Vachell thought, and the lines in his face seemed to have deepened.
Dinner quite unexpectedly took on a sort of festive nature. West, alone, was abstracted and out of the mood. As the meal went on Vachell got an impression, impossible to analyse or confirm, that some unspoken understanding existed between Norman Parrot and Janice West. They were both gay and full of laughter, as though they shared a 100
common cause for celebration. It made Vachell uneasy; he had struck another current that wasn’t on any chart.
Parrot talked, almost continuously, about odd corners of the world in which he claimed to have travelled, and strange experiences he had certainly never had. If he’d been in half the countries he talked about, Vachell reflected sourly, he’d need to be twice the age he looked and even more unsuccessful. No one would move around so much unless they couldn’t hold down any job. He said he had been a surveyor, but even that was hardly a good enough excuse. He claimed to have discovered a gold-mine worked by the ancient Persians in Portuguese East Africa and a new species of deepsea fish in the Antarctic, to have spent six months with an Arab sea-captain who smuggled slaves up the Persian Gulf and an unspecified period in a lamasery in Tibet. By the end of the meal Vachell had put him down as one of the three most prolific liars he had ever met.
101
FR1;CHAPTER
NINE
A little before ten o’clock Parrot said goodnight and rattled off down the road in an eight-year-old Model A Ford, the wings fixed on with wire and with very little body left. West took a lantern and went out to make a last inspection of the stock, and Vachell could no longer dodge a duty already too long postponed. It was obvious that he couldn’t go on staying under the Wests’ roof any more. He made his excuses as tactfully as he could.
“I’ve no right to persuade you,” Janice said, “but all the same I wish you didn’t feel the way you do.
I’m — well scared, I guess. It sounds silly, I realize that. I’m worried about Dennis, too. You know he was a prisoner in the World War, and he gets terrible nervous attacks sometimes. Lately he’s been worse and now this … this accident to Rhode has shaken him apart. I shouldn’t say these things, it’s my worry, not yours. But it helps a lot to have someone to rely on here, someone you can trust, from outside.
…”
Vachell experienced a wave of irrational pleasure, 102
accompanied by a dryness in the throat. He cursed himself inwardly and walked to the door to recover composure.
“It’s swell of you to say that, Mrs West,” he said evenly. “But it isn’t true. If I were more reliable maybe I’d be able to stay.”
She took a fresh cigarette out of a box and put it into the holder without speaking. His hand was shaking a little when he held the match.
“You see,” he went on, “when a guy’s working on a case he has to forget he’s dealing with human beings. He has to act like a chess-player studying the pieces on the board. He can’t decide to capture a knight because he hates the way it moves crabwise, or let a rook go free because he likes to root for rooks. And if he found he had to bring up his pieces to make an attack on the queen…” He shrugged his shoulders and left the sentence unfinished.
“It would be a social predicament to be her guest at the time,” Janice concluded. “I won’t say any more. Go ahead and bring up your pieces.” He had killed the laughter in her eyes; they had gone cold.
She tilted her head back and drew on her cigarette.
Her attitude had changed insensibly; all the hardness had returned.
“I’ve had a swell visit,” Vachell went on, “and now I have to pretend I’m a social columnist. That’s no way to act, but I’m in a jam. This district raises fine crops of gossip, and even policemen get a little blown into their long, furry ears.” He paused to 103
kick a smouldering log back on to the fire. Janice
Dinner quite unexpectedly took on a sort of festive nature. West, alone, was abstracted and out of the mood. As the meal went on Vachell got an impression, impossible to analyse or confirm, that some unspoken understanding existed between Norman Parrot and Janice West. They were both gay and full of laughter, as though they shared a 100
common cause for celebration. It made Vachell uneasy; he had struck another current that wasn’t on any chart.
Parrot talked, almost continuously, about odd corners of the world in which he claimed to have travelled, and strange experiences he had certainly never had. If he’d been in half the countries he talked about, Vachell reflected sourly, he’d need to be twice the age he looked and even more unsuccessful. No one would move around so much unless they couldn’t hold down any job. He said he had been a surveyor, but even that was hardly a good enough excuse. He claimed to have discovered a gold-mine worked by the ancient Persians in Portuguese East Africa and a new species of deepsea fish in the Antarctic, to have spent six months with an Arab sea-captain who smuggled slaves up the Persian Gulf and an unspecified period in a lamasery in Tibet. By the end of the meal Vachell had put him down as one of the three most prolific liars he had ever met.
101
FR1;CHAPTER
NINE
A little before ten o’clock Parrot said goodnight and rattled off down the road in an eight-year-old Model A Ford, the wings fixed on with wire and with very little body left. West took a lantern and went out to make a last inspection of the stock, and Vachell could no longer dodge a duty already too long postponed. It was obvious that he couldn’t go on staying under the Wests’ roof any more. He made his excuses as tactfully as he could.
“I’ve no right to persuade you,” Janice said, “but all the same I wish you didn’t feel the way you do.
I’m — well scared, I guess. It sounds silly, I realize that. I’m worried about Dennis, too. You know he was a prisoner in the World War, and he gets terrible nervous attacks sometimes. Lately he’s been worse and now this … this accident to Rhode has shaken him apart. I shouldn’t say these things, it’s my worry, not yours. But it helps a lot to have someone to rely on here, someone you can trust, from outside.
…”
Vachell experienced a wave of irrational pleasure, 102
accompanied by a dryness in the throat. He cursed himself inwardly and walked to the door to recover composure.
“It’s swell of you to say that, Mrs West,” he said evenly. “But it isn’t true. If I were more reliable maybe I’d be able to stay.”
She took a fresh cigarette out of a box and put it into the holder without speaking. His hand was shaking a little when he held the match.
“You see,” he went on, “when a guy’s working on a case he has to forget he’s dealing with human beings. He has to act like a chess-player studying the pieces on the board. He can’t decide to capture a knight because he hates the way it moves crabwise, or let a rook go free because he likes to root for rooks. And if he found he had to bring up his pieces to make an attack on the queen…” He shrugged his shoulders and left the sentence unfinished.
“It would be a social predicament to be her guest at the time,” Janice concluded. “I won’t say any more. Go ahead and bring up your pieces.” He had killed the laughter in her eyes; they had gone cold.
She tilted her head back and drew on her cigarette.
Her attitude had changed insensibly; all the hardness had returned.
“I’ve had a swell visit,” Vachell went on, “and now I have to pretend I’m a social columnist. That’s no way to act, but I’m in a jam. This district raises fine crops of gossip, and even policemen get a little blown into their long, furry ears.” He paused to 103
kick a smouldering log back on to the fire. Janice
Similar Books
