Pusey didn’t fool Beecher for a minute. Pusey was brimming with resentment and suspicion, but he was afraid to do anything about it. He had expected that Ilse would be alone...
Instead Beecher had been waiting with her in front of the hotel. Pusey had stopped short at sight of him, his eyes narrowing until they were mere slits of light in his pale face.
Beecher had played it broadly. Hearty and smiling. “My wife tells me you offered us a ride up to Tangier. English isn’t her strongest suit, so I thought maybe she’d misunderstood you. But here you are, so I guess there wasn’t any misunderstanding after all.”
In the cool morning haze, Pusey’s eyes were shifting rapidly from Beecher to Ilse. “No, there wasn’t any misunderstanding. Asked her if she’d like a lift, that’s all. Glad to help you folks out. That one suitcase all the luggage you got?”
“That’s right.”
“Hmmm. Well, let’s go.”
Ilse had got into the back seat, while Beecher climbed in beside Pusey.
Now they were well on their way, with the sun high in a clear sky, and the fields spreading away from them in soft sandy colors. They were traveling north on the coastal road which would take them through Rabat to Tangier. The Atlantic was on their left, a flat gray background for vivid streaks of blue which lined the sea as regularly as the ridges in a bolt of corduroy. Ilse was sleeping in the back seat, a faint, dreaming smile on her lips.
“You know, I take people on faith,” Pusey said abruptly, and Beecher guessed that the silence was working on his nerves; there had been a tone of nervous challenge in his voice. “Maybe I’m a fool, but I like to trust people till I’m proved wrong. I had a funny experience in London a week or so back. I was out for a walk one night, and there were all sorts of women standing around the dark street corners.” Pusey smiled quickly at Beecher, his nose twitching at a remembered fragrance of excitement. “I guess I shouldn’t say they were all sorts of women. They were just one sort, if you know what I mean. Well, one of them says hello to me. She was standing in the doorway of a building, in the shadows, and she was good-looking, far as I could see, with blonde hair and kind of dark funny eyes. She kidded and laughed about me being all alone, and said would I like some fun. She was too thin for my taste, and kind of tired-looking even though she was just a kid, but I played along with her the way you will.” Pusey lowered his voice, after taking a quick and virtuous glance at Ilse in the rear-vision mirror. “This isn’t a story for mixed company, I guess. Anyway, this girl offered me a deal, five pounds for the night. Now I might not look it, but I’ve been around a pretty good deal, conventions and things like that. And I wasn’t interested too much to start with, so I decided to have a little fun. I said four pounds. Well, she thought it over and said okay. So I shook my head and said three. She argued about it for a while, but finally she was ready to go for three. And then I shook my head again and said two pounds, take it or leave it. She didn’t like it, I can tell you.” Pusey laughed and tugged at the end of his twitching nose. “She got real nasty, you know how they can be. I tell you, she was mean. But just then a funny thing happened. A policeman came around the corner and started walking toward us. And did that little blonde change her tune fast. She damn near got down on her knees begging me not to tell him she’d spoken to me. You see, it’s a law in England. Whores aren’t allowed to do any hustling. They just stand around the corners like statues. If they get caught so much as nodding or winking at a guy the bobbies run ’em in for soliciting. So do you know what I told her?”
Beecher looked at him. “What did you tell her?”
“Of course, I had two ways to handle it. I could have her run in for soliciting, for one thing. Or I use this law of theirs to make her yell uncle. So I said to her, while the bobby’s just a couple dozen yards away, I says, ‘One pound, sweetie, or I’ll tell this cop you’re making a play for me.’” Pusey shifted his body and scratched the inside of his thigh. “I was interested to see how she’d react. I’m always interested to see how a person stands up under pressure. You take a fellow going along nice and quiet in his regular job, and there’s not much you can judge about him. But you get him in a spot, and you tighten the screws a bit, and pretty soon you’ll know what he’s made of.” Pusey glanced at Beecher. “Like you and me right now. I mean, we’re just a pair of ordinary Americans taking a little trip together. Not much we can tell about each other. But if one of us was worried bad about something, well that would show up under a little pressure. Get what I mean?”
Beecher nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I see. But what happened to the girl?”
Pusey laughed. “She says, ‘Bugger you, you cheap Yank bastard!’ and turns and shouts for the bobby. He runs up saluting and saying, ‘Here now, here now, what’s all this?’ and I pull out my passport and travelers checks, and I say to him, kind of dignified, ‘Officer, I’m an American citizen, and I was out for a stroll when this girl asked me if I’d like to spend the night with her for five pounds. I told her no thank you, because I’m a married man and I’m not interested in that sort of thing, and then she began to screech and curse at me. It’s too bad if a man can’t take a walk in London without being embarrassed this way.’” Pusey winked at Beecher. “The old soft-soap, get it? So the bobby says to her, ‘Sally, you know better than this,’ and she started to cry and sniffle then. She told him I’d made her lose her temper, and that she was sorry and everything. But he shakes his head and says to her, ‘It’s a free ride you’ve bought, Sally,’ and at that she bursts out crying about her kid sister with nobody to look after her, and begging both of us to let her go.” The story seemed to have a calming effect on Pusey’s nerves; his body was comfortably slack behind the wheel, and a small, contented smile brushed his lips. “She changed her tune when I put the blocks to her,” he said, and laughed softly. “That’s the time to find out what kind of stuff people are made of. When they’re hurting.”
“Yes, indeed,” Beecher said. “When they’re worried and frightened. Then lay it on.”
“Exactly. She was stiff as starch when she was just facing up to me. But that policeman put water in her knees, I can tell you.”
“What did he do?”
“He called for a wagon, and they hauled that little bitch right off to jail. Served her right too. Anybody who treats me all right don’t have nothing to worry about. But I don’t like being tricked, or made a fool of.” Pusey smiled at the sun-splashed road. “This girl in back. She’s your wife, eh?”
“Yes.”
“She German?”
“No, Austrian.”
“I see.” Pusey smiled indulgently. “Pretty near the same thing, I guess. Last night I got the idea she was upset about something. Kind of worried maybe, or scared. But I guess it’s just because she’s a long way from home. With an American husband, these girls don’t have anything to be afraid of, do they?”
“I suppose not.”
“I mean, it’s a good deal for them. Where were you last night, by the way?”