Chapter 5: Tea At The Institute

Whitworth House, the home of the Institute of Practicing Engineers, overlooks the Thames not far from Westminster, adjacent to Mr Tait's splendid new gallery. It is a building that I find intriguing. The combination of fine Portland stone topped with the two towers of cast iron girder-work speak of both the stability and the innovation that the Institute seeks to promote. Members of the Institute have been at the core of our country's economic growth. The projects that they have initiated and led around the world (the Glasgow-Belfast tunnel for the Great Northern Railway, the Telectroscope[1] installation between London and Hong Kong and the Madurai to Colombo causeway linking the island of Ceylon to the Indian sub-continent spring to mind at once) have shown the quality of their work.

The Institute's president, Sir Bristow Merriweather, had been knighted for his work at Buckingham Palace East on the shores of the Indian Ocean after the completion of the Ganges-Indus Canalisation. He had steered the Institute to its current pre-eminence. His office was on the first floor, directly over the portico of the main entrance. Harwell and I sat waiting for our appointment in a comfortable ante-room.

Exactly at the time agreed for our appointment, the door to Merriweather's office opened and a tall, negro woman – I adjudged her to have come from the southern African colonies – emerged. She cut an imposing figure, dressed very much to my own tastes in a high-necked blouse with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a long straight skirt that clung closely to her hips and thighs. About her neck she wore a thin gold chain from which hung, like a medallion, a heavy piece of gold in the shape of some Chinese character or other. Her height was evidently contributed to by the heels on the boots that could just be seen beneath the hem of her skirt. The trimness of her figure owed something, I was certain, to boned underpinnings that were an effective combination of the engineer's and the couturier's arts.

"Gentlemen," the woman announced, "Sir Bristow is able to see you now." She clasped her hands together in front of her waist, waiting as Harwell and I got to our feet. "Please," she said and turned to open the office door. To my amusement, I saw as she did so that one of the buttons that ran up the back of her skirt was not fastened, allowing a flash of white underclothing to be seen in the gap where her skirt stretched across her buttocks. I suspected that the disarray was the result of some fumbled exchange with Sir Bristow, abruptly ended when the pair had realised that the time of the meeting was upon them. My suspicions were reinforced by Sir Bristow's florid countenance and breathlessness as he stood up from his desk to welcome us.

"Remarkable girl, Ngoya," he said as the tall negress left the office. "Remarkable. It is a revelation how some of the girls from the colonies understand so much better what is needed around the office than some English girls." He turned towards me with a smile. "But, of course, with your methods we might change that, mightn't we?"

"You know of my work?" I was surprised. I had expected Sir Bristow to be aware of Brankston Tusker but not of my own activities.

Sir Bristow smiled. "Of course. I always take efforts to research those who wish to make use of my time. I was fortunate in this case to have the intelligence of one of your clients to depend on. You will remember Meriel James, of course."

"Naturally."

"He has advised me on some of the Institute's business methods. I was keen that we should embrace all that Mr Babbage's engine could do for us. Mr James has a useful combination of talents in technical know-how and business understanding, a rare ability. He speaks highly of how you were able to help him and his wife. I must say that I spent a most agreeable evening in their company when Mr James was proposing how he might help us."

"I am pleased. I found great satisfaction in being able to help them. And it is about my services that I wished to speak."

Sir Bristow suggested that we should all sit. Ngoya reappeared with a tray of tea things and saw to our need for refreshment. I noticed as she left that she had closed the unfortunately unfastened button.