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"Can't wait to talk now. Haven't a minute. See you later." There was no reason why he should have stopped to talk to me even if he had not been going to the Foreign Office. I should certainly not have tried to detain him. Bland-Potterton bores me. I did indeed see him later, though I certainly did not want to. It was at a reception, a gorgeous but uncomfortable affair in Ellesmere House.
"Wonderful people the Chinese," I said. "So calm. We ought to imitate them more than we do." Bland-Potterton did not think so. He went on fussing. He rushed about London, creating small whirlpools behind him as if he had been a motor-boat. I had the greatest difficulty at times in not being sucked into his wake. All this Gorman would have enjoyed hugely. I felt sorry that he was missing it.
"In that case," said Gorman, "the only thing for you to do is to try Madame Ypsilante." "That woman!" said Sir Bartholomew. "I really cannot You must see, Mr. Gorman, that for a man in my position " "Is there a Lady Bland-Potterton?" said Gorman. "I didn't know." "I'm not married," said Sir Bartholomew. "When I speak of my position I mean my position as a member of the Government "
He would have liked to be in a position to watch the fussy activities of Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton. Later on I was able to tell him something, not of Steinwitz or Konrad Karl, but about Sir Bartholomew. It was impossible to live in London during the latter part of July without perpetually bumping against Bland-Potterton. He was like the ball on a rapidly spun roulette board.
"Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton," said Steinwitz, "rang me up this morning, and told me that you'd undertaken our little negotiation. I need scarcely say that we're quite satisfied. We feel " "By we," said Gorman, "you mean yourself and the Emperor, I suppose. Now what I want to know is this: Why is the Emperor so keen on ?" Steinwitz waved that question away with a motion of his hand.
It ran thus: "Is it true that our new Minister for Balkan Problems has a curious story to tell about a certain island in the Mediterranean, and is there a lady in the case?" The Minister referred to is, of course, Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton. The island must be Salissa.
He had made a special effort, postponing an important engagement, in order to hear what was said. He expected to be interested and amused. He was not disappointed. Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton was at his very best.
He had just given me a detailed account of his interview with Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton, and a rather picturesque version of the way King Konrad Karl presented his case. "Do you expect," I said, "to be able to persuade Donovan to sell?" "Of course not," said Gorman. "I don't even mean to try."
Sir Bartholomew Bland-Potterton would appear at the last moment as the accredited representative of the Allied Governments, and formally lay before the king the proposal for the immediate mobilisation of the Megallian Army. "I shall have a lot of work and worry," said Gorman, "and I'm not asking anything for myself; but if the thing comes off "
His knighthood, granted in 1918, and an inevitable increase in waist measurement emphasised his pompousness without diminishing his fussiness. When the craze for creating new departments of state was at its height, Bland-Potterton, then Sir Bartholomew, was made Head of the Ministry for Balkan Affairs. It was generally felt that the right man had been put into the right place.
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