The waiter’s head appeared, and with it another wave of nuit de Noel.
“If you please, madam, the inspectors want to speak to you downstairs, madam.”
“All right, my little bird of paradise, I’ll be there.”
Lottie trotted away and the waiter came sidling back bearing his tray of kippers and leering at Adam with a horrible intimacy.
“Turn on my bath, will you, please,” said Adam.
“Alas, there is a gentleman asleep in the bath. Shall I wake him?”
“No, it doesn’t matter.”
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The waiter stood about fingering the brass knobs at the end of the bed, smiling ingratiatingly. Then he produced from under his coat a gardenia, slightly browned at the edges. (He had found it in an evening coat he had just been brushing.)
Would the signor perhaps like a buttonhole? … Madame Crump was so severe … it was nice sometimes to be able to have a talk with the gentlemen …
“No,” said Adam. “Go away.” For he had a headache.
The waiter sighed deeply, and walked with pettish steps to the door; sighed again and took the gardenia to the gentleman in the bathroom.
Adam ate some breakfast. No kipper, he reflected, is ever as good as it smells; how this too earthly contact with flesh and bone spoiled the first happy exhilaration; if only one could live, as Jehovah was said to have done, on the savour of burnt offerings. He lay back for a little in his bed thinking about the smells of food, of the greasy horror of fried fish and the deeply moving smell that came from it; of the intoxicating breath of bakeries and the dullness of buns. … He planned dinners of enchanting aromatic foods that should be carried under the nose, snuffed and thrown to the dogs … endless dinners, in which one could alternate flavour with flavour from sunset to dawn without satiety, while one breathed great draughts of the bouquet of old brandy. … Oh for the wings of a dove, thought Adam, wandering a little from the point as he fell asleep again (everyone is liable to this ninetyish feeling in the early morning after a party).
Presently the telephone by Adam’s bed began ringing.
“Hullo, yes.”
“Lady to speak to you. … Hullo, is that you, Adam?”
“Is that Nina?”
“How are you, my darling?”
“Oh, Nina. …”
“My poor sweet, I feel like that, too. Listen, angel. You haven’t forgotten that you’re going to see my papa today, have you … or have you? I’ve just sent him a wire to say that you’re going to lunch with him. D’you know where he lives?”
“But you’re coming too?”
“Well, no. I don’t think I will, if you don’t mind. … I’ve got rather a pain.”
“My dear, if you knew what a pain I’ve got. …”
“Yes, but that’s different, darling. Anyway, there’s no object in our both going.”
“But what am I to say?”
“Darling, don’t be tiresome. You know perfectly well. Just ask him for some money.”
“Will he like that?”
“Yes, darling, of course he will. Why will you go on? I’ve got to get up now. Goodbye. Take care of yourself. … Ring me up when you get back and tell me what papa said. By the way, have you seen the paper this morning?—there’s something so funny about last night. Too bad of Van. Goodbye.”
While Adam was dressing, he realized that he did not know where he was to go. He rang up again. “By the way, Nina, where does your papa live?”
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s a house called Doubting, and it’s all falling down really. You go to Aylesbury by train and then take a taxi. They’re the most expensive taxis in the world, too. … Have you got any money?”
Adam looked on the dressing-table: “About seven shillings,” he said.
“My dear, that’s not enough. You’ll have to make poor papa pay for the taxi.”
“Will he like that?”
“Yes, of course, he’s an angel.”
“I wish you’d come too, Nina.”
“Darling, I told you. I’ve got such a pain.”
Downstairs, as Lottie had said, everything was upside down. That is to say that there were policemen and reporters teeming in every corner of the hotel, each with a bottle of champagne and a glass. Lottie, Doge, Judge Skimp, the Inspector, four plain-clothes men and the body were in Judge Skimp’s suite.
“What is not clear to me, sir,” said the Inspector, “is what prompted the young lady to swing on the chandelier. Not wishing to cause offence, sir, and begging your pardon, was she … ?”
“Yes,” said Judge Skimp, “she was.”
“Exactly,” said the Inspector. “A clear case of misadventure, eh, Mrs. Crump? There’ll have to be an inquest, of course, but I think probably I shall be able to arrange things so that there is no mention of your name in the case, sir … well, that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Crump, perhaps just one more glass.”
“Lottie,” said Adam, “can you lend me some money?”
“Money, dear? Of course. Doge, have you got any money?”
“I was asleep at the time myself, mum, and was not even made aware of the occurrence until I was called this morning. Being slightly deaf, the sound of the disaster …”
“Judge What’s-your-name, got any money?”
“I should take it as a great privilege if I could be of any assistance …”
“That’s right, give some to young Thingummy here. That all you want, deary? Don’t run away. We’re just thinking of having a little drink. … No, not that wine, dear, it’s what we keep for
