‘How has he died … By what means?’
‘It will be worth a lot of money, Rudi.’
‘I find it. This line is bad by the way, can you hear me? How has he died…?’
‘…a hut…’
‘I can’t hear …‘
‘… in a valley …’
‘Speak loud.’
‘… in a dump of palms … deserted … it was market day, everyone had gone to market.’
‘I find it. There is maybe a market for this Sabbath book. They make a cult of him, by the way?’
‘He was trying to interfere with their superstitions, they said. They’re getting rid of a lot of Catholic priests.’
‘I can’t hear a word. I ring you tonight, Jane. We meet later.’
5
Selina came into the drawing-room wearing a high hoop-brimmed blue hat and shoes with high block wedges; these fashions from France, it was said, were symbols of the Resistance. It was late on Sunday morning. She had been for a seemly walk along the pathways of Kensington Gardens with Greggie.
Selina took off her hat and laid it on the sofa beside her. She said, ‘I’ve got a guest for lunch, Felix.’ Felix was Colonel G. Felix Dobell who was head of a branch of the American Intelligence Service which occupied the top floor of the hotel next door to the club. He had been among a number of men invited to one of the club’s dances, and there had selected Selina for himself.
Jane said, ‘I’m having Nicholas Farringdon for lunch.’
‘But he was here during the week.’
‘Well, he’s coming again. I went to a party with him.’
‘Good,’ said Selina. ‘I like him.’
Jane said, ‘Nicholas works with the American Intelligence. He probably knows your Colonel.’
It was found that the men had not met. They shared a table for four with the two girls, who waited on them, fetching the food from the hatch. Sunday lunch was the best meal of the week. Whenever one of the girls rose to fetch and carry, Felix Dobell half-rose in his chair, then sat down again, for courtesy. Nicholas lolled like an Englishman possessed of
The warden, a tall grey-skinned woman habitually dressed in grey, made a brief announcement that ‘the Conservative M.P. was coming to give a pre-election discussion’ on the following Tuesday.
Nicholas smiled widely so that his long dark face became even more good-looking. He seemed to like the idea of
The grey warden’s conversational voice could be heard addressing grey-haired Greggie who sat with her at table. ‘You see, Greggie, I can’t be every-wherein the club at once.’
Jane said to her companions, ‘That’s the one fact that makes life bearable for us.’
‘That is a very original idea,’ said the American Colonel, but he was referring to something that Nicholas had said before Jane had spoken, when they were discussing the political outlook of the May of Teck Club. Nicholas had offered: ‘They should be told not to vote at all, I mean persuaded not to vote at all. We could do without the government. We could manage with the monarchy, the House of Lords, the …‘
Jane looked bored, as she had several times read this bit in the manuscript, and she rather wanted to discuss personalities, which always provided her with more real pleasure than any impersonal talk, however light and fantastic, although she did not yet admit this fact in her aspiring brain. It was not till Jane had reached the apex of her career as a reporter and interviewer for the largest of women’s journals that she found her right role in life, while still incorrectly subscribing to a belief that she was capable of thought — indeed, was demonstrating a capacity for it. But now she sat at table with Nicholas and longed for him to stop talking to the Colonel about the happy possibilities inherent in the delivery of political speeches to the May of Teck girls, and the different ways in which they might be corrupted. Jane felt guilty about her boredom. Selina laughed with poise when Nicholas said, next, ‘We could do without a central government. It’s bad for us, and what’s worse, it’s bad for the politicians …‘ but that he was as serious about this as it was possible for his self-mocking mind to be about anything, seemed to be apparent to the Colonel, who amazingly assured Nicholas, ‘My wife Gareth also is a member of the Guild of Ethical Guardians in our town. She’s a hard worker.’
Nicholas, reminding himself that poise was perfect balance, accepted this statement as a rational response. ‘Who are the Ethical Guardians?’ said Nicholas.
‘They stand for the ideal of purity in the home. They keep a special guard on reading material. Many homes in our town will not accept literature unstamped by the Guardians’ crest of honour.’
Nicholas now saw that the Colonel had understood him to hold ideals, and had connected them with the ideals of his wife Gareth. these being the only other ideals he could immediately lay hands on. It was the only explanation. Jane wanted to put everything straight. She said, ‘Nicholas is an anarchist.’
‘Ah no, Jane,’ said the Colonel. ‘That’s being a bit hard on your author-friend.’
Selina had already begun to realize that Nicholas held unorthodox views about things to the point where they might be regarded as crackpot to the sort of people she was used to. She felt his unusualness was a weakness, and this weakness in an attractive man held desirability for her. There were two other men of her acquaintance who were vulnerable in some way. She was not perversely interested in this fact, so far as she felt no urge to hurt them; if she did so, it was by accident. What she liked about these men was that neither of them wished to possess her
