And now they saw that a red carpet had been laid between the tables. The first carriage went past the end of the carpet and stopped. The two splendid figures descended and went to the end of the carpet to receive the second carriage. They opened its doors and the even more splendid figure stepped down on to the carpet, where, behind the first two splendid figures, a little group of men were waiting nervously to receive it. They, too, wore uniforms, equally gorgeous, but to the trained eye, they were as nothing.
For these were merely the officials of the Assicurazioni Generale, whose offices occupied the Palazzo Stratti above the Caffé degli Specchi, which the Governor was visiting that day to unveil a plaque. After much bowing and scraping and saluting they led him into the building. The band arranged itself on the steps of the entrance and began to play a military march. When it ended there was a polite ripple of applause from the people at the Caffé’s tables.
‘What’s all this?’ asked Maddalena.
‘I think I read about it somewhere,’ said Luigi. ‘Isn’t he unveiling a plaque?’
‘Who to?’
The Archduchess, I think,’
‘What has she got to do with it?’
‘Perhaps she has got shares in the Assicurazioni?’ offered Lorenzo.
‘I have got shares in the Assicurazioni,’ said Alfredo, ‘and no one is putting up a plaque to me!’
‘You have got shares in the Assicurazioni, Alfredo?’ said Maddalena, astonished.
‘Yes. Two. My aunt left me them when she died.’
‘Capitalist!’
The lamparetti had spread out along the edges of the carpet. One of them was just beside the artists. Maddalena looked up at him.
‘What all this about a plaque?’ she said.
‘It’s to commemorate the Assicurazioni’s having been here for fifty years. Fifty years of service to Trieste!’
‘Fifty years of ripping people off!’
‘I’m sorry you see it that way.’
‘What about the Archduchess?’
‘The Archduchess?’
‘I thought she was somehow involved.’
‘Not as far as I know. It’s just the Assicurazioni.’
‘Anyway, I don’t think the Governor should be doing this.’
‘Oh? Why not?’
‘He’s only going there because it’s big. He never goes to people like Simonetti, does he?’
‘Simonetti?’
‘The tobacconist at the corner. I’ll bet he’s been there for fifty years.’
‘Well, hell — ’
‘Or Niccolo.’
‘Niccolo?’
‘The ice-cream seller. He looks very old.’
‘Well, you can’t go and see everybody!’
‘You know why he’s going to the Assicurazioni? It’s because it’s big. And because it backs the Austrians.’
‘Young lady, I don’t like your tone.’
‘Shut up, Maddalena,’ said Lorenzo nervously.
‘If it backed irredentism, would he be going there?’
‘Young woman, are you looking for trouble?’
Luigi intervened hastily.
‘No, she’s not,’ he said. ‘How could you think such a thing? She’s looking for a waiter to bring us another drink, that’s all. Aren’t you, Maddalena?’
‘Of course!’ said Maddalena sweetly, and waved her arm vigorously.
A waiter, who had heard the whole exchange, came up, beaming.
‘Something for the irredentists?’ he said. ‘What will you have?’
They were all at it, thought Seymour, all baiting the Austrians.
There was a little silence.
Then Lorenzo said to Luigi:
‘Actually, it’s not the Assicurazioni that I mind, it’s the music.’
‘Terrible, isn’t it?’
‘Do you think they select them on the basis of their tin ears?’
‘No, I think they’re probably all right when they start. It’s just the training that they’re given.
‘When they go into the army, you mean?’
‘Yes. It makes them sort of deaf.’
‘Well, I think you need to be if you’re working for the government in Trieste.’
‘Listen — ’ began the policeman.
‘Yes, officer?’ said Luigi innocently.
‘I don’t like that kind of talk.’
‘Oh, but we’re only talking about music. I’d be interested to hear your views. What’s your opinion of Lehar?’
‘Or Verdi?’ said Lorenzo.
‘Or Rossini,’ said Alfredo swiftly. ‘Personally, I think. .’ And he moved the conversation deftly, and unequivocally, on to musical grounds.
Koskash was sitting on a bed. He jumped up when he saw Seymour, put his heels together and bowed formally.
‘I wish to apologize,’ he said. ‘I know I have not behaved correctly. I am very sorry,’
Seymour asked how he had been treated.
‘I am well, thank you,’ said Koskash.
There were no signs of ill-usage.
Seymour went to the spy-hole and checked. There was no one listening outside. They were playing fair. Or perhaps they weren’t bothered. He went back to Koskash.
‘Koskash,’ he said, ‘I shall come regularly. You understand?’
Koskash nodded.
‘I think I do,’ he said. ‘And thank you,’
‘There are people outside who are concerned for you. Your wife.’ Koskash looked troubled and seemed about to say something but then didn’t. ‘And others.’ Koskash nodded. ‘These others are, I think, worried about what you might say.’
‘They need not be,’ said Koskash. ‘I shall say nothing,’
‘That may not be a good idea. And it may be unnecessary. They know quite a lot already. The men who came to you were policemen, planted to trap you. You could tell them some things. It might make it easier for you. This is just advice, meant to help you.’
Koskash nodded.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I understand.’
‘You need not tell them everything, of course. That is up to you. But I would be grateful if you could tell me something.’
‘If I can help,’ said Koskash, ‘I would wish to. I owe it.’
‘It is about Machnich. And about Lomax. I gather that they got on well?’
Koskash nodded.
‘Surprisingly well. For two men so different. I think it began when they met over the cinema business. They hit it off and then they began to meet socially. Not all the time but quite often. Usually it was at the Stella Polare but sometimes Machnich came here,’ Koskash caught himself. That is, to the Consulate. I would take in coffee and they would be chatting away like old friends. But then something happened, I don’t know what, and Machnich didn’t come any more. Instead he sent Rakic. You know Rakic? Well, he is very different and I don’t think Signor Lomax liked him. But perhaps that was why Machnich sent him — to show Signor Lomax that they weren’t friends any more.’
‘There must have been some reason for sending him. Other than that, I mean. Some business reason or work reason.’
‘If there was, I do not know it. But suddenly Rakic was here all the time, every day. And Signor Lomax grew more and more unhappy.’
Seymour heard footsteps in the corridor outside coming towards the cell. He stood up.
‘Thank you, Koskash,’ he said. That was most helpful.’
Koskash accompanied him to the door. Just before it opened, he said:
‘Tell my wife that I am well. And that — that she mustn’t do anything. I am afraid that she may blame herself and go to the police. Tell her not to. Tell her it will be easier for me if I know that she is outside. That I can bear it. And that she is not to do anything foolish. She must think of herself, only of herself, and not of me.’
Maddalena called in at the Consulate that evening. Seymour had invited her out to dinner and they had arranged that she should pick him up. She came into the inner room, Lomax’s room, and glanced at the pictures.