Грэм Грин - The Comedians

'Well, old man?'

'You haven't given me a very clear idea of what you want me to do.'

'I can't let you into it very well, can I, until I know you are with me?'

'How can I tell whether I'm with you if I know nothing?'

He looked at me across the scattered cards; the lucky ace of spades lay face upwards. 'It comes down to a matter of trust, doesn't it?'

'It certainly does.'

'If only we'd been in the same outfit during the war, old man. Under those conditions you learn to trust …'

I said, 'What division were you with?' and he replied without the slightest hesitation '4 Corps'. He even elaborated a little, '77 Brigade'. He had the answers right. I checked them that night at the Trianon in a history which some client had left behind of the Burma campaign, but even then it occurred to my suspicious mind that it was possible he possessed the same book and had drawn his data from it. But I was unjust to him. He really had been in Imphal.

'What hope have you got for your hotel?'

'Very little.'

'You couldn't find a purchaser if you tried. Any day now you'll be dispossessed. They'll say you are not making proper use of your property and take it over.'

'It might happen.'

'What is it, old man? Woman trouble?'

I suppose my eyes gave me away.

'You're too old for fidelity, old man. Think of what you can get for $150,000.' (I noticed that the reward had increased.) 'You can go further than the Caribbean. Do you know Bora-Bora? There's nothing there but an air-strip and a rest-house, but with a little capital … and the girls, you've never seen such girls, the mothers had them off the Americans twenty years ago. Mиre Catherine can't show you better.'

'What will you do with your money?'

I would never have thought that Jones's flat brown eyes like copper coins had the capacity to dream, yet they moistened now with some kind of emotion. 'Old man, I've one particular spot in mind not far from here: a coral-reef and white sand, real white sand that you could build castles with, and behind are green slopes as smooth as real turf and God-made natural hazards — a perfect spot for a golf-course. I'll build a club-house, bungalow-suites with showers, it will be more exclusive than any other golf-club in the Caribbean. Do you know what I mean to call it? … Sahib House.'

'You don't suggest I'm to be your partner there.'

'One can't have partners in a dream, old man. Conflicts would arise. I've got the place planned as I want it to the last detail' (I wondered whether those were the blueprints Philipot had seen). 'I've gone an awfully long way to get there, but it's in sight now — I can even see exactly where to put the 18th hole.'

'You're keen on golf?'

'I don't play myself. I've somehow never had the time. It's the idea that appeals to me. I'm going to get a first-class social hostess. Someone good-looking with background. I did think at the beginning of having bunny-girls, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized they would be out of place in a golf-club of class.'

'Were you planning all this in Stanleyville?'

'I've been planning it for twenty years, old man, and now the moment's nearly here. Have another Martini?'

'No, I must be going.'

'I'm going to have a long bar made of coral called the Desert Island Bar. With a barman trained at the Ritz. I'm going to have chairs made out of driftwood — of course we'll make them comfortable with cushions. Parakeets on the curtains, and a big brass telescope in the window focused on the 18th hole.'

'We'll talk about it again.'

'I've never talked about it to anyone before — anyone who could understand what I have in mind, that is. I used to talk to my boy in Stanleyville when I was thinking out the details, but the poor little bugger hadn't got a clue.'

'Thanks for the Martinis.'

'I'm glad you liked the case.' When I looked back he had taken off the cloth and was polishing it again. He called after me, 'We'll have another talk soon. If only you'd agree in principle …'

2

I had no wish to return to the Trianon which was empty now of guests, and I had received no word from Martha all day, so I was drawn back to the casino as the nearest equivalent of a home, but it was a casino much changed since the night when I had met Martha. There were no tourists, and few residents of Port-au-Prince cared to venture out after dark. Only one roulette table was functioning and only one player was seated there — an Italian engineer whom I knew slightly called Luigi; he worked with the erratic electricity-plant. No private company could have kept a casino running under these conditions, and the Government had taken it over; now every night they made a loss, but it was a loss in gourdes and the Government could always print more.

The croupier sat with a scowl on his face — perhaps he wondered where his pay would come from. Even with two zeros the chances in favour of the bank were too fine. With so few players one or two losses en plein and the bank would be down for the night.

'Winning?' I asked Luigi.

'I'm a hundred and fifty gourdes up,' he said. 'I haven't the heart to leave the poor devil,' but on the next run he made another fifteen.

'Do you remember this place in the old days?'

'No. I wasn't here then.'

They had tried to economize on the lighting, so we played in a cavernous obscurity. I played without interest, placing my tokens on the first column, and won also. The face of the croupier grew darker. 'I've got a good mind,' Luigi said, 'to put all my winnings on red and give him a chance to recuperate.'

'But you might win,' I said.

'There's always the bar. They must make a good cut out of the drinks.'

We bought whiskies — it seemed too cruel to order rum, though whisky was hardly wise for me on top of the dry Martinis. Already I began to feel …

'Why, if it isn't Mr Jones,' a voice called from the end of the salle, and I turned to see the purser of the Medea advancing on me with a damp and welcoming hand.

'You've got the name wrong,' I said, 'I'm Brown, not Jones.'

'Breaking the bank?' he asked jovially.

'It doesn't need much breaking. I thought you never ventured into town as far as this.'

'I don't follow my own advice,' he said and winked. 'I went first to Mиre Catherine's, but the girl has got family trouble — she won't be there till tomorrow.'

'Nobody else you fancied?'

'I always like to eat off the same plate. How are Mr and Mrs Smith?'

'They flew out today. Disappointed.'

'Ah, he should have come with us. Any trouble with the exit-visa?'

'We got it through in three hours. I've never seen the immigration department and the police work faster. They must have wanted to be rid of him.'

'Political trouble?'

'I think the Ministry for Social Welfare found his ideas upsetting.'

We had a few more drinks and watched Luigi lose a few gourdes for conscience sake.

'How's the captain?'

'He longs to be off. He cannot endure this place. His temper will not be right until we are at sea again.'

'And the man with the tin hat? Did you leave him safely in Santo Domingo?'

I felt an odd nostalgia when I talked of my fellow passengers, perhaps because it was the last time that I had experienced a sense of security — the last time too I had possessed any real hope; I had been returning to Martha and I had believed then everything might be changed.

'The tin hat?'

'Don't you remember? He recited at our concert.'

'Oh yes, poor fellow. We left him safely behind all right in the cemetery. He had a heart-attack before we landed.'

We gave Baxter the tribute of two seconds' silence, while the ball bounced and chinked for Luigi alone. He won a few more gourdes and rose with a gesture of despair.