The Best British Short Stories of 1922 | Page 5

the Aztec Street inquiry, but from beginning to end he never
volunteered an opinion.
After the inquiry was over he went and visited an old friend at the
London Survey Office. He spent two mornings examining maps. After
that he spent two mornings pottering about the Strand, Kingsway, and
Aldwych; then he worked out some careful calculations on a ruled chart.
He entered the particulars in a little book which he kept for purposes of
that kind, and then retired to his chambers to study other matters. But
before doing so, he entered a little apophthegm in another book. It was
apparently a book in which he intended to compile a summary of his
legal experiences. The sentence ran:
"The basic trouble is that people make statements without sufficient
data."
Old Stephen need not have appeared in this story at all, except for the
fact that he was present at the dinner at Lord Vermeer's, where a rather
deplorable incident occurred.
And you must acknowledge that in the circumstances it is useful to
have such a valuable and efficient witness.
Lord Vermeer was a competent, forceful man, a little quick-tempered
and autocratic. He came from Lancashire, and before entering politics

had made an enormous fortune out of borax, artificial manure, and
starch.
It was a small dinner-party, with a motive behind it. His principal guest
was Mr. Sandeman, the London agent of the Ameer of Bakkan. Lord
Vermeer was very anxious to impress Mr. Sandeman and to be very
friendly with him: the reasons will appear later. Mr. Sandeman was a
self-confessed cosmopolitan. He spoke seven languages and professed
to be equally at home in any capital in Europe. London had been his
headquarters for over twenty years. Lord Vermeer also invited Mr.
Arthur Toombs, a colleague in the Cabinet, his prospective son-in-law,
Lowes-Parlby, K.C., James Trolley, a very tame Socialist M.P., and Sir
Henry and Lady Breyd, the two latter being invited, not because Sir
Henry was of any use, but because Lady Breyd was a pretty and
brilliant woman who might amuse his principal guest. The sixth guest
was Stephen Garrit.
The dinner was a great success. When the succession of courses
eventually came to a stop, and the ladies had retired, Lord Vermeer
conducted his male guests into another room for a ten minutes' smoke
before rejoining them. It was then that the unfortunate incident
occurred. There was no love lost between Lowes-Parlby and Mr.
Sandeman. It is difficult to ascribe the real reason of their mutual
animosity, but on the several occasions when they had met there had
invariably passed a certain sardonic by-play. They were both clever,
both comparatively young, each a little suspect and jealous of the other;
moreover, it was said in some quarters that Mr. Sandeman had had
intentions himself with regard to Lord Vermeer's daughter, that he had
been on the point of a proposal when Lowes-Parlby had butted in and
forestalled him. Mr. Sandeman had dined well, and he was in the mood
to dazzle with a display of his varied knowledge and experiences. The
conversation drifted from a discussion of the rival claims of great cities
to the slow, inevitable removal of old landmarks. There had been a
slightly acrimonious disagreement between Lowes-Parlby and Mr.
Sandeman as to the claims of Budapest and Lisbon, and Mr. Sandeman
had scored because he extracted from his rival a confession that, though
he had spent two months in Budapest, he had only spent two days in

Lisbon. Mr. Sandeman had lived for four years in either city.
Lowes-Parlby changed the subject abruptly.
"Talking of landmarks," he said, "we had a queer point arise in that
Aztec Street inquiry. The original dispute arose owing to a discussion
between a crowd of people in a pub as to where Wych Street was."
"I remember," said Lord Vermeer. "A perfectly absurd discussion. Why,
I should have thought that any man over forty would remember exactly
where it was."
"Where would you say it was, sir?" asked Lowes-Parlby.
"Why to be sure, it ran from the corner of Chancery Lane and ended at
the second turning after the Law Courts, going west."
Lowes-Parlby was about to reply, when Mr. Sandeman cleared his
throat and said, in his supercilious, oily voice:
"Excuse me, my lord. I know my Paris, and Vienna, and Lisbon, every
brick and stone, but I look upon London as my home. I know my
London even better. I have a perfectly clear recollection of Wych Street.
When I was a student I used to visit there to buy books. It ran parallel
to New Oxford Street on the south side, just between it and Lincoln's
Inn Fields."
There was something about this assertion that infuriated Lowes-Parlby.
In the first place, it was so hopelessly wrong