“I received instructions from Mr. Wilkinson that friends would back me, and that I was to go to Paris, and that I was now to be a journalist working for The Times, a somewhat steep social descent after Barings. I should see the editor to find out how to do this once the man had been informed that he was to employ me. Then I was summoned to another lunch. I was expecting Mr. Wilkinson; instead I encountered John Stone for the first time.“Your chief investor,” Wilkinson said, waving at him. “Poten...tially. He felt that before he put money into you, he should see if you are worth the effort.”I studied him carefully as Wilkinson slid out of the room to leave us alone. He was about fifty, and quite unremarkable to look at. Cleanshaven, with thinning hair that was touched with grey, and dressed in a fashion that was proper and yet entirely anonymous. The cufflinks, I noticed, were of simple design and inexpensive; he wore no ring; he had none of the sleek prosperity about him that men like Lord Revelstoke, the Chairman of Barings, managed to exude.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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