Conrad Aiken - Conversation; or, Pilgrims' Progress

“No. It’s just sort of exciting.”

“Exciting! Good god, I should think it would be like a nightmare. I wouldn’t be able to move hand or foot.”

Exciting — yes. Again there was that evident relish in the way he spoke of the excitement, a distinct gleam, a distinct glee — it was as obvious, wasn’t it? — that he intensely enjoyed the whole thing as that he was extremely proud of its ingenuity. Yes, but was it fair to assume from this that the whole thing was nothing but a compulsion, as Paul maintained it was? After all, the use to which he put his profits, the idealistic use, even if sometimes misguided — as witness Bucholtz — was good; and granted that his premise was tenable, and that property should be at the free disposal of all, and not used for private gain, it was difficult to find any flaw in it. It all came down to the question of motive, of course, and of priority of motive. If the mere pleasure in stealing came first — but did even that make any difference? There could be no question, anyway — none at all — of his honesty: his sincerity was unmistakable. The circle of logic was complete.

Jim had stooped to fling a couple of broken boxboards on the fire, kicked some cigarette butts over the hearth towards the bed of ashes, then straightened up, smiling, with a kind of melancholy amusement.

“Of course, kid, your friend Paul—”

“Yeah. What about his friend Paul!”

Karl was coming down the stairs, walking slowly, the raincoat still over his shoulders — Kitty preceded him, almost at a run, as if in fact she were running from him. She rushed straight across the room, walking jerkily, and flung herself in her chair again. Her eyes were squeezed almost shut, one cheek had been powdered roughly, but not the other, one side only of her mouth had been lipsticked — evidently she had been interrupted in her attempt to repair the ravages of crying. She picked up the pencil and began rapidly drawing with it, or writing, on the sheet of paper. In the next room, Lorna paused to cough, then started the Rhapsody in Blue all over again.

“Won’t she ever stop? Has she got to sit in there in that damned dressing gown and play all day?”

“She’s practicing. Let her practice, Kitty, it’s what she came here for.”

“Yeah. And what about Mister Kane’s snotty friend Paul?”

“Nothing, Karl, nothing. I was just telling Tip about my technique.”

“Your technique! So we’ve got to hear all about that again!”

“You haven’t got to hear anything at all, Kitty. I was just telling Tip about it, that’s all.”

“Well, for gard’s sake, why don’t you tell the police about it, and be done with it! I’m sick of this suspense. I’m sick of it!”

“Hold your horses. I’ll tell the police when I’m ready to tell them, and not before.”

“Maybe Mister Kane’s dear friend George will save you the trouble, Jim. Maybe Enid will.”

“I think we ought to get out of here. I want to get out of here. And so does Lorna, you ask her! The whole thing’s crazy. Buying that expensive camping outfit, too, tents and everything, and all for one night in the woods, freezing to death and getting bitten by mosquitoes—”

“Oh, baby, was that funny!”

“I think we ought to accept Mrs. Murphy’s offer.”

“What offer was that? I never heard about any offer.”

“You did too! I told you. But of course you never listen to anything I say!”

“All right, spill it, bird-brain, spill it — what offer?”

“She said if we didn’t want it any more she’d take it for her kids, and give us vegetables for it—”

“ Vegetables ! Well, for crying out loud—”

“Yes, vegetables. And what’s funny in that. It’s no good to us , is it? The idea of you trying to camp out, trying to paint in a tent! You did look like a fool. We might as well take what we can get for it. If we’ve got any sense we’ll fill those suitcases with vegetables and go right back to New York.”

“Okay, okay. What’s stopping you? Go on, take your carrots and get out of here. It’ll be a lot better than listening to you shooting off your face—”

“Shut up!”

“I won’t shut up.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Kitty and Karl—”

“For god’s sake, yes, for god’s sake — and you’re supposed to be the god!”

“Pipe down, Kitty.”

“Yes, the little tin god.”

“Now is that a nice way to speak to Jim? After all he’s done for us? I ask you. You poor dumb dope, you don’t know what’s good for you!”

“Oh, don’t I?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Cut it, you two, will you? Quarreling isn’t going to do you any good. Tip didn’t come over here just to listen to you two fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, what did Tip come over for. Spying, I suppose, Mister Kane?”

“I don’t think that’s very nice of you, Karl. I thought we were better friends than that. But just the same I’m glad you asked the question, for as a matter of fact I came over for a damned unpleasant reason.”

Kitty turned sharply in her chair. She was suddenly rigid, rigid with apprehension — her mouth was a little open, she had sucked in her breath quickly, the terrified eyes looked at him as if begging him to deny their terror. She sat quite still, continuing to stare, while Karl, with a labored assumption of sardonic indifference, once more stretched himself out on the wicker couch.

“There’s rats in them words,” he said. “I smell rats in them words. What did I tell you?”

“What is it, kid? What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve never hated doing anything so much in my life, Jim—”

“We’ll pass that up, Mister Kane!”

“—but I’m afraid it can’t be helped. It’s Enid. To put it briefly, she’s threatened to leave me, if I don’t stop seeing you while you’re here. She means it too. She said she’d go tomorrow if I didn’t come over and tell you. We’ve been having a row about it ever since yesterday, and I’ve argued the whole thing backwards and forwards, but it’s no use, she’s got me in a hole, and she knows it. I’m sorry.”

“I see. I’m sorry too, kid.”

“They’re both sorry. That makes two.”

“I wish to god it hadn’t happened. You know I haven’t got any feelings about it, one way or the other—”

“Of course not, kid. But don’t you worry, it’ll be all right. Enid’s got a right to her own opinion, hasn’t she?”

“Sure, anybody can be a Judas, can’t they?”

“Oh, gard, oh, gard, oh, gard, what’s going to happen now — I knew something like this would happen.”

“Yeah. Mrs. Exquisite Blueblood Kane. A knife in the back from Mrs. Exquisite Blueblood Kane. Just as I expected. That’s what you get for mixing with the upper classes, a knife in the back.”

“Sorry, Karl. I assure you I don’t like it any more than you do. Of course, this’ll only be temporary, I hope. We can meet in New York later on, and I hope without hard feelings—”

“Oh, sure. We’ll forget all about it, won’t we, Jim? Don’t give it a thought. What’s a knife in the back between friends?”

“It won’t make any difference to me, kid.”

“So you’re going to take it lying down!”

“There’s one thing I thought I’d suggest, though.”

“Listen to this, this is probably going to be good.”

“Shut up, Karl, will you? Let Tip say what he wants to say.”

“It’s simply this, Jim. If you’d agree to suspend your operations while you’re here, and not use this as a center for operations, I think maybe I could persuade Enid to reconsider.”

“Well, for the—! Isn’t that just too sweet of Mister Kane? Go on, Jim, tell him! Seems to me I smell the cloven hoof.”