The political—and City—interest of the movement centred upon which of the two rivals should obtain the contract and Charter.

Durrant’s Television shares were known as “Billies.” They had first been called “Tells,” then “William Tells,” then “Williams”; then Capel Court had settled down into this form of “Billies,” and “Billies” they now were and would remain. They stood on this Tuesday, March the 3rd, 1960, the £1 shares, at 23s. 6d. —24s.

A final decision upon the matter was still awaited— and one great difficulty stood in the way of such a decision. There was not much to choose between the Reynier system and Durrant’s so far as sending or receiving were concerned. The difficulty in deciding lay in who should ultimately prove possessor of a gadget called “Dow’s Intensifier.”

Dow’s Patent was the only Intensifier which had been found to work satisfactorily. With it you got tolerably clear reproductions. None of the other very numerous competing types had successfully solved what is, as everybody knows, the chief difficulty in the practical use of Television at long range; for with the experimental and unsatisfactory Intensifiers that were in use, though the picture was then all right, it was all but invisible.

Durrant’s used, and talked a lot about, a certain Murray’s Intensifier; but that was bluff (said the people in the know). It didn’t work and it couldn’t ever: it was on a false principle.

Dow’s was—to those who could judge—indispensable. Reynier had hitherto used the old Keeling Intensifier, which could not of its nature suit long ranges. But it was rumoured on all sides, it was even affirmed by a good many responsible people, that Reynier’s had a secret agreement which secured them Dow’s Patent for the future—or at any rate could take it for granted that they would get it once they had the charter. But the Dow’s Company (Dow, an admitted genius, had died two years before—financial embarrassment had hastened his end) always asserted their complete independence, and denied everything that was going about to the contrary.

None the less, the committee of experts which had been appointed by the Post Office to report on the two systems had reported in favour of Reynier’s. They had done so mainly because they were convinced that Reynier’s would mean Dow’s Patent. They were satisfied that Murray’s totally different system which Durrant’s talked of would never do. Dow’s alone could make the long-range Television practicable.

I have said that James McAuley was behind Durrant’s—one might put it more strongly and say that he was Durrant’s. He was the complete master of that group. And it was largely because of the trust men had in him that Billies stood thus at 23s. 6d.—24s. and were being talked higher, in spite of the Committee’s report in favour of their rivals. For, after all, the report of the Committee was as yet private, and, what was much more important, it could be overruled by the Secretary of State at the head of the department. One thing was certain, whichever got the charter—that is the monopoly—would have Dow’s at their service. For Dow’s could have no other market, and the new market would be immense. Even if Reynier’s did have already some pull or claim, they would have to sell it to Durrant’s if Durrant’s had the P.M.G. in its favour.

And there was Wilfrid Halterton sitting and waiting for James McAuley.

The Postmaster-General knew that this close but direct fellow McAuley was coming to complete a sound proposition; on that sound proposition Halterton had already been approached in a series of interviews from the first days of the session, of which conversations this coming one was to be the last and decisive. He had said as much to Halterton when they had met only twenty-four hours before in the Postmaster-General’s room at the House of Commons and arranged the last details by word of mouth—yet did that statesman hesitate and still dread what was coming. He was still in that mood when he heard the rumble of the lift, a discreet voice at the door asking if Halterton were in, and the light but determined step of his visitor in the passage.

He got up to receive the familiar figure as it entered: the short contained figure of a man much the same as himself in years—but how different in aspect: hands ready to grip, lips under firm control, eyes searching but fixed, and all this modified by a voice that was at once courteous and suave.

“You don’t find it cold, J., do you?” said the host. “If you do I’ll turn on the other one.”

“Nay! Not cold!” said McAuley. “I’ve been walking. A man ought to walk this weather. I’m thinking I’m a touch late,” he added.