A sergeant had served three years in Bangkok, but it took him two hours
to convince his companions that what rumour placed horizontally,
nature, in fact, had maintained at the vertical. He carried his point
only after an expedition down the corridor from which he returned with
another old China hand. This expert produced photographic evidence
which was studied minutely and deemed conclusive.
It served also to remind a corporal who had done a tour of duty in
India of his visit to the Temple of Konarak. A subject which was good
for another hour and paved the way for a smooth entry into a discussion
of the famous Elephant House in Shanghai.
They kept it up from noon until nightfall.
In the meantime, Saul had lost interest in the cards and taken a book
from his bag and started reading. Sean was bored. He cleaned his
rifle. Then he picked his teeth with a match and stared out of the
window at the small herds of springbok that grazed along the line of
rail. He listened to a detailed account of the pleasures provided by
the proprietress of the Elephant House, and decided to give it a wide
berth if he ever visited Shanghai.
'What am you reading?' he demanded of Saul at last.
'Huh?' Saul looked up vaguely and Sean repeated the question.
'The Westminster system of Government. ' Saul held the book so that
Sean could see the title.
'Jesus!' grunted Sean. 'What do you read that stuff for?
'I am interested in politics,' Saul explained defensively and returned
to reading.
Sean watched him for a while then,
'Have you got any other books with you?'
Saul opened his bag again. 'Try this.'
'The Wealth of Nations ' Sean handled the book dubiously.
'What's it about?' But Saul was reading again.
Sean opened the heavy volume and glanced idly at the first page.
He sighed with resignation for it was a long time since he had read
anything but a letter or a bank statement-then his eyes started moving
back and forth across the page like the shuttle of a loom.
Without knowing it, they were weaving the first threads into a fabric
that would cover a part of his soul which until now had been naked.
After an hour Saul looked across. 'What do you make of it?
he asked.
Sean grunted without looking up. He was completely absorbed.
This was important. The language of Adam Smith had a certain majestic
clarity. With some of his conclusions Sean did not agree but the
reasoning evoked a train of thought in Sean's own brain, stimulating it
to race ahead and anticipate sometimes correctly, but often reaching a
point wide of where the author was aimed.
He read quickly, knowing that he would go back and read it all again
for this was only a scouting party into the unknown territory of
economics. With his eyes still fixed on the pages, he groped in the
pockets of his tunic, found a stub of pencil and underlined a passage
to which he wanted to return. Then he left it and went on. Now he
used the pencil frequently.
