“I find it entertaining, my dear Monsieur. People are intensely interesting. You, for instance. I find you interesting. You call yourself a language teacher. You are a Hungarian with a Yugoslav passport.”
“I’m sure you didn’t find that out by talking to me,” I said playfully.
“I keep my ears open. The manager told Vogel. Vogel was curious.”
“I see. Quite simple.”
“Not at all simple. Very puzzling. I ask myself questions. Why, I ask, does a Hungarian with a Yugoslav passport live in France? What is this mysterious little trip that he makes every morning to the village?”
“You are very observant. I live in France because I work in France. I am afraid that there is nothing mysterious about my trips to the village either. I go to the post office to telephone my fiancee in Paris.”
“So? The telephone service has improved. It usually takes an hour to get through.” He shrugged. “It is nothing. There are more difficult questions.” He blew the ash off his cheroot. “Why, for example, were the locks of Monsieur Vadassy’s suitcase broken open in the morning and not broken in the afternoon?”
“Very simple again. Because Monsieur Duclos has a bad memory.”
His eyes flickered from the end of his cheroot to my face. “Exactly. A bad memory. He could not remember exactly what was said. Bad liars never can remember these things. Their minds are choked by their own lies. But I am curious. Were the locks of your suitcase broken open?”
“I thought we had settled that. No, they were not.”
“Of course not. Please smoke. I do not like to smoke alone. Odette will smoke. Give her a cigarette, Vadassy.”
I produced a packet from my pocket. He raised his eyebrows. “No case? That is careless of you. I should think that you would keep it in your pocket for safety. How do we know that this Heinberger or the English major is not at this moment stealing it?” He sighed. “Well, well! Odette, cherie, a cigarette? You know I do not like to smoke alone. It will not hurt your teeth. Have you noticed her teeth, Vadassy? They are fine.”
He leaned suddenly across the bed, dragged the woman backwards, and thumbed her upper lip back from her teeth. She made no effort to resist.
“Good, aren’t they?”
“Yes, very.”
“That’s what I like. A thin blonde with fine teeth.” He released her. She sat up, kissed him on the lobe of the ear, and took one of my cigarettes. Roux struck a match for her. As he blew it out he looked at me again.
“You had a day with the police, didn’t you?”
“Everybody seems to have heard about that,” I said lightly. “They didn’t seem to like my passport.”
“What’s the matter with it?”
“I forgot to renew it.”
“How did you get into the country?”
I laughed. “You remind me of the police, Monsieur.”
“I told you that I found people interesting.” He lounged back on one elbow. “One thing I have found out. That all men, liars or not, have one thing in common. Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
He leaned forward suddenly, grasped my hand, and tapped the palm with his forefinger. “A love of money,” he said softly. He released my hand. “You, Vadassy, are fortunate. You are poor and money is very sweet to you. You have no political sentiments to confuse your mind. You have an opportunity of making money. Why don’t you take it?”
“I don’t understand you.” And I didn’t understand him for the moment. “What opportunity are you talking about?”
For a moment he was silent. I saw that the woman had stopped filing her nails and, with the file still resting on the end of her finger, was listening. Then:
“What is today, Vadassy?”
“Today? Saturday, of course.”
He shook his head slowly.
“No, it isn’t, Vadassy. It’s Friday.”
I emitted a bewildered laugh.
“But I assure you, Monsieur, it is Saturday.”
Again he shook his head.
“Friday, Vadassy.” His eyes narrowed. He leaned forward. “If, Vadassy, I had a certain piece of information that I think you could give me, I should be prepared to bet five thousand francs that today was Friday.”
“But you would lose.”
“Precisely. I should lose five thousand francs to you. But, on the other hand, I should gain the little piece of information.”
And then I saw the point. I was being offered a bribe. A sentence of Schimler’s flashed through my mind. “He won’t act until he’s sure.” This man had seen me talking to Schimler. He might even have seen me enter his room. I remembered suddenly the sound of a door closing after I had left room number fourteen. He obviously thought that I was in Herr Heinberger’s confidence; and he was prepared to buy evidence of Heinberger’s real identity. I looked at him blankly.
“I can’t think what information I could give you, Monsieur, that would compensate you for the loss of five thousand francs.”
“No? Are you quite sure?”
“Yes.” I stood up. “In any case, I never bet on certainties. For a moment, Monsieur, I thought that you were serious.”
He smiled. “You may be sure, Vadassy, I never allow a joke to go too far. Where are you going when you leave here?”
“Back to Paris.”
“Paris? Why?”
“I live there.” I stared him in the eyes. “And you, I suppose, will be going back to Germany.”
“And why, Vadassy, should you think that I am not a Frenchman?” His voice had dropped. The smile was still on his face, a very ugly smile. I saw the muscles of his legs tighten as though he were about to spring.
“You have a slight accent. I don’t know why, but I assumed that you were a German.”
He shook his head. “I am a Frenchman, Vadassy. Please do not forget that, you, a foreigner, cannot tell a true French accent when you hear it. Do not, please, insult me.” The fleshy lids had dropped over his bulbous eyes until they were almost closed.
“Forgive me. I think it is time I had an aperitif. Will you and Madame join me?”
“No, we shall not drink with you.”
“I hope I haven’t offended you.”
“On the contrary, it has been a pleasure to talk with you-a great pleasure.” There was a note of exaggerated cordiality in his voice that was very disconcerting.
“It is good of you to say so.” I opened the door. “Au ’voir, Monsieur, au ’voir, Madame.”
He did not get up. “Au ’voir, Monsieur,” he said ironically.
I shut the door. As I walked away his loud, unpleasant laugh rang out in the room behind me.
I went downstairs feeling several kinds of fool. Instead of doing the pumping I had been pumped. Far from skillfully extracting valuable information, I had been forced into a defensive position and answered questions as meekly as if I had been in the witness-box. Finally, I had been offered a bribe. The man had obviously realized, too, that I had faked the robbery. He had assumed, as Koche had, that I was a petty crook. A charming specimen! Schimler, poor devil, had a very slim chance of bluffing a man like that. As usual, I began to think of the crushing things I ought to have said. The trouble was that my brain moved far too slowly. I was a dullard, a halfwit.
In the hall a waiter accosted me.
“Ah, Monsieur, we have been trying to find you. You are wanted on the telephone. A call from Paris.”
“For me? Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, Monsieur.”
I went to the office and shut the door behind me.
“Hello!”
