pencil, and the rubber band, blew on his blotting paper to chase away some dust, stood up while pushing back his armchair with the leather seat, took off his oversleeves and hung them on a peg near the fireplace, gave a quick brush to his frock coat, his vest, and his pants, grabbed his hat, which he shone with his elbow, secured it on his head, put on his black leather gloves as if he were making an official visit to an important person at the University, looked one last time in the mirror, verified that everything was irreproachable in his appearance, took the scissors and cut a strand of his sideburns that went over the allowed line, checked that his handkerchief and his wallet were in his pocket, opened his office door, passed over the threshold and closed it carefully with one of the seventeen keys that rattled on his key chain, went down the stairs that lead to the main courtyard, crossed it diagonally with a slow and steady step to arrive at the building that housed Mr. Ardagh’s office, stopped in front of the door, pressed the electric button that made a warbling ring inside, and waited.5
It was only at that moment that Mr. Patterson asked himself, scratching his forehead with his index finger:
“What could the Director have to say to me?”
Indeed, at this hour of the morning, the invitation to come to Mr. Ardagh’s office probably seemed unusual to Mr. Patterson, whose mind filled up with diverse hypotheses.
You be the judge. Mr. Patterson’s watch was only showing nine forty-seven, and one could trust this precision instrument which did not vary for even a second per day, and whose regularity equaled that of its owner. Never, no, never! Mr. Patterson never came to see Mr. Ardagh before eleven forty-three to give him his daily report on the financial status of the Antillean School, although it was not unprecedented that he arrive between the forty-second and forty-third minute.
Mr. Patterson had to guess, and he imagined that an entirely special circumstance was taking place, since the director was asking for him before he had balanced the expenses and receipts from the day before. He would finish that balance when he got back, in fact, and one can be certain that no error would occur because of this unusual disturbance.6
The door opened by pulling on a cord attached to the concierge’s lodgings.
Mr. Patterson took a few steps—five, as was his custom—into the hall, and he knocked discreetly on the sign of a second door that read Director’s office.
“Enter,” was the quick response.
Mr. Patterson took off his hat, brushed off the specks of dust on his boots, readjusted his gloves and came into an office well lit by two windows with blinds halfway closed, and a view of the main courtyard.
Mr. Ardagh, looking at several papers, was sitting behind his desk, which was equipped with several electric buttons. Looking up, he gave Mr. Patterson a friendly sign. “You called for me to come to your office, Mr. Director?” said Mr. Patterson.
“Yes, Mr. Patterson,”7 answered Mr. Ardagh, “and to talk to you about a situation that concerns you personally.”
Then, pointing to a chair placed near the desk:
“Please, take a seat,” he added.
Mr. Patterson sat down, after carefully lifting the tails of his long coat, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding his hat against his chest.
Mr. Ardagh began to speak:
“You are aware, Mr. Patterson,” he said, “of the results of the competition open to our boarders to obtain certain travel scholarships.”
“I am familiar with it, Mr. Director,” answered Mr. Patterson, “and my thought is that this generous initiative from one of our colonial compatriots is an honor for the Antillean School.”
Mr. Patterson spoke deliberately, making each syllable of the words he chose to use count, and stressing them not without a hint of preciosity when they escaped his lips.
“You are also aware,” continued Mr. Ardagh, “of the use that must be made of those scholarships.”
“I am not unaware of it, Mr. Director,” answered Mr. Patterson, who, bowing, seemed to greet with his hat someone on the other side of the ocean. “Mrs. Seymour is a lady whose name will long echo in posterity. It would be very difficult to make better use of the riches that her birthright and her work have afforded her than to benefit these youths who are eager to travel.”
“That is what I think also, Mr. Patterson. But let us get to the point. You are equally aware of the conditions under which this trip to the Antilles must be made?”
“I have been so informed, Mr. Director. A ship will await our young travelers, and I hope for their sake that they will not have to beg Neptune to cast his famous Quos ego8 onto the wrathful waves of the Atlantic!”
“I hope so, too, Mr. Patterson, since the crossing both going and coming will take place during the dry season.”
“Indeed,” answered the accountant. “For the capricious Tethys,9 July and August are her favorite months to rest.”
“Also,” added Mr. Ardagh, “this voyage will not be any less pleasurable for my laureates than for the person who will accompany them during the voyage.”
“A person,” said Mr. Patterson, “who will have the most joyous task of presenting to Mrs. Seymour the respectful praises and warm gratitude of the boarders at the Antillean School.”
“I regret,” continued the director, “that this person cannot be me. For, at the end of the school year, on the eve of the exams over which I have to preside, my absence is impossible.”
Mr. Patterson could not repress a gesture of surprise.
“Impossible, Mr. Director,” answered the accountant, “and he who will be summoned to take your place will indeed be fortunate.”
“Surely, I had many choices. But I needed a trustworthy man on whom I could count completely and who would be accepted without reservations by the families of the young scholarship-recipients. Well, I found this man in the personnel of the establishment.”
“I congratulate you, Mr. Director. It is, no doubt, one of the science or humanities professors.”
“No, because it is not acceptable to interrupt classes before vacation. But, it seemed to me that this interruption would be less of a problem for the financial situation of the school, and it is you, Mr. Patterson, whom I have chosen to accompany our young men to the Antilles.”
Mr. Patterson could not repress a gesture of surprise. Standing up, he had taken off his glasses.
“Me … Mr. Director? … ,” he asked in a rather troubled voice.
“Yes, you, Mr. Patterson, and I am sure that the bookkeeping of this voyage of scholarship-recipients will be as accurately maintained as that of our school.”
Mr. Patterson, with the corner of his handkerchief, wiped the lenses of his glasses, blurred by the mist in his eyes.
“I must add,” said Mr. Ardagh, “that, thanks to Mrs. Seymour’s munificence, an amount of seven hundred pounds has also been
