100 
More Stratagems

Catharine and Terrill returned to Plymouth the following day, taking with them several of the Turkish gold ducats.

That same morning Jocelyn, Amanda, Stirling, and Timothy spent quietly passing through the community, individually visiting all those they knew had been affected by the bank’s call notices, telling them to have hope, be patient, and not do anything rash. They were continuing to do what they could, they assured them, to resolve the situation. But they could not do so without everyone’s peaceful cooperation. Most of the people consented. They had always been able to depend on Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn and would not stop now, even though matters looked dark and hopeless.

In early afternoon two days later, Amanda and Jocelyn left for Exeter. After visiting with Mr. Crumholtz again, and obtaining from him names of several reputable jewelers in the city, the following morning they first visited a bank of Mr. Crumholtz’s recommendation, then boarded the train for London.

Their first order of business in the great metropolis was to consult with the diamond dealers.

Their second was a visit to the headquarters of the Bank of London. There they asked to be allowed to see the President.

After they explained their relationship to a certain one of the bank’s vice-presidents and late manager of its Milverscombe branch, as well as to the late Sir Charles Rutherford, they were at last shown into the expansive fifth-floor office of Mr. Giles Fotheringay. Amanda was amazed to see her mother walk into the private room with such confidence.

“Hello, Mr. Fotheringay, I am Jocelyn Rutherford,” began Jocelyn. “This is my daughter Amanda. I am the wife of the late Charles Rutherford, who was your own Gifford Rutherford’s first cousin.”

“So I have been given to understand,” replied Fotheringay. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He shook both their hands, then sat down behind his desk.

“What may I do for you, Lady Rutherford?” he asked.

“Simply answer a few questions, if you do not mind.”

“I will do so to the extent I am able.”

“I mean no disrespect,” Jocelyn went on, “and if you answer yes, you need have no fear of my reaction—we will leave peaceably—”

As she spoke Fotheringay stared at her with a puzzled, though concerned, expression.

“—but what I have to ask you is this,” Jocelyn continued, “—are you aware, or is it by your, that is the bank’s directive, that the town of Milverscombe in Devonshire, where your bank opened a branch three years ago under the management of Mr. Rutherford’s son Geoffrey . . . that this town is about to be financially ruined?”

“I am sorry, Lady Rutherford,” said the bewildered Fotheringay, “but it would appear I am at a disadvantage, as the situation you refer to is not one with which I am familiar.”

“I am trying to learn,” Jocelyn went on, “whether Gifford Rutherford is operating under your orders to call due every loan made by the Milverscombe bank since its opening. The loans have been called due, and not one of the local residents will be able to pay off the notes within thirty days. Most will be ruined as a result. If this directive comes from London . . . from you, sir,” she added, “I do not think it the kind of policy that will enhance your reputation should the public learn of it. The banking business, as I think you understand, is based on trust. I doubt the public will desire to place its trust in an institution that cares so little for the welfare and financial security of all its customers in an entire community.”

Fotheringay shook his head in continued perplexity.

“Of course, of course, Lady Rutherford,” he said, “but I assure you that I haven’t an idea what you are talking about. I would appreciate it if you would be so good as to explain.”

Jocelyn went on to give him the details of what had taken place in Milverscombe during the course of the week.

“Well,” said Fotheringay when she was through, “these are grave charges. Now I begin to understand why you are so upset. It may well be, however, that Mr. Rutherford is exercising a legitimate option under the terms of the notes as drawn, in a manner he deems in the best interests of the bank.”

“I am certain he has done nothing illegal or unethical according to the letter of the law,” said Jocelyn. “I only question whether his judgment in the matter is in the best long-term interest of the bank’s public reputation.”

“Yes . . . yes, I see.”

Fotheringay knew well enough what effect a letter to the Times by one such as Charles Rutherford’s widow would have on depositor confidence. The bank could certainly not run the risk of letting this complaint escalate publicly.

“I assure you,” he said, “that we at the London branch did not authorize such a course of action on Mr. Rutherford’s part. That is not to say that we do not find call notices occasionally necessary, but such a wholesale call inflicted upon an entire community . . . yes, I see the difficulty. Believe me, we will look into the matter. I will telephone Mr. Rutherford immediately and—”

“Please, Mr. Fotheringay,” said Jocelyn, “if you could allow us to handle matters for a short time in our own way, we would be most appreciative.”

“Under the circumstances, it is the least I can do. Little will change in that time.”

“Thank you,” nodded Jocelyn. She and Amanda rose to leave.

As they descended the stairs a minute later, a smile crept over Amanda’s face. “Mother,” she said, “I have never seen you like that in my life. For one who says you used to be afraid to be around people, you had that poor man trembling in fear.”

“I can fight if I have to,” smiled Jocelyn, “especially if it’s for someone else.”