again, on the corner of the mouth, Pearce strained away slightly. For a moment neither moved. Then Pearce stepped back and Hunter's hands fell to his sides.
'I'm sorry, sir,' said Pearce in a trembling voice. 'It's not that I don't like you. I just can't do it after all. I thought I was going to be able to, if it came to it. I wanted to, at least I wanted to want to, because you've been terrifically kind to me and I like you very much. I'd have given anything to be able to.'
A tear fell out of Pearce's eye.
'Perhaps I might have been able to,' he went on, 'if we hadn't mentioned… you know… him. Not that there was anything… He and I were friends. You know, nothing more. But it just set my thoughts going and I couldn't go on. I'm sorry.'
'That's all right,' said Hunter, looking out of the window. 'We can't have you apologizing. It was my fault. I should have known better.'
'I didn't mean to call you sir just now. It just slipped out.'
'Of course, I understand.'
'I've been very bad about this. Until you… until just now I was telling myself some of the time I wasn't sure what you were after. But now I know I knew all along. You've spent all this money on me and I haven't given you any return.'
'Oh yes you have. It's been marvelous just talking to you. You mustn't think of it in that way. I enjoyed your company. And I've got lots of money anyhow.'
'I won't tell anybody what happened.'
'I know. You're a thoroughly… You wouldn't do a thing like that.'
'If I'd known earlier on I wasn't going to be able to do it I'd have let you know somehow, I'd have got out of coming along here, I wouldn't have had to hurt your feelings like this.'
'You haven't. Don't you worry about any of that. Signalman Pearce, your conduct has been exemplary in every particular. Your superiors have no fault to find with you. And now… let's have a drink. You can have one now, can't you?'
'Yes. Yes, Max. A drop of Scotch if there is any.'
'There is. I'll be back in a second.'
Out in the extensive and lofty cupboard which was the kitchen, Hunter leaned forward, put his hands on the edge of the sink, and took half a dozen deep, slow, quiet breaths. After that he mixed a very strong Scotch and water and drank it, mixed another of the same and an ordinary Scotch and water, took both glasses into the sitting-room and gave the one with the ordinary drink in it to Pearce, who had sat down on the arm of one of the leather chairs.
'Cheers,' said Hunter, grinning. 'Very generous with his whisky, old Vince Lane. And very discreet too. You might call him the perfect host.'
'There isn't anybody called Vince Lane, is there?'
There must be somewhere, but this particular one is a child of my ever-fertile imagination. I don't think I'd like him much if he existed. He'd be the sort of chap who's always known everything he wanted to know. Good fun, but with a serious side to him. I'm glad we missed his party. There'd have been terrible people at it. Men whose personality consists of being self-assured and peevish girls with tiny chins and pearl necklaces.'
'Have you never gone for girls?'
'Not very hard. I can see the point of them, though. They must make life much easier for a chap. Especially if he's got anything in the way of a sense of humor. However hilariously you may behave over a girl you always feel it could be all right for somebody else. I mean it's just that you yourself are too ugly for her or too old or too poor, too something anyway, or not something enough, and that's all that's ridiculous about the situation. Whereas consider what you're taking on when you get frightfully fond of the postman or the chap in the place where you get your hair cut or your old school chum's uncle. There's no way at all for that not to be funny, whoever's doing it. Oh, you can t help admiring someone who's prepared to do his best to heave a respectable middle-aged merchant banker in black coat and sponge-bag trousers onto his lap and ask him to run away with him. Lots of guts there.'
'I can't quite see you in that position,' said Pearce, smiling.
'Thank God for that. Actually one can't complain. As far as I'm concerned, not being able to keep a straight face under certain conditions does sometimes work as a restraining influence. And if you somehow never find yourself being restrained by things like prudence or propriety or conscience you need all the help you can get, believe me. Now what I suggest is this. We choke these down now as fast as we can and go back along the road to a pub I know of where there's a garden you can sit in without the management seeming to mind much. What do you think?'
'I'm for that,' said Pearce, getting up briskly and draining his glass.
'Off we go, then.'
At the door of the flat Pearce looked at Hunter, hesitated, and said, 'Don't forget to thank your pal Vince Lane for his hospitality.'
'Not on your life. I'll drop him in a bottle of champagne from both of us.'
Hunter shut the door. They went down the stairs and into the street, where the pavements were less crowded than they had been fifteen minutes earlier. Two men were standing talking outside one of the sheds on the far side of the canal. Their voices, calm and businesslike, were just audible across the water.
When he and Pearce drew level with the hotel where they had dined, Hunter stopped.
'I think I must have left my lighter in here,' he said. 'If you could hang on a moment I'll just dash in and see.'
Inside the building he went to the doorway of the restaurant and hung about. Within half a minute the
