The figures lay upon Jinnah's desk that evening.
Six sites under Pemberton's undertaking.
Four under Fenwick's.
The investment commitments covered the planned productive equipment and initial installation requirements for ten Class I centres, subject to final technical examination, satisfactory legal documentation and the required administrative permissions.
They were not unconditional cheques. The precise machines, sites and payment schedules still had to be settled. But the two firms had accepted financial obligations that would take effect once the agreed conditions were met.
That was something the other investors had refused even to contemplate.
Twenty priority locations had been examined in Punjab.
Two hundred remained the ambition.
Ten now possessed a credible route to outside finance.
Chhotu Ram stood beside the window, watching the London traffic passing beneath the evening lights.
For the first time in several weeks, neither man had an appointment to prepare for the following morning.
Jinnah loosened his collar and sat down.
"Well," he said, "we have our beginning."
Chhotu Ram did not answer immediately.
"How many businessmen have we met?"
"Depending upon whether you count certain gentlemen who attended merely to enjoy luncheon, rather a large number."
"How many seriously examined the accounts?"
"Perhaps eight or nine."
"How many were prepared to risk anything?"
"Two."
Chhotu Ram turned.
"And both had been spoken to personally by Emerson."
"Yes."
"And both became considerably more agreeable after receiving further encouragement from him."
"Yes."
Chhotu Ram returned to the table and sat opposite Jinnah.
"Then we should congratulate the Governor."
Jinnah looked at him.
"Should we?"
"Certainly. He has managed to make himself indispensable to a scheme we designed without him."
There was no anger in his voice. That made the observation more serious.
Jinnah remained silent.
Chhotu Ram continued.
"He did not obstruct us. That would have been foolish. Nor did he refuse his support. He introduced us to half the men we wished to meet."
"And several we did not."
"Precisely."
Jinnah glanced towards the letters accumulated at the end of the desk.
He could now see the pattern.
The respectable gentlemen with no intention of investing. The social invitations. The courteous ridicule. The endless inquiries about the reliability of Indian management. Then, when the undertaking appeared in danger of yielding nothing more than engineering quotations, the Governor's private encouragement to two men prepared to consider a limited investment.
Emerson had not needed to command the financiers to mock Jinnah.
He had known which gentlemen would do so without encouragement.
And he had reserved his effective influence until the proper moment.
Bilal spoke quietly.
He made himself the solution to a problem he helped arrange.
Jinnah folded his hands.
"That is a rather severe interpretation."
Is it wrong?
"No."
Chhotu Ram watched him.
"I do not think Emerson wishes us to fail," he said.
"Neither do I."
"He wants the factories. He wants the revenue. He wants unemployed young men working rather than fighting. He wants British orders and a peaceful Punjab."
"Yes."
"But he wants all of it beneath his protection."
Jinnah nodded slowly.
"And we have accepted his assistance."
"Of course we have. The assistance is useful."
"Then what troubles you?"
Chhotu Ram leaned forward.
"Nothing about accepting the assistance. I object to confusing assistance with ownership."
Jinnah smiled faintly.
"On that we are agreed."
"Good. Then let him enjoy his triumph. Let him tell his friends that he rescued two ambitious Indians from their own enthusiasm. Let him believe that ten factories will always remain grateful to Government House."
"And meanwhile?"
"Meanwhile we shall build them."
He tapped the papers.
"Not ten promises. Ten working centres. Let the farmers see them. Let the accounts be examined. Let machinery manufacturers discover that their equipment operates properly in Punjab and that their invoices are paid. Let the two investors receive returns if their businesses earn them."
Jinnah was listening closely.
"Then," Chhotu Ram continued, "when we approach the next investors, we need not begin with the Governor's recommendation. We can begin with ten operating examples."
Jinnah's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ten installations are not sufficient for our political objective."
"I know."
"The provincial elections will not wait indefinitely."
"I know that too. But I would rather go before the electorate with ten real industrial centres and another hundred under visible development than with two hundred promises written on expensive paper."
Jinnah considered the distinction.
For weeks, they had measured success against the enormous target that had brought them to England.
Two hundred.
It was the number that could alter the politics of Punjab. Ten by themselves would not accomplish it.
But ten properly established centres could serve as schools for engineers, examples for neighbouring districts, accounts for future investors, and proof that the administrative machinery of Sandalbar could operate beyond its original boundaries.
The first ten were not the completion of the programme.
They were the means by which the next ten might become easier.
Bilal spoke.
Sir, he has identified something important.
"What?"
The Governor is lending us his reputation. But if the first ten succeed, they'll begin producing a reputation of their own.
Jinnah looked at the agreements.
The proposition was persuasive.
And there was another advantage.
The Governor's influence had brought them investors. It had not placed the machinery contracts, cooperative management or legal ownership automatically under his personal control.
Those terms remained to be negotiated and defended.
Whatever Emerson imagined he had acquired through his assistance, Jinnah intended to ensure that the actual agreements said something considerably narrower.
He reached for his pen.
"Tomorrow we shall write to His Excellency."
Chhotu Ram laughed.
"Naturally. A letter of heartfelt gratitude?"
"A letter of thanks for his assistance."
"And nothing more?"
"A request that the provincial departments begin the required examination of the ten selected sites without delay."
"Very good."
"And copies to the officers concerned, so that the administrative work is properly recorded."
Chhotu Ram nodded approvingly.
"Even better."
Jinnah began writing.
He had no intention of insulting Emerson by pretending that his intervention had been unnecessary.
It had been necessary.
That was the uncomfortable truth.
But the debt should remain a debt of courtesy and cooperation, not a permanent claim upon the enterprise.
In Lahore, the Governor received the news several days later.
Ainsworth brought the telegram into the study shortly before dinner.
"Ten sites, Your Excellency."
Emerson took the paper.
"All ten?"
"Six through Pemberton. Four through Fenwick. Conditional arrangements, of course."
"Naturally."
The Governor read the telegram again.
For a moment he allowed himself a smile.
He had accomplished several things at once.
The industrial development programme would move forward. British manufacturers would receive business. Private capital would bear the initial commercial risk, while provincial departments attended to the civic arrangements within their authority.
Above all, Jinnah would return to Punjab knowing that the Governor's patronage had succeeded where his own reputation had not.
Ainsworth waited.
"Shall I prepare congratulations?"
"Yes. Warm ones. And ask them to send us the proposed site schedule as soon as it is settled."
The secretary turned to leave.
"Ainsworth."
"Sir?"
"Make certain the relevant departments understand that we expect proper scrutiny, not obstruction. I have not taken all this trouble merely to have some canal officer bury the undertaking beneath six months of correspondence."
"Very good, Your Excellency."
"And arrange a private discussion when the gentlemen return."
Ainsworth paused.
"With both of them?"
"Naturally."
"May I ask what you intend to discuss?"
Emerson laid the telegram upon his desk.
"The next stage."
"Another ten sites?"
"Perhaps. But I should first like to understand the full extent of their commercial arrangements."
He glanced at the papers.
Jinnah had revealed enough to attract industrial interest, but Emerson suspected there was considerably more to the proposed investment structure than had appeared in the official industrial employment programme.
A barrister of Jinnah's ability did not travel to London with a novel financial arrangement merely to place ten generating installations beside some village mills.
Emerson wished to know what else he intended.
He was pleased with the outcome.
Not because Jinnah had been defeated. A defeated Jinnah would be of little use to him.
Because Jinnah had succeeded just enough to appreciate the value of official goodwill.
The Governor hoped that appreciation would endure.
It did not occur to him that Jinnah might be drawing an entirely different lesson from the same experience.
On their last evening before leaving London, Chhotu Ram insisted that they dine somewhere away from the hotel.
They found a modest Indian establishment frequented by students, travellers and men whose business in England had not furnished them with unlimited expense accounts.
The food was imperfect but comforting.
Chhotu Ram ate with considerably more enthusiasm than he had displayed at any of the elaborate English luncheons.
Jinnah watched him across the table.
"You appear happier tonight."
"Naturally."
"Because of the ten sites?"
"Because I have finally eaten a meal at which nobody asked whether Indians understand finance."
Jinnah laughed.
Chhotu Ram tore another piece of bread.
"Do you know what I shall remember most about England?"
"The machinery?"
"Some of it."
"The financiers?"
"God forbid."
"What, then?"
"The workers outside those factories."
Jinnah's expression changed.
Chhotu Ram continued.
"In Manchester we saw men who know how to manufacture machines but have too few orders. In Punjab we have men who need productive work but possess too few machines. The British gentlemen spent weeks explaining why bringing the two together was an extraordinary financial adventure."
"It is not without risk."
"Of course not. Neither is planting wheat."
He looked at Jinnah.
"But we have found two men willing to take the risk. That is enough to begin."
Jinnah nodded.
Chhotu Ram finished his meal and reached for his coat.
"And when the Governor congratulates us, do not look so suspicious."
"I shall endeavour to appear grateful."
"Be grateful. He has been useful."
"Very useful."
"Just don't let him believe that usefulness gives him the right to decide what we build next."
Jinnah rose.
"I think, my friend, that is a disagreement His Excellency and I shall eventually have to settle."
They stepped into the London evening.
There was little traffic now. A cold breeze moved along the street, carrying the damp smell of the river.
For weeks they had endured refusals dressed as compliments, mockery disguised as concern, and long explanations of why their ambitions exceeded the judgment expected of Indian provincial politicians.
Only two investors had accepted the commercial challenge.
Ten sites.
The rest of the programme remained unfunded.
Yet Jinnah did not feel defeated.
He had entered London hoping to persuade British capital that Punjab could become a profitable place for industry.
He was leaving with evidence that two commercial interests were prepared to test precisely that proposition with their own money.
The Governor had helped. Indeed, without Emerson's pressure, even those two agreements might not have materialized.
Jinnah understood the obligation.
He also understood the intention behind it.
Bilal spoke as they approached the waiting motorcar.
Sir, I think the Governor wanted you to come back knowing that you needed him.
Jinnah adjusted his gloves.
"An entirely reasonable ambition."
And?
"He has succeeded."
Bilal was silent for a moment.
You're admitting that?
"Why should I deny an evident fact?"
Then he has leverage over us.
"For the moment."
Jinnah paused before entering the car.
"But there is something His Excellency has overlooked."
What?
"He arranged for British industrialists to discover how dependent we are upon his influence."
Yes.
"In doing so, he has also arranged for ten British-backed industrial establishments to become dependent upon our ability to make Sandalbar succeed."
Bilal considered it.
So if the Governor obstructs you later—
"He will not merely be obstructing two Indian politicians. He may be obstructing British capital, British machinery orders, and a provincial employment programme he has personally encouraged."
You're turning his favour into a mutual obligation.
"That is generally preferable to gratitude."
Jinnah entered the motorcar.
Tomorrow, the journey home would begin.
In Punjab, Ahmed Khan would soon receive instructions to prepare the ten sites for detailed engineering examination. Chhotu Ram would return to the cooperative organizers and cultivators whose participation had to be secured. The Faraabi training programme would need technicians, clerks and managers who could operate establishments more complicated than the original Sandalbar workshops.
There would be contracts to draft, permissions to obtain, machinery to purchase, men to train and money to account for.
None of it would be easy.
But now the enterprise had something it had lacked before the journey.
British capital willing to share its risk.
Only a little.
Only at ten sites.
And chiefly because a Governor had chosen to spend some of his influence.
Emerson believed the arrangement would keep Jinnah within his favour.
Jinnah intended to make the arrangement profitable enough that the Governor would eventually find his own interests served by allowing it to grow.
For the moment, both men had obtained what they wanted.
It was the beginning of a partnership founded upon two entirely different calculations.
And neither had yet discovered which calculation would prove the stronger.