“Shall you go ashore this afternoon?”
“I do not think so. Athens can only remind me of what I know already-that I am old. Do you know the city?”
“A little. I know Salamis better.”
“That is now their big naval base, isn’t it?”
Graham said yes rather too carelessly. Haller glanced sideways and smiled slightly. “I beg your pardon. I see that I am on the point of being indiscreet.”
“I shall go ashore to get some books and cigarettes. Can I get anything for you?”
“It is very kind of you, but there is nothing. Are you going alone?”
“Mr. Kuvetli, the Turkish gentleman at the next table, has asked me to show him round. He has never been to Athens.”
Haller raised his eyebrows. “Kuvetli? So that is his name. I talked with him this morning. He speaks German quite well and knows Berlin a little.”
“He speaks English, too, and very good French. He seems to have travelled a lot.”
Haller grunted. “I should have thought that a Turk who had travelled a lot would have been to Athens.”
“He sells tobacco. Greece grows its own tobacco.”
“Yes, of course. I had not thought of that. I am apt to forget that most people who travel do so not to see but to sell. I talked with him for twenty minutes. He has a way of talking without saying anything. His conversation consists of agreements or indisputable statements.”
“I suppose it’s something to do with his being a salesman. ‘The world is my customer and the customer is always right.’ ”
“He interests me. In my opinion he is too simple to be true. The smile is a little too stupid, the conversation a little too evasive. He tells you some things about himself within the first minutes of your meeting him and then tells you no more. That is curious. A man who begins by telling you about himself usually goes on doing so. Besides, who ever heard of a simple Turkish business man? No, he makes me think of a man who has set out to create a definite impression of himself in people’s minds. He is a man who wishes to be underrated.”
“But why? He’s not selling us tobacco.”
“Perhaps, as you suggest, he regards the world as his customer. But you will have an opportunity of probing a little this afternoon.” He smiled. “You see, I assume, quite unwarrantably, that you are interested. I must ask your pardon. I am a bad traveller who has had to do a great deal of travelling. To pass the time I have learned to play a game. I compare my own first impressions of my fellow travellers with what I can find out about them.”
“If you are right you score a point? If you are wrong you lose one?”
“Precisely. Actually I enjoy losing more than winning. It is an old man’s game, you see.”
“And what is your impression of Señor Gallindo?”
Haller frowned. “I am afraid that I am only too right about that gentleman. He is not really very interesting.”
“He has a theory that all men are potential murderers and is fond of quoting a German proverb to the effect that a man is an ape in velvet.”
“It does not surprise me,” was the acid reply. “Every man must justify himself somehow.”
“Aren’t you a little severe?”
“Perhaps. I regret to say that I find Señor Gallindo a very ill-mannered person.”
Graham’s reply was interrupted by the entrance of the man himself, looking as if he had just got out of bed. He was followed by the Italian mother and son. The conversation became desultory and over-polite.
The Sestri Levante was tied up alongside the new wharf on the north side of the harbour of the Piræus soon after two o’clock. As, with Mr. Kuvetli, Graham stood on the deck waiting for the passenger gangway to be hoisted into position, he saw that Josette and José had left the saloon and were standing behind him. José nodded to them suspiciously as if he were afraid that they were thinking of borrowing money from him. The girl smiled. It was the tolerant smile that sees a friend disregarding good advice.
Mr. Kuvetli spoke up eagerly. “Are you going ashore, Monsieur-dame?”
“Why should we?” demanded José. “It is a waste of time to go.”
But Mr. Kuvetli was not sensitive. “Ah! Then you know Athens, you and your wife?”
“Too well. It is a dirty town.”
“I have not seen it. I was thinking that if you and Madame were going, we might all go together.” He beamed round expectantly.
José set his teeth and rolled his eyes as if he were being tortured. “I have already said that we are not going.”
“But it is very kind of you to suggest it,” Josette put in graciously.
The Mathis came out of the saloon. “Ah!” he greeted them. “The adventurers! Do not forget that we leave at five. We shall not wait for you.”
The gangway thudded into position and Mr. Kuvetli clambered down it nervously. Graham followed. He was beginning to wish that he had decided to stay on board. At the foot of the gangway he turned and looked up-the inevitable movement of a passenger leaving a ship. Mathis waved his hand.
“He is very amiable, Monsieur Mathis,” said Mr. Kuvetli.
“Very.”
Beyond the Customs shed there was a fly-blown old Fiat landaulet with a notice on it in French, Italian, English and Greek, saying that an hour’s tour of the sights and antiquities of Athens for four persons cost five hundred drachmes.
Graham stopped. He thought of the electric trains and trams he would have to clamber on to, of the hill up to the Acropolis, of the walking he would have to do, of the exhausting boredom of sightseeing on foot. Any way of avoiding the worst of it was, he decided, worth thirty shillingsworth of drachmes.
“I think,” he said, “that we will take this car.”
Mr. Kuvetli looked worried. “There is no other way? It is very expensive.”
“That’s all right. I’ll pay.”
“But it is you who do favour to me. I must pay.”
“Oh, I should have taken a car in any case. Five hundred drachmes is not really expensive.”
Mr. Kuvetli’s eyes opened very wide. “Five hundred? But that is for four persons. We are two.”
Graham laughed. “I doubt if the driver will look at it that way. I don’t suppose it costs him any less to take two instead of four.”
Mr. Kuvetli looked apologetic. “I have little Greek. You will permit me to ask him?”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
The driver, a predatory looking man wearing a suit several sizes too small for him and highly polished tan shoes without socks, had leapt out at their approach and was holding the door open. Now he began to shout. “Allez! Allez! Allez!” he exhorted them; “très bon marché. Cinque-cento, solamente.”
Mr. Kuvetli strode forward, a stout, grubby little Daniel going out to do battle with a lean Goliath in stained blue serge. He began to speak.
He spoke Greek fluently; there was no doubt of it. Graham saw the surprised look on the driver’s face replaced by one of fury as a torrent of words poured from Mr. Kuvetli’s lips. He was disparaging the car. He began to point. He pointed to every defect in the thing from a patch of rust on the luggage grid to a small tear in the upholstery, from a crack in the windshield to a worn patch on the running board. He paused for breath and the angry driver seized the opportunity of replying. He shouted and thumped the door panels with his fist to emphasise his remarks and made long streamlining gestures. Mr. Kuvetli smiled sceptically and returned to the attack. The driver spat on the ground and counterattacked. Mr. Kuvetli replied with a short, sharp burst of fire. The driver flung up his hands, disgusted but defeated.
Mr. Kuvetli turned to Graham. “Price,” he reported simply, “is now three hundred drachmes. It is too much, I think, but it will take time to reduce more. But if you think …”