the entire situation that he could only add:
‘How would you recommend we go about it, Horsley?’
‘Cash check, so nobody can trace the money back to Mr Metcalfe. We can’t have those bloody men from Cambridge chasing him for the rest of his life. Same way as we did for Sir David — no fuss.’
‘I agree,’ said Jean-Pierre, not having the vaguest idea what James was talking about. Neither, for that matter, had Harvey.
James nodded to Stephen, who left the Vice-Chancellor’s office and made his way to the porter’s room to inquire if a parcel had been left for Sir John Betjeman.
‘Yes, sir. I don’t know why they left it here. I’m not expecting Sir John.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Stephen. ‘He’s asked me to pick it up for him.’
Stephen returned to find James holding forth to Harvey on the importance of keeping his donation as a bond between himself and the university.
Stephen undid the box and took out the magnificent gown of a Doctor of Letters. Harvey turned red with embarrassment and pride as Robin placed it on his shoulders, chanting some Latin, which was nothing more than his old school motto. The ceremony was completed in a few moments.
‘Many congratulations,’ bellowed James. ‘A pity we could not have organized this to be part of today’s ceremony, but for such a munificent gesture as yours we could hardly wait another year.’
Brilliant, thought Stephen. Laurence Olivier could not have done better.
‘That’s fine by me,’ said Harvey, as he sat down and made out a check to cash. ‘You have my word that this matter will never be mentioned to anyone.’
None of them believed that.
They stood in silence as Harvey rose and passed the check to James.
‘No, sir.’ James transfixed him with a glare.
The others looked dumbfounded.
‘The Vice-Chancellor.’
‘Of course,’ said Harvey. ‘Excuse me, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ said Robin, his hand trembling as he received the check. ‘A most gracious gift, and you may be sure we shall put it to good use.’
There was a loud knock on the door. They all looked around terrified except for James, who was now ready for anything. It was Harvey’s chauffeur. James had always hated the pretentious white uniform with the white hat.
‘Ah, the efficient Mr Mellor,’ said Harvey. ‘Gentlemen, I guarantee he’s been watching every move we’ve made today.’
The four froze, but the chauffeur had clearly made no sinister deductions from his observations.
‘Your car is ready, sir. You wanted to be back at Claridge’s by 7 pm to be in good time for your dinner appointment.’
‘Young man,’ bellowed James.
‘Yes, sir,’ whimpered the chauffeur.
‘Do you realize you are in the presence of the Vice-Chancellor of this university?’
‘No, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.’
‘Take your hat off immediately.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The chauffeur removed his hat and retreated to the car, swearing under his breath.
‘Vice-Chancellor, I sure hate to break up our party, but as you’ve heard I do have an appointment...’
‘Of course, of course, we understand you’re a busy man. May I once again officially thank you for your most generous donation, which will be used to benefit many deserving people.’
‘We all hope you have a safe journey back to the States and will remember us as warmly as we shall remember you,’ added Jean-Pierre.
Harvey moved toward the door.
‘I will take my leave of you now, sir,’ shouted James. ‘It will take me twenty minutes to get down those damned steps. You are a fine man and you have been most generous.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Harvey expansively.
True enough, thought James, nothing to you.
Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre accompanied Harvey from the Clarendon to the waiting Rolls.
‘Professor,’ said Harvey, ‘I didn’t quite understand everything the old guy was saying.’ As he spoke he shifted the weight of his heavy robes on his shoulders self-consciously.
‘Well, he’s very deaf and very old, but his heart’s in the right place. He wanted you to know that this has to be an anonymous donation as far as the university is concerned, though, of course, the Oxford hierarchy will be informed of the truth. If it were to be made public all sorts of undesirables who have never done anything for education in the past would come trooping along on the day of Encaenia wanting to buy an honorary degree.’
‘Of course, of course. I understand. That’s fine by me,’ said Harvey. ‘I want to thank you for a swell day, Rod, and I wish you all the luck for the future. What a shame our friend Wiley Barker wasn’t here to share it all.’
Robin blushed.
Harvey climbed into the Rolls Royce and waved enthusiastically to the three of them as they watched the car start effortlessly on its journey back to London.
Three down and one to go.
‘James was brilliant,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘When he first came in I didn’t know who the hell it was.’
‘I agree,’ said Robin. ‘Let’s go and rescue him — he’s truly the hero of the day.’
They all three ran up the steps, forgetting that they looked somewhere between the ages of fifty and sixty, and rushed back into the Vice-Chancellor’s room to congratulate James, who lay silent in the middle of the floor. He had passed out.
In Magdalen an hour later, with the help of Robin and two large whiskeys, James was back to his normal health.
‘You were fantastic,’ said Stephen, ‘just at the point when I was beginning to lose my nerve.’
‘You would have received an Academy Award if we could have put it on screen,’ said Robin. ‘Your father will have to let you go on the stage after that performance.’
James basked in his first moment of glory for three months. He could not wait to tell Anne.
‘Anne.’ He quickly looked at his watch. ‘6.30. Oh hell, I must leave at once. I’m meant to be meeting Anne at eight. See you all next Monday in Stephen’s rooms for dinner. By then I’ll try to have my plan ready.’
James rushed out of the room.
‘James.’
His face reappeared around the door. They all said in chorus: ‘Fantastic.’
He grinned, ran down the stairs and leaped into his Alfa Romeo, which he now felt they might allow him to keep, and headed toward London at top speed.
It took him 59 minutes from Oxford to the King’s Road. The new motorway had made a considerable difference since his undergraduate days. Then the journey had taken anything from an hour and a half to two hours through High Wycombe or Henley.
The reason for his haste was that the meeting with Anne was most important and under no circumstances must he be late; tonight he was due to meet her father. All James knew about him was that he was a senior member of the Diplomatic Corps in Washington. Diplomats always expect you to be on time. He was determined to make a good impression on her father, particularly after Anne’s successful weekend at Tathwell Hall. The old man had taken to her at once and never left her side. They had even managed to agree on a wedding date, subject, of course, to the approval of Anne’s parents.