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“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!”

“Hello, Vadassy!”

“Who is that?”

“Commissaire de Police.”

“The waiter said that it was a call from Paris.”

“I told the operator to say that. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you heard whether anyone is leaving the Reserve today?”

“The English couple leave tomorrow morning.”

“No one else.”

“Yes. I leave tomorrow.”

“What do you mean? You will leave when you are told to do so. You know Monsieur Beghin’s instructions.”

“I have been told to leave.”

“By whom?”

“Koche.” All the pent-up bitterness of the day’s disasters welled up within me. Briefly and very acidly I described the outcome of Beghin’s instructions of the morning.

He listened in silence. Then:

“You are sure no one else is leaving besides the English?”

“It is possible, but if so I have not heard about it.”

Another silence. At last:

“Very well. That is all now.”

“But what shall I do?”

“You will receive further instructions in due course.”

He hung up.

I stared wretchedly at the telephone. I would receive further instructions in due course. Well, I could do no more. I was beaten.

16

The clock struck nine. It was a thin, high-pitched sound, and very soft.

I can see the scene now, clearly. There are no blurred edges. Here nothing is out of focus. It is as if I were looking through a stereoscope at a perfect colored reproduction of the room and of the people in it.

The rain has stopped, and the breeze is once more gentle and warm. It is hot and steamy in the room, and the windows are wide open. The wet leaves of the creeper just outside gleam in the light from the electric “candles” in their rococo brackets on the walls. Beyond the stone balustrade on the terrace the moon is beginning to rise through the fir trees.