Iris Murdoch - Under the Net

'Poor chap!' said the taxi-driver, who was taking it all very philosophically. 'He ain't very comfy. Let's try it this way.' And he wanted to be at the cage again.

'Leave it!' I cried, 'it's very well!'

'But now there ain't no room for you two,' said the taxi-driver.

'There's plenty of room,' I told him. I gave the porter half a crown. Finn got up in front beside the driver, and I climbed on top of the cage and crouched in the angle between it and the back of the driving-seat.

'That ain't much good,' said the driver. 'Now, if you was to put yourself…'

'Will you please go!' I shouted. It only remained for the taxi to fail to start. But it started. The porter waved us good-bye, and we were off towards the King's Road.

Finn turned round and looked at me and we laughed silently at each other, a long, long laugh of triumph and achievement.

'You ain't said where I'm to go to,' said the driver, stopping the taxi at the King's Road.

'Go towards Fulham,' I told him, 'and we'll tell you more in a minute!' I didn't want to run the risk of meeting Sammy coming back in his car from chez Sadie. We must have looked damned conspicuous. People turned and stared after us all the way along the road.

'Look,' I said to Finn, the first thing is to buy a file and let this animal out.'

'The shops are shut,' said Finn.

Well, we'll knock 'em up again,' I told him.

'Stop at an ironmonger's shop,' I told the driver, who so far hadn't flickered an eyelid. Nothing can astonish a London taxi-driver. He stopped outside an ironmonger's in the Fulham Palace Road, and after some knocking and some argument we purchased a file.

'Now,' I said to the driver, 'take us to some quiet place near here where we can work on this thing without being disturbed.'

The driver, who knew his London, drove up to a disused timber yard near Hammersmith Bridge, and helped us to unload the cage. I should like to have dismissed him then and there, only I suspected we hadn't enough money to pay him. Finn had about three and eightpence, as usual. What he thought we were up to heaven only knows. Whatever he thought, he made no comments.

Perhaps he reckoned that the more dubious our proceedings were the larger his tip was likely to be.

We settled down to work with the file, taking it in turns; but working as hard as we could it took us a good half-hour to free Mister Mars. The bars refused to bend even when they were severed at one extremity, so each of them had to be cut through twice over. Mars licked our hands while we worked, whining eagerly. He knew very well what was afoot. At last we had removed three bars, and as the file bit through the last piece of metal and the third one heeled over Mars was already struggling through the gap. I received the enormous sleek beast into my arms and then in a moment we were all tearing round and round the yard, dog barking and men shouting, as we celebrated his freedom.

'Mind he doesn't run away,' said Finn.

I didn't believe that Mars would be so ungrateful as to want to leave us after all the trouble we had taken for him, but I was relieved all the same when he answered obediently to my ' Come here, sir!'

After that we discussed the problem of what to do with the cage. Finn suggested that we should heave it into the river, but I was against this. There is nothing the London police hate so much as seeing people drop things into the river. We decided eventually to leave it where it was. It wasn't as if we really cared about covering our tracks, or as if this were possible anyway.

As we talked, the taxi-driver was looking at the thing thoughtfully. 'Unreliable,' he said, 'these fancy locks. Always getting jammed, ain't they?' He put his hand through the bars and pressed a spring on the underside of the roof. One of the sides of the cage immediately fell open with oily smoothness. That put an end to that discussion. Finn and I studied the face of the taxi-driver. He looked back at us guilelessly. We felt beyond making any comment.

'I tell you something,' said Finn, 'I'm tired. Can we go somewhere and rest now?'

I had no intention of resting; but I thought I had better let Finn off. Also I had a sudden desire to be alone with Mars. I gave Finn five bob, which was all I could spare, and told him to take the taxi to Goldhawk Road and get Dave to lend him the rest. He was reluctant to leave me and it took me some time to convince him that this was what I really wanted. At last the taxi drove away, and Mister Mars and I set off on foot towards Hammersmith Broadway.

As I strode along with Mars beside me I felt like a king. We kept turning to look at each other, and I could not but feel that he approved of me as much as I approved of him. I was touched by his obedience. I am always astonished when any other creature does what I tell him. It seemed to me at that moment that pinching Mars was one of the most inspired acts of my life. It wasn't that I was thinking that there was anything in particular that I could do with Mars. Nothing was further from my mind just then than Sadie and Sammy. I was just pleased to have got Mars after having worked so hard to get him. Our heads held high, we went together into the Devonshire Arms at Hammersmith Broadway.

Mars attracted a lot of attention. 'A fine dog you have there!' someone said to me. As I gave my order I picked up an evening paper which was lying on the counter. It occurred to me that now was the time to look for a clue to the identity of H. K. This might also make clear the timetable to which Sadie and Sammy were working. I began to look through the paper. I didn't have to look far. A headline read: MOVIE MAGNATE SAILS ON THE Q. E. And underneath: Hollywood Kingmaker Seeks Ideas in Britain: In one of the most luxurious cabins of the liner Queen Elizabeth which docks here shortly sits a quiet little man drinking coca-cola. His name, little known to the public, is one to conjure with in Hollywood. Those who really know in the movie business know that Homer K. Pringsheim is the power behind many a throne and the maker and breaker of many a film career. Mr Pringsheim, who lives simply and shuns publicity, told a press conference in New York that he went to Europe 'as a tourist mainly'. It is well known, however, that 'H. K.', as this formidable figure is affectionately called in Los Angeles, is on the look-out for new stars and new ideas. Asked whether he favoured closer cooperation between the British and American film industries, Mr Pringsheim said, 'Well, maybe.'

That made that clear anyway. I wondered what were Sadie's means of access to H. K. and how long it would take her to get him on the dotted line. I didn't doubt that Sadie knew exactly what she was doing. She had probably charmed that quiet little man on some previous visit. I should have to work fast. It remained to discover when exactly the Elizabeth docked.

I was looking through the rest of the paper to see if this was announced anywhere when I suddenly noticed a small item at the bottom of one of the pages which read as follows: ANNA QUENTIN FOR HOLLYWOOD?

Connoisseurs of the song will be familiar with the name of Anna Quentin, distinguished blues singer and versatile vocalist. Miss Quentin's admirers, who have been regretting her recent retirement from the limelight, will hear with mixed feelings the report that she is bound for Hollywood. Miss Quentin, leaving for a short stay in Paris, refused either to confirm or deny a rumour that she had signed a long-term contract for work in America and that she would be sailing shortly in the Liberté. Miss Quentin is the sister of the well-known screen actress Sadie Quentin.

I studied this for about ten minutes, trying to read between the lines. Like Miss Quentin's other admirers I had mixed feelings. On the whole I felt profound relief. This Hollywood contract was undoubtedly the offer which Anna had accepted with reluctance. Possibly she had decided that the only way to deal with Hugo's importunities was flight. On the other hand, I knew that Anna would be sorry to leave Europe. For myself, my immediate feeling was that I would rather lose her to Hollywood than to Hugo. She might come back from Hollywood; and anyway it was still possible that she hadn't finally made up her mind to go. My knowledge of Anna's character suggested that if she had finally decided to do something about which she had serious misgivings she would want everyone to know about it at once.