I stood there in silence for a moment. So it was all arranged. Officially, I was no longer at the Reserve. Well-what did it matter? In my mind’s eye I saw myself walking on the terrace the next morning, I heard the exclamations of surprise, the questions, the cries of astonishment, my explanations, more questions, more explanations, lies and more lies. This way was the easier. Koche knew that, of course. He was right and I was wrong. Heavens, how tired I was!
He was watching my face. “Well, Monsieur?” he said at last.
“All right. Only don’t let them bring the breakfast too soon.”
He smiled. “You may be sure of that. Good night, Monsieur.”
“Good night. Oh, by the way!” I turned at the door and drew Beghin’s envelope from my pocket. “The police gave me this. It contains five hundred francs for my expenses during the last few days. I haven’t spent anything like that amount. I should like you to give the envelope to Herr Heinberger. He might be able to make use of it, don’t you think?”
He stared at me. For a moment I had the curious impression that I was looking at an actor who with one movement had wiped the make-up off his face-an actor who had been playing the part of a hotel manager. Slowly he shook his head.
“That is very generous of you, Vadassy.” He no longer addressed me as “Monsieur.”
“Emil told me that you and he had talked together. I am afraid I was annoyed. I see now that I was wrong. However, he no longer needs the money.”
“But-”
“A few hours ago, perhaps, he would have been glad of it. As it is, he is returning to Germany in the morning. It was arranged early this evening that they should leave by the nine o’clock train from Toulon.”
“They?”
“Vogel and his wife will be going with him.”
I was silent. I could think of nothing to say. I picked up the envelope from the table and put it back in my pocket. Absently, Koche splashed some more wine into his glass, held it up to the light, then glanced at me.
“Emil always said that those two laughed too much,” he said. “I found them out yesterday. A letter arrived. They said it was from Switzerland, but it had a German stamp. While they were out of their room I had a look at it. It was quite short. It said that if they wanted more money they must offer immediate proof that they needed it. They did so. Emil is right. They laugh, they are grotesque. No one suspects that they are also obscene. That is her secret.” He drank the wine and put the glass down with a bang. “In Berlin, years ago,” he said, “I heard Frau Vogel give a recital. Her name then was Hulde Kremer; I didn’t remember her until she played tonight. I had often wondered what happened to her. Now I know. She married Vogel. It’s very odd, isn’t it?” He held out his hand. “Good night, Vadassy.”
We shook hands. “And,” I added, “I shall hope to see the Reserve again.”
He inclined his head. “The Reserve is always here.”
“You mean that you won’t be here with it?”
“In confidence, I shall leave for Prague next month.”
“Did you decide that this evening?”
He nodded. “Just so.”
As I climbed slowly to my room I heard the clock in the writing-room strike two. A quarter of an hour later I was asleep.
At noon that day I drank the remains of my breakfast coffee, strapped my suitcase together, and sat down by the window to wait.
It was a glorious day. The sun was pouring down and the air over the stone windowsill was quivering, but the sea was slightly ruffled by a breeze. The red rocks glowed. In the garden, the cicadas were droning. Down on the beach I could see two pairs of brown legs beyond the shadow of a big striped sunshade. On the lower terrace, Monsieur Duclos was addressing some new arrivals, a middle-aged couple still in their traveling clothes. As he talked he stroked his beard and adjusted his pince-nez. The couple listened intently.
There was a knock at the door. Outside was a waiter.
“The car is here, Monsieur. It is time for you to go.”
I went. Later, from the train, I caught a glimpse of the roof of the Reserve. I was surprised to see how small it looked among the trees.