‘Come in, Jones,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘You can serve dinner as soon as it’s ready, Albert.’
The table was laid with crystal glasses which caught the lights of a chandelier overhead: even the soup plates looked expensive. I wondered a little at seeing them there: it was hardly the season for cold soup. ‘This is Jones, my son-in-law,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘You must excuse his glove. It covers a deformity. Mrs Montgomery, Mr Kips, Monsieur Belmont, Mr Richard Deane, Divisionnaire Krueger.’ (Not for him to mistitle Krueger.) I could feel the fumes of their hostility projected at me like tear-gas. Why? Perhaps it was my dark suit. I had lowered what apartment builders would call the ‘standing’.
‘I have met Monsieur Jones,’ Belmont said as though he were a prosecution witness identifying the accused.
‘Me too,’ said Mrs Montgomery, ‘briefly.’
‘]ones is a great linguist,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘He translates letters about chocolates,’ and I realized he must have made inquiries about me from my employers. ‘Here, ]ones, at our little parties we use English as our common language because Richard Deane, great star though he may be, speaks no other, though he sometimes attempts a kind of French in his cups - after his third one. On the screen you’ve only heard him dubbed in French.’
Everyone laughed as though on cue except Deane who gave a mirthless smile. ‘He has the qualities after a drink or two to play Falstaff except a lack of humour and a lack of weight. The second tonight we shall do our best to remedy. The humour, I’m afraid, is beyond us. You may ask what is left. Only his fast-diminishing reputation among women and teenagers. Kips, you are not enjoying yourself. Is something wrong? Perhaps you miss our usual aperitifs, but tonight I didn’t want to spoil your palates for what’s coming.’
‘No, no, I assure you nothing is wrong, Doctor Fischer. Nothing.’
‘I always insist,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘at my little parties that everybody enjoys himself.’
‘They are a riot,’ Mrs Montgomery said, ‘a riot.’
‘Doctor Fischer is invariably a very good host,’ Divisionnaire Krueger informed me with condescension.
‘And so generous,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘This necklace I’m wearing - it was a prize at our last party.’ She was wearing a heavy necklace of gold pieces they seemed to me from a distance to be Krugerrands.
‘There is always a little prize for everyone,’ the Divisionnaire murmured. He was certainly old and grey and he was probably full of sleep. I liked him the best because he seemed to have accepted me more easily than the others.
‘There the prizes are,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘I helped him choose.’ She went over to a side-table where I noticed now a pile of gift-wrapped parcels. She touched one with the tip of a finger like a child testing a Christmas stocking to tell from the crackle what is within.
‘Prizes for what?’ I asked.
‘Certainly not for intelligence,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘or the Divisionnaire would never win anything.’ Everyone was watching the pile of gifts.
‘All we have to de is just to put up with his little whims,’ Mrs Montgomery explained, ‘and then he distributes the prizes. There was one evening - can you believe it? - he served up live lobsters with bowls of boiling water. We had to catch and cook our own. One lobster nipped the General’s finger.’
‘I bear the scar still, ‘ Divisionnaire Krueger complained.
‘The only wound in action which he has ever received,’ Doctor Fischer said.
‘It was a riot,’ Mrs Montgomery told me as though I might not have caught the point.
‘Anyway it turned her hair blue,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘Before that night it was an unsavoury grey stained with nicotine.’
‘Not grey - a natural blonde - and not nicotine-stained. ‘
‘Remember the rules, Mrs Montgomery,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘If you contradict me once again you will lose your prize.’
‘That happened once at one of our parties to Mr Kips,’ Monsieur Belmont said. ‘He lost an eighteen-carat gold lighter. Like this one. ‘ He took a leather case from his pocket.
‘It was little loss to me,’ Mr Kips said. ‘I don’t smoke. ‘
‘Be careful, Kips. Don’t denigrate my gifts - or yours might disappear a second time tonight.’
I thought: But surely this is a madhouse ruled by a mad doctor. It was only curiosity which kept me there - certainly it was not for any prize that I stayed.
‘Perhaps,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘before we sit down to dinner - a dinner I very much hope that you’ll enjoy and do full justice to as I have given a great deal of thought to the menu - I should explain to our new guest the etiquette we observe at these dinners.’
‘Most necessary,’ Belmont said. ‘I think - if you will excuse me - you should perhaps have put his appearance here - shall we say? - to the vote? After all, we are a kind of club.’
Mr Kips said, ‘I agree with Belmont. We all of us know where we stand. We accept certain conditions. It’s all in the spirit of fun. A stranger might misunderstand.’
‘Mr Kips in search of a dollar, ‘ Doctor Fischer said. ‘You are afraid that the value of the prizes may be reduced with another guest just as you hoped the value would rise after the death of two of our number.’
There was a silence. I thought from the expression in his eyes that Mr Kips was about to make an angry reply, but he didn’t: all he said was, ‘You misunderstand me.’
Now all of this, read by someone not present at the party, might well sound no more than the jolly banter of clubmen who insult each other in a hearty way before sitting down to a good dinner and some heavy drinking and good companionship. But to me, as I watched the faces and detected how near the knuckle the teasing seemed to go, there was a hollowness and a hypocrisy in the humorous exchanges and hate like a rain cloud hung over the room - hatred of his guests on the part of the host and hatred of the host on the part of the guests. I felt a complete outsider for, though I disliked every one of them, my emotion was too weak as yet to be called hatred.
‘To the table then,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘and I will explain to our new guest the purpose of my little parties, while Albert brings in the dinner.’
I found myself sitting next to Mrs Montgomery who was on the right of the host. I had Belmont on my right and the actor Richard Deane opposite me. Beside every plate was a bottle of good Yvorne, except beside our host’s, who, I noticed, preferred Polish vodka.
‘First,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘I would ask you to toast the memory of our two - friends shall I call them on this occasion? - on the anniversary of their deaths two years ago. An odd coincidence. I chose the date for that reason. Madame Faverjon died by her own hand. I suppose she could no longer stomach herself - it was difficult enough for me to stomach her, though I had found her at first an interesting study. Of all the people at this table she was the greediest - and that is saying a good deal. She was also the richest of all of you. There have been moments when I have watched each one of you show a sign of rebelling against the criticisms I have made of you and I have been forced to remind you of the presents at the end of dinner which you were in danger of forfeiting. That was never the case with Madame Faverjon. She accepted everything and anything in order to qualify for her present, though she could easily have afforded to buy one of equal value for herself. She was an abominable woman, an unspeakable woman, and yet I had to admit she showed a certain courage at the end. I doubt if one of you would ever show as much, not even our gallant Divisionnaire. I doubt if one of you has even contemplated ridding the world of his unnecessary presence. So I’ll ask you to toast the ghost of Madame Faverjon.’
I obeyed like all the others.
Albert entered carrying a silver tray on which there was a large pot of Caviare and little silver dishes of egg and onion and sliced lemons.