Felipe Alfau - Locos - A Comedy of Gestures

‘‘Como te llamas?’’

“Raquel Meller,” the girl laughed, holding out her hand. Decidedly his gesture had not overcome his clothes and the girl continued to believe him a foreigner.

The girl was now pinning another violet on another lapel. Pepe admired the professional volubility and ready wit of the Spanish people and as he walked toward his uncle’s office he reveled in the beautiful morning.

Men sitting at the cafés discussed politics while a waiter sprayed water among the tables. Groups standing at corners interrupted now and then their perennial conversation about bullfights in order to bestow a piropo on a passing beauty. Young ladies with mantillas , but sober, black mantillas without a comb. And here Pepe decided to correct a false impression. Since he had arrived he had not seen a single mantilla de madroños or blonda over a comb. He had not seen flashy Spanish shawls but just black ones without embroidery. Pepe had been away from Spain long enough to expect all such things, but now he realized that the only ladies who wore these decorations were made of wax and stood in glass cases. However, he saw one or two men wearing cordobeses and a short jacket. And then Pepe saw what will never change in Spain. He saw that blue sky and that dazzling sun which create an exaggerated contrast between light and shadows. Shadows which are sharp, black and thick, impenetrable. And a light that is overpowering and strident.

Pepe felt in this luminous morning a sense of safety which made the dangers of the night before seem more a dream than reality. He touched his pocket. Yes, the wallet was there. He took it out to convince himself that he had not dreamed and he found himself at the office of the Prefect of Police.

Pepe entered without knocking and saw his uncle standing in front of a table, leaning on his hands, his head bowed as a bull who awaits the last blow. The table was flooded with papers.

The Prefect lifted his head and looked at his nephew sheepishly while he swept the table with a gesture.

“There you are. All letters of protest, of complaint, insulting me. A constant stream of letters all day long.”

A boy entered with a fresh bundle of letters and laid it on top of the others. Don Benito looked at Pepe and shook his head exactly as one would do in his situation. Not even the bitter smile was missing.

Pepe felt sorry for him.

“Come on, uncle, brace up. This won’t last forever. The lights will come back and peace will be reestablished.”

“Hmm. have you come to bring me another complaint? Were you robbed last night as I predicted?”

Pepe was heroic:

“Yes, I was, I must confess it. Most clever performance, I dare say. I must apologize, however, if I cannot pay you the thousand pesetas immediately.”

The Prefect waved a hand in a way that was most eloquent. While the hand moved in the air no more than a foot, it said:

“I told you so.

“It would be plain robbery to take the thousand pesetas.

“The whole thing does not matter. I am worried about more important matters now.”

All this the hand said and the Prefect added:

“Pepe, I think I can trust you.“

Pepe had not been long enough in Madrid to follow an eloquent hand and he misunderstood.

“Of course, uncle, you know I will pay you.”

“I don’t mean that, Pepe; don’t be silly. I am a good uncle and never collect debts from nephews. What I mean is that I can trust you enough to make a confession.”

And Pepe tried to look as much like a confessor as possible.

Don Benito continued:

“Pepe, my boy, I have been robbed. ”

The side of Pepe’s face shrank in a sympathizing manner.

“Yes, I have been robbed. It happened last night after I left you. Five armed men fell upon me and covered me with their guns. I knew it was useless to fight. Not that I was afraid, but I owe my life to the safety of Madrid. The public depends upon my existence to protect it. I could not possibly risk a life which hardly belongs to me. Well, they went away with my wallet.”

Pepe opened his mouth.

The Prefect did not let him speak.

“I don’t mind the money, of course. It is the wallet I regret. Do you see? It was given to me by a certain person. I will be more frank with you; by a certain lady. This lady is very sentimental and always wants me to keep every present she gives me. I am sure that the next time I see her she will ask me if I am still using the wallet she gave me. She bases all our sentimental relations upon such trifles and I am sure that when she finds out that I no longer have the wallet it will be a disaster. She will never forgive me. If I tell her that I have lost it, she will say that I do not prize the things she gives me. If I tell her it was stolen, it will be ridiculous. And I could not tell her that it was too old and I have put it into a safe with other relics, because she gave it to me only two weeks ago. What can I do?”

Again Pepe opened his mouth to answer, but his uncle signaled him to keep quiet. His question had been purely formal.

“I was thinking of advertising, offering a reward of a thousand pesetas, but that would be exposing myself to general mockery. People would laugh. The Prefect of Police robbed! The circumstances under which the incident took place would not lessen the fact that the Prefect had been robbed. No matter how heroically I behaved in that situation, I would still be the laughingstock of all Madrid. As if a prefect were not human, as if. well, you understand. It is no use. it would. ”

Pepe was standing on the other side of the table. He was bending forward with one hand on the Prefect’s shoulder. In short, Pepe had assumed a protective attitude.

“At what time did you say that happened?”

“A clock struck two during the assault.”

“And how much did you say the reward was?”

“A thousand pesetas. but as I have already told you. ”

He did not finish. Pepe was taking something out, and there was a shrewd, a very shrewd smile on his lips:

“Is this your wallet?”

Don Benito Calinez, the man who abhorred to have people fail in situations, was perfect. He uttered without the slightest hesitation a series of the most correct and appropriate exclamations under the circumstances and then finished:

“But how did you rescue it?”

“Psss. That is my business, uncle. It is one of my little secrets, don’t you know? While in England I studied to be a detective under the personal supervision of Sherlock Holmes.”

Don Benito, being a Prefect of Police, entertained a decided contempt for detective stories and, therefore, did not know whether Sherlock Holmes was a real person or not.

“Oh, you did? You rascal.” He felt very friendly, almost crazy about his nephew and poked him in the ribs. “And you never told your uncle!”

“Well, it was a little surprise I had in store for you. That is perhaps the main reason why I was expelled from college. I did not pay enough attention to my studies, as I was most of the time helping the police. And, by the way, that is why I did not have time to recover my own wallet. I knew that yours was more important. I knew that there was a sentimental story in it.”

The Prefect was really astonished.

“But how could you ever tell.?”

“That is a way we detectives have of knowing things, my dear uncle.”

“Well,” the Prefect was effusive and dignified, “I must congratulate you. I must congratulate you, not only as a proud uncle, not only as a grateful friend who owes you a great favor, but as an admiring colleague. Tell me what can I do for you. Your uncle never forgets the good deeds of his nephews.”

Pepe shrugged his shoulders in a modest way.