THEWRONGPEOPLE

RobinMaugham,whosucceededhis fatherasViscountMaugham, isanephewof the lateW.SomersetMaugham.Hewas educated atEton andCambridge.During thewar he fought in tanks in theWesternDesert,waswoundedandmentionedindispatches. In1945hewascalled to thebarandpublishedhisfirstbook.SincethenhehastravelledwidelyinArabcountries,AfricaandtheFarFast.Severalofhisbookshavebeenmadeintofilms,includingthehighlysuccessfulfilmofTheServant (1964).HisotherbooksincludeSomersetandAlltheMaughams(1966),TheGreenShade,TheSecondWidow,TheLink,andhislatest,whichishisautobiographyandentitledEscapefromtheShadows.

THEWRONGPEOPLE

ROBINMAUGHAM

withaprefaceby

CYRILCONNOLLY

Unabridged

PANBOOKSLTD:LONDON

OriginalversionpublishedintheUnitedStates1967by“DavidGriffin”

Revisededitionpublished1970byWilliamHeinemannLtd.

Thiseditionpublished1973byPanBooksLtd.,33,TothillStreet,LondonSW1

ISBN0330234544

PrintedinGreatBritainbyHuntBarnardPrintingLtd.,Aylesbury,

Buckinghamshire

ForHonor

PREFACEWhenRobinMaughamshowedthefirstroughdraftofthisnoveltohisuncle,SomersetMaughammadetwocomments:thatitwasthefirstnovelforyearsthathehadbeenobligedtoreadstraightthroughatonesittingandthatthewritermustneverpublishitunderhisownname.“They’llmurderyou.”Iassumedthatthe “they”were the critics and thatMaugham, so careful himself, felt the timewasnot yet ripe for anerotichomosexualthriller likeTheWrongPeople tobeopenlyavowedbyitsdistinguishedauthor.ButnowI’mnotsosure.IthinkMaughammeantby“they”theiratehomosexualsthemselves.Thereadermustbe his own judge.Times have changed somuch sinceMaugham’s death that the subjectmatter ofTheWrong People seems tame indeed; these guilt-ridden Anglo-Saxons have been bypassed by theconfessionsofCalifornianmaleprostitutesorqueensofdragfromBrooklynorevenbythosemoretrulyTangierwriters,WilliamBurroughsandPaulBowles.Whythendoesitappealtous?RobinMaughamisnotanimaginativeartistbut,likehisuncle,astory-teller.Hisnovelisverywellconstructed;asathrilleritholdsremarkablywelltogether.Everyincident,everypieceofdialoguehasitsplaceinthestoryasitbuildsupfromthefirstpage.“Eachsentenceeven—allhadbeencarefullyplanned.”Anditisparticularlyrevealing about homosexuals in the ways in which they differ from the norm; despite the newpermissivenessoftheageoftheconsentingadulttheserepressedpuritanicaltypesofEnglishandEasternAmerican expatriates do still form impressiveminorities, gathered together in enclaves in thewarmercornersoftheworldsincetheWildeanexodus.Maughamunderstandsthetemperamentandtheparticularpredicamentof the richhomosexualwhouseshismoney tocorrupt and subornyet longs for agenuinerelationshipwithayoungmanwhomhecaneducatetosharehigherpleasuresandwhowilllovehimforhimself.Suchrelationships(“Tim”istypical)aredoomedtoeitherinfidelityorboredom.DiaghilevcanneverholdNijinsky.

Ewing Baird, the Anglo-American expatriate, is typical of the breed, deeply resentful at beingexcludedfromthenormalcareersoftheEstablishmentyettooproudtoshowitandsomehowtakingitoutonthesocietytowhichheisrelegated.ThereonlyremainsthepolishedhedonismpopularizedbyKeithinSouthWind;but,unlikeCapri,Tangierhasnoculture.Itisaplacewherefewquestionsareasked.

ArnoldTurner,theyoungschoolmastertakinghisChristmasholidaywhofallsintoBaird’sweb,isamuch more ordinary type whom we meet in early works of Auden and Isherwood, or Worsley’sFlannelledFool.Buthereagainissomethingoutoftheordinary.HeteachesatanapprovedschoolandfromahinttheauthordropsitlooksasifconditionsatsomeoftheseplacesareasbadasatStatementalhomes and other institutionswherewages are inadequate and the public turns a blind eye.Repressed,priggish,willing toshedhispublicschoolmorality in theMediterraneansunshine,Turner isat the lastmomentbroughtupbyhisschoolmasterfour-wheelbrakeswithdisastrousconsequencesallround.Butithadtobeorhewouldneverhavebecomeaschoolmaster.Baird’singeniousplantoprovidehimselfwithpermanentsentimentalgratificationdependedontoomanyimponderables,ontheshiftingsandsofboys’characters,whetherAraborEnglish,onthehypnoticobsessionalpowerofhisownwillbackedupbyhiswealth—the one constant factor which saves him from all retribution except boredom and the law ofdiminishingreturns.

IhavetwootherreasonsforlikingTheWrongPeople;itremindsmeofmyownRockPool—ofthatsituation when the English puritan encounters injurious beauty and is laid low by his own inherent

weakness,a theme thatalwaysgivesmepleasure,and it remindsmeofTangierwhere Ihavespentsomanyhappy(andinnocent)moments.

TohaveknownTangierundertheCondominiumwithitsFrenchandSpanishsectors,itsBritishpostoffice, itsMoroccansouksandbrothelsandBerbervegetablemarkets, itsatmosphereof fiscal, sexualandpoliticalfreedom,itseasysocietyanddouceurdevivre—basedonexcellentservants—wasoneofthecharmsoftheoldEurope.TheArabmedinawasoneoftheloveliestofmediævaltowns,towhichtheconfluenceofAtlanticandMediterraneanclimate lentapermanentseduction.MonthsofMediterraneansummergavewaytoautumnmists,Atlanticgales,evenfog.InspringthebreezesanginthepalmtreesoftheVilladeFrance,theraindrippedintheeucalyptuswoodsbytheGlaoui’spalace,cloudsformedovertheRiforsunsparkledonthegreatyellowdunebythePuntadeTarifa;flowerscoveredthegreendownsbytheairportortheroadtoTetuan,AtlanticbreakersshimmeredalongtheLarachebeaches.Inthetownwere French restaurants like thePavillon and pâtisseries, English groceries, cafés with Arab music,Americanbarswith good sandwiches and rye, cocktail parties in converted native houses, night-clubswithequivocalfloor-shows,all-nightbarslikethedesultoryMarChico,ultimatestationofthelost,withits atmosphere of the Spanish ForeignLegion.And theBritish stronghold—Dean’s bar. “Dean”was adark-colouredEgyptiansaid tobe theoffspringofanEnglish ladyandherdragoman.HehadbeautifulmannersandanOxfordaccentoftheoldschoolwithaFirbankianveinofhumour.Moreimpressivethan“Wayne”,hehadworkedforourIntelligencethroughoutthewar.Howpleasantitwastositinhisbarofamorningandreadthepapersorone’smail,freshfromtheBritishPostOfficeacrosstheway,whilesomeof the older residents dropped in, sent out their invitations or discussed the previous evening. EwingBairdmaywellhavebeenthereplottinghishumanchess-game;IrememberonlyDean’sdelicateNegroidface,sunandsea-breezeoutside,hisbarmanwithin,polishingglasses,pleasureandexpectancy.

CYRILCONNOLLY

ANTONIO:

Iamataintedwetheroftheflock,Meetestfordeath:theweakestkindoffruitDropsearliesttotheground,andsoletme:Youcannotbetterbeemployed,Bassanio,Thantolivestill,andwritemineepitaph.

TheMerchantofVenice,ActIV,Scene1...TowheretheAtlanticwavesOutsidetheWesternStraits,andunbentsailsThere,wheredowncloudycliffs,throughsheetsoffoam,Shytraffickers,thedarkIberianscome;

Andonthebeachundidhiscordedbales.TheScholar-Gipsy

byMatthewArnold

Allthecharactersinthisnovelareimaginary,andimaginarynameshavebeeninventedtosuitthem.Ifbyanychancetheauthorhasusedthenameofalivingpersonheapologizes.MeltonHallapprovedschoolisalsoimaginary;unfortunatelytheincidentsdescribedtherearenot.

PARTONEAshesataloneathiscornertabledrinkingaginandDubonnet,Ewingwatchedthestrangersittingonthebar-stoolandexaminedhisappearanceforawhilebecausetherewasnooneelseinterestingorattractivetowatchinWayne’sbarthatevening.

Thestrangerwasaslendermanofaboutthirty-fivewithapinkfaceandsilkyfairhairrecedingfromhissmoothforehead.Hiseyeswerepaleblueandslightlyprotuberant.Withhisuptiltednoseanddelicateskinhemusthavebeenquiteattractivewhenhewasaboy,Ewingdecided.Histight-fittingtweedjacketandworngrey-flanneltrouserswereobviouslyready-made,andsowerehispolishedbrownshoes.Hiseyeswerepeeringsurreptitiouslyroundtheroomwhilehesippedaglassofbeer.ThemanwascertainlyEnglish,andprobablyabankclerk,andperhapsabore.

Atthatmomentthestrangerglancedupatthelooking-glassbehindthebar.HesawEwingstaringathimandblushedviolently.Waveafterwaveofcrimsonrushedoverthedelicatepinkofhisfaceandneck.AndaflickerofintereststirredEwing,forhebelievedthatblushingimpliedguilt.

EwingbeckonedtothetallemaciatedAmericanbehindthebar.“Wayne,”hecalledout,“doyouseeanyreasonwhyIshouldn’thaveanotherdrink?”“No reason.No reason at all,”Wayne replied in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Itwould be a

pleasuretogetyouone,MasterEwing.”WayneswayedquicklyacrosstheroomandpickedupEwing’sglass.“You’renotveryfulltonight,”Ewingsaid.Wayne bent his head and blinked his eyelids apologetically as if he had been accused of an

unpleasantoffence.“It’salwaysquietinTangierjustafterChristmas.Youknowthat,Ewing.”Wayne’smannerwasfriendlybutdeferential.Ewinglookedawayfromthebarandloweredhisvoice

sothatthestrangercouldnothearwhathesaid.“Who’sthenewcustomer?”heasked.“Thatonedrinkingbeerwithafacelikeanageingchorister?”“That’shim.Whoishe?”“TheusualChristmas-holidaytouristwho’ssaveduphispenniestovisitthiswickedcityofvice.”“Helooksrathersad,”Ewingsaid.“PerhapsourdearTangierisn’tlivinguptoherreputation.Perhapshecan’tfindanyvice.You’renot

interestedinhim,areyou?”“Goodheavens,no!Hemustbeatleastthirty-five.Lookatthatrecedinghair.”“Don’tgotoomuchbyhishair,”Waynesaid.“Thoseslenderblondtypeslosetheirhairquiteyoung.

Theyageterriblyquickly,poorthings.Iknowthembyheart.Milk-and-rosescomplexion,pale-blueeyes,snubnose,delicatefeatures,ablush likeaschool-girl,wonderfullysoftandsilkyfair locks—mydear,they’reallasbaldascootsbythetimethey’reforty.”

“Whatdoesthisonedo?”“HeworksasaschoolmasternearLondon,thepoordear.”Ewingtookacigaretteoutofhisgoldcase.Wayneobedientlyproducedalighterandflickeditinto

flame.“Onecanjustseehimtryingtolookstemashelecturestheheadprefect,”Ewingsaid.

Waynegiggled.“He’snotoutofthatkindofdraweratall,”hewhispered.“Infacthe’samasterinanapproved school.Youknow—theGovernment schools inEnglandwhere they sendnaughtyboys to betrainedintorespectablecitizenslikeyouandme.”

Ewingspreadouthishandsonthetableandgazedattheminsilence.ThenheraisedhiseyestowardsWayne.“Askhimovertomytableforadrink,”hesaid.

“Now why should approved schools interest you?” Wayne asked, smiling coyly. “Going in forchickensatyourage?Naughty,naughty!”

Ewinglaughed.“Willyouneverbelieveinaltruism?”heasked.“NotinTangier,Iwon’t,”Waynegiggled.EwinglookedupatWayne’sraddledface.“Yougoandfetchmethatschoolmaster,”Ewingsaidimpatiently.

PARTTWOArnoldwasalarmedwhenhesawthetallbarmansidlingtowardshim,forheknewthatthesquatmaninthe corner had been talking about him, and he now regretted his abrupt decision to enter Wayne’snotoriousbar.

Theplacewasfarmoreexpensiveandfarlessexcitingthanhehadexpected.Abottleofbeercosttheequivalentofsevenshillings,andtherewasnotonesingleyoungpersontobeseen—noronesingleMoroccan,apartfromthecloak-attendantwithahare-lipandrestlesseyes.ThenArnoldhadglancedupattheexpanseoflooking-glassbetweentworowsofbottlesbehindthebarandhadseenthesquatmanstaringathimintently.

Themanwasdressedinagreycashmerejacketwithdarkflanneltrousers.Heworeawhitesilkshirtandabluesilk tie.Hewasperhaps fifty,andhis rathercoarseblackhairwasstreakedwithgrey.Hisheavybuildandthickshouldersgaveanimpressionofsolidity,yethishandsweresmallandplump,andhisfleshysquare-shapedfacelookedalmostdelicate.Deeplinesranfromhiswidenostrilstothecornerof his narrow mouth. His cheeks and broad jowls looked as if they had been freshly shaved andpowdered. His bleached face and muscular neck reminded Arnold of some marble bust of a RomanEmperor.Themanlookedfirmyetdissolute,powerfulyeteffeminate.AndwhenhecalledouttoWayne,thebarman,hisvoicewasloadedwithauthorityyetcuriouslysoft.

AndnowWaynewasmincingtowardsArnoldandflutteringhiseyelashesathim.Arnoldblushedandtookasipofbeer.

“Dotellmeyourname,”Waynesaidtohim.“Youdidtellmetenminutesago.ButlikethesillyoldnumberIamIforget.Whatisitnow?”

“ArnoldTurner.”“Ofcourse it is.WhatadopeIam.Pleaseexcuseme.NowIwant to introduceyou toafriendof

minewhowantstomeetyou.Finishyourbeer,andI’lltakeyourightovertohim.”Arnold gulped down his beer nervously. He suspected a dangerous plot. But Wayne seemed a

harmlesspansy,andtheothermanwasexpensivelydressed.Perhaps...“Comealongnow,”Waynesaid.“Don’tdawdle.Wehaven’tgotallnight.AtleastIdon’tthinkso.”WaynetookArnold’sarmandledhimacrosstoEwing’stable.“Ewing,thisisArnoldTurner,”heannounced.“Arnold,thisismyveryoldfriend,EwingBaird.”“Notallthatold,”Ewingsaidastheyshookhands.“Whatwillyoudrink?”“Beer,please.”“Oh,youmusthavesomethingmoreexcitingthanbeer,”Wayneexclaimed.“DearEwing’sstinking

rich,sohecanaffordit.Haveachampagnecocktail.”“Perhapshedoesn’twant a champagnecocktail,”Ewingsaid. “Don’tbe suchabully,Wayne.Let

himchooseforhimself.”Arnold decided that therewas nothing unpleasant aboutEwing’s voice. Itwas quiet but resonant,

withafaintaccentthatmighthavebeenCanadian.“I’dlikeaScotch,”Arnoldsaid.“Hell!Icouldhavechargedhimtwiceasmuchforachampagnecocktail,”Waynesaidasheswung

awaytothebar.Ewingshruggedhisshoulders.ThenhelookedatArnoldandsmiledasiftheywerebothconspirators

intheirattitudetowardsWayne.Hetookouthisgoldcaseandsliditacrossthetable.“Smoke?”“No,thanks.Igaveituplastyear.”“HowlonghaveyoubeeninTangier?”“Threedays.”“HowdidyouspendChristmas?”Arnoldblushed.“Alone,”heanswered.“DoyoumeanyouwereinTangieralldayandnevermetanyone?”“Yes.”“Butyoumusthavepickedupsomeoneduringthecourseoftheday—somebeautifulgirl—orsome

boy.”Ewingwaswatchinghimcarefully.“No,”Arnoldsaid,tryingtocontrolhisblushing.“EverywhereIwentpeopleseemedtobeallsetin

theirowngroups.AndIdidn’tliketobuttin.”“Youcan’thavegone to the rightplaces. Icouldhave takenyou tobarswhereyouwouldn’thave

beenleftaloneforaninstant.Howmuchlongerareyoustayinghere?”“Fivemoredays.”“Whereareyoudiningtonight?”ThequestionwasputsoquicklythatArnoldwasconfused.“Ihaven’tdecidedyet,”hemuttered.“ThenI’dbedelightedifyou’ddinewithme.Iknowaplacewithaviewovertheharbour,wherethe

food’squiteexcellent.”“Thanks.”“Youtwoaregettingonfine,”WaynetitteredashehandedArnoldhiswhisky.“Ireckonedyou’dhit

itofftogether.”“Pushoff,”Ewingsaid.Wayneblinkedattheceiling.“Whatlanguage!”hesaid.“Whowouldhavethoughthe’dbeeneducatedatOxford!”EwingwinkedatArnold.“Shallwesinkdownourdrinksandgo?”heasked.“Thecar’soutside.”

==:==:==:==WhilehelistenedtoEwing’scalmandprecisevoiceanddrankhischampagnerosé,Arnoldgazedthroughthewindowatthelightsontheshipsintheharbourbelow.Hewashappy,andhewasbeginningtogetdrunk.

WhentheyhadsatdownintheFrenchrestaurant,whichwasonthetopfloorofalargeblockofflatsintheRueRembrandt,ArnoldhadbeenafraidthatEwingwouldembarrasshimwithawkwardquestions.Butsince theyhad leftWayne’sbar,Ewinghadmadecasual thoughexpertconversationaboutcooking.Aftertheirmealhadbeenordered—andthishadtakensometime,forhishostevidentlytookgreatcareoverhisfoodanddrink—EwinghadbeguntotalkaboutEnglandandhislifethereasachild.

Ewing’sfather,Arnoldlearned,hadbeenarichyoungAmericanindustrialistfromChicagowhohadvisited London in 1910 and fallen in lovewith a girl hemet at a dance in Belgrave Square and hadmarriedherayearlater.Ewingwastheonlychildofthemarriage.

“Mymotheronlyvisited theStatesonce,”Ewing said. “Thatwas theyear after Iwasborn. I canrememberaskinghershortlybeforeshediedwhyshe’dsofirmlyrefusedevertogothereagain.‘Fatheralwayssaidyou’denjoyedyourvisit,’Itoldher.‘Ididenjoypartsofit,’mymotheranswered.‘Itwaslikeaconstantpartyintheservants’hall.Butservants’hallsdogetawfullyboringafterafortnight.’Andthatwasit.Onevisitwasenough.MymotherrefusedtoletmebeeducatedinAmerica.Icouldspendmyholidaysthere,shesaid,butImustbetaughthowtothinkandhowtobehaveinEngland.Myfatherargued

in vain.Mymother got her ownway as usual.And I stoppedgoingover formyholidayswhen Iwassixteen,becausemymotherdivorcedhim.”

Ewingpausedtowatchthewaiterpreparingthecrêpessuzette,thenheturnedbacktoArnold.“Ipresumeyou’renotmarried,”Ewingsaid.Arnoldlookedupathim,startled.“No,”hereplied,afterapause.Ewinglaughed.“Youdon'tseemverysure.”AsEwingspoke,asallowpianist, followedbya thinwoman inaplainblackdress,goton to the

platform.“Whoisshe?”Arnoldaskedtoconcealhisconfusion.“FrançoiseRoussin.ShesingsoldFrenchfolktunes.She’srathergood.WhyshouldyoublushwhenI

saidIpresumedyouweren’tmarried?”Arnoldglareddownatthetableclothinvexation.Thepianistplayedafewintroductorybars.“Why?”Ewinginsistedsoftly.“BecauseIwasmarried,”Arnoldsaidangrily.“Yourwifedied?”“No.Wegotdivorced.”“Howwiseofyou,”Ewingmurmured.Arnoldwas saved fromhaving tomakeany response toEwing’sdeliberatelyambiguouscomment

becauseatthatmomentthewomanbegantosing,andEwingleanedbackcomfortablyinhischairtolistento her. The woman sang in a small quiet voice as if she were singing to herself. The little songs ofshepherdgirlsfloatedacrosstherestaurantasiftheyhadbeenwaftedacrosshillocksandwarmshadowyfields.

Arnoldlistenedintentlyandtriednottothinkofhismarriage.Butwhilehegazedalongtherowsofsmalltableswiththeircrimson-shadedlamps,andwhilethesadtunesliltedinhisears,hecouldnothelpseeing hiswife’s face swollenwith rage; he could not shut out the screech of her voice. “You shouldneverhavemarried,”shehadscreamedathim.“Andyouknowwhy.Youknowwhy.”

Andhehadknown,bythen,onlytoowell.LyingbesideSusanthroughthelongnightsoftwoyearshehad worked out the answer. He knew it by heart. He should not have married because of mereresemblance.Susanhadthesameoval-shapedheadasherbrother.Shehadthesamegreyeyesandshortnoseandwidemouth,thesamefrecklesonherforeheadasJackhad,eventhesamelittlecleftinherchinand thesamesmile.ShewasasslenderasJackandas fullof life.Andhehad thought . . .no,hehadpersuaded himself into believing that it was Susan he was in love with—because he wanted sodesperatelytofallinlovewithagirl,becausehewantedtobethesameasothermenattheclub,becausehismotherprayedeverynight thathewouldgetmarriedbefore shedied,becausehedespisedqueers,becausehewantedchildren,because—thelastreasonwasthemostpainful—becausehewasacowardwhowasdishonestwithhimself.Buthehadtriedtomakethemarriageasuccess.God,iftherewereaGod,knewthathehad tried.Buthisprayershadnotbeenanswered.Hehadbeenunable to turnawayfromhisinclinations.Hehadbeenafailure.

“Youknowwhy,”thehigh-pitched,almostunrecognizablevoicewentonscreaminginhismind.“Youknowwhy.Ifyoudon’t,thenaskJack.ThatdaywhenyoustrippedoffbythepondinCopley’sWoodandwentbathingtogethernaked,Jacksaysyoujustcouldn’tkeepyoureyesoffhim.Whenyoustartedlarkingaboutafterwardsandwrestlinghewasdeadcertainofit.Buthedidn’ttellmeuntillastnightbecausehethoughtitbetterIshouldn’tknow.Butitdoesn’tmatternowbecauseI’mleavingyou.I’vefoundsomeonewho can really loveme and appreciateme.And do you knowwhy he can giveme proper affection?Becausehe’snormal.Becausehe’saman,arealman.”

SoJackhadguessed,andJackhadbeendisgusted,Jackwithhisfreckledfaceandslippery,white

body.ThatwaswhyJackhadseemedtoavoidhimeversinceandhadmadeexcuseswhenArnoldhadinvitedhimtogoforawalkorcometothelocalcinema.JackhadnevergoneoutalonewithhimsincethatdayinCopley’sWoodwhentheairhadbeensoclosethatitseemedtopressdownonthem,fasteningtheirdrenchedshirts to theirskin.Theyhadfound thepondsurroundedby thickundergrowth.Jackhadgrinnedathim,andwithoutawordtheyhadpeeledofftheirclothesanddivedin.Later,ashelaydryingonthebank,Jackhadcreptupbehindhimandcutathimwithaswitchoffern,andhehadchasedJackandcaughthim.Then, forone instant,while theywerewrestling—forone instanthehadheldJackclaspedfirmly in his arms.And at thatmoment all his self-deceit had been burnt away in a searing agony ofpassion.Then,whilehewasstillpantinginbewilderedfearandpain,hehadfeltJack’sbodyyieldinhisgrasp,andforperhapstwoorthreesecondshehadreachedanecstasyclosetooblivion,believingthatatlasthehadfoundthepersonwhocouldmakehimwhole.

ButsuddenlyJackhadlaughedandbrokenawayfromhimanddivedquicklyintothepool...Yetforthosetwoorthreeseconds...

————————“You’ve gone very far away.”Ewing’s voice ripped like a knife across the surface of his reflections.Arnold lookedupwithastart.Thewomanhadstoppedsinging.Ewingwassmilingacross the tableathim.Therewasnowasmallglassofbrandybesidehisglassofchampagne.

“Youweresayingthatyou’dbeenmarriedbuthadgotdivorced,”Ewingprompted.“Yes.Itjustdidn’tworkout.”“I’vemademanymistakesinmylife,”Ewingsaid.“Butnotthatone.Finishyourchampagneandtry

thebrandy.It’soldandquitegentle.Ithinkyou’lllikeit.”“Thanks.”Ewing spread out his plump, hairy hands above the table, then looked at them and folded them

hurriedlyacrosshisstomach,asifhewereashamedofthemovementtheyhadmade.“After the failureofyourmarriage,”Ewingsaid inhiscalm,evenvoice,“I supposeyoubegan to

branchoutinotherdirections?”“IfyoumeanwhatIthinkyoumean,theansweris‘no’.”Ewingstaredathimwithoutblinking.“How

oldareyou?”Hisvoicesoundeddispassionate,almostbored.“Thirty-five.”Suddenlywith a shudder of disgust Arnold wondered if the champagne and the brandy had been

producedinordertoseducehim.Ewingleanedforwardasifhehadreadhisthoughts.“Fifteenyearsagoyoumusthavebeenquitea

dish,”hesaid.“WhatapityIdidn’tmeetyouthen.”Hesmiled.“Butfromwhatyou’vejustsaid,perhapsit’sjustaswell,”headded.

Arnoldwasimpressedbythiscandour.Hefeltthatsomereplywasexpectedofhim.“SofarasI’mconcerned,”Arnoldsaid,“Idon’tmindwhichwaypeopleareorwhattheydo—so

longastheykeepittothemselves.”Ewingsnappedhisfingerstoattracttheattentionofthewaiterandcalledforthebill.“Iagreewithyou,”Ewingsaid.“Ihatepeoplewhoscreamtheirsinsfromthehousetops.There’sa

passageinTheScarletLetterwhichsumsitallup.‘Showfreelytotheworld,ifnotyourworst’—saysHawthorne—‘yetsometraitwherebytheworstmaybeinferred!’”

Ewing’ssmallroundeyeswerefixedonArnoldsosteadilyashespokethatArnoldwasafraidthathehadguessedhissecret.Buthewaspleasantlymellowwithdrink,andhenolongercared.

“Nowwherewouldyouliketogo?”Ewingasked.“Youknowthetown.Youdecide.”“ThenI’ll takeyoutoConchita’splace.It’snotexactlycheerful.Butyou’llgetagoodwhiffofthe

realTangieratmospherethere.It’ssothickatthatjointyoucanalmostfeelit.”

Ewingwavedhissmallplumphandtowardsthewindow.“Yousee,Tangierisn’tjustaharbourwithboatsinit,”heexplained.“It’snotthecollectionofbars

and apartment houses and villas you see straggling up the hillside. Tangier is an atmosphere. Theexternals change.The atmospheredoesn’t.When I first camehere a dozenyears ago, for instance, thetown was far cruder and tougher than it is today. I’ve seen an American gangster draw a gun on asmuggler inWayne’s bar. You saw whatWayne’s bar was like tonight—a few old queens and smartwomen justwaiting togetback to their tattingand theirgossip.Downin thatharbourwe’re lookingatthereused tobe twenty smugglingboats.Now,wecanonly see the lightsof twoor three, and they’reprettydecayed.Groundwasincreasinginvalueweekbyweek.Blocksofflatsspranguparoundthetownlikemushrooms.Butassoonastheinternationalstatusofthetownwasabolished,fewerpeoplewantedto live here. Businesses went broke all over the place. Tradesmen moved elsewhere. Tourists gotnervous.Therewasageneralmove tocleanupTangier.Downby theZoccoChico, thereused tobeahundred open brothels. They’ve all been closed by the newMoroccanGovernment.Brothels are nowillegal.Butgraduallyit’salldriftingbacktothesameoldscene.”

EwingtookoutsomeMoroccandirhamnotesfromhisgold-edgedwallet.Heplacedthemtenderlyontopofthebillandfoldeditoverthem.Thenheraisedhishead.

“Theexternalschange,”hesaid,swirlingthebrandyroundinhisglass.“Buttheatmosphereremainsunaltered. It’s a strange atmosphere, hard to define. And it pervades everything. It drifts everywhere.There’s even a faint tang of it in this restaurant—which as you can see is completely European. Theatmosphere’s not just cooped up in thewhitewalls of theKasbah or confined to the tortuous narrowstreetsthatrundowntothewaterfront.Itinvadesnotonlythemarketsandthemosques.Youfindtracesofitineveryshopandbank,ineveryflatandbar,ineverycinemaandvilla.”

EwingseemednolongerconsciousofArnold’spresence;hehadwithdrawnintohisthoughts.“SometimesIbelieveIcansmellit,”hesaid.“I’veeventriedtoanalysethesmell.Burningcharcoal

and dung—I’m sure they’remixed in it. Then perhaps there’s incense, and I know there’s sweat.Andthere’s the pungent sweet smell of kif—which I suppose you’d call ‘pot’. But there’s somethingmorebeside—I’ll findoutoneday.And thisatmospheredrifts intoeverything. Itpervadesall theMoors,ofcourse.ItevenseepsintoEuropeansiftheyliveoutherelongenough.That’swhy,howevermuchwemayloathe the place, however glad we may be to get away, we always come back in the end. Theatmosphere’s got insideour verybones, andwe can’t dowithout it in the airwebreathe.Europe andAmerica stifle us.We feel suffocated. Sowe grind our teeth and take the next plane back to our oldTangier.Knowingtheunpleasantpangsandgnawingboredomthatawaitus,knowingthatweshallyearnfor thefriendsandmusicand theatreswe’ve leftbehind the instantwebegin to tread thesewell-worn,blatantstreetsonceagain,knowingtheremorseweshallsufferalmostincessantly.Butourplanelands.Wetakeataxiintotown.Andlongbeforewe’vereachedWayne’sbar, theatmosphere’ssweptoverusonceagain.Ourheartsbeatfirmerandquicker.Ourheadsfeellighter.Weblinkatthesunshineasifwe’dcomeoutofprison.Wecanbreatheandliveagain.”

Ewingfinishedhisbrandyandpushedbackhischair.“I’mgettingtipsy,”hesaid.“Let’sgoandseeConchita.”

==:==:==:==When they walked out into the Rue Rembrandt they found Ewing’sMoroccan chauffeur polishing thebonnetofthelargeconvertible.

“Whatever time of day or night I appear, Mustapha’s always rubbing away at that car,” Ewingremarked.“Ibelieveitgiveshimsomekindofsexualthrill.”

As they drove along the Boulevard Pasteur, flanked by banks and stores, Arnold wondered whyEwinghadchosenMustaphaashischauffeur,forthemanwaspastmiddleagewithagaunt,pock-markedface.

“He’squitehideous,isn’the?”Ewingsaid,followingthedirectionofArnold’sglance.Then,seeingArnold’sembarrassment,headded,“Don’tworry.Themancan’tspeakawordofEnglish—whichisjustaswell since there’snopartition. Ichosehimbecausehe’sagooddriverandhiswife isawonderfulcook. And they know I pay them more than twice as much as they’d get elsewhere, so they behavethemselves.Hewon’tgossipaboutourvisitingConchita,forinstance.”

Thecarhadturneddownaside-streetbeyondthecafésaroundthePlacedeFranceandwaspassingoneofthemanyhalf-builtblocksofflats.Inthefaintlightofthecrescentmoontheabandonedsitelookedasifithadbeenbombed.

“ConchitausedtohaveabarclosetotheZoccoGrande,”Ewingexplained.“Buttoomanypeoplecouldseeherclients.Thisplaceisfarmoresatisfactory.”

Thecarwasnowbumpingalonganunfinishedroad.Attheendofitwasatwo-storeyedhouse.“Hereweare.Ihopeyouwon’tbeshocked,”Ewingsaidastheygotout.Arnoldmumbledsomereply.Duringthelastthreehourshiswholeworldseemedtohavechanged.

Mountainshadsunkdownintohummocks,craggypeakshadsoftenedintoeasyslopes.Inhisfantasy,theheavygreycloudsonthehorizonhaddriftedaway,thesunwasnowblazingdownfromanazuresky,anendlessplainglistenedformilesaroundhim,andbirdssanginthecrispair.Arnoldwasdrunk.

Ewingwalkedalonganarrowpathand rang thebellon the rightof the frontdoor. Immediatelyapanelopenedandafacepeeredout.

“Msalkhair,”Ewingsaid.“Goodevening.”The door was opened by a stoutly built Moroccan with a scarred face and the bulge of some

deformityonhisback.“Msalkhair.Welcome,SeñorEwing,”hesaid.“Pleasetocomein.”Astheywalkedthroughagarishlytiledhall,Arnoldcouldhearthejukeboxplaying.TheMoroccan

openedadoorinthepassagebeyondandtheywalkedintoasmoke-filledbar.Arnoldwasimmediatelyandalmostunbearablydisappointed.Thickcloudssweptacrossthesunofhislandscape.

The barwas almost empty.Half a dozenEuropeans and threemiddle-agedMoroccans in tattereddjellabassatatlittlegreentablesatthefarendoftheroom.Ayoungmanwassittingatthebarwithhisheadinhishands.Acoupleweredancing.Theroomwasdrabandratherdirty.Thewallswerelinedwithdustysticksofbamboo,wiredroughlytogether.Thebaritselfwastiledlikealavatory.AnattempthadbeenmadetoenliventheplaceforChristmasbyfasteningbranchesoffirtreestotheceilingandloopingtinselledstreamersoverthem.ThephotographoftheKingwhichhungoverthejukeboxhadbeendrapedwithpaperflowers;thespottedlooking-glasshadbeenfestoonedwithtinyMoroccanflags.ButArnold’simpressionwasofgloomanddecay,whichwascertainlymatchedbytheappearanceoftheoldwomanbehindthebar.Shewasdressedinagreasyblackdress.Alargenosesproutedfromherraddledfacelikeaturnipinaploughedfield.Shegazedroundtheroomwithsuspicionanddistastethroughred-rimmed,wateryeyes.

“Who’stheoldhag?”Arnoldwhispered.“That’sConchita,”Ewingsaid.“Whatwillyoudrink?Iadviseyoutosticktobeer.It’ssaferinthis

place.”EwingmovedawayquicklyandwalkedbehindthebartogreetConchita.Hersourexpressionnever

changedwhenhetookherhand,butArnoldnoticedthatsheseemedtohaveagreatdealtosaytoEwing.Arnoldsatdownatoneof thegreen tableswith tubular legsand lookedaroundonceagain.Ashe

watched thecoupledancing,henoticedwitha twingeofexcitement thatbothof themweremale.TheyweretwoMoroccanboys,chinlessandeffeminate,butatleasttheywereyoungandobviouslyenjoyingthemselves.AtthatmomenttheotherMoroccanboysittingatthebarliftedhisheadfromhishandsandturnedtowardsArnoldquestioningly.ImmediatelythesunaroseonceagainoverArnold’shorizon.

Theboywasaboutsixteen,withaslimovalface,astraightnoseandlargedarkeyes,heavilyfringed

withlashes—likereedsaroundapool,Arnoldthoughtinhisdazedhappiness.TheboyworeblackjeansandafrayedwhitesilkshirtwhichwasopentothenavelsothatitdisplayedalargeV-shapedexpanseoflight-brownskin.

————————AndasArnoldgazedshylyatthesmoothskinstretchedtightoverthepectoralmuscles,hewasfilledwiththe samemixture of pain anddelight he had knownwhenhe had seen Jack beside the pond, the samerestlessyearninghehadfelteversincewhenhelookedatyoungboys.Andwhilehiseyeswerefixedontheripplingtawnyskin,hismindswungbackwithadrunkenlurchtotheapprovedschoolhehadleftforhistendays’holiday.Hewasenclosedagainbythered-brickwallsofMeltonHall.Hecouldsmellthedampheatofthewashroomsandthedampclothesfromtheplayground.Hesawthewaterpouringoverthegleamingwhitetiles;hesawthelineofnakedboyswaitingtheirturnundertheshowers;hesawthemtwist andwriggleunder the spray; heheard thevoiceof JoeStobart, thehousemaster, shouting, “Nextthree.”Hewatchedthreeboysdivefortheirtowelsanddrythemselvesvigorously.HesawthemlineupandmovetowardsStobartwhosatinalargewoodenchairwitharulerinhishand.

“When I’m on holiday, you’ll have to take over showers,” Stobart had said the first timeArnoldwitnessedtheritual.“Soyou’dbetterseehowit’sdone.”

EachboycameuptoStobartwithhistowelinhishand.“You have to make sure the little devils have dried themselves properly,” Stobart explained

cheerfully.As the boy approached him, Stobart would shout out, “Hup,” and the boywould raise his hands

abovehishead.“Turn,”Stobartordered,andtheboywouldturnroundwithhisarmsstillraisedsothatStobartcould

examinehisback.“Next.” The boy would make a smart left-turn, and as he moved away Stobart would flick him

playfullywithhisruler.“Jolly Joe”, the staff calledStobart, becauseof his raucous laugh andhis spate of dirty stories—

mostlyabout thegirlshehad seduced. “CaptainStobart”, theboyscalledhim respectfully,becauseheinsistedon“beinggivenhisproperwartimerank”,asheput it. In fact,hehadbeena lieutenant in theCateringCorps.Stobartwasthemostpopularmasterintheschool.AndArnoldenviedandloathedhim.He envied him for his easy familiarity with the boys combinedwith strict discipline; he loathed himbecauseStobartwasabully. IfaboyannoyedStobarthewould ridiculehimin frontof the restofhishouseuntiltheboy’sself-controlwasbrokenandhishumiliationcomplete.

ButStobart’sbullyingwasusuallydonevicariously.Once,whenaboyhadrunawayfromMeltonHall(“absconded”wasthetermused)andhadbeenpickedupbythepoliceinhishometown,Stobarthad stopped weekend passes for all the boys in his house as a collective punishment. On Saturdayafternoonhesenttheboystothegymnasium.TenminuteslaterStobartarrived,followedbytheboywhohadrunaway.Whiletheboystoodinsilencebesidehim,Stobartremindedhissullen,restiveaudienceofthereasonforwhichtheyhadbeenconfinedtotheschoolgroundsfortheweekend.Hetoldthemthatheleftthepunishmentofthe“absconder”intheirhands.Hethenwalkedoutoftheroom.WhenArnoldheardshrieksheranacrosstothebuilding.ThenhesawJackStobartpeeringthroughawindowbythedoor.

“Leavethemtoit,”Stobartsaid.“Letthemhavetheirfun.”ArnoldwouldneverforgetthelookonStobart’sface.Theboywasinthesick-bayforafortnightafterwards.ArnoldwenttoseeBlair,theheadmaster.But,

ashehadfeared,hisprotestswerepolitelydismissed.“JoeStobart’sthebesthousemasterwe’veeverhadatMeltonHall,”Blairhadsaid,smilingathim

apologetically.“Andyouknowhowdifficultitistofindgoodmentobehousemasterswiththewretchedpaytheyget.”

“Buttheboymighthavebeenmaimedforlife.”Blairscratchedthesideofhisheadabsent-mindedlywithapencil.Hisfacewasalmostasgreyas

hishair.“I’vedonemybestunderthecircumstances,”Blairsaidwearily.“I’vesuggestedtoJoethathedeals

withanyabsconderdifferentlynexttime.Icandonomore.Asyouknow,ahousemasterbearsaheavyresponsibility.Youteachershaveaneasytimeofitincomparison.Ahousemastermustbeallowedtousehisownjudgementorthewholesystembreaksdown.”

The idiocyof itwas,Arnold thought, that thoughhehad little influence in theschool,hewaspaidalmosttwiceasmuchasStobart.Ateacheratanapprovedschoolneededproperqualificationsandwaspaidagraduatedsalarywithvarious“increments”.Ahousemasterneedednoeducationalqualificationswhatsoever.

“There isonlyonequalificationahousemasterhas tohave,”Blairhadonceadmitted sadly. “Andthat’svaccination—incaseofanepidemic.”

Blairwasweakandgettingoldforthejob.Hewouldretireinayear’stime.PerhapshissuccessorwouldkeepStobartundercontrol.InthemeantimeArnoldwenttovisitthevictiminthesick-bay.

Theboy’snamewasDanGedge,andhewasthirteenyearsold.Arnoldfeltnoconstraintintalkingtohim,fortheboy,withhisthin,delicatefaceandpale,flathair,didnotattracthim.Ifaboyappealedtohim—a young, tough little thug like Charlie Mason, for instance—Arnold was so afraid his emotionwouldbenoticedthathefounditdifficulttomakeconversation.ButDanGedgewastoosmallandtoopaletobeattractive.EventhoughArnoldfeltnoembarrassmentwithhim,conversationwasnoteasy.Theboywasverynervous.Inmomentsoftensionhehadaslighttwitchattherightcornerofhismouth,whichrepelledArnoldandmadehimfeelsickforsomereason.Andwhatwastheretotalkabout?Theschool?Theboyhateditsomuchthathehadrunaway.Hishome?Dan’sfatherwasdead.Hismotherwasadrunkwho had married for the second time a man far younger than herself. Dan’s stepfather resented hispresenceinthehouse.Bothofthemweregladwhenhewascommittedtoanapprovedschool.TheonlypersonDanlovedintheworldwashisauntwhowasdyingofleukæmia.ItwastovisitherinhospitalthatDanhadrunawaytoGuildford.

ArnoldhadfoundithardtomakeDanforgethisworries—evenforafewminutes.Buthevisitedhimwhenhecouldsparethetime,andaftertheboygotwellandrejoinedtheherdhestilltriedtoencouragehimwheneverhehadthechance.

————————Arnold shook himself violently, as if thememories ofMeltonHall could be shaken off like drops ofwater.HiseyesremainedfixedonthehandsomeyoungMoroccanboyatthebarwhowasnowsmilingathimandmakingblatantgesturesofinvitation.Arnoldwishedhecouldcontrolthefiercebeatsofhisheart.Hewasfindingitdifficulttobreathe.

“Moroccanchickensarewonderfullyattractive,aren’tthey?”Arnold’s nerves jerked in alarm, as if he had been caught in a crime.He looked up. Ewingwas

standingbesidehimwithtwoglassesofbeerinhishand.“Thatone’scalledSaïd,”Ewingsaid.“He’soneofthemosthard-workinglittletartsintown.Saïd

willgotobedwithyoufortendirhams—whichislessthanapound.”ThetautstringofArnold’sdesireslackened.“Nowwhat’sworryingyou?”Ewingasked.“EvenifIwereafatoldmanwithwarts,wouldhestillgotobedwithme?”Arnoldasked.“He’dbestillkeenerthen.”“Why?”“Becauseyou’dprobablyexpectlessandgivemore.”“Doesn’titshockyoutothinkthathe’sreadytogivehisbodytoanyonewho’llpayaquidforit?”

“Doesn’t it shock you to think that over ten thousand children inEngland are flogged savagely orbeaten about till their screams formercy can’t be ignored any longer by the neighbours—ten thousandchildreninEnglishhomeseveryyear?Doesn’titshockyoutothinkofthemillionsofrefugeesallovertheworld?Doesn’t it shockyou to think thatAmerica andRussia havegot thousandsof hydrogenbombs,eachcapableofdestroyingawholecity?Theentireworldmaybedestroyedatanymomentinanuclearwar.Doesn’tthatshockyou?”

Ewing’seyeswereglitteringwithpassion.“Can’tyouseethatthere’snopointinbeingshocked—it’sjustaselfishemotionlikeanyother—unlessyou’repreparedtodosomethingeffectivetostopit?AndsofarasSaïdisconcernedImaytellyouthatifhedidn’tmakehismoneyoutofusEuropeanshe’dgowiththeMoors,who’dbefarrougherandgivehimfarless.”

“What’stostophimgettinganordinary,decentjobofwork?”“Icanseeyoudon’tknowSaïd,”Ewingsaidwithalaugh.“Drinkupyourbeerandlet’sgouptomy

villaforanightcap.OrwouldyouratherstaywithSaïd?Conchita’sgotaroomupstairsifyoudon’twanttotakehimbacktoyourhotel.”

Suddenlythroughhishazeofexcitement,atthementionoftheword“hotel”,Arnoldsawtheendoftheeveningloomingdarklyaheadlikerustybuffersattheendofashiningrailwayline.Whentheeveningcame to a stop, hewould get out on to a cold empty platform andwalk alone through the station, hisfootstepsechoingbeneaththegrimyvaults.Later,aftersomemoredrinkswithEwing,theprospectoftheevening finishingwould need to be contemplated. For the time being itwas easier tomove on to thebranchlineEwingoffered.

“Let’sgobacktoyourvillaforanightcap,”Arnoldsaid.==:==:==:==

Ashemovedhistallglass,thecubesoficeinhisdrinkmadeapleasantsound—likecow-bells,Arnoldthought,leaningbackdrowsilyagainstamoundofsilkcushionsandgazingroundtheornateroomwithitstiledwallsandmosaicfloorandfrettedpillars.HewonderedvaguelywhyEwinghadnotchosentostayin the light-greydrawing-roomwith thegiltFrench furniture. Itwas a cheerful roomwith comfortablesofas,whereasthelowdivanwhichranalongoneendofthisMoorishroomwashardanduncomfortablebecause the cushions kept slipping out of place, and the décor was rather oppressive. However, theeveningwasrunningsmoothlyonceagain;andtherailsshonebrightlyformilesahead;andwhileEwingtalkedtohimaboutthevilla,Arnoldallowedhismindtorambleovertheconfusingimpressionofthelasthalf-hour.

Ontheoutskirtsoftowntheroadhadplungedabruptlydownasteephillflankedwithsmallhouses.Aheadhecouldseea fieldofwhitesticksgleaming in themoonlight.This,Ewing toldhim,as thecarswungleft,wastheMoslemcemetery.Theroadnowbegantoclimbandcurlupthehillside,pastnarrowlaneswithsignpostspointingtodarkenedvillas,pastthelongwhitefacadeofthegovernor’spalace,untilsuddenlythecarreachedtheeucalyptusforest,andtheheadlightsshoneondappledtrunksoftreeswithpointed leaves, and swept across broken hoardings that advertised building lots and lit up a sign-postleading toCapeSpartel.Then the headlights had picked out a long greywall about ten feet highwithsmoothsidesandajaggedtop.

“Hereweare,”Ewingsaid.Thecarstoppedoutsideaheavywrought-irongate.Mustaphasoundedthehorn.Threelargemongrel

dogsrusheduptothegrilleandbeganbarkingfiercely.Alightwentoninawindowofthelodge.Afewseconds later abeardedgate-keepermuffledup inanoldarmygreatcoat shuffledoutof theporchandunlockedthegate,blinkingintheglareoftheheadlights.Slowlytheoldmanpulledasidethetwomassivesectionsofwroughtiron.ThecardroveuparutteddriveofeucalyptustreesandstoppedinfrontofoneoftheoddestvillasArnoldhadseeninTangier.Itwasbuiltintheshapeoftheletter“T”,withsmallturretsateachofthethreeextremitiesandatalltowerinthecentre.

“It’s quite hideous,” Ewing said as they walked through a square hall lined with tiles into theoctagonalhigh-ceilingeddrawing-room.“ItwasdesignedbyReggieGault—Idon’tsupposeyou’veheardofhim.HewasanEnglisheccentricwholeftLondonhurriedlyatthetimeoftheOscarWildetrialandsettleddowninTangier.Mostpeoplehatetheplace—whichiswhyIgotitcheap.IfindithasadistinctEdwardiancharm,andI’vedonemybesttomakeitcomfortable.”

“Ithinkit’sveryromantic,”Arnoldsaid.“Itisinitsway,”Ewingreplied,splashingoutwhiskyintotwoglassesanddroppingincubesofice.

“IliketothinkofoldReggieGaultlivinghereallaloneforthelasttenyearsofhislife.”EwingglancedatArnold.“Whenonesays‘allalone’,onemeanswithoutanyofhisEnglishcronies,”

Ewingexplained.“In fact,gossip relates that theoldmanwas surroundedbya seraglioofboysofallshapes and sizes. Iwonder if hemissed London society? Sometimes I think of him limping along theterraceoutside,staringdownindistasteatthewonderfulgardenhe’dcarvedoutofledgesonthecliff-side,hiseyeshalf-closedagainst theglareof theAfricannoon,yearningfor the fogofLondonand thedarkleatherchairsofhisclub.AtothertimesIliketothinkofhimstretchedoutinadeck-chair,watchingthesunsettingbehindthegoldensweepofCapeSpartel,thankinghisluckystarsthathedidn’thavetoputonastiffshirtandgoouttoasmartdinner-partyandmakewittyremarks,revellinginthethoughtthathecould dine quietly alonewith a novel propped against the decanter before retiring to bed and the softembracesofhislatestacquisition.”

Ewingcrossedtheroomandpressedabellbesidethemarblechimney-piece.“We won’t stay here,” he said. “We’ll take our drinks into the Moorish room. It’s got more

atmosphere.I’vegivenyouawhiskywithoutthinking.Ihopeit’swhatyouwant?”“ExactlywhatIwant,”Arnoldreplied.“Exactly.”The far door opened.A plump, smooth-facedMoor of about thirty came in and bowed toEwing.

Then he bowed to Arnold and smiled at him—rather too knowingly, Arnold decided. The man wasdressedinadark-blue,embroideredwaistcoatwithgoldbuttonsanddark-bluepantaloons.Hiseyeswereveryheavilymadeupwithantimony;hisgestureswereslackandeffeminate.EwingspoketohimquicklyinArabic.Arnold could only catch theword “chocolata”which occurred frequently. Theman bowedagainandwalkedoutwithhishandsswingingloosely.

“That’sBashir,”Ewingexplained.“IfoundhiminanArabcafémysecondnightinTangier—twelveyearsago.Hewassixteenthenandratherattractiveinafarouchekindofwayandsurprisinglyvirile.SoItookhimonasahouse-boy.He’sbeenwithmeeversince.Henowrunstheentireménage.Sothere’samoralstoryforyou.”

Ewingpickeduphisglass.“Let’sgointotheMoorishroom,”hesaid.“ThatwaswhereReggieGaulthadallhisorgies.”SoArnoldthusfoundhimselfproppedagainstthecushionsonthedivan,clinkingtheiceinhisglass,

wonderingwhatwasgoingtohappennext.NowthathewasconvincedthatEwinghadnodesignsonhim,Arnoldhadgivenupworryingabouthismotivesforentertainingastrangerthroughouttheevening.Henolongercared.Hissunwasshiningagain,andfarawayinthedistanthazeofthebluemountainsthecow-bells tinkledmerrily. Somewhere in a tiled roomwithMoorish arches amanwas speaking to him—askinghimaquestion,infact.Arnoldwrenchedhimselfawayfromthecontemplationofhissunlitplain.

“I’msorry,”Arnoldblurtedout.“Whatdidyousay?”“IwasaskinghowmuchlongeryouwerestayinginTangier,”Ewingsaidpatiently.“Onlyfivemoredays.”“Can’twepersuadeyoutostaylonger?”“IhavetobebackintheschoolwhereIteachbyJanuarythethird.”“AtleastyoumustletmeshowyouwhatTangierhasgottoofferbeforeyougo.Haveyouseenanyof

thedancing?”

“None.”“Well,you’llbeseeingsometonight.”“Tonight?”Arnoldaskedinsurprise,asEwingstretchedouttopressthebellinthewallbesidehim.“Tonight,” Ewing said. “I’ve laid it on in your honour. Unfortunately the boys haven’t got their

traditionalclotheswiththem.ButIthinkyou’llfindthisparticulardanceisnotwithoutcharm.”While he spoke, Bashir came in through the door at the far end of the room, closing it carefully

behindhim.Thenhebowedtothem,andsankdownontothefloorasifhisboneshadsuddenlymelted.Fromoutofhisglitteringwaistcoatheproduceda flutewhichhebegan toplay softly.At firstArnoldcoulddiscernnopatternofmelody—onlyaseriesofnotesrisingandfallingslowlyupanddownascaleofquarter-toneswhichjarredonhisears.Butgraduallyheperceivedthat therewasatune, tenuousyetdiscernible—a tune which was repeated over and over again with seemingly endless variations. Theeffectwashypnotic.Arnoldfeltthathewasfloatingawayintoatranceinwhichtheelaboratearchesandthe vivid green fields of his plain were mingled with the soft silk cushions he was leaning against.Vaguelyhenoticedthedoorattheendofthelong,narrowroomopeningagain.Suddenlyhesatupright.

Two young, slightly built boys came into the room and bowed reverently. Then they raised theirheads, listened carefully to the sound of the flute and began a slow, solemn dance. Their handswereclaspedbehindtheirheads,theirfeetmovedcarefullyoverthetiledfloor,astepforwardthensideways,then a pace sideways and a pace backwards, as if theywere draughts beingmoved over a chequeredboard.Theyworewhiteshirtsanddark-bluejeansandsandals.Theywerebothaboutfifteenyearsold,andArnold thought theywereboth extremelyhandsome.The taller onehadwidedark eyes.Thedeepchestnut-colouredskinofhissoftfaceglistenedintheglowofthesconcessetagainstthewall.Shortwiryhaircurledclosetohishead,andhisthicklipswerepartedasifinsurprise.

Atfirstsightthedarkboywasthemoreattractive,Arnolddecided.Buttherewasamischievouslookabout the smaller, fair-skinned boywhichwas interesting.Heavy clusters of black curls fell over hisforeheadanddownhisneck.Theboyneededahair-cut,Arnoldtheschoolmasternotedautomatically.Butthough his hair was dark, his skin was the colour of cream and his eyes were violet. He had thickeyebrows, a short straight nose and amouthwhichwas far too large for his face.Hewas amazinglyslenderanddelicatelymade.Yettherewassomethingintenselyanimalabouthim,Arnoldfelt.Hemighthave appeared suddenly in the glade of a wood. Hemoved gracefully: his steps seemed to be moreassured than those of the dark boy. Yet all the time he danced there was an expression of amuseddetachment,asif—shouldthedancebecomeirksometohim—hecouldchangeintoafaunandleapaway.

“Thedark-skinnedoneoppositemeiscalledChocolata,”Ewingsaid.“HisrealnameisAbdelaziz.ButConchita christened himChocolata because of his colour.He’s always down at her place. That’swherehecamefromtonight.”

“Ineversawhimthere,”Arnoldsaid.“Hewasintheroomupstairs.IarrangedforConchitatosendhimherebytaxi.He’sanattractiveboy

anddelightfullyobedient.Asyoucansee,he’sgotNegroblood.Hisancestorswereprobablyslavesfromthe river Niger. But I can see that he’s not the one you’re interested in. The pale-skinned one you’restaringatiscalledRiffi.”

Arnoldmumbledsomedenial.“Whybothertodenyit?”Ewingasked.“What’swrongwithstaringatanythingsopretty?Well,that

one’s real name is Salah but they call him Riffi because his family live in the Rîf mountains aboveChauen. He’s a Berber. That’s why his skin is so light. The Berbers were the original inhabitants ofMoroccobeforetheRomanandArabinvasions.Theywereblue-eyedandfair-skinned.Theboymoveswonderfullygracefully,doesn’the?”

“DoesRifficomefromConchita’splace?”Arnoldasked,dreadingthereply.“No.Heworkshereinthisvilla.He’sverylazyandrathernaughty.ButIputupwithitbecausehe’s

soentrancinglygraceful. It’s likehavingayounggazellewanderingabout thegrounds,or adiminutivesatyr.Ithoughtyoumightbetakenwithhim.ButforsomereasonI’ddecidedthatyou’dprefertheNegrotype,soIhadChocolatasentupspeciallyforyou.”

Arnoldwasembarrassed.Hecouldfeelthehotblushessurgingoverhim.“Theydancebeautifully,”hesaid,tochangethedriftofEwing’sremarks.“Justyouwait,”Ewingsaid.ArnoldcouldnotmovehiseyesawayfromRiffi.Theboyhadnoticedthathewasstaringathimand

wassmilingbackinamusement.SuddenlyBashirchanged the rhythmofhisplaying.The tunedidnotalter,but themusicwasnow

urgentandcompelling.Asifinanswertoacommand,thetwoboysstoppedtheirpacing.Theynowstoodmotionlesswith their feet together.Then,withoutmoving their feet, theyslowlybegan toundulate theirhips,circlingtheairwiththeirloinswhiletheirheadsremainedperfectlystill.TheirmovementwasmoresensuousthananythingArnoldhadimaginedinhismosteroticdreams.Hecouldfeelthebloodthrobbingthroughhisveinswhilehisheartbeatheavilyagainsthischest.

Themusicwasgrowingfaster,thegyrationswiderandmoreviolent.Then,withoutpausing,thetwoboysstrippedofftheirshirtsandthrewthemovertheirshoulderstothedoor.Theymovedforwardafewshort paces, remained motionless for a second, and then began to writhe again. But they were nowstanding only a few yards away from the divan. Arnold could smell the musky ferine odour of theirbodies;hesawthesweatglisteningonthetightlystretchedskinofRiffi’schest;hewatchedthefoldingandunfoldingofalittlecreaseoffleshbelowtheboy’snavel.

Themusicbecamemoreurgentandmoreinsistent.Asifinresponsetoanewcommandthetwoboysunclaspedthebeltsroundtheirnarrowwaistsandthrewthembacktothedoor.Andnowastheywrithed,carvinginvisiblecirclesintheair,theirarmsclaspedonceagainbehindtheirheads,gradually,inchbyinch,theirjeansslippedslowlydowntheirleanthighsuntiltheywerenaked.

Themusicstopped.ArnoldwasonlyvaguelyawareofBashirbowingandleavingtheroom,closingthedoorbehindhim,forhiseyeswerefixedonthetwoboyswhohadsteppedoutoftheirjeansandflungthemagainstthedoor.Theyweremovingpacebypaceclosertothedivan.ChocolatawasapproachingEwing.Riffi, smiling rather shylynow,was comingnear toArnold.The sweatwas running in streaksdowntheivoryoftheboy’sthighs.

Arnoldwas trembling; hismouthwas dry.He could neither speak normove.Chocolata had nowmovedclose toEwing.Hiskneesbrushed thedivan.Gently theboy thrusthisdarkbody forward.Theroomseemedveryquiet.ThesilencewasshakenbyEwing’slaugh.HeslappedChocolatalightlyonthethighandpushedhimaway,sayingafewquickwordsinArabic.Chocolatashruggedhisshoulders.Heslouchedtowardsthedoor,swinginghisarmslooselyinimitationofBashir’swalk.Thenhepickeduphisclothesandlefttheroom.

Riffi was no longer smiling. He was standing in front of Arnold, taut and quivering. He lookedanxious,almostafraid.HehadmovedsoclosetohimthatArnoldcouldfeeltheheatofhisbody.SlowlyRiffiunclaspedhis fingers frombehindhishead.He stretchedouthishandsandput themonArnold’sshouldersandgazedquestioninglyintohiseyes.ThedesiretoclasptheboyinhisarmswassointensethatArnoldcouldfeelthepainofitstabbinghischest.HiswholebeingyearnedtoholdRiffiandfeelthesoftness of his skin.His emotion beat so strongly hewas certain that Ewingmust be aware of it.Heglanced quickly to his right. Ewingwas staring fixedly at the last inch of drink in his glass.Arnold’shandsmovedunsteadilytowardstheboyfacinghim.

ButevenasArnoldraisedhishands,thepictureofadifferentnakedbodyslidintohismind,andhesawSaïd,theboyatConchita’sbar,Saïdwithhistawnyskin,lyingnakedonstainedsheets,makinglovetoawitheredoldmanforthesakeofaone-poundnote.AndArnold’sdesireslackened.Riffi’shands,hefelt sure, were only rubbing his shoulders because he wanted to earn money. Those violet eyes only

peered at him anxiously because the boy was afraid that he would be turned away like his friendChocolata.ToholdthisboyinhisarmscouldneverbethesameastoclaspJackagainsthimbesidethepond.Hehadnotenduredlongyearsoffrustrationtobetraytheidealsofhisloveforanightinthearmsofalittlemaletart,forobviouslyRiffiwasjustasmuchofaprostituteasChocolataorSaïd.Riffiwouldstillbestandingthere,rigidandeager,ifArnoldwereoldanddeformedandvile.Riffi’sfingerswouldstillbrushacrosshisneckandstrokehischeek—justastenderlyastheywerestrokinghimnow.

Arnoldstoodupabruptly.“Imustbegettinghome,”hesaid.Ewinglookedathiminsilenceforamoment,thenspokequicklytoRiffiinArabic.Theboywinked

athim,bowedtoArnoldwithacheerfulgrin,ranthreepaces,turnedcartwheelsacrosstheroom,landedonhisfeetbythedoor,pickeduphisclothesandvanished.

“Letmegetyouawhisky,”Ewingsaid.“No, thanks,”Arnoldsaid, tryingtosmile.“I’vedrunkfar toomuchas it is.ButcanIphonefora

taxi?”“Yes,byallmeans.ButIdon’tthinkyou’llpersuadeataxitocomeouthereatthistimeofnight,and

I’mafraidMustaphawillhavegonetobed.Whydon’tyoustaythenight?I’vetoldBashirtogetthemainguest-roomreadyforyou.You’llfindatoothbrushandshaving-kitandsoon.Thereareevenpyjamasifyouneed them.Pleasedostay.Mustaphacandriveyouback toyourhotel in themorning. It’llsavesomuchtrouble.ImustconfessI’mdroppingwithdrinkandfatigue.”

“It’sverykindofyou,”Arnoldsaidcautiously.After all, itwould savehiman expensive taxi fare, andEwinghadmade it only tooobvious that

Arnoldwasnothistype.IncaseBashirorsomeonegotthewrongideahecouldalwayslockthedoor.“Thankyou,”Arnoldsaid.“I’dlovetostaythenight.”“I’llshowyoutoyourroombeforeIfallsoundasleep.”Ewing ledhimalongawidecorridorandacrossapatio to the farwingof thehouse.Hestopped

outsideapolishedoakdoor.“Hereweare,”Ewingsaid.“Ihopeyou’llfindallyouwant.”Ewingopenedthedoor,flickedonthelights,walkedquicklyacrossasmallsitting-roomfurnishedin

conventionalRegencystyleandflungopenthefardoorrevealingalarge,brightlylitbedroomdominatedbyahugedoublebedwithawhite-and-giltbaroqueheadpiece.Analcoveledtoablue-tiledbathroomflanked with dark mirrors and fitted with a glittering display of gadgets. Bottles of lotions and facecreamsandbathsaltsstoodinrowsalongglassshelves.Thickyellowbathtowelsofdifferentsizesweredrapedoverthechromiumpipessetinthewall.Awhitedressing-gownhungfromthedoor.

“Bashirseems tohavedoneyouproud,”Ewingsaid.“I’mneverallowedhalfasmanybottles.Sonow,ifyou’llexcuseme,Ireallymustgotobed.”

“Thankyouforaterrificevening.”“Ienjoyedeverymomentofit.”“Icanneverbegratefulenough,”Arnoldinsisted.Hecouldhearthathisvoicewasstillslurred.“Don’ttry.”“You’vegivenmeawonderfultime.”“I’mglad.Don’thurryupinthemorning.Igenerallyhavebreakfastatabouttenonthepatio,ifyou

caretojoinme.Otherwisetheycanbringyoubreakfastinbed.Bytheway,mybedroom’satthefarendofthecorridor, ifyouwantme,whichIdon’tsupposeyouwill.Shouldyouwakeupinthenightandfeelhungryorshouldyouneedanythingbroughttoyou,ringthebellbyyourbed.AndifyouringlongenoughBashirwillappearandfixyouup.Goodnight.”

“Goodnightandthanksonceagain.”Arnold locked thedoorofhisbedroom.Heundressedslowly,hanginguphisclothesneatly in the

painted cupboard which ran along the far wall of the room. Then he put on the trousers of the lilac

pyjamasBashirhadlaidoutonthebedandwentintothegleamingbathroom.Whilehewashedhisfaceandhandsandcleanedhisteeth,Arnoldexaminedhimselfdrunkenlyinthewallmirrorsthatreflectedhimfromdifferentangles.Atleasthewasstillslim.Heweighedthesameashehadwhenhewaseighteen.Even thoughhishairwasslightlyreceding, itwascorn-colouredandcurledcrisplyoverhishead.Hisskinwassmoothandclear,histeethweregood,hiswaistwassmall,hewaswellbuiltgenerally.Somepeoplemightstillfindhimattractive.Butwhereinheaven’snameweresuchpeople?Beneathwhatroofsdidtheylurk?Inwhatcountrydidtheydwell?Andwouldheevermeetonesingleoneofthem?

Arnoldsighedasheslippedbetweenthepinksilksheets.Heswitchedoutthelightbyhisbed,shuthiseyesandtriedtosleep.ButtheshapeofRiffi’stautbodyglowedlikeatorchinthedarknessofhismind.Adisturbinguncertaintynowslippedthroughthemistofhisconfusedthoughts.Ewinghadsaidhehad arranged forChocolata to be sent up to the villa for his guest’s benefit.Yet almost from the verymomentRiffihadcomeintotheMoorishroomhehadkepthiseyesfixedonArnold.Wasitpossiblethattheboywasattractedtohim?IfsohemusthavebeenhurtbyArnold’sabruptmovetobreakawayfromhim.IfRiffiworkedinthevillahemostprobablysleptthere.WhyhadhegrinnedsocheerfullyatArnoldbeforeheturnedtogo?PerhapsEwinghadtoldhimthatArnoldmightbestayingthenight.PerhapsRiffiwaswaitingforhim.Perhaps...

Arnold got out of bed. He could cross to the door without switching on his bedside lamp, formoonlight filtered dimly into the room through a gap in the tall brocade curtains.Arnold unlocked thedoor.Hegotbackintobedagainandlaythereachingwithdesire,cursinghimselffortheopportunityhehadmissed,wonderingifperhapsRiffimightvisithiminthemorning,torturedbythememoryoftheskinstretchedtightlyovertheboy’schestandthesweatrunningdownhispalethighs.

Hecouldheartheleavesoftheeucalyptustreesrustlinginthewind.Eachtimetherewasadistantcreakofadoorhisheartbeganpounding.PerhapsBashirhadtakenRiffi.Perhaps...

Suddenlyheheardtheouterdoorofthesitting-roomopenquietlyandthencloseagain.Hewaited,strugglingtocontrolthequickhammer-blowsofhisheart.ButperhapsitwasEwingwhohadcometoseeifhewereallright.OrperhapsitwasBashirorChocolata...

Thedoorofhisbedroomopenedslowly.Inthefaintlighthesawthegleamofawhiteshirt.Hecouldnotspeakfor terror.Thedoorclosed.Aslight figuremovedacross to thearmchair in thecentreof theroom.Thewhiteshirtgleamedagainasitwasraisedandthenputdownonthechair.

Asecondlaterthefigureturnedandsteppedsilentlytowardsthebed.Asheturned,thewindruffledthecurtainsandforamomentasliverofmoonlightshone into theroom.In that instantArnoldsawthesmall,pale,nakedshapeofRiffimovingtowardshim.

InsilenceRiffislippedintothebedandputhisarmsroundArnold’sneckandpressedagainsthim.==:==:==:==

When Arnold awoke, sunshine was sliding through the curtains. He was alone. For a moment hewondered ifRiffi’s arrival inhisbedroomhadbeenadream.Buta faint smellof theboy’sbodystilllingeredintheair,andtherewasadentinthepillowwherehisheadhadbeen.

Arnoldfeltsick.Hisheadachedfiercely.Heturnedoverontothepillowandtriedtosleepagain.Hewanted to forgetwhathadhappened ifonly for thespaceofanhour’soblivion.Vaguelyhehoped thatsleepmightwipeawaythememoryoftheunexpectedpassionsthatRiffihadunleashed.Buthecouldnotsleep.ThescentofthesheetsremindedhimofRiffi.Hadtheboylefthiminfearorindisgust?Washestillinthevilla?TracesoftheferinesmellincreasedthepainofArnold’sremorse.Hegotoutofbedandwalkedintothebathroom.Thedarkmirrorsreflectedadozenaspectsofhisguilt.

Presently, ashe lay in thebath intowhichhehadpouredverbenasalts inorder tooverwhelm thepersistent smell of Riffi’s body, the pangs of his conscience grew less acute, as if they were beingassuagedbythesoft-scentedwater,andhefoundhecouldevenbeartothinkaboutRiffiagain.

Unlesstheboyhadleftthevillaforgood,hewasprobablyatworkinthehouse.Arnoldwonderedif

hewouldmeethimbeforeMustaphadrovehimbacktohishotel?Hedreadedseeingtheboyagain,yethewanted to get a glimpse of him in the daylight so that he could fix him soberly in hismemory.WouldEwingknowthattheboyhadspentthenightwithhim?Wouldhesomehowtakeadvantageofitifhehadfoundout?

Arnolddressedandwalkedout to thepatio.Ewing,wrapped inaheavybluedressing-gown,wassittingatatablelaidforbreakfast,drinkingcoffeeandreadinganewspaper.Hewasunshaven.Hisheavybluejowlsquiveredasheliftedthecuptohislips.

“Goodmorning,”Ewingcalledoutcheerfully.“Ihopeyousleptwell.”Therewasnotatraceofinsinuationinhistoneofvoiceorinhissmile.“Yes,thanks,”Arnoldsaid.“You’llfindscrambledeggsunderthatdish.Icouldn’tfacethem,butyou’reprobablystrongerthanI

am.Ifyouwantteaforbreakfastyou’llhavetoringforit.Thecoffee’spipinghotforonce.”TohissurpriseArnoldfoundthathewashungry.Hehelpedhimself to theeggsandcoffeeandsat

down.“ThoughItrustIdidn’tshowit,”Ewingsaid,“Iwas,infact,extremelydrunklastnight.”“SowasI,”Arnoldsaidquickly.“WhenIreachedmybedIfellintoadeepstuporfromwhichI’veonlyjustemerged.ButI’vegota

crackingheadache,haven’tyou?”“Terrible.Icanhardlythink.”“There’sonlyonecure,andthat’sadipinthesea.ShallwedriveouttotheCavesofHerculesfora

swimandhaveapicniclunchonthebeachafterwards?”“Thatwouldbefine.”“Shallwesayinhalfanhour’stime?Mustaphashouldbereadyforusbythen.Ithinkwemighthave

thehoodopen,don’tyou?”“Freshairmightdothetrick,”saidArnold.Theferinesmellstilllingeredinexplicably.

————————HalfanhourlaterArnoldfoundthecarwaitinginfrontoftheornatestoneporch.Mustaphawaspolishingthebonnet.Riffiwassittinginthefrontseat.HewavedhishandexcitedlywhenhesawArnold.

“Sbalkhair.Gudmorny,”Rifficried,smilingcheerfullyandlookingatArnoldwithwide,untroubledeyes.

Arnoldfelthimselfblushing.“Goodmorning,”Arnoldsaid.Howcould theboy’smannerbe sonatural and assured?Howcouldhe appear so innocent?Each

momentthatArnoldwatchedhimbroughtbackanothershamingmemory.“WegotoCavesofHercules,”Riffisaid.“Meswimverygood.”“Don’tyoubelieveit,”Ewingsaidashejoinedthem.“Hefloundersaboutlikealunatic.I’malways

terrifiedhe’llgetdrowned.”“Meswimverygood,”Riffirepeatedobstinately.“You’llgetyourbottomsmackedifyou’renotcareful,”Ewingsaidlaughinglyashegotintothecar.

————————TwohourslatertheywerelyingonthesandinacleftofrockthatprotectedthemfromthewindontheAtlanticbeach.Mustaphahadstayedbehindwiththecar.

“Helikestobroodoverit,”Ewingexplained.AstheysteppeddownthestonypathleadingtothesunlitbeachArnoldlookedinwonderatthevast

broadstretchofsandextendingformilesintothedistancewithoutanotherhumanbeinginsight.“Thankyourstars it’saweek-day,”Ewingsaid.“There’snooneaboutandwecansunbathestark

naked.”The sight of Ewing sunbathingmadeArnold feel sick again. Ewing’s thick-set bodywas covered

with hairs. He lay on his back, his oddly-scarred stomach rising and falling as he breathed, his legsstretchedopenasiftodrawattentiontohisgrossvirility.

Riffiwassplashinginthesurfoftheslow-rollingAtlanticbreakers.ThesightofhimnolongerfilledArnoldwithguilt.Lastnight’sexperiencewasobviouslyanordinarypartof theboy’sexistence.Ithadleftnomarkonhismindorhisbody.Ashewatched theboynow,he feltanoverwhelming tendernesstowardshim,whichmadehimsadbecausehewouldhavenochanceofexpressingit.Riffiranoutoftheseaandbegantoturnsomersaultsonthesand.WhileArnoldgazedathisfirmbutdelicatelimbshewasshockedtofindthatdesirewascreepingbackagain.

ArnoldturnedawaytofindEwinglookingathim.“He’sanattractivelittlecreature,isn’the?”EwingsaidwithaglancetowardsRiffi.“Very,”Arnoldagreedbriskly.“Howlonghaveyouknownhim?”“Sixmonths.Ifirstmethimdowninthetown.Hewasunhappyintheplacehewasworkingin,soI

tookhimbackwithmetothevillathatnight.He’sbeenthereeversince.”AnunpleasantvisionofRiffiyieldinghimselftoEwingflashedintoArnold’smind.Asifhecould

readhisthoughts,Ewingsaid,“Theboydoesn’tinterestmeparticularlyfromthepointofviewofsex.ButIfindhimentrancinglydecorative.”

“Howoldishe?”“Fourteen,hethinks.They’reneverabsolutelysure.Mostoftheboysinthistownarehardenedlittle

devils.ButRiffimightbecapableofaffection.Younevercantell.Theboy’stakenafancytoyou.Didyouknowthat?”

“Nonsense,”Arnoldmumbled.“Hehas,Ipromiseyou.What’smore,Icanseeyou’requitetakenwithhim.I’mgladthatlastnight

wassuchasuccess.Sinceyou’veonlygotafewmoredayshere itseemsapity thatyoushouldn’tseesomethingofeachother.Sowhydon’tyoumovein?Whydon’tyoucomeandstayatthevillaforyourlastfewdays?”

SoEwingknewaboutlastnightanddidn’tcare.Theimplicationsofhisinvitationmadethatplain.Arnold’sheartpoundedwith joy.Hefeltashamedofhisuncharitable thoughtsaboutEwing’scharacterandphysique.

“It’sawfullykindofyou,”hesaid.“Ifyou’resureIwon’tbeanuisanceI’dlovetomovein.Itwouldmakeallthedifference.”

“That’ssettledthen,”saidEwing.“We’llcollectyourluggagefromyourhotelthisafternoonanddropinatWayne’sbarforadrinkonthewayhome.”

==:==:==:==ThateveningArnolddinedlateandalonewithEwingupatthevillainthepalebluedining-roomwithitsEmpirefurniture.HewasalreadyalittledrunkbecausewhentheyhadbeenabouttoleaveWayne,whohad been ecstatic to learn thatArnoldwas staying up at the villa, a friend of Ewing’s calledLaviniaMorrishadcomeinandjoinedtheirtableandstayedforseveralroundsofdrinks.LaviniaMorriswasagaunt-lookingwomanofaboutfiftywithahandsomebutwrinkledface.Afewstreaksofgreyshowedinheruntidy,thickblackhair.Shewasextravagantlyoutspokenandself-opinionated.Butshewasobviouslywarm-heartedinaconfusedway,andhermannerbecamemoreconfusedastheeveningprogressed.Shewasevidentlyanalcoholic.Arnoldhad likedher.Hehadenjoyed thesessionwithWayne.ButhewasnowworriedbecauseRiffihaddisappearedassoonastheyhadgotbacktothevilla,andhewastooshytoaskwherehecouldfindhimagain.HecouldalwaysringforBashirwhenhereachedhisbedroomandask him to fetch the boy, but he did not like the slywayBashir had glanced at himwhen he carriedArnold’ssuitcaseintothevilla.ArnolddislikedBashirandwasafraidofhim.

Theywerewaited on at dinner by Ismail, a dark-skinned,wizenedman of about fifty, dressed indark-blue-and-giltMoorishliveryandwearingwhitegloves,whichimpressedArnoldevenmorethanthesilverplates.Thefoodwasdeliciousandthewineswereexcellent.ArnoldonlywishedthatRifficouldhaveeatenwiththem.Butperhapsthatwouldcausetroublewiththestaff.

“WhatdidyouthinkofLaviniaMorris?”Ewingasked.“Ithoughtshewasgreatfun.Sheseemedakindperson.”“She’skindallright,”Ewingsaid.“Kindnessishermaintroubleapartfromdrink.She’sgivingaway

morethanshecanafford.Iwishshe’dtakeacure.”“WhowastheplumplittleAmericanwomanwithplatinumhair—theonethatcameupandkissedyou

justaswewereleaving?”“ThatwasMillySprague.SheownsapaperfactoryinDetroit.She’sworthoveramillion,butshe

won’townuptoitbecauseshe’safraidofbeingtakenforaride.Howoldwouldyousayshewas?”“Fifty?”“Sixty-five if she’s a day. Everything that plastic surgeons and masseurs and cosmetics can do,

they’vedonefordearMilly.She’shadherfaceliftedsomanytimesshecan’tclosehermouthandeyesatthesametime.Theskin’sstretchedtightasadrum.”

“SheseemedveryfondofLaviniaMorris.”“Sheis.Theygohuntingtogether.”“Huntingforwhat?”“Twenty-year-oldMoorsmostly.ButSpaniardsorGreekswilldo.OrAmericansailorsatapinch.

AtleastMilly’sgotsomeself-control.ButLavinia’samenace.ShepicksupsomeMoorishloutandfallshopelessly in lovewithhim.Beforeyouknowwhat’shappening she’skeeping theoafishboreandhiswholefamily.Andshecan’taffordit.”

Ismail came inwith a cheese soufflé.Arnoldwished that Riffiwas there to enjoy it. Perhaps hewouldbegivensomeinthekitchen.

“I’mworriedaboutLavinia,”Ewingsaid,gazingatthesouffléwithapproval.“I’dhatetoseeherflatbroke.SheandMillyaremytwobestfriendsoverhere.Infact,they’rethewholeofTangiersocietyasfarasI’mconcerned.Idon’tgooutmuchanyway.”

“IfIhadthisvillaI’dnevergooutatall,”Arnoldsaid.“There’sacoveyofsmartoldqueenswholiveoutherepermanentlyandflitmadlyinandoutofeach

other’soverwroughthouses.Ican’tabidethem.MiloBranch,who’sinTenerifenowwithhisnewboy-friend,istheleastpoisonousofthebunch.IfyoucangethimtostoptalkingaboutChineseporcelainandGreek icons for twominuteshe’salmostpleasant.Then there’sCecilMayhewwhowritesdesperatelyunsuccessfulhistoricalnovelsfullofbucklesandbows.He’sameanoldbitch,butatleastheworks—whichismorethanyoucansayforLukeWestandGeoffreyPurcell,who’veneverdoneastrokeofworkintheirlivesandneverwill.”

Ewingfinishedhisglassofchampagne.“Eitheryou’vegottoworkoryou’veatleastgottotrytolearnsomethingaboutart.Youmusteither

beindustriousorcultivated.Fewpeopleareboth.”Ewingpushedbackhischair.“AndwiththatextremelysmugandratherplatitudinousremarkIshall

bidyougoodnight,”hesaid.“Ifyouwantcoffee,ringforit.Ismailwillbringittoyouintheliving-room.Forgivemeforabandoningyou,butmyheadache’scomeonagain,soIsimplymustgotobed.Let’shopetheweatherkeepsfine.We’reaskedtolunchatLavinia’svillatomorrow,anditlookssogrimwhenit’ssoaked.Sodoesshe,blessherheart.Goodnight.”

Ewingwalkedrapidlyoutoftheroom.Arnoldcouldhearhisquickshortstepscrossingthepatio.Arnoldfinishedhischampagneandmovedslowlytowardshisbedroom,lookingthrougheachopen

door he passed in the hope of seeing Riffi. He paused outside the polished oak door leading to his

apartment.Thelightswereswitchedonin the littlesitting-room.Hewalkedinhurriedly.PerhapsRiffiwaswaitingforhim.Buttheroomwasempty.Heswitchedoutthelightsandpushedopenhisbedroomdoor,whichwasajar.Spreadoutneatlyon thegreenleatherarmchairwereawhiteshirtandapairofbluejeans.Onlythebedsidelampwasalight,andRiffiwaslyinginhisbedasleep.

Arnoldstoodinsilencegazingdownathim.Theboy’slefthandwasunderhishead;thefingersofhisright hand were touching his lips. He looked very small curled up beneath the massive baroqueheadpiece.Thelightshoneonthepolishedskinofhisnarrowshoulders.Arnoldhadonlytobenddowntotouch the dry curls of his head. But he did notmove. He could not bear to disturb the expression ofinnocencethatRiffihadassumedinsleep.PatientlyandsadlyArnoldwaitedfortheinevitablesurgeofreckless passion to sweep over him and overwhelm his immediate feeling of tenderness. Then, as hestoodlookingdownattheboy,Riffistirredandturnedandstaredupathiminalarm.WhenherecognizedArnold,hesmiledathimdrowsilyandspreadouthisarmsandlaybackagainstthepillows.ButArnoldstilldidnotmove,soRiffiraisedhimself,stretchedoutahandandpulledhimdownontothebed.

==:==:==:==The lunch-party the followingdaywas not as alarming asArnold had feared.Themarble table in thegardenwaslaidforsix.LaviniaMorris,whohadevidentlybeendrinkingallmorning,satatoneend,withMillySpragueupholsteredinwhitesilklikeabolsterattheother.ArnoldsatbetweenLaviniaandLukeWest,whowasextremelytall,withatinyheadandalongnecksetonnarrowshouldersthatexpandedtoathickwaistandbulgingthighs.HeremindedArnoldofaprehistoricanimalhehadseeninillustrationstoanaturalhistoryschoolbook,nibblingattheleavesofatree.Luke’sfriendGeoffreyPurcellsatopposite,eatingwithfierceconcentration,pausingonlytofilluphisglassofwinefromthenearestdecanteronthetable.Hewasafatlittleman,aboutfiftyyearsold,withglassyblueeyesanddyedyellowhair.

WhenArnoldhadfirstarrivedatthelargeramshacklevilla,ledintotheroombyEwinglikeachildbyitsnurse,Laviniaandherguestshadallmadeafussofhim,offeringhimdrinksandplatesofcocktailfood,askinghimpolitequestionsandpretendingtolistentotheanswers.Nowtheyallignoredhimand,after three strong daiquiris and two glasses of Sidi Larbi,Arnold did notmind.He could gaze at theflowersbeyondthefiercegreenofthelawnandattheblueshadowsonthelion-colouredhills,stretchingouttothehorizon,whilehelistenedvaguelytotheirconversation.

“IlikepoorMilo,”LukeWestwassaying,tiltinguphisheadasiftoreachsomeparticularlyjuicyleavesonahighbranch. “He’s totallydevoidof any tastewhatsoever.Hisvilla looks likeanorientalbazaarcollectedbyaVictorianspinster.Buthe’sapleasantenoughcreature.”

“IlikeMilo,buthe’sabloodysnob,”Laviniaannounced,spillingwineintoherglassandontothetable.

“He’ssuchasnobthatifhecatchesacommoncoldhehastocallitbronchitis,”Ewingsaidquietly.Laviniaclappedherhandstogetherinecstasy.“Perfect!”shecried.“Imustrememberthatone.”“IwishIhadEwing’swit,”MillySpraguesaid,stretchinghermouthintoasmile.Shehadnotheard

Ewing’sremark,butshewasagood-naturedwoman.“I’dratherhaveEwing’sincome,”LukeWestsaid,loweringhisheadforamomentfromthefoliage.Geoffrey Purcell put down his knife and fork and turned toMilly Sprague. “Have you ever tried

boilingachickeninthejuiceofanotherone?”heasked.Milly Sprague closed her eyes and opened her lips in a smile. Then she slid an arm heavywith

jewelleryacrossthetable,laidherplumpfingerstrustinglyonhiswrist,closedhermouthandopenedhereyes,andlookedupatPurcellrapturously.

“Tellme,dear,”shesaid.“Tellmejustwhatit’slike.Isitreallyandtrulymarvellous?”“Fabulous,”Purcellsaid,lookingroundforadecanter.“Terrific.”“Wealleat far toomuch,”Laviniaproclaimed loudly.Herhairnowfell inwispsoverherglazed

eyes,andsheswayedfromsidetosidelikeapriestessoftheSiwanoracle.“Foodwillbethedeathof

us,”sheprophesied.“Iwouldn’thavesaidthatyouneedworryfromdyingoftoomuchfood,”Purcellsaid,lookingsadly

atthehalf-empty:cheese-traythatwasbeinghandedround.“PoorMilo certainly eats toomuch,” LukeWest said. “He’s getting quite bloated. I bet his new

Spanishboy-friendleaveshimwithinamonth.”“DearMilo,”MillySpraguemurmured.“Suchalonelyboy.”“We’realllonely,”Laviniasaid,lookingoverhershouldertowardshertwenty-year-oldMoroccan

servantwhowaswheelingatrolleyofliqueurbottlestowardsthem.“Whoisn’tlonely?Tellmethat.Wecomeintothisbloodyworldaloneandweleaveitalone.”

“Notnecessarily,”Ewingsaid.“Whatdoyoumean‘notnecessarily’?”“Well,onemightbebornatwinanddieinanearthquake.”“Ha,ha.Veryfunny,”saidLavinia,scowlingatheryoungservantwhohadwheeledthedrinktrolley

straighttoMillySprague.“BeforeIdie,”LukeWestsaid,raisinghiseyesasiftocontemplatecelestialarbours,thickly-leaved,

“I’dliketothinkI’dleftmynamebehindme.I’dliketobeknownforsomething.”“LikeOnan,forinstance,”saidEwing.“OrtheMarquisdeSade.”“You’rejustshowingoffinfrontofyournewfriend,”Laviniasaid.“Let’stakeourdrinksandmove

intothegardensothatHassancanclearaway.”————————

ArnoldwasstaringatthebranchesofatallmimosatreepouringlikethestreamsofayellowfountainontothelawnwhenLaviniajoinedhim.Sheputanarmroundhisshoulder.

“Ilikeyou,”sheannounced.“Youmustcomeheremoreoften.Ilikeyourface.Youmustbequeer,ofcourse,oryouwouldn’tbe stayingwithEwing.But I likeyouall the same.Willyouhavesomemorebrandy?”

“No,thanksverymuch.I’vedrunktoomuchasitis.”“SohaveI.ButIcouldn’tcareless.WhatdoyoumakeofEwing?”“He’sbeenwonderfullykindtome.”“Healwaysseemskindenough.Idon’tunderstandEwing.Ican’tmakehimout.Ican’tfindtheflaw.”“Theflaw?”“Theremustbeaflawsomewhere,mustn’tthere?Imean,he’srollingwithmoney.He’sstrongand

healthy.He’squiteintelligentandamusingattimes.He’swellreadandcultivated.Asyousay,he’sfairlykindandgenerous.Andathearthe’ssurprisinglysentimental.Sowhere’stheflaw?Iknowhegoesinforboys.ButIdon’tcallthataflaw—notaproperone.He’sbravetoo.Hehadaterrificwarrecord.”

Thoughshewasdrunk,LavinianoticedthelookofsurpriseonArnold’sface.“You don’t believe it, do you?” she said, leaning heavily on his shoulder. “But it’s true. I knew

someonewhowas in thesameoutfitwithhim.Ewingstartedoff inmotor torpedoboats.Quitea toughlad,hewas.Commandoraidsandthelot.MyfriendsaidthatEwingwaspositivelybloodthirsty,thewayhe’dgethimselfonraidsandoperationswiththepartisansandsuchlike.You’dalmostthinkheenjoyedall themassacre.He finishedup inYugoslavia, coveredwithblood andglory.Hewashorriblybadlywounded.Youmusthaveseenthescarsonhisbody.OurfriendEwingwasabighero.”

“Youwouldn’tthinkittolookathimnow,”Arnoldsaid.“It’sovertwentyyearsago,remember.ButI’mnotsosurethathe’schangedallthatmuch.Nowand

thenwhenhe’sannoyed there’saglint inhiseyes thatmakesmeshudder.Hewasquite savagewithaMoroccantaxi-driverwhotriedtogetmoneyoutofhimbyblackmailsomeyearsago.There’dhavebeena scandal if Ewing hadn’t paid off the family and hushed it up.He’s a strange character is our friendEwingBaird.ButIsupposehe’snostrangerthantherestofusouthere.Nowlet’sgoandhaveonemore

glassofbrandybeforeIsendyouallpacking.”————————

Ewingsaidlittleatfirstonthedriveback.Hisnervesseemedonedge.HeshoutedangrilyatMustaphafordrivingtooclosetoaherdofgoatsthatwerebeingdrivenbackfromtheroughpasturesaroundCapeSpartel.

“Lavinia’slunchpartiesalwaysexhaustme,”hesaidpresently,asifinexplanation.“There’salwaystoomuchtodrinkandtoolittletoeat.LaviniacouldhardlywaittogetridofussothatshecouldpopintobedwithHassan.”

“Surelyshedoesn’t...”“Surelyshedoes.Hewon’tbeherbutlerforlong,markmywords.He’llhavemovedintoherspare

room as an honoured guest before the week’s out. And he’ll suddenly be discovered to possess adistinguishedancestry.Laviniawillgiveoutthathe’sagrandsonoftheGlaouiandthathismotherwasaTurkish princess. I’ve seen it all happen before.Why she has to ennoble all her lovers, heaven onlyknows. Perhaps she finds itmore exciting to think of blue blood coursing through their dusky bodies.Talkingofbodies,I’mgoingtohaveasiestaassoonasweget in.WouldyoulikemetoaskBashir tosendRiffitoyourroom?”

“Yes,I’dliketoseehim.”Ewing’shandscuttheairwithanimpatientgesture.“‘Yes,I’dliketoseehim’,”herepeatedinArnold’scautious,almostprim,toneofvoice.“Comeoff

it!Riffisleptwithyoulastnightandthenightbeforethat.Eventhismorningwhenhewaswateringtheflowers in thepatio, you couldhardlykeepyour eyesoff him.Sowhybother topretend tome, of allpeople?I’mnotafool,andIdon’tcaretwohootsifyou’vegotalechonhimornot.”

ArnoldwasstungbythecontemptinEwing’svoice.“Ifyouwanttoknow,Ilovehim,”hesaid.“Callitwhatyoulike,”Ewingreplied.“Icallithavingalech.ButdoyouwantBashirtosendyou

theboyornot?”“Yes,Ido.”“Right,Icannowtellyouthis.TodayisRiffi’safternoonoff.He’sstayedinforyoursake.Soyou

mightjustaswelltakeadvantageofit.Andifyoudon’tmindawordofadvice,Isuggestyoushouldgivehimasmallpresent.”

————————ThatafternoonRifficameopenlytoArnold’sroom,andArnoldgavehimfiftydirhams—whichhecouldaffordtodobecausehehadnohotelbilltopay.AndRiffiwasevenmoreaffectionatethanbefore.

==:==:==:==ThenextmorningasArnoldwaseatingbreakfastonthepatio—hehadleftRiffiinthebathplayingwiththechromiumsprays—BashirappearedwithanotefromEwing.

“Ihopeyousleptwell,”Ewingwrote.“IhadavilenightbecauseI’vegotatummyupset—probablyduetoLavinia’sfood.SoI’mstayinginbed.ButI’veaskedBashirtoputupapicniclunchforyou,andI’veorderedthecartotakeyouandRiffiouttotheCaves.UnderthecircumstancesIdon’tsupposeyou’llmissme.Seeyoudrink-time.Yourstrickenhost,Ewing.”

————————Onceagainthebeachwasempty.Milesofuntroddensandgleamedinthesunlight.Riffisplashedinthewaves,turnedsomersaultsandcartwheels,andtaughtArnoldaMoorishversionofhopscotchinthesand.Hewas never still for amoment.His energy seemed inexhaustible.And after a lunch of lobsters andChablis,ArnoldwasrelievedtoseeRiffiliedownbetweentherocksandclosehiseyes.

Arnoldfoundapatchofshade,turnedoverontohisstomach,andtriedtodoze.Buthewasdisturbedbyaflythatseemedtosettlepersistentlyonhisback.Hetriedineffectivelytoswatatitwithhishand.Asecondlateritwasbackagain.Thenheheardsnortsandgaspsfrombehindanoutcropofrock,andRiffi

appearedwith a reed fastened to the endof a caneofbamboo.Hewas rolling fromside to sidewithlaughter.WhenArnoldwavedhimawayandrelaxedonceagainintoacomfortableposition,RiffiflungthecaneatArnoldlikeajavelinandrushedawayshoutingwithpleasure.Arnoldleapedtohisfeetandpursuedhim.Riffi ranfast,butArnoldwas litheandhisstridewas longer.Hecaughtupwithhimandbroughthimdowntumblingonthesand.Riffiwrithedandwriggledinhisgrip,butArnoldheldhimfast.SuddenlyRiffistoppedstrugglingandyieldedtohisgrasp,pressinghardagainsthimasJackhaddonebythepond.But this time therewasnobreaking apart.Theboy slid his arms roundhimand laywithoutmoving.ThistimeitwasArnoldwholetgohisgraspandedgedaway,forhewasafraidoftheviolentwavesofpassionthatrosehighwiththeAtlanticbreakersandcrasheddownonhimmercilessly,andhewasacutelyawareoftheharshlightsofthesunandoftheflatstretchofsandspreadoutaroundthem.Adozeneyesmightbewatchingthemfrombehindthefardunesorfromtheheadland.

WhenArnoldmoved,Riffi raisedhisheadand lookedupathimwith solemneyes, staringathimalmostmournfully—asifArnoldhadtoldhimsadnews.ThenanideamusthaveflashedintoRiffi’smind,forhisfacebrightened.HestoodupandgraspedArnold’shands.

“Come,”hesaid.“Comewidme.”Arnoldallowedhimselftobepulledtohisfeetandledacrossthebeachtoastonytrackthatledup

thesideofthecliff.“Whereareyoutakingmeto?”“Come,”Riffisaid.“Ishow.”Theyclimbedalong the sideof anarrow ledgeof rock.AsRiffi steppeddelicately fromstone to

stone,theledgegrewnarrowerandtheascentsteeper.“You’vegonemad,”Arnoldshouted.“Comeback.”“Come,”Rifficried,pointingtoacornerofthecliffside.“Oneminute,yousee.”Tryingnottolookdownatthedropbeneath,ArnoldfollowedRiffiroundthecornerandfoundhim

standingtriumphantlyinfrontofacaveinthesideoftherock.“Yousee,”Riffisaid.HetookArnold’shandanddrewhimoutof thedangerousglareofdaylight,

intotheprotectingduskofthereeking,dampcave,guidinghimalonganarrowpassagetowardsablackenclosure.There,Riffikneltdownandclearedaspacebetweenthefoul-smellingstones.

ButArnoldwasscarcelyawareoftheunpleasantsmellandthestonyground.HeknewonlythatheandRiffiwerealoneinthesecurityofthedarkwombofthecave.

————————Later,astheywalkedbackalongthebeachandhelookeddownatRiffi’sheadofcurlsalldustyfromthecave,ArnoldrealizedwithaviolentshockofdismaythatthewordshehadsaidtoEwinginhistemperweretrue.Hedidlovetheboy.HelovedhimnotonlywiththecravingpassionthatJackhadarousedinhim but with the tenderness and an overwhelming desire to protect him from all harm. But the boyprobablybelievedthatArnoldonlywantedhimforsex.Perhapsthatwasthereasonforthesolemnlookin his eyeswhenArnold had edged away from him on the beach. The boy had been sad to think thatArnoldonlywantedhimforabriefsession.EvenifhewerenevertoseeRiffiagaininhislife,Arnoldwasdeterminedtomaketheboyunderstandthathewasgenuinelyfondofhim.

Slowly,usingshortsimplewords,Arnoldtriedtoexplain.Butitwashopeless.Riffididnoteventrytounderstand.

“Meyourfreng,”RiffikeptsayingashepattedArnold’sarm.“Youmyfreng.”“Butit’smorethanthat,”Arnoldinsisted.“Yis.Morethanthat.Iknow.Meyourfreng.Youmyfreng.”Andthat,itseemed,wasallheneededtoknow.“IfonlyyoucouldspeakEnglish,”Arnoldsighed.Riffilookedupathim,hiswideeyesfullofreproach.

“MespeakgudEngliss,”heprotested.“MecansaymanytingsinEngliss.”ThenRifficlaspedhishandstogetherprimlyandbegantoreciteasetspeechslowlyandpainfully,

enunciatingeachwordwithsuchaneffortthatatfirstArnoldcouldnotunderstandwhathewassaying.“MaihusbendendI,”Riffisaid,“areverreepleecedtudeclareyarbazaaropen.”Arnoldwasbewildereduntilhesuddenlyunderstoodthegrotesqueparody.“Whotaughtyouthat?”heaskedsharply.“Ewing?”“No.Afreng.”“Whatfriend?”“AnEnglissfreng.”“IsheinTangiernow?”“No.HegobacktoLondon.”“Howoldwashe?”“Inotknow.”“Olderthanmeoryoungerthanme?”“Hehavegreyhair—olderthanyou.”“Whatwashisname?”“Why-foryouwanknowhisname?”“Tellmehisname.”“HisnamePaul.Why-foryouangry?Hemyfreng.”Riffihelduphisrighthandandpointedtothesilverringonhismiddlefinger.“Hegivemedisring,”Riffisaid.“Butnowyoumyfreng.Igiveyouring.”RiffipulledofftheringandhandedittoArnold,noddinghisheadsolemnly.“Butifthemangaveittoyou,”Arnoldbegandoubtfully.“Younowmyfreng,”Riffiinterrupted.“Igiveyouring.Giveyourhand.”Arnoldstretchedouthisrighthand,andRiffislippedtheringonhislittlefinger.“Youhavedisring.Youaremyfreng.”SuddenlyRiffibentdownandkissedthebackofhishand.“Youkeepring,”hesaid.“YoukeepRiffi.

YouinLondon.Youtakering.YoutakeRiffilikeincave.”“Iloveyou,”Arnoldsaidquietlyforhisownbenefit—becausehewantedtohearhimselfspeakthe

wordsintheboy’spresence.“Iloveyou,”Riffireplied.“Youmyfreng.”

————————ThesunhadsetinaredglowbehindCapeSpartelbythetimetheyreachedthevilla.RiffidisappearedwithBashir.Arnoldwanderedintothelight-greydrawing-roomwherehefoundEwing,lyingonasofa.

“Helpyourselftoadrink,”Ewingsaid.“Myinsideisstilltorture,soI’mdrinkingFernetBrancaandhopingforthebest.Dr.Valdeziscominguptoseemeatanymoment.Didyouenjoyyourday?”

“Verymuchindeed.”“Didtheboybehavehimself?”“Hewasawonderfulcompanion.”“Ibethewas,”Ewingsaiddryly.“Dohelpyourselftoadrink.”Arnoldwalkedovertothedrink-tableandpouredhimselfastrongwhiskyandsoda.“WhowasPaul?”heasked.“Paul?”“RiffisaidhehadanEnglishfriendcalledPaul.”“Ohthatone!”Ewingsaid.“PaulAshton.He’soneofthosemadlycautiousEnglish‘county’queers.

Theyleadlivesofmonumentalrespectabilityandboredomforelevenmonthsoutoftwelve.Butonceayear theyunleashthemselvesfromtheirhorseywives in theshiresandbeetle tosome louche spot like

Tangiertomakeupforlosttime.PaulAshtonescapedfromhisgrosslyrichandwhollyrepellentwifeinNottinghamshireandcameoutherelastOctober.HemadeupforhisverylosttimewithRiffi.”

“Isee,”Arnoldsaidafterapause.“Don’tlooksodepressed.Surelyyoudidn’timagineyouwereexploringvirginsoil?”“No,Ididn’t.”“Thenwhysogloomy?”“Iwasjustthinking...IexpectRiffimustthinkofmeasanotherPaulAshtoninhislife.”“Iexpecthedoes.Isthereanyreasonwhyheshouldn’t?”“No,Isupposenot.Thoughit’snotthesame.”“Whynot?”Arnoldglancedupfromhisglassinsurprise.Ewing’svoicewasunexpectedlysoftandsympathetic.“Whynot?”Ewingrepeatedgently.“Itoldyou.BecauseIlovetheboy.Ireallydo.IonlywishIcouldproveittohim.”“Whyshouldn’tyouproveit?”“There’ssolittletime.Tomorrow’smylastnight.”“Whynotstayanotherfortnight?”“BecauseIhavetobebackatMeltonHallbyJanuarythethird.”“Can’tyoucableaskingforyourholidaytobeextended?”ArnoldthoughtoftheexpressiononBlair’sfaceasheopenedthecableandreadit.“Notpossibly,”Arnoldsaid.“Whatifyouwereill?”“Thatwouldbedifferent.Icouldn’tflybackthen,couldI?”“Thenyoucanbeill.”“ButI’mnot.”Ewingspreadouthishandsimpatientlyandletthemdroponthetable.“Howare theyevergoing toknowthatyou’renot ill?”heasked.“Youcable themthatyou’vegot

severebronchitisandyouairmailthemamedicalcertificate.”“WheredoIgetthemedicalcertificate?”“FrommygoodandextremelyusefulfriendDr.Valdezwhenhecomesherethiseveningtogiveme

somethingwhich Ionlyhopewill settlemy stomach.Dr.Valdezhas lookedaftermeever since I firstarrivedinTangierandwasconvincedI’dcaughtsomeghastlydisease.He’sverykeenonthenatives.HewasdownatConchita’sbartheothernight,butyouprobablydidn’tnoticehim.”

“Youmeanhe’llwritemeoutamedicalcertificate,justlikethat?”“It’stheleasthecando,whenyouthinkhowmuchIpayhimeachyear.Mustaphacantakethecable

downtothepostofficefirstthinginthemorning.Forgetaboutit.You’rehereforanotherfortnight.It’sallfixed.Besides,youcan’tleavejustyet.Thereareallkindsofthingstosettle.Riffi’sfuture,forinstance.”

“Riffi’sfuture?”Arnoldaskedslowly.HefeltdazedbythespeedwithwhichEwingmadeplansforhim.

“Well,you’vesaidyou’redevotedtohim.Iseethathe’sgivenyouhisring.AndIreallydothinkhe’sfondofyou.Soobviouslyyouwanttoorganizeyourjointfuturessomehow.”

“But how can I? Thanks to your kindness andDr. Valdez Imay be able to stay out here anotherfortnight.ButthenI’llhavetogoback.Ishan’tgetanotherholidayforsixmonths.”

“Youdon’tintendtoworkinanapprovedschoolfortherestofyourlife,doyou?”“WhatelsecanIdo?”“Lotsofthings,Ishouldsay.Supposingsomedrearyoldauntyou’dneverheardofsuddenlydiedand

leftyouenoughtoliveon,wouldyougoonworkingatMeltonHall?”Arnoldshookhisheadandlaughed.

“Idon’tbelongtotheclassthathasrichaunts,”hesaid.“That’snotmybackgroundatall.Myfathertaughtinaday-school,andmymotherworkedinatea-shop.I’vegotnorichauntslyingaboutanywhere.”

Ewinggotupandleanedagainstthechimney-piece.Forthefirst timeArnoldnoticedthathehadaslighttremorinhislefteye.Thelidwasgentlyquivering.

“Ibelievethatifyouwantsomethingsufficientlystronglyyoucanalwaysgetit intheend,”Ewingsaid.

“Ifyou’vegotthemoneytostartwith.”“Youmayhavemoneyoneday.Moneyisn’timpossibletoget—evenifyou’vegotnone.Butfirstyou

havetowantthemoneybadlyenough.YouwantRiffiandyouwanttohelphim.That’sastart.AndI’dsayyouwereverylucky.”

“Why?”“Letmeaskyouthis.Supposingthat tomorrowyouwokeuptofindyourselfrich,whatwouldyou

do?”“GiveupMeltonHallandlivewithRiffi.”“Where?”“Somewhereouthere,Isuppose.”“Right,let’ssupposethatyou’relivinginalittlevillawithRiffi.Howwouldyouspendyourdays?”“Well,we’dgoforpicnicstotheCaves,butnoteveryday.ThenIwouldn’twantanyservantsinthe

villabecauseI’dwanttobealonewithRiffi.BesidesI’mnotusedtoservants,soRiffiwouldhavetodothe cooking and clean the place. That would give him something to do. While he was doing thehousework,I’dlearnArabicsoIcouldtalktohim.AndI’dtrytolearnsomethingaboutmusic.”

“Youdon’tseeyourselfhavinglongconversationswithhimaboutGreekdrama?”“No,Idon’t,”Arnoldsaid laughing.Notforonemoment.”ButEwingdidnotevensmile.Hewas

staringdownatthepatterninthefadedpinkcarpet.“That’swhy you’re lucky,” he said. “Because if I’m interested in a boy, I dowant to be able to

discussartandliteraturewithhim.IwanttoimparttohimthelittlefractionofitallthatIknow—sothathecanlookdownat thiscarpetandtellmethat it’sAubussonandappreciate that it’squitegoodof itskind.Formethat’sthemainpointofthewholebusiness.I’mnotinterestedanymoreinattractivebodiesand pretty faces. I’ve known enough of them in my time. My trouble is that I want more than that.EssentiallyI’monly interested inwhatIcanachievefor thepersonI love.I like teachinghimtoenjoymusicandbooksandpainting.I likewatchingthepetalsofhismindunfoldintoaflowerIcancherish.That’swhateducationshouldreallybe—drawingoutthepersonfromthetight-closedbudsofignoranceandprejudice.”

Ewingcrossedtothedrink-tableandpouredhimselfaneatbrandy.Hishandsweretrembling.“ButI’mconvincedthatyoucanonlysucceedinarelationshipofthekindIwantwithsomeoneof

yourownrace,”hecontinued.“Hemustevenbeofyourownnationality.Andoncehe’sthat,allkindsofsocialcomplicationsofclassandincomeandaccententerin.That’swhyyou’resoluckytowantRiffi.You don’t need to get inside hismind andmould his thoughts.You’re content to love thewonderfullyattractivelittleanimalthatheis.”

ArnoldwasabouttoprotestthatRiffiwasmorethananattractiveanimal,whentherewasaringatthefrontdoor.

“ThatwillbeDr.Valdez,”Ewingsaid.“I’lltakehimtomyroom.WhenIseeyounext,whichwillbeforacocktailbeforedinner,I’llhavegotyourmedicalcertificate.Ionlyhopethathe’llhavegivenmesomedopetohelpmywretchedstomach.”

————————Thecertificate,writtenonheadednotepaper,lookedimpressivelyofficial.ArnoldhadcomposedacablewithEwing’shelpandhadwrittenacoveringletterforthecertificate.HehadthenfoundRiffiandtold

him that he would be staying in Tangier for another fortnight: he had been touched by Riffi’s almosthysterical excitement. The food and thewine at dinner had been as excellent as usual.Riffiwas nowsafelytuckedupinhisbed.ArnoldsatcontentedlyonthesofasippingBenedictine,beaminggratitudeatEwing.HefeltfarmoreateasewithEwingsincetheirtalkbeforedinner.Henowevenhadthecouragetobeginaconversation.

“WhatmadeyoucomeouttoTangierinthefirstplace?”Arnoldasked.Ewingglanceddownatthebrandyinhisglassandsmiled.“IcouldgiveyousomanyromanticreasonswhyIfirstcamehere,”hesaid.“Ihatetodisappointyou

bytellingthetrueone.EvennowIfinditfaintlyshaming.Yousee,thetruthisthatbeforethewarIwasoneofthosedesperatelycautiousqueersweweretalkingaboutjustnow.That’swhyIknowthetypesowell. Mymother died and left me a large house near Newmarket when I was twenty. As an Anglo-American I led a respectable ‘county’ existence, staying away for weekends with other people withequallylargehousesandequallylargeincomesandequallynarrowoutlooks.IwassodeterminedtobenormalthatIalmostgotengagedtobemarried.Ofcourse,IhadaflatinLondon.OccasionallyI’dunleashmyselfwithsomeoneI’dpickedupinapub.ButIwascareful,andIwasdeeplyconventional.AtheartIdespisedmyselffornotbeingcapableoffallinginlovewithagirl.”

Ewingpausedandlitacigarette.“Thewarchangedall that,”hesaidquietly.“WhenIwasfacedwiththeprospectofbeingkilledI

realizedtheimportanceoflivingandlivingfully—notleadingapaleimitationofthebusiness.Secondly,IdiscoveredthatintheServicesthereweresimplyhundredsofmenfromeverywalkofcivilianlife—butmainly,Imusttellyou,fromtheworking,notthemiddleclasses—whohadexactlythesameemotionsasIdid.GraduallyIcametorealizethatIwasn’tanalmostunique,ratheroddproductofaneffetesociety.Ordinarycommon-or-gardenmenwhobeforethewarhadbeenminersorbus-drivers,factoryworkersormechanicshadprettywellthesamesexualdesiresasIdid.UptillthenI’dalwaysthoughtofqueersasbeing unfortunate, and handicapped—people born on the wrong side of the tracks as it were. I nowrealizedthatwemightbeonthewrongside—buttherewereanawfullotofus.Icantellyouitwasagreatdiscovery.Itchangedthewholeofmylife.WhenthewarwasoverIwentbacktoEnglandandsoldthebighouseandletmyflat.Yousee,IknewthatIcouldn’tleadthekindoflifeIwantedtoinEngland.Ifound theconventional atmosphere stifling.So Ipackedmybagsand left.Fora fewyears IwanderedthroughFranceandSpain.ThenonemorningItooktheferryfromAlgecirasandcrossedovertoTangier—justtolookattheplace.AndhereIam.”

Arnold envied not only the wealth but the ruthlessness that enabled Ewing to make such drasticdecisionsandabidebythem.

“Didyoufindthisvillarightaway?”heasked.“No,”Ewingsaid.“IlivedupontheMarshanuntilTimlefttheplace.”Ewing’sthinlipswerepressedtightlytogether.HeputdownhisliqueurglassandexaminedArnold’s

facethoughtfully.“Ihaven’t toldyouaboutTim,have I?”hesaid.“I think I should tellyouabouthim,becauseTim

provesapointthatit’smostimportantthatyouaboveallpeopleshouldunderstand.”AsEwing’seyesfocusedonhisface,itoccurredtoArnoldthatperhapsthedopethatDrValdezhad

broughttoeasethepaininEwing’sstomachwashavinganunexpectedeffectonhim.Hewascertainlynotdrunk,buttherewasanodd,almostvacantlookinhiseyes.

“Whereshall Ibegin?”Ewingaskedwitha twirlofhis righthand.“IsupposeI’dbeststartat thebeginning...

“Well,I’dtakenavillaupontheMarshan—I’llshowityoutomorrow.AndI’dbeenupthereforayear,withMustaphaandhiswifetolookafterme,andsixteen-year-oldBashirtoentertainme.AndImustadmitthatIwasgettingratherbored.TheaffairwithBashirwasover.Itneverreallystarted.Wehadonly

onethingincommon.ButBashirwasawonderfulservant.I likedhavinghimaroundtheplace.AllthesameIwasfindingthevillaabitdull,soI’dgonedowntodineintown...

“IsatlateoverdinneratthePavilloncursingmyselffornotappreciatingtheadvantagesIhadinlife.Amanoffortyingoodhealthwithplentyofmoneyandnoresponsibilitieshasnorighttobebored,Itoldmyself.IdrankaKümmel.ThenIwentroundtoWayne’sbarforanightcap.

“IwaslisteningtoWayne’sstockofgossipwhenayoungmanofaboutnineteenwalkedin.Assoonas I set eyes on him I felt I had reallymetmy destiny. I tried to controlmy ridiculous imagination. IdecidedImustbedrunk.Ilookedathimagain.Withhistousledfairhairandcheckshirtandshabby,grey-flannel trousers hewas obviously English.My first thoughtwas that hewas off one of the smugglingboats.Iheardlaterthathe’dtriedtogetajobononeofthemonlythatmorning,soIwasn’tfarwrong.Theyoungmansatdownatthetablenexttomineandorderedabeer.Ifoundithardtokeepmyeyesoffhim...

“HowshallIdescribehim?Hewasaboutsixfeettallandobviouslywonderfullymade,withheavy,broadshoulders,asmallwaistandnarrowhips.Hewasas fair-skinnedasyouare,buthiseyesweredeepbrown—whichmadeadisturbingcontrast.Hewasleanandtough,butheseemedshyandawkward.Hehadbigredhandswhichhekeptputtingunderthetable,asifhewereashamedofthem.Hisfeatureswere too large and fleshy to be classically perfect, but his radiant health and the odd, rather wistfulexpressionofhiseyesmadehimwildlyattractive.PerhapsthebestwayIcandescribehimistosaythatwithhisquiteastonishinggoodlooksheremindedoneofeveryillustrationone’severseeninmagazinesof the ideal schoolboy hero.His firm jaw, straight nose, clear eyes and curly hair—theywere almostlaughablytypicalofthejuniorprefectwhowaskindtothesmallerboys,butademonontheruggerfield.Theyweretypical,Irepeat,untilonelookedcloser.Thenonesawthatthejawwasashadetooheavy,thelipstoofull,thenostrilstoowide,theeyebrowstoothick,andthehairfartoolong.ButIwasfascinated.IsignalledtoWaynetogoandtalktohim.PresentlyWayneintroducedus,andoveradrinktheyoungmantoldmethathisnamewasTimDeakin—whichwastrue—andthathewasastewardonacargo-boatintheharbour—whichwasnot.However,Iwastooelatedtodistinguishtruthfromfalsehood,becausesomeinstincttoldmethatTimDeakinwaswhatIhadbeensearchingfor—eversincethewarended.

“WhenWaynesaid—oncue—thathemustclosethebar,IaskedTimuptothevillaforadrink.Heacceptedcautiously.Hesaid thathe’dgot tobebackonboardhisshipby twoAM. I toldhimthathewouldbe.IdrovehimuptotheMarshan.

“Butwhenhearrivedatthevilla,theyoungmanwasshyandratherembarrassed.Ibegantobeafraidthattheeveningwasgoingtoturnoutafailure...”

————————Tim, it seemed, had felt ill at ease in the brightly lit living-roomwith its shiningwalls panelledwithJapanesepaintings.Hehadbeenafraidthathisshoeswoulddirtythethickwhitecarpetorthathewouldknockoveroneofthejadefiguresontheblacklacquertablebesidehim.Hehadbeenconsciousofhisroughvoiceandcoarse,redhands.

“Whatwillyoudrink?”Ewinghadasked.“Scotch—ifthereisany.”“There’sacoupleofbottlesatleast.”Timtriedtolaugh.“Onewilldo,”hesaid.Ewingsmiledbackathim.“You’retoomodest,”Ewingmurmured.Afterhehadpouredouttwolargedrinks,Ewingcrossedtheroomandswitchedontherecord-player.

EarlierthateveninghehadbeenlisteningtoanewrecordingofFigaroandthesoundofCherubino’sariawafted across the room.Ewing had supposed that Timwould prefer jazz.But at least therewas nowbackgroundmusictofillthegapsintheirconversation.

“WhatpartofEnglanddoyoucomefrom?”Ewingasked.ForamomentTimdidnotreply.Hismindseemedfaraway.ThenhelookedupatEwing.“I’msorry,”Timmuttered.“Ididn’thearwhatyousaid.”“WheredoyoucomefrominEngland?”“My parents come fromYork. I was born in London. In the war I was evacuated to Dorset.My

parentswerekilledintheblitz.”Ewingcouldthinkofnosuitablewordsofsympathy.“I’msorry,”hesaidafterapause.ButTimdid not hearwhat he said.His headwas tilted back, andhewas listening intently to the

music.“Mozart,isn’tit?”heasked.“Isn’titFigaro?”“Itisindeed.Howdidyouknowthat?”“IsawitonceatGlyndebourne.”Ewingcouldnotconcealagestureofsurprise.“Idid.Really,Idid,”Timsaid.“TherewasafriendIusedtostaywithforweekendswhenIwason

leave.He’dgotthislittlecottagenearMayfieldthathewentdowntointhesummer.Well,he’dtakentwoticketsforFigaro,andheaskedmeifI’dliketogowithhim.SoIthoughtIwould—justforthelark.Wemadearealeveningofit.Hehiredmeadinner-jacketandall.I’mgladIdidgo.Itwasgreat.”

“Howoldwasyourfriend?”Ewingasked.Timlaughed.Helookeddownattheglassinhishand.“Ithoughtyou’daskthat,”hesaid.“Howoldwashe?”TimraisedhisheadandstaredatEwingsteadilywithhisdeep-browneyes.“Aboutyourage,”hesaidslowly.AtthatmomentEwingrealizedthatTimhadknownfromthebeginningwhyhehadbeeninvitedtothe

villa.Ewinghadonly tomakethefirstmove.ButhewantedapermanentrelationshipwithTim—notabriefadventure.AlreadyhehadbeguntodoubtTim’sstoryofbeingastewardonacargoboat.Andevenifthestoryweretrue,intimeEwingcouldpersuadeTimtoleavethejob.Theessentialthingwasnottostarttherelationshiponthewrongbasis.EwingthereforesuppressedthequestionshelongedtoaskaboutTim’sfriendinMayfield.Hebegantodiscussoperainparticularandmusicingeneral.TohisdelighthefoundthatTimderivedintensepleasurefrommusic.Hisbrowneyesshoneashespokeoftheconcertshehadheard.

Towardstwoo’clockEwinglookedathiswatchandgotup.“Yououghttobegoing,”heannounced.“Don’tlet’smove,”Timsaid.“Can’tIdossdownheresomewhereforthenight?”“Ithoughtyousaidyouhadtobebackonboardbytwo?”Timsmiledupathimhappily.“ThatwasbeforeIgottoknowyou,”hesaid.“Iwantedanexcuseto

scarperifwedidn’tgeton.”Ewingpickeduptheirglassesandpouredouttwostrongdrinks.Nowthen,”hesaid,handingTimbackhisglass,“what’sthetruestory?”Timshuffledhisfeetawkwardly.“ThetruthisthatI’mherewithafriend,”hesaid.“He’saboycalledDon.He’seighteen.Youcan

meethimtomorrowifyoulike.Wehitch-hikedherethroughFranceandSpain.WewerefedupwiththefactoryweworkedatinCroydon.Sowethoughtwe’dcomeouthereandtrytogetajobononeofthesmugglingboats.We’restilltrying.”

EwingresistedanimpulsetoputhishandonTim’sshoulder.“Icanfindyouabetterjobthanthat,”hesaid.“WhataboutDon?”

“AndDontoo.”Timstaredupathim,radiantwithgratitude.“Itwouldbegreatifyoucould,”hesaid.EwingsatdowninthearmchairoppositeTimandsettledbacktoplaythegamecarefully.Heheld

goodcards.Butheknewthatonesinglemistakewouldfinishhim.“WhatkindofworkdoyouthinkDonwouldlike?”“Anything,”Tomsaid.“Hewasawaiterbefore...beforehecameintothefactory.”Ewingpretendednottonoticethehesitation.“Doyouthinkhe’dbehappyworkingupatthevillaofafriendofmine?”“Isyourfriendaman?”“No.Awoman,”Ewingsaid.HewasthinkingthatifDonwerehalfashandsomeasTimhewould

suitLavinia.“Thatwouldbefine,”Timsaidquickly.“Sothat’sgotDonfixedup.Nowwhataboutme?”SlowlyEwingpreparedtoplayhisacecard.“Doyouknowanythingaboutdieselengines?”heasked.“Abit.Why?”“I’vegotayachtdownintheharbour.Howwouldyouliketotraintobethemechaniconit?Timrushedacrosstheroomandclutchedhisshoulder.“Doyoureallymeanthat?”heasked.“You’dreallyhavemetrainedtobethemechanic?”“OfcourseIwould.”“Butisn’tthereamechanicalready?”“Notatpresent,”Ewingsaid.“Theyacht’slaidup.”“Howbigisshe?”“Fiftytons.Youcanseehertomorrowifyoulike.ButIhonestlythinkthatrightnowweoughttobe

goingtobed.It’smadlylate.Ithinkthebed’smadeupinthespareroomonthisfloor.Let’sgoandsee.”“Doesn’tmatterifitisn’tmadeup,”TimsaidashefollowedEwingtothedoor.“Icandossdown

anywhere.”Ewingcouldfeelthetremorinhislefteyethatonlyoccurredwhenhisnervesweretense.Now,if

ever,wasthemomenttostrike.Butheresistedthetemptation.HewasdeterminedthatitshouldbeTimwhomadethefirstmove.Heopenedthedoorofthespareroomandpulledbackthebedcover.

“Yes.Thebed’smadeupall right,”hesaidbriskly.“Andthebathroom’s throughthosecurtains. Ifyouwantanything,mybedroom’sacrossthecorridor,bangopposite.Goodnight.”

Timgazedathimuncertainly.“Thanksfortheevening.Itwasgreat,”hesaid,afterapause.Ewing turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.Perhaps he had been too abrupt, he

thoughtasheundressed.Nevermind.Therewasalwaystomorrow.EwingwaslyinginbedreadingLeGrandMeaulneswhentherewasaknockat thedoorandTim

camein.Hewasnakedexceptforatowelroundhiswaist.“Hello,”Ewingsaidquietly.Timclosedthedoorbehindhimandstoodwithhisweightononefoot,staringathiminsilence.With

histousledhairandfinelyshapedshouldersheremindedEwingofastatueofAntinousinAthens.“Youknow,Iguessedrightawaywhyyouaskedmeuphere,”Timsaid.“Iexpectyoudid,”Ewingrepliedinhiscalm,evenvoice.“Butthen...whenyoustartedtalkingaboutmusic,IthoughtImustbewrong.”“Youmostprobablywere,inaway.”Timtookthreestepstowardshimandthenstopped.“Onlyinaway?”Timasked.

“Yes.It’shardtoexplain.”“Isupposeitis.”“Don’tworryaboutit.”“ButIdo.Yousee,I’mgrateful.”“Iexpectit’llsortitselfout.”Timunwrappedthetowelroundhiswaistandthrewitintothecorner.“Yes.Itwill,”hemuttered.ThenhecrossedtheroomquicklyandgotintoEwing’sbed.“I’dfeelasifIwerestayinghereunderfalsepretencesotherwise,”Timsaidwithanervouslaugh.

==:==:==:==Ewingspreadouthisfingers,palmsoutward,glancedatthem,andthenlethishandsfalltohissideandturnedbacktoArnold.

“Ofcourse,Istillwasn’tcertain,”Ewingsaid.“Icouldseetroubleonthehorizon.ThemainproblemwasTim’sfriend—theeighteen-year-oldDon...

“Well,wemetDonbeforelunchatWayne’sbarthenextday.“DonwasapertlittleCockney,withcurlyblackhair,asnubnoseandanimpudentgrin.AssoonasI

seteyesonhimIrealizedthathe’dneverdoforLavinia.UnfortunatelythatidiotWaynedecidedhe’ddofor him. Wayne behaved outrageously. He fluttered his eyelids, made the boy drunk on champagnecocktails,boughthimcigarettes,hungoneverywordheuttered,andgenerallybehavedlikeacampoldqueen.

“The four of us went off to lunch at the Pavillon. Before we’d even ordered food, Wayne hadsuggestedthatDonshouldcomeandworkforhimasanassistantbarman.Ofcourse,thewholeideawasridiculous.Waynedidn’tneedanassistantbarman.ItwasjustatransparentexcusetogetholdofDon.Butitworked. The boywas thrilledwith the idea.He startedwork that evening. But Timwasn’t all thatpleased.

“ ‘Don’smy friend,’he said. ‘I’m theonlyone that’sallowedwithDon.Sodon’t let anyonestartgettingideasabouthim.’

“ButwhatcouldIdoaboutit?Ididn’tknowWayneaswellasIdonow.I’dgotnoinfluenceoverhim to speak of.How could I interfere? Itwas all verywell forTim to say that hewas the only oneallowedwithDon.The troublewas thatDondidn’tsubscribe to thatviewatall. IknewhewasgoingbacktoWayne’sflateverynight,andIknewwhatwentonthere.TimwasalmostobsessivelydevotedtolittleDon.ForhimitwasaDavidandJonathanaffair.DonwasfondofTimasafriend.Andthatwasall.Donwasdefinitelyandunashamedlyonthegame.SoIthoughtWaynewasmakingamistake—butnotforthesamereasonasTimdid.Withhissnubnoseandperky littlecherubic face,Donwasprovocativelyattractive.IfWayneparadedhimnightlybehindhisbar,hewasboundtolosehimintimetosomeonewhohadmoretooffer.

“MeanwhileTimwassettlingdowninmyvillaontheMarshan.Thevilla’sbuiltontwofloors—I’llshow ityou tomorrow. I’d installedTim in the top floor,which formedaself-contained flat,andapartfromworrying aboutDon he seemed very happy.Hewas thrilledwith the yacht. I’d found a Spanishengineer,who spoke English, to put him through a course on diesel engines. I’d got hold of a retireddrunkenoldDanishskippercalled—originallyenough—KnudChristiansentoteachhimaboutnavigation.Allwasgoingwell.

“Thenthecrashcame.TimhadbeenaskedouttodinebytheoldskipperChristiansenandhiswifeintheirlittleflatintheRueGoya.They’daskedmeaswellbutI’dmadeanexcuseandgotoutofit,becauseIwantedTimtogetaskedoutonhisown,independentlyofme.SoTimwentalone,andIdinedupatthevilla,withBashirwaitingonme.I’dtoldTimallaboutBashir,ofcourse.Andhedidn’tmind.NordidBashir—once he’d realized that I’d no intention of getting rid of him. In fact, they got on quite well

together,sothatwasonecomplicationoutoftheway.“AfterdinnerthatnightIfeltrestless,soeventhoughitwaslate,IdrovedowntoWayne’sbar.Tomy

surpriseIfounditshut.ButtherewasalightoninsidesoIbatteredonthedoor.PresentlythedooropenedacrackandWaynepeeredout.

“‘Oh,it’syou,’hesaiddismally.‘Comein.’“Iwent in.Wayne shut thedoorquicklybehindmeand locked it.Tearswere streamingdownhis

paintedcheeks.“‘Whatonearth’swrong?’Iasked.“‘He’sgone,’Waynesaidinawailingvoice.“‘Who’sgone?’“‘He’s leftme.Withoutevenaword, theungrateful littlebrute.Don’s leftme.He’sgoneoffona

cruisetoMexicowiththathorribleBelgianman.Heneverevensaidgoodbyeorthankyou.AndIshallneverseehimagain.He’sgoneforgood.’

“TheBelgianmanwasLouisDubois—aretiredbankerofaboutsixtywithacastleontheLoireandavillainAcapulco.ExactlywhatIhadforeseenhadnowoccurred.

“‘DoesTimknow?’Iasked.“Waynenoddedhisheadwearily.“‘Timwasherehalfanhourago,”Waynesaid.“‘Wheredidhego?’“‘Backtoyourvilla,Isuppose.Whereelsecouldhego?Donleftbyplanewiththatcretintwohours

ago.They’veflownofftoMarseillestopickuptheyacht.’“Well,IaskedWaynetolunchwithmethenextday,andIdidmybesttoconsolehim.ThenIdrove

quicklybacktothevilla.ButTimhadnotreturned.Iwaitedupforhimforanhour.ThenIwenttobed.“ThreehourslaterTimcameback.Hewasverydrunk.Hestaggeredintomyroomandthrewhimself

downonthebed.“‘I’velosthim,’hesaid.‘I’velosttheonlythingI’dgotinthewholebloodyworld.’“Thenhebrokedowncompletely.I’dheardofpeoplebeingrentbygrief,butI’dneverseenitbefore.

Hiswholebodywasshakenbyhissobs.Itriedtocomforthim—withoutmucheffect.Butgraduallyhegotcalmer.Andthentherealtruthcameoutatlast.Infact,I’dalmostguessedit.

“Tim andDonwere on the run.Theywere deserters from the army.They’d got into trouble oncealready foroverstaying their leave,and they’dbeensent to theglass-house.Theysaw trouble loomingaheadagain.Theirsergeanthadgot it infor them,Timsaid,andtheycouldn’t faceanotherstretch inamilitaryprison.ThentheirunitwaspostedtoCyprus.Thetroop-shipstoppedinGibraltar.Theydecidedtotaketheirchance.Theywereclosefriends—theywouldfacetheworldtogether.So,withthekindofquixoticlunacythatonlythosewho’vehadexperienceofthebreedcancredit,theydesertedinGibandcrossedovertoTangier,theirideabeingthatthey’dgetajobtogetherononeofthesmugglingboats.Butithadn’tworkedoutthatway.AndnowthemainstayofTim’slifehadbeentakenaway.Hewasshatteredandinconsolable...”

==:==:==:==“IcouldbearanythingsolongasDonwasaround,”Timhadsaid.“Icouldbearhavingnoparentsandnohometogobackto,andnotapennypiece.IcouldputupwiththethoughtthatonedaytheywereboundtocatchuponmeandI’dbesentback to theglass-house. Icouldputupwith livingfromhand tomouth,sellingwhatI’dgottoofferinexchangeforcashtogetfoodanddrink.Somehowitdidn’tseemtomatter.I’dsharethemoneywithDonanyhow.AndI’dratheritwasmethatpickedupageezerandwentbackwithhimthanDondid.I’dlearnedtolookaftermyself.Ididn’tcareallthatmuch.I’dgotDon,andsolongasI’dgothimnothingelsecounted.”

Timraisedhisheadwithalongsigh.

“ButnowI’velosthim,”Timsaid.“I’velosthimforkeeps,Iknowthat.AndI’vegotnothingleftintheworld.Nothing.”

Timlaybackandstaredupattheceiling,hisfacetwistedwithgrief.AndasEwinggazedathiminthestillnessofthenighthemadehisplan.

ThenextmorninghetookTimforawalkroundtheMarshanandtoldhimtheplaninoutline.Essentially,Ewing’sschemewassimpleandlogical.Timmustgivehimselfup.Hecouldnotliveout

hislifewiththeshadowofaprisonsentencespreadingoverhim.Eventually,theauthoritieswerealmostcertaintocatchhim.Timmustsurrenderofhisownaccord.EwingwouldprovidethebestsolicitorhecouldfindtoappearonTim’sbehalfatthecourtmartial.Timwouldpleadguilty.Inextenuationhewouldsaythathehadbeendriventodesertfromhisunitbytheintensityofhisinclinationtowardshisownsex.Thiswouldmake certain of his discharge from theService.Even if his sentencewere asmuch as sixmonthshewouldserveitinacivilianprison.Ewingwouldgivehimatestimonialashisemployer,andhewouldwritealettertotheauthoritiesguaranteeingtoemployTimasamechaniconhisdischarge.

AsEwinghadexpected,Timrejectedtheplanviolently.“I’mnotgivingmyselfup,”hesaid.“NotafterallI’vebeenthroughtogetawayfromthem.Doyou

thinkI’msoftinthehead?Givemyselfup—justforthemtodowhattheylikewithme?I’mnotacompletefool.”

But Ewing was both patient and persuasive. By the following evening Tim had agreed. EwingimmediatelytelephonedhissolicitorinLondon.Theplanwasputintooperation,anditworked.TimwasdischargedfromtheService.Hewasgivenasentenceof threemonths,whichheserved inWinchestergaol.

Ewing redecorated the top flat in the villa. He counted the days before Tim should rejoin himpermanently.

————————“Ishallneverforgetthosedaysofwaitingforhim,”Ewingsaid,smilingatArnoldruefully.

“Itwasagonytobepartedfromhim.YetI’dgotsomuchtolookforwardto.EachdayI’dmakefreshplansforour future togetheror I’d thinkofsomenewpresent Icouldgivehim.Then therewasall theexcitementofgettingaletterfromhim.Hehatedprison,hesaid.Buthewaswelland,likeme,hewascountingthedaysuntilhewasreleased.

“I’dworkedouteverydetailofhisfirstnightbackinTangier.I’drehearsedourmeetingattheairportandourdrivebacktothevillainthenewconvertibleI’dhadshippedout.IknewwhatcocktailI’dmakehim,wherewe’dsit,whatwe’d talkabout. Ikneweverycourse I’dorder forhimat thePavillon, thevintageofeachwine.

“IsupposeI’dlookedforwardtohisreturnsomuchthattherealitywasboundtobeananti-climax.Anditwas.

“Timarrivedbacktiredandnervous.He’dbeendrinkingontheplaneonthewayout.Bydinner-timehewastight.OurmealatthePavillonwasadisaster.Iwaspartlytoblame.Yousee,I’dexpectedhimtobegratefulforwhatI’ddoneforhim.Ishouldhaveknownbetter.SofarasTimwasconcerned,IandIalonehadbeenresponsibleforsendinghimtoprison.

“What’smore, I should have known better than to imagine that Tim had spent his time in prisonthinkingaboutme.He’dscarcelygivenmeathought.Duringthelongdarknightsinhiscellhe’dworriedaboutoneperson,andonepersononly—Don.Forsomeperversereason—probablyfromwishfulthinking—he’dgotitintohisheadthatDonnowbitterlyregrettedleavingwithLouisDubois,theBelgianbanker.TimwasconvincedthatDonwasunhappyandneededhim.So,duringthedragginghoursofhissentenceTimhadformedthelunaticplanofsettingoutinsearchforDonandbringinghimbacktoTangier.

“Naturally,Irefusedtotakehisplanseriously,andourfirsteveningendedinarow.Whenwegotbacktothevilla,Timrushedtohisroomandlockedthedoor.Ispentalonely,sleeplessnight,wondering

ifIhadn’tmadeaghastlymistake.ButthenextmorningTimwasverypenitentand,Imustsay,delightfullyaffectionate.HenevermentionedDon’snameonceallday.

“IreckonedIhadwonthefirstround.“ThenexttwomonthswerethehappiestI’deverknown.Itwasspring.Theweatherwasperfect.The

countrysidewasverygreenanddappledwithwildflowers.WedroveouttotheCavesforpicnics.WespentaweekendintheRîfmountains.Wewentforatripintheyacht.IboughtTimawardrobeofclothesand a goldwristwatch.Wewent out to dinewithLavinia andMilly,who adored him, andwithMiloBranchandtherestofthegang,whodidn’t.

“ThoughTimstillrefusedtogotoWayne’sbarbecausehethoughtthatpoorWaynewasresponsibleforDonmeetingtheBelgian—whichwastrueinitsway—henowmentionedDon’snamesoseldomthatIbegantobelievethathewasforgettingabouthim.Ionlyhadtwosmallworriestowardstheendofthosewonderful, sun-blessed days. I worried because I seemed to bemaking little headway in the gradualprocess of extending the horizon of Tim’s knowledge of things. He was still narrow-minded andsurprisinglybigoted.Hismindwassofirmlysetinthegroovesofhisoldlikesanddislikesthatitwasdifficult to dislodge him from the prejudices of his previous background. For instance, he refused tobelievethatProustwasagreatwriter,becausesomeonehadtoldhimthatProustwasanoldqueen.Timwent inforwhathecalled‘masculinewriters’.HeadmiredKipling—whichwasagoodstart.HealsoadmiredtheworksofPeterCheyney—whichwasnotquitethesamething.AndIalwaysfounditdifficultto reason with him. Tim had got the persistent obstinacy of a really stupid person who clings to hisargument as fiercely as a dog to a favourite bone. But Tim wasn’t stupid by any means, and I wasdeterminedtodevelophisnaturalintelligence.

“Mysecondmildworrywas thathewasdrinking toomuch. I tried tostophim.But Ihad todo itgently.Iwasafraidofsoundinglikeagoverness.

“Inspiteofmytwoworries,Iwasstillwildlyhappyasthethirdmonthbegan.ButIknewthatmystateofalmosteuphoricblisscouldn’tlast.Iknewthere’dbearowsoonerorlater.Andtherewas—allbecauseIwasfoolenoughtoaccepttheinvitationwhenMiloBranchsuggestedgivingadinner-partyformybirthday.There’dbenineguests,Milosaid.We’dchangeintoevening-dressfortheoccasion.Itwastheevening-dresspartofitthatmademeaccept.Timhadjusthadadinner-jacketmade,andIwantedanexcuseforhimtowearit.SoIwelcomedMilo’sdinner-party—idiotthatIwas.IoughttohaveknownthatMilowasgunningforTiminhisjealousway.

“TheeveningbeganbadlybecauseTimcamebacklatefromtheyachtandhadtodressinahurry.Hewasnervous.He’dalreadydrunktoomuch.Thenhecouldn’ttiehisbow-tieandhewasirritatedwhenIhadtodoitforhim.HewasinaviletemperevenbeforewearrivedatMilo’sover-furnishedandover-heatedvilla.Andofcourse thewholegangwasthere—includingJoannaKeatingandRosemaryBurke,whomyou’venevermet,andneverwillmeet,ifyou’relucky.

“For some reasondinnerwasdelayed, sowe stoodaroundMilo’s stuffydrawing-room,gazing atMingbowlsontopofredlacquercabinets,aswedrankroundafterroundoftepidMartinis.BythetimewegotintodinnerTimwasdrunk.IsawLukeWestwinkatthatpodgyboorGeoffreyPurcellwhenTimtrippedonthestepleadingdowntothedining-room.Iwasfuriouswithmyselfforhavingacceptedtheinvitationinthefirstplace,andIwasyetmorefuriouswithTimforbeingdrunk.You’vegottoappreciatehowangryIwaswithTimtounderstandwhathappened.

“Allwentwelluntilthemeatcourse,whenMilobegantellingalongandcompletelypointlessstoryabout an Italian princesswhowent to staywith LouisDubois in his castle on theLoire. Inasmuch asMilo’sstoriesgenerallyhavesomepoint,I’mconvincedtothisdaythathediditonpurpose.Butatfirsthisgamedidn’tworkbecauseTimdidn’tconnectLouisDuboiswiththeBelgianbankerwho’dwhiskedawayyoungDon.

“ItwasLukeWestwhodidthetrick...”

————————LukeWesthadraisedhisbonyheadfromhisplateandputthefatalquestion.

“DoyouthinktheprincesswillfollowourdearLouisouttoMexico?”heasked.Attheword“Mexico”Timsatupandbegantolisten.“IfshedoesfollowhimtoMexico,whateverwillshemakeofthenewboy-friendhe’stakenoutwith

him?”Milo said, patting the side of his smooth grey hair. “Quite a pert little number, I thought.But ashamelesslittlegold-diggerifthereeverwasone.”

Timputdownhisknifeandfork.“AreyoutalkingaboutDon?”heasked,scowling.MiloturnedslowlytowardsTimandexaminedhimasifheweresurprisedtoseehimsittingthere.“Ihonestlycan’t remember theboy’sname,”hesaid.“Itwassomepieceof tradehepickedup in

Wayne’sbar.”Conversationhadstopped.Everypersonatthetablewasnowlistening.“Justsaythatagain,”Timsaidthreateningly.“Idon’tseewhyIshouldsayitagain,”Milorepliedshrilly.“Ishouldhavethoughtitwasperfectly

clearthefirsttime.”Ewingdecidedthatitwastimeheintervened.“DonwasagreatfriendofTim’s,”heexplained.“ThenIcanonlysayI’msorryforhim,”Miloanswered.“You’llbesorryinamoment,”Timsaid.MiloswungroundandfacedEwing.“Areyougoingtoallowyourfriendtothreatenmeatmyowntable?”heasked.“Forgetit,Tim,”Ewingsaidappeasingly.“Milodidn’tknowDonwasaclosefriendofyours.”“Idon’tcareifhedidornot,”Timblurtedout.“Hestillhasn’tsaidhe’ssorry.”“AndIhavenointentionwhatsoeverofdoingso,”Milosaid,tremblingwithannoyance.“I’msorry,

Ewing,butIsimplyrefusetobeshoutedatandmenacedinmyownhouse.”“Don’tlet’sspoiltheevening,”Ewingsaidquickly,beforeTimhadtimetospeak.“Let’stalkabout

somethingelse.ShallIconfesstoyouallhowoldIamtoday?”“Thatwouldbeinterestingtoknow,”LukeWestmurmured.Timpushedbackhischairandgotup.“Youtalkaboutsomethingelsethen,”hesaidangrily.“I’moff.”InsilenceTimwalkedoutoftheroom.

————————WithaneffortEwingraisedhisheadfromhisbrandy-glassandlookedintoArnold’seyes.

“I suppose you think I should have leftMilo’s dinner-partywhenTim did,” Ewing said. “You’reright.Ishouldhavedone.Butafterall,thedinner-partyhadbeengiveninmyhonour.ThoughMilohadprovoked therow,Timhadbeen tiresomelydrunk,andIwas lividwithhim.SoforonefatalsecondIhesitated; and by the time I’d decided to leave, it was too late. Milo was apologizing, Lavinia wasconsolingme,andMillywassaying thatherwholeeveningwouldbewrecked if Ididn’tstayand thatshe’dputonhernewdressfromDiorespeciallyformybenefit.Lavinia thenannouncedwithmistakenloyaltythatifIleftthepartyshewouldfeelobligedtoleavetoo.WhatcouldIdobutstayandtrytomakethebestofit?

“Afterdinner,whensomeonesuggestedgoingontoanightclub,Iapplaudedtheideaenthusiastically.Iwasdreadinggoingbacktothevilla.

“Igotbackhomeatthreeinthemorning.Iclimbedupthespiralstaircasethatleadsfrommyliving-roomtothetopflat.Thedoorwasunlocked.Iwentin.Timhadn’tcomebackyet.Hispulloverandjeanswerelyingonthebed,wherehehadthrownthemwhenhechangedforthedinner-party.Howlongago

that seemed! I looked vaguely round the room. On the dressing-table was a small leather photographframe,with its twopanelshinged together so that it stoodupright. In the leftpanelwas thephotoofayoung, newlywed couple, sprinkledwith confetti, smiling resolutely in the grimy church porch. Theywere Tim’s parents. The father had the same build, the same tousled hair, the same handsome, ratherfleshyface.Itgavemeashocktothinkhowyounghisparentsmusthavebeenwhentheyhadmarried.NomorethanTim’sage.Intheright-handpanelwasaphotoofDoninabathing-sliponthebeachofsomeseasidetown.Therewasablurredpierinthebackground.Donstoodwithhishandsonhishipsandhisheadthrownback,grinningalmostcontemptuouslyatthecamera.Hewasanattractivecreature—buttherewasmore to it than that.Therewas somethingbeguiling inhis impudent little face. I couldunderstandTim’sobsessionforhim.

“Suddenly, I saw thewhole evening fromTim’spoint ofview.Hehadputon adinner-jacket andgonetoMilo’svillatopleaseme.Buthehadgotdrunk,sohehadfailed.Thentheonepersonalivehereally lovedhadbeen insulted, sohehad losthis temper.Whocouldblamehim? I couldn’t. I blamedmyself—andbitterly—formylackofloyaltytohim.AsIstoodlookingdownatthephotographs,Iheardataxidrawupoutsidethegardengates.Iwentdownstairstotheliving-room.

“Timwasverydrunk.Hestaggeredinandclosedthedoorbehindhimandstoodthereswayingashepeeredatmethroughbloodshoteyes.

“‘I’mleavinginthemorning,’hesaid.‘I’mfedupwithyou,andI’mfedupwithyourfriends.I’vehaditinabigway.I’msickandtiredofbeingtoldtodothisanddothat,readthisandreadthat.Imightbeatschoolthewayyoucarryon.Anyway,you’rejustabunchofbloodysnobs,thelotofyou.AskoldChristiansenandhiswifewhattheythink.Theyjustdespisethelotofyou—thewholefuckingissue.I’vehadit,Itellyou.I’moff!’

“ThenTimsaidagreatdealmorethatIcan’tevenbeartorememberbecauseitwassowounding.ButIkeptmytemperthroughitall.ImademyselfrememberthatitwasIwhohadfirstbeendisloyal...

“AtlastTimhadexhaustedallhe’dgottosay,andImanagedtopersuadehimtogotobed.Heslepttillnoon.Heappearedbeforelunchlookingpaleandtired.

“‘Iwasdrunklastnight,’Timsaid.‘Imadeafoolofmyself.I’msorry.Canweforgetaboutit?’“‘Let’sforgetthewholeevening,’Isaid.‘Ipromiseyouitwasallmyfault.’“‘Canwehaveacocktailtocelebrateourforgettingit?’Timasked.“‘Whatshallwehavethen?’“‘Bacardis,’Timsaid.‘They’remyfavourite.’”

————————“So the thirdstageofour relationshipbeganoveracocktailshaker.Perhaps thatwassymbolicof it—becausefromthatdayonTimbegantodrinkprettyconstantly.Whendrunkhewasnervousandsurly.Iknewitwasonlyaquestionoftimebeforeheturnedonmeagain.ButwhatcouldIdo?ThateveningatMilo’s villa Tim had been humiliated, and he never forgot it. From that day onwards he was on thedefensive.Theslightestinterferencebymewasapttosendhimintoasullenrage.Theinfuriatingpartofitwas that Iknew theprecise reason forhis rage—though I coulddonothing toprevent it. Iknew thereason because I’d listened to his drunken outpourings that fatal night. It was quite simple. Tim nowresentedmebecause—inhismind—Irepresentedauthority.Iwas thefoster-parentswhocaredforhimafter his parents had been killed in the blitz. Iwas the headmasterwho’d beaten him at his approvedschool.Yes.Timwassenttoanapprovedschoolwhenhewasfifteen,andhehadloathedit.OneofhisreasonsforjoiningtheArmywastogetawayfromtheplace.Tohim,Iwastheofficerinchargeofhistroop.Inhismind,Istoodinthepositionofthesergeantsintheglass-housewho’dsystematicallybulliedhimandtriedtobreakdownhisresistance.Morerecently,Iwastheprison-warderforhiscell.

“IknewthepositionIwasin.HowcouldIescapefromitexceptbygivinghimcompletefreedom?ButifIlethimcomeandgoashepleased,he’ddrinkhiswayroundthebarsallnightandlimpbacktothe

villa,sickandexhausted,atbreakfasttime.Itwasanimpossibleposition.EacheveningthathewentoutonhisownIwasterrifiedofwhatmighthappen...

“IrealizedthatsoonerorlaterI’dhavetoexertmyauthority.I’dhavetotellhimtobehavehimselforgetout.But I dreaded themoment. I couldn’t face thepossibilityof losinghim forgood.Timwas theincarnationofeverythingthatI’dhopedtofindinlife.I’dbackedhimwithallmydreamsofhappiness.How could I face losing him? Day after day I delayed the final show-down—though I was near tobreaking-point.ItwasTimwhoputanendtotheperiodofuncertainty.

“Itwasadismalevening.Rainhadbeen falling steadilyallday.But Iwasdelighted,because foronceTimhadpromisedtostayin.I’dboughtanewrecordingofDerRosenkavalier,andIsuggestedthatweshouldplayitafterdinner.Butwhenwe’dfinishedtheextremelycarefullyplannedmealI’dlaidonfortheoccasion,IcouldseethatTimwasrestless.Hewalkednervouslyabouttheroom,chain-smoking.Hepouredhimselfalargebrandyandgulpeditdownneat.Hewasobviouslyinnomoodformusic.Isatdownonthesofaandpretendedtoreadabook.WhenIlookedupTimwasstandingoverme.

“‘DowehavetostayheredoingsweetF.A.allevening?’heasked.‘Can’twegodowntosomebarwithsomelifeinit?Whydon’twelookinattheParadeBarorDean’s?TheMarChicamightevenbeopen.OrPaul’s place. For heaven’s sake let’s go somewhere—and not sit about in this dull room allnight.’

“Iwastired,andI’dgotaheadache.Evenso,Imighthavegonewithhimifhehadn’tsaidtheroomwasdull.IfI’dgonewithhim,everythingmighthavebeendifferent.Mighthavebeen.ThoughIexpectitwouldhaveendedmuchthesameintheend.”

————————“I’mtired,”Ewingsaid.“Whynotgoonyourown?”

“Ican’t,”Timmutteredsulkily.“It’sraining.I’llnevergetataxi.YouknowthataswellasIdo.”“Take the car then,” Ewing said, throwing the keys across to him, as he had done several times

before.“Thanks,”Timsaid.Asbefore,EwingstoppedhimselffromwarningTimtodrivecarefully.Hewasnowmorbidlyafraid

ofsoundinglikethevoiceofauthority.“Enjoyyourself,”Ewingsaid.“Don’tworry.Iwill.Idon’texpectI’llbelong.ButifI’mbacklate,Iwon’tdisturbyou.”Ewing knew what that meant.With an effort he forced himself to smile while gusts of rage and

frustrationsweptoverhim.“Haveagoodtime,”Ewingsaid.“Goodnight,”Timcriedoutcheerfullyasheclosedthedoorbehindhim.

————————Atthreeo’clockinthemorningthetelephoneextensionrangbesideEwing’sbed.Hisheartwasthuddingashepickedupthereceiver.

“MrBaird?”Itwasaman’svoicewithaforeignaccent.“EwingBairdspeaking.”“HereisCaptainMartinez,”themansaid.“Iamspeakingfromthepolice-stationontheoldmountain

road.”Ewing’smouthwasdry.“Yes,”hesaid.“What’shappened?”“Half an hour ago your carwas foundwrecked in a ditch near theMoslem cemetery,” the police

officersaid.“Thedriverofthecarisinhospital.”For a moment, while pictures of Tim’s mangled body flashed across his mind, Ewing could not

speak.

“Doyouhearme?”themanasked.“Ishebadlyhurt?”Ewingwassurprisedtonoticehowcalmhisvoicesounded.“Donotworryyourselftoomuch,MrBaird,”thepoliceofficersaid.“Heisverymuchcutaboutand

hislegisbroken.Buthewilllive.”==:==:==:==

Ewingwalkedacrosstothechimney-pieceandstoodlookingdownatthelogssmoulderinginthegrate.“By the time I couldmoveTimout of hospital,”Ewing continued, “the summerhadgone—which

madeacruiseontheyachtoutofthequestion.SoIdrovehimuptoMarrakeshinthecarI’dboughttoreplacetheonehe’dwrecked.

“TheperiodofTim’s convalescencewaswonderfully sereneon thewhole.He could limponhiscrutches round the garden of our hotel, past the orange-trees and flower-beds to the little olive grovebeyond, where we’d spend the morning in the sunshine, reading the English papers, which weresometimesonlyadayold,gossipingabouttheotherguests,learningArabicfromagrammarI’dbought,andgazingupatfleecycloudsfringingthevastchainoftheAtlasmountains.

“Timseemedquitehappy.Assoonashisnerveshadbeenstrongenoughtostandit,Ihadashow-downwithhim.Itoldhimhemustreformorgetout.AndIwasdelightedhowwellhetooktheultimatum.Heseemedgenuinelypenitent.Hepromisedtolayoffhardliquorforgoodandtakeonlyalittlebeerorwine.Hepromisedtostayinmore.

“‘Ioweyouabigdebtofgratitudeforthewayyou’vetreatedmesincetheaccident,’Timsaid.‘Justgivemetime,andI’lldomybesttomakeituptoyou.’

“FromthatmomentIcouldseethathewasmakinganefforttopleaseme.Iwasthrilled.Iprayedtothegodsitwouldlast,IrackedmybrainstothinkofnewwaysofkeepinghimamusedinMarrakesh...

“On thewholeTimwas contented.Hewas certainly interested by the other guests in the hotel—particularlyby a loud-voiced, flashyFrenchwomanof about fifty,whowas always at thebar standinghugeroundsofdrinks.HernamewasYvonneBlanchard.Shewasthewidowofabutton-manufacturerinLyons.Shewasembarrassinglybuxombutshealwaysworelow-cut tight-fittingdresses.Shereekedofscentandpositivelydrippedwithcostumejewellery.Andshefellhook,lineandsinkerforTim.

“Imust confess thatTimwas looking superb.Givingup spirits had restored all his radiance.Thescarsonhisneckandforeheadsomehowmadehimallthemoreattractive.PoorYvonnemadeadeadsetathim.Itwaspathetictowatchher,pointingherbreastsathimasiftheywereloadedpistolsthatcouldpenetratehimwiththebulletsofhercharm,oglingherbulbouseyesathim,wagglingherhips,makingcoygestures with her bejewelled hands, crooning at him in what she imagined to be a seductive, brokenaccent.Itwaspathetic—butatthesametimefaintlyrevolting.

“Timwas fascinated and rather impressed. She flattered himmonstrously, of course. But I didn’tmind.Iwasevengladthatshetookhimoffmyhandsoccasionally,because—tobecompletelyhonest—thoughIwasasdevotedtoTimasever—ifnotmoreso—Ifoundhiscompanytwelvehoursadayslightlywearing.Iwasonlytoopleasedtobeabletoretiretomybedroomwithabook.

“Oneeveningafterdinner,I’dleftherdroolingoverhimatthebarandI’dgonetobed.ShortlyafterI’d put outmy lights I heard Tim come into his room, and begin undressing. Presently he opened thecommunicatingdoorandwalkedintomyroom.Iswitchedonthelight.ImmediatelyIsawthathewasalittlebit tight.Hestoodwithhisweightonhissoundleg,swayingslightlyandsmilingdownatme.Hewasstarknaked.HelookedmorelikeAntinousthanever...”

————————“DidIwakeyou?”Timasked.

“No,”Ewingsaid.“I’donlyjuststoppedreading.Comeandsitdown.”“Thanks,”Timsaid,obeyinghim.

“Hadagoodevening?”“Fabulous.Yvonnewasincrackingform.Sheorderedawholemagnumofchampagne.”“Andyoudrankit?”“Onlysomeofit,”Timsaidwithalaugh.“Therewereotherstohelp.”“Whatothers?”“Yvonneandthebarman,forinstance.”“Jollylittleparty.”“You know,Yvonnemust be terrifically rich.Did you see the diamond bracelet shewaswearing

tonight?”“Onecouldhardlymissit.”“Doyouknowhowmuchit’sworth?”“No,butIcanguess.”“Tenthousandpounds.”“Yvonnetoldyouthat?”“Yes.Shetoldmeherself.”“Thenshe’savulgarandstupidwoman.”TimjerkedbackhisheadasifEwinghadhithim.“Why?”Timasked.“She’savulgarwomanbecauseit’svulgartotellpeoplehowmuchyourjewelleryisworth.”“Andwhyisshestupid?”“She’sstupidbecausesheoughttohaveguessedthatyou’dtellme.”“Perhapsshedidguess.Idon’tseewhythatwasstupid.”“She’sperfectlyawarethatI’mnotacountrybumpkin.I’vebeenaroundquiteabit.SoIwasbound

toknow.”“Knowwhat?”“Knowthatherbraceletispaste.It’sworthahundredpoundsatthemost.”“Idon’tbelieveyou.”“WouldyouliketowatchherfacewhenIaskher?”SlowlyTimloweredhishead.“Isupposeyou’reright,”hesaid.“I’mcertainI’mright.”“Thenshewastellingmealie.”“Shewantedtoimpressyou.”“Soshe’snotonlyvulgarandstupid.She’sdishonestaswell.”“That’scorrect.”Timgazeddownatthescarsthatwerehealingonhislarge,redhands.“Idon’tunderstandyouascrap,”Timsaid.“YougetlividbecausepoorYvonneisvulgarandstupid,

asyoucallit.Butyoudon’tgiveahootthatshe’sdishonest.”“That’sprobablybecauseI’mmoredisturbedbysinsagainstæstheticvaluesthanIambysinsagainst

morality.”Timgotupfromthebedwherehehadbeensitting.“Orisitbecauseyou’reacrackingsnob?”heasked,andwalkedbackintohisownroom.

————————“But that eveningwas theonly timewe camenear to a quarrel,”Ewing said. “The rest of our stay inMarrakeshwasentrancinglypeaceful,andTimseemedcheerfulenough—though Inoticed thathespentlesstimewithYvonneatthebar.

“Threeweeks laterwedrovebacktoTangier. I thinkbothofusfelt theoldfamiliarexcitementof

beinghomeagain.Timcouldhardlywaittovisittheyacht.Eventhoughwecouldn’tgoforlongcruises,wecouldalwayscrossovertoAlgecirasforaweekendattheReinaChristina.Nowthathe’dlearnedtonavigateandsupervisetheengines,I’dmadeTimtheskipperoftheyacht,andIwaspayinghimaregularskipper’s salary. Tim was taking the job extremely seriously. I could hardly tear him away from theharbour.Ibegantobelievethatatlasthewassettlingdown.

“Therewasonlyone slightlydisturbing element during that period.Down in theharbourTimhadmade friendswithacoupleofengineersoffoneof the larger smugglingships.GeorgeandHarry theirnameswere.TheyweretoughyoungloutsfromLiverpool.Theironeideaofhavingagoodtimewastogetdrunkandfindawomantosleepwith.ForsomereasonTimthought theywerebothwonderful.Heenjoyednothingbetterthantogodrinkingandwenchingwiththemaroundthetown.

“‘Ilikegoingaboutwithordinaryfolkforachange,’Timsaid.‘I’mtiredofwittyoldqueens.’“SolongasIdidn’thavetomeetGeorgeandHarryandsolongasTimkeptoffthespiritsanddidn’t

catchanyghastlydisease,Ididn’tmindtoomuch.ButIdoadmitIwasdelightedwhenthetwoofthemlefton their ship for theirusualsmugglingrun toNaples,MarseillesandBarcelona. Itwasglorious tohaveTimalltomyselfoncemore.

“SixweekslaterGeorgeandHarrywerebackinTangier.WiththemwasalittleSpanishtartcalledInezwhothey’dpickedupinabrothel inBarcelona.Shewassixteenyearsold,quitetiny—withsleekblackhairandasnubnose.Herpert,rathergamineexpressionremindedmefaintlyofDon.PerhapsthatwaswhypoorTimfellforhersobadly.

“Timwentmadabouther.‘It’sthenormalcomingoutinmeatlast,’hesaid.“TheveryfirstnighthemetherhemanagedtogetherawayfromGeorgeandHarry—Iexpectshe

wasfedupwiththeirclumsylove-makingbythattime.Idon’tblameher.Theywerebothquitehideous.“OneofmyfewfirmruleswasthatTimwasn’tallowedtobringanyofthepiecesoftradehepicked

upbacktothevilla.SohetookIneztoadoss-houseofftheZoccoChicointheCalleLosArcos,oneofthedarknarrowalleysintheMoorishquarter.Andtheretheyspenttheirfirststrenuousnighttogether.

“DuringhistimeinthearmybeforehemetDon,Timhadsleptwithseveralprostitutes—becauseitwastheacceptedthingtodo.Buthehadneverenjoyedtheexperience.Inezwasdifferent.IgatherfromwhatTimtoldmethatshewasextremelypassionateandskilful.Timmadeanassignationwithherforthefollowingnight.ThenextafternoonGeorgeandHarryattackedhimashewalkedalongthequay.Timgotthebetterof the fight, so theynever troubledhimagain.But I realized that in their frustrated rage theywouldcertainlyhave told InezaboutTim’s relationshipwithme.However, Inez turnedup in thedoss-house in Calle Los Arcos that very night. And Tim was pleasantly surprised by the variety of hertechnique.Thereseemednothingshedidn’tgo in for.Almost instinctivelysheseemed toknowhow totouchthenervethatthrilledhimmost.Bytheendoftheweekhewasbesottedbyher.Thestrangethingabout itwas that themore besotted he became, themore generous hewas in his displays of affectiontowardsme.SoIhadnothingtocomplainabout.

“Oneafternoonafteroursiesta—whenTimhadshownhimselfunusuallyaffectionate—heaskedmeifhecouldpossiblybringIneztosupperatthevillasomeevening.I’dbeenwaitingforthatquestionforsometime.

“Myanswercamepat.‘Whynotbringheruptodinetonight?"Isaid.“Yousee,Iwantedtomeetthegirl.Iwantedtodiscoverwhatthecharmswerethatsobeguiledmy

friend.“Tim’sfacebrightened.‘Thanks,’hesaid,pressingmyhand.‘Iwasafraidyou’dbecrosswithmefor

asking.ButIdosowantyoutomeether.Afterall,you’rethetwobestfriendsI’vegotintheworld.’“ItwashardlyflatteringtobeputonthesamelevelasalittleprostitutefromaBarcelonabrothel.But

Ididn’tsayanything.IsmiledandlistenedtoTimsplashinginthebath.Ismiledandbidedmytime.”————————

Thatevening,punctuallyataquarterpasteight,TimbroughtIneztothevilla.Inezwasnervousandunsureofher reception.Onthewayshehadstoppedatseveralbars togive

herselfcourage;herbreathreekedofpastis.Shewaswearingabrightlycoloureddress thatobviouslycame from one of the Indian shops off the ZoccoGrande, and she had put on toomuchmake-up.ButEwing found her extremely attractive. His first thought was that he would like to sleep with her. Heimaginedhimselfstrippinghernaked,stretchingheroutonhisbed,thenslowlywipingthemake-upfromherperturchin-likefacebeforelyingdownbesideher.Hewonderedhowmuchhewouldhavetopayher.Hethendismissedtheideaaswildfantasy,fornothingcouldbemorecertaintowoundTimdeeply.

Timwas standing awkwardly beside her chair, looking towardsEwingwith anxious eyes. Ewingsmiledathimreassuringlywhilehemixedastrongcocktail.Whentheysatdowntodinner,Inezmadeherfirstmistake.SheheldoutherrightarmandrattledthegoldbraceletonitinEwing’sface.

“Isitnotpretty?”sheasked.“Verypretty,”Ewingansweredpolitely.“Doyouknowwhogiveitme?Timheregiveitmethisevening.”Beforetheirsiestathatday,TimhadaskedEwingifhecouldborrowhalfofhisnextmonth’swages.

Partlyforthejoyofseeingthegratitudeonhisface,partlytomaintainhisinfluenceoverhim,Ewinghadgivenhimthemoneyasapresent.TimhadpromptlyspentthemoneyonInez...

Ewing struggled to control the irritation thatwas spreading over him.He still had got to find outaboutInez.Hehadworkedouthisplanwithfastidiouscare.HebegantalkingrapidlyaboutTangier,usingdeliberatelylongandunusualEnglishwords.Inezcouldnotfollowwhathewassayingandlookedblank.ThiswasEwing’sexcusetobreakintofluentSpanish,forheknewthatTimunderstoodonlyafewwordsofthelanguage.Inquickcolloquialjargon,EwingtoldInezthatshewassmashing,awinner,acompleteknock-out,andthatalreadyhewashopelesslyinlovewithher.Becausehewasgenuinelyattractedtoherhiswordswereallthemoreconvincing.Inezsmiledandsatbackmorecomfortablyinherchair.Ewingbegan to talk aboutBarcelona.FromBarcelona itwas easy to switch tohermeetingwithGeorge andHarry, and thence to the brothel where she had worked.Meanwhile, Bashir was filling up the wine-glassesunobtrusivelyandasyetTimsuspectednothing.

“Didtheytreatyouwellatthehouseyouworkedin?”Ewingasked.“Fairlywell.”“Howlonghaveyoubeenatthejob?”“Fouryears.”“Doyoumeanyoustartedwhenyouweretwelve?”“Yes.Orrathertheystartedme.”“Thenyoumusthaveknownagoodfewmenalready.”“That’strueenough.”“Metanyonelikeourfriendherebefore?”“Never.”“Oh,comenow,”Ewingsaid,“he’snotallthatterrific.”“Si,”Inezsaid.“Unapollaenorme.”TimlookedupatoneofthefewwordsofSpanishthatheknew.Ewingwasafraidhewouldinterrupt.“Doeshepayyouwell?”heaskedInezhurriedly,inSpanish.“Hepaysmenothing.Iwouldnottakemoneyfromhim.”“Whataboutyourbracelet?”“Thatwasapresent.”“Howlongdoyouthinktheaffairwilllast?”“Aslongashewantsitto.Iwillneverleavehim.”“Isheasvaliantinbedasthat?”

“Heisveryvaliantwithme.ButIdonotstaywithhimforhispolla.IstaywithhimbecauseIlovehim.”

“Nonsense,”saidEwing.“Youlovehimbecausehe’sgoodinbed.”“Ilovehimbecausehe’shonestandtrue.”“You’vebeenreadingtoomanymagazinestories.”“HeistheonlymanIhaveeverloved.Heisallman,throughandthrough.Ilovehim,Itellyou.”InezturnedexcitedlytoTim.“IhavetellhimhowverymuchIloveyou,”shesaid.“Yes.Andshe’sbeensayinghowgoodyouwereinbed,”Ewingadded.“Shesaysyou’re thebest

she’severknown.”“Idonotspeakofbed.Heislyingtoyou,”Inezcried.“Youheardherusethewordpolla,”Ewing laughed.“Whatdoyousupposesheused thatword in

connexionwith?Cricket?”“Stopit,bothofyou,”Timshoutedsuddenly.“Stopit.”“Inotstopit,”Inezsaid.“Yourfriendisnogoodfriendtoyou,Tim.Hedoesnotwantyoutoloveme

becauseheisamaricon.HowyousayitinEnglish?Heisoneofthewrongpeople.”Ewinglaughed.“I’veneverhearditcalledthatbefore,”hemurmured.HiscalmpoiseenragedInez.Hernarroweyesglaredathim.“YouthinkTimstaywithyoubecause

heloveyou,”shecried.“ItellyouTimstaywithyoubecauseyouhavemoney.”“Shutup,Inez,”Timsaid.“ItellyouTimwillneverloveyouasheloveme,becauseTimisnotamaricon.”“Whoareyoutryingtoconvince?”Ewingaskedher.“Timisvaliant.Heisaman.Arealman.”“Notoneofthe‘wrongpeople’,”Ewingpromptedwithalaugh.Inezgloweredathim.“Youcanlaugh.Youmakemesick.Youarenoman.Youareamaricon,”she

said,quiveringinfury.Thenshegatheredthesalivaintohermouthandspatacrossthetable.InsilenceEwingexamined theyellowgobof spittle thatwas lyingonhis lace table-mat.Thenhe

turnedroundtoTim.“Andnow,”hesaid,“Isuggestthatyoushouldtakeyourcommonlittletartawayfrommyvilla.”“Don’tworry.We’regoingallright,”Timmuttered.“Yes.Wego,”Inezcried.“AndInotcomehereagain.”“Onemoment,”Ewingsaidsharply,asTimflungopenthedoor.“Onemoment...Tim,Iwanttosee

youlaterthisevening.”“Ishan’tbecomingbacktonight.”“I’maskingyoutocomeback.Iwanttotalktoyou.”“Youcantalktomorrowmorningontheyacht.”“I’maskingyoutocomebackthisevening.”“I’vealreadytoldyouthatI’mstayingout.”“I’maskingyou,Tim.”“Youknowtheanswer,don’tyou.”“Please.”“Donotlistentohim,Tim,”Inezsaid.“Hewanttotakeyouawayfromme.”“Areyoucomingback?”“For the last time—no. Good night, and thanks for sweet nothing,” Tim shouted angrily as he

followedInezoutoftheroom.————————

Ewingstoopeddownandputalogonthefire.“ForquiteawhilethatnightI’dmadeupmymindtogetridofhim,”Ewingcontinued.“Irehearsed

theverywordsI’dusewhenIsenthimpacking.ButbymidnightI’drealizedthetruth.Evenafterallthathadhappened,Istillcouldn’tfacetheprospectoflifewithouthim—withouthearinghisfootstep,seeinghissmileofwelcome,listeningtohisratherhoarselaugh,watchingtheflecksoflightinhisstrangebrowneyes. I needed the brightness of his presence, thewarmth of his affection. I couldn’t imagine living asingleweekwithout him—let alone amonth or a year.He’d got undermy skin.Hewas part ofme. Icouldn’texistwithouthim.

“SoI’dgot toputupwithInez.I’dgot toendure ituntilhis infatuationwithherwasover.Butmyimmediate problemwas to smooth over that night’s flaming row.Timwould probably godown to theyachtinthemorning.ButIwantedhimtohaveplentyoftimetocooldown,soIstayedupatthevilla...”

————————ThefollowingdayTimhadappearedanhourbeforelunch,lookingasifhehadspentasleeplessnight.Thescent Inezusedstill lingeredabouthim—herscentand thereekofpastis.Timhadnotgone to theyacht;hehadbeendrinkingallmorning.

“I’msorryaboutthesceneatdinner,”Ewingsaidquickly.“SoamI,”Timreplied.Tim’ssullennessannoyedEwing.Afterall,Ewingthought,hehadn’tshoutedaboutqueersorspaton

thetable.“I’mafraidlittleInezgotover-excited,”Ewingsaid.“Shewasn’ttheonlyone.”Ewingtriedtosmile.“Thenlet’ssaythatInezwasthefirsttogetexcited.”“Hadn’tsheeveryreasonto?”“No.QuitefranklyIdon’tthinkshehad.”“Notwhenyouaskedhertogotobedwithyou,andtheninsultedherbecausesherefusedto?”EwingstaredatTiminrealastonishment.“Isthatwhatshetoldyou?”heasked.“It’sthetruth,isn’tit?”EwingcrossedovertoTim.“Canyouseemebeingsuchafoolastoaskhertogotobedwithme?”

heasked.Timwassilent.Ewingputanarmroundhisshoulder.“Comeon,Tim,”hesaid.“Let’sforgetaboutitall,shallwe?”SuddenlyTimbrokeawayfromhim.“Don’ttouchme,”Timsaid.“I’msickofbeingmauledaboutbyyou.”“Thenyou’reabetteractorthanIsupposed—becauseyou’venevergivenmethatimpression.Quite

thecontrary.”“Ifeeluncleanafterwards.”“That’saverydramaticexpression.Whoputthatideaintoyourhead?InezorGeorgeandHarry?”“Can’tIhaveanideaofmyown?”“Youcan.Butyouseldomdo.”“Thanksforthecompliment.”“I’mafraidsarcasmdoesn’tsuityou.”“Whataboutyou?Youalwaysseemtobesocalmandcondescending.ButIknowbetter.Lookatyour

hands.Why,you’retremblingwithrage—andallbecauseIsaidyoumademefeelunclean.Well,youdo.”“Becareful,Tim.ImustwarnyouthatI’mgettingrathertiredofourunendingquarrels.”“‘Becareful,Tim’!WhyshouldIhavetobecareful?Whynotyou?I’mnotfrightenedofyou.I’m

justtellingyouthatyourevoltme.WhydoyouthinkIalwaystakeabathafterwards?Becauseitmakesmefeelcleanandamanagain.”

————————Ewingturnedhisheavy,sadfacetowardsArnold.

“ThenIlostmytempercompletely,”Ewingsaid.“Iwentquitemad.Ican’tevenrememberhalfthethingsIsaid.ButIsupposetheyweretheusualkindofcheapinsultsoneusesonsuchoccasions.IcanremembertellinghimthatIdidn’tintendallowingmylifetobeinconveniencedbyacommonlittleslutlikeInez.Ipointedouttohimthatthemoneyhespentonherwasmine.ThenIwentbackintothepast.IremindedhimthatwhenIfirstmethimhewasadeserter.Iremindedhimthatwhilehe’dbeenontherunhe’d gonewith anymanwho’d give himmoney—bath or no bath. I rehearsed all I’d done for him—including my forgiveness for the smashed car. I reviled him for his crass ingratitude and his grossstupidity.I’dneverlostmytempercompletelywithhimbefore.

“Timneversaidaword.Hejuststaredatmeinadazedkindofway.Icouldseethathisfacehadgoneverywhite.Iwantedtostopnow.ButI’dlostallcontrol.Itwashorriblyfrightening.Icouldhearmyvoicegrindingonandon.AndIcouldn’tstopit.

“Suddenly—asifhecouldn’tbearthesightofmyfaceaninstantlonger—Timturnedawayfrommeandstareddownatthefloor.Thesightofhisbowedheadcalmedme.Istoppedmytirade.Foraninstanttherewasdeadsilence.Then—withakindofwildcryofanguish—Timrushedacrosstheroomandranup the spiral staircase leading to his flat. He left the communicating door open, so I could hear himmovingaboutupstairs. Icouldhear thesoundofdrawersbeingpulledoutandcupboardsopened.Timwaspacking.

“EventhenIbelieveIcouldhavestoppedhim.Butsomethingheldmeback—purepride,Isuppose.Irang forBashir and toldhim I’dbealone for lunchanddinner.Thecalm toneofmyvoiceas I spokehelpedtorestoremyconfidence.Ipouredmyselfoutadrink.IcouldhearthatTimwasstillpacking.Partofmelongedtorushupstairsandexplainthatitwasallamistake—someghastlynightmarewemustbothforget.IwantedtotellhimIlovedhim.ButIstayeddownstairs,sippingmybrandyandgingerale,forcingmyselftomakeaninventoryofallTim’smisdeeds.

“Halfanhour later, Ihearda taxipullupoutside thegardengate.Thiswasmy last chance.But Ididn’tmove.Istayedcrouchedinmychairstaringatmyglass.ThenIheardthebackdoorofthetopflatopenandclose.Iwenttothewindow.IsawTimwalkdownthedrivetothegardengate,carryingthetwosuitcases I’d bought him to take toMarrakesh. I saw him drive away in the taxi. The time was oneo’clock.

“ThroughoutthatafternoonItriedtopersuademyselfthatIwasdoingtherightthinginlettinghimgo,thatitwouldbeshowingfatalweaknesstotakehimback,thatevenifwehadareconciliationthesamekindofscenewouldoccuralloveragain.Byseveno’clockI’dfaileddismallytoconvincemyselfthatI’ddoneanythingexceptbehavelikeanhystericalidiot.AndIstartedphoningthebars...Ididn’ttrackhimdown,butIdiscoveredthatTimwasstillinTangier.AteachbarIleftamessageaskinghimtocallmeurgently.Ididn’tsaywhy.

“ThenIgotontoLaviniaandtoMilly.IconfessedthatTimandIhadhadablazingrow.IaskedthemtobekindenoughtotryandcontactTimintownandtellhimIwassorryandwantedhimback.Theywerebothsweet.Theysaidthey’ddoalltheycould.IthenwrotealongletterofapologytoTim,begginghimtoforgivemeandcomeback.IrangforBashir.IaskedhimtotakethelettertothehouseinCalleLosArcoswhereIexpectedTimandInezwouldbestayingthenight.AfterBashirhadleftIthoughtofgoingdownintotowntofindTimmyself.ButIwasafraidhemightringwhileIwasout.Besides,Icouldn’tabidethethought ofmeeting himwith other people around—especially Inez. I couldn’t face another scene. So IstayedupontheMarshan,waiting,waitingforthephonetoring.Justwaiting.

“I tried to readabook. Icouldonly thinkofTim’swhite facestaringatme inhorror.Thesilenceseemedtopressdownovertheroomlikeagreycloak.

“Shortly aftermidnight thephone rang. I leapedup and rushed across the room. I snatchedup thereceiver. It was Lavinia speaking from some night-club. I could hear dancemusic in the background.She’dbeendrinking.Hervoicewasslurred.

“‘I’veseenTim,’shesaid.“‘Where?’“‘IntheMarChica.’“‘Didyougivehimmymessage?’“‘OfcourseIdid.’“‘Whatdidhesay?’“‘Hejustsaidthankyou.’“‘Nothingelse?’“‘Well,thatlittleSpanishgirlofhiswaswithhim.Idon’tsupposehecouldsaymuchmore.’“‘Butyou’resureheunderstood?’Iasked.“‘Ofcourseheunderstood.I’mnotparalyticoranything.’“‘Howlongagowasthat?’“‘Lessthanhalfanhour.Ipaidmybillandcamestraightheretophoneyou—loyalfriendthatIam.’“‘Blessyou,Lavinia.Thankyouverymuch,’Isaid.“I thenranguptheMarChica.AsIdialledthenumberIcouldseethebar—alongslabofmarble

with a looking-glass on thewall behind it. I could see the sawdust on the floor, the greenwalls andfluorescentlighting.ButTimandInezhadjustleft.TheyhadprobablygonebacktoCalleLosArcos—whichmeantthatTimwouldgetmyletter.

“Ididn’tsleepthatnight.IkepthopingTimwouldcomeback—thoughcommonsensetoldmethathewasboundtospendthenightwithInez.Iwaitedintheliving-room.Thenightwasverystill.Icouldhearcars approaching frommiles away. Each time I heard the sound of a car climbing up the hill to theMarshanIhopeditmightbeTim.

“Atthreeo’clockinthemorningIheardataxistopoutside.Irushedoutintothegarden.Butthetaxihadstoppedinfrontofavillafartherdownthelane,andIsawtwoMoorsgetout.Icouldseethegleamoftheirwhitedjellabasinthemoonlight.

“MylasthopewasthatTimwouldreturninthemorning—afterhe’dspentthenightwithInez.“Itwasaperfectday.Thesunwasshining fromacloudless sky,and therewasapleasantlycrisp

breeze.ImadeavowthatifTimcamebackI’dtakehimdowntotownandbuyhimasecond-handsportscarI’dseeninthegaragewheremyconvertiblewasserviced.He’dneverhadacarofhisown.

“At eleven the phone rang. Once again I rushed across the room. I grabbed the receiver. It wasWayne.He’dbeendowntotheharbourtoseeoffsomeAmericanfriendsofhis.TimandInezhadleftbytheearly-morningferry.

“IknewthenthatI’dlosthimforgood.”==:==:==:==

Ewingstareddownattheashesinthegrate.“Andallthattookplaceovertenyearsago,”hetoldArnold.“Overtenyears.”EwingglancedatArnold’semptyliqueurglass.“I’mafraidI’vebeenaverybadhost,”hesaid.“I’ve

talkedfartoomuch,andI’vegivenyounothingtodrink.WhatcanIgetyounow?ShallIfixyouawhiskyandsoda?”

“Thanks,”Arnoldreplied.“I’dloveone.”Ewingcrossedtothedrink-tray.“I’venevertoldanyonethatstorybefore,”hesaid.“AndI’vealwayswantedto—becauseIfeltthat

tellingitall,livingthroughitalloveragain,mightpossiblyhavesomekindofcatharticeffect.Iwonderifithas.Perhapsit’stooearlytotell.”

WhileEwingwasgettingthedrinks,Arnoldtriedtosortouthisthoughts.Hehadlistenedtothestoryinbemusedhorror.ButwhathadsurprisedhimmostwasthatEwing,whohadappearedtobecoldandruthless,shouldrevealasidetohischaracterthatwassensitiveandunashamedlysentimental.Arnoldstill

could notmake up hismind aboutTim.Was the boy purely an opportunist?Had he livedwithEwingsimplyforwhathecouldgetoutofhim?Orhad therebeenagenuinestreakofaffection?Probablyhewould never know, for it was difficult to perceive the boy’s nature through the veil of Ewing’spersonality.Onlyone thing shoneout clearbeyonddoubt.Timhadbeendevoted toDon, andDonhadabandonedhim.

Ewinghandedhimaglass.“DidyoueverhearofTimagain?”Arnoldasked.Ewingtookthreelonggulpsofwhisky.“Yes,”hesaid.“Iheardofhim.Lessthanayearlater.”“WasInezstillwithhim?”“Heavensno!Thatlittleaffaironlylastedthreemonths.Igathertheyquarrelledcontinually.Timleft

InezinBarcelona.Isupposeshewentbacktothebrothelwhereshebelonged.WhenIheardofTimhewasworkinginaqueerclubinSoho.Iwastoldhewasunhappy.Istillmissedhimterribly.SoIcabledhim,andIwrotetohim.ButIgotnoreply.ThenWayneannouncedhewantedtogoonholidaytoLondon.IrathersuspecthewasstillhopingtopickupsomenewsoflittleDon.Infact,wedideventuallyhearthatDon had left Louis Dubois for a rich Canadianmagazine proprietor. Don was happily established inToronto.Ibelievehe’sstillthere.

“AnyhowWaynewantedtogotoLondon,soIpaidhisreturnfareontheunderstandingthathe’ddohisbesttopersuadeTimtocomebacktome.IknewthatTimdislikedWayne,butIthoughtthathe’dlistentohim—particularlyifhewasunhappy.I’devenboughtanopen-dateplaneticketfromLondontoTangiermadeoutinTim’sname.

“Hisvery firstnight inLondon,Waynewent round to thequeerclub. Itwasadingy, smoke-filledroominabasementoffBerwickStreet.ServingbehindthebarwasTim—muchthesameasever,Waynetoldme,exceptthathelookedabitpaleandratherworn.

“Waynewentup to thebarandorderedadrink.Tim recognizedhim,buthedidn’t smileor sayaword.Waynewaitedforasuitablemomentwhenthebarwasn’ttoofull,thenhegaveTimmymessage.HeshowedhimtheairticketbacktoTangier.TimlistenedinsilencetoallthatWaynesaidaboutmakingafreshstartandleavingthesqualidclubwithitsavid-eyedclients.ThenTimspoke.

“‘WillyougiveEwingamessageforme?’heasked.“‘YoubetIwill,’Waynereplied.“‘JusttellhimIdon’twanttoknow.’“‘Nothingelse?’“‘Nothing.Sodomeafavour,willyou,andpushoff.’”

————————Ewingsighed.Hefinishedhisdrinkandwalkedquicklytothedrink-traytopourhimselfanother.

“Icanseehimsoclearly,”Ewingsaid.“Standingwithhisweightononeleg, lookingwonderfullylikeAntinous.Icanhearhimsayingit.‘JusttellhimIdon’twanttoknow.’Anyhowthatsettledit.Waynerealizeditwashopelesstotryfurther.Hefinishedhisdrinkandleft.Thatwastenyearsago.”

Ewinglitacigarette.“AndyouneversawTimagain?”Arnoldasked.TohissurpriseEwingsmiled.“Yes,”Ewingsaid.“Yes,IdidseeTimagain.OnlythislastJune,asa

matterof fact.Mytenants’ leaseofmyLondonflathadcometoanend,soI’d taken theopportunityofgoingovertoEnglandforamonth,whiletheagentsfoundmenewtenants.IwasdrinkinginagaypubinChelseaoneeveningataboutseveno’clock.Iwassittingatthebar,andacrosstheroom,withhisbackturned tome, I happened to notice a burly, hefty-lookingman, swilling down a pint of bitter. At thatmomentthemanturnedround,andIsawitwasTim.AtfirstIcouldhardlyrecognizehim,he’dputonsomuchweight.Helookedastout,middle-agedgentleman.I’dneverhavebelievedanyonecouldchangesomuch.Buttherewasnodoubtofit.Thethick-setmoon-facedmanadvancingtowardsmewasTim.He’d

becomegrosspastbelief.However,Iwasdelightedtoseehimagain.Allwasforgivenifnotforgotten.Itookhimouttodinner,andafterwardswedidaroundofthebarsandclubs.

“Iwas interested tohearTim’snews.He’dgotfedupwithLondonafterawhile, itseemed.He’ddriftedwitha‘geezer’toSheffield.Butthathadn’tworkedout,sohe’dcomebacktoLondonwherehe’dmetanout-of-workactorwho’dpersuadedhimtostartupacoffee-bar.Sothey’dopenedtheircoffee-bar,in Folkestone of all places. Surprisingly enough, it was doing quite well. The actor had now foundhimselfajobintelevision,soTimwasrunningthebaronhisownwithapaidstaff.He’djustcomeuptoLondonthatnightforajaunt.Incidentally,he’dneverheardawordfromhisfriendDonsincethedaythatDonleftTangier.Hehadn’tevengothisaddress.Timhadlongsincegivenupworryingabouthim.”

“He’snotmarried?”“Who?Tim?No.AndtojudgefromhisintereststhateveningIdon’tthinkheeverwillbe.Inezwas

hisonlydeviationinthatdirection,andhegotoverhisinfatuationforherprettysoon,asItoldyou.Afterthe first week he discovered she was going with other men on the sly. After a month she gave uppretending that she wasn’t working as a prostitute. While they were in Barcelona she even tried topersuadehimtoactasherpimp.Timsoonlefther.”

“Didheevertellyouwhyhe’dleftyou?”“Becauseofthegirl.Thatwasobvious.”“Didhetellyousohimself?”“Hemaynot havedone, because during the first part of the eveninghe seemedoddly reluctant to

discussthepast.Hekeptnatteringonabouthiscoffee-barandhisgayfriendsinFolkestone.Imustnowadmitsomethingterribletoyou.Imustconfesstoyouthathisconversationboredmestiff.Ashedronedonabouthislittleflatneartheharbourandthepotato-planthe’dpersuadedtocoilroundtheroomandthenew televisionset thathe’dboughtonhirepurchase, suddenly I realizedwitha shockhow littlewe’deverhadincommon.Hewasjustanill-educatedlout.Hewaspleasantenough,buthewasdevastatinglydull.AndasIlookedatthelittlerollsoffatslidingoverhiscollarandhisheavyjowls,IwonderedhowsoonIcouldescapefromhimwithouthurtinghisfeelings.ButtherewasstillonequestionIhadtoask—aquestionthathadhauntedmefortenyears...”

————————EwingwaiteduntiltheyweresittinginaquietcorneroftheBellinghamwiththeirdrinks.ThenheforcedhimselftoaskTimtheonequestionthatstilltorturedhim.

“Tellmethis,”Ewingsaid.“IfI’ddrivendownintoTangierthatlastfatalnight,ifI’dcomeintotheMarChicawhileyouwerestilltherewithInez,wouldyouhavecomebacktome?Wouldyou?”

“Itdepends,”Timanswered.“Dependsonwhat?”“Itdependsonhowyou’dbeen.”“HowI’dbeen?Idon’tgetit.”“Ifyou’dorderedmebacktothevilla,I’dhavetoldyoutoclearoff.”“IfI’dapologized...”“That’sdifferent.Ifyou’dsaidyouweresorry,thenevenifyou’daskedmetoleaveInezrightaway

andcomebackwithyoutothevillaonthespot,I’dhavegonewithyouwillingly,Ipromiseyou.”EwingstaredintoTim’swaterybrowneyes.Itstillseemedincredibletohimthatuptothatverylast

moment,Timhadbeenpreparedtoreturntothefold.ThatanactiononhisownpartcouldhavesavedhimsuchintensesufferingwastoopainfulathoughtforEwingtobear.

“Thenwhydidn’tyouanswermyletterormycable?WhenIsentWaynetoyou,whydidyousaythatyou‘didn’twanttoknow’?”

Timsmiledathimsadly.“Youweren’ttheonlyonethatwasproud,”Timsaid.“Howdoespridecomeintoit?”

“Inthisway.I’dbeenhurt,andIdidn’twanttobehurtagain.Iwasn’tsurewhatyoureallyfeltaboutme.IfI’dthoughtyou’dreallywantedme,I’dhavecomeback.”

“ButyoumusthaveknownIwantedyoubackdesperately.Didn’tmylettersayso?Didn’tWaynetellyou?”

TimlookedsteadilyintoEwing’seyes.“If you’d reallywantedme back, youwouldn’t have cabled orwritten or sentWayne,” Tim said

slowly.“You’dhavecometomeyourself.”AtthatmomentEwingknewthathecouldnolongeravoidthetruth.Hehadbeenresponsibleforhis

ownmisery.Hissufferinghadbeenasunnecessaryasitwaspointless.Timpulledbackhiscuffandglancedathiswatch.WithatwingeofremorseEwingsawthatitwas

thegoldwristwatchhehadboughthimafterTimhadreturnedtoTangierfromservinghisprisonsentence.“My last train leaves at eleven thirty,”Tim said. “I don’t suppose you came out on the town this

eveningtotakeafatoldthinglikemebacktoyourflat.”Ewinglaughedtoconcealhisembarrassment.“Let’shaveonemoredrink,”Ewingsaid.“Allright.”Ewingsawthattherewasacrushroundthebar.Hefeltwornandtired.Theeveninghadmadehim

feel that his way of life was futile. He had learned nothing. He had taught Tim nothing. He dreadedmeeting someoneheknew, forhe felt incapableofmakingan effort.Ewing tookout apoundnote andhandedittoTim.

“Bekindandyouorderthem,”Ewingmuttered.Timlaughed.“Howthattakesmeback!”hesaid.“Younevercouldabidegettingdrinksforyourself

atabar,couldyou?”AsEwingwatchedTim’sburlyfigurepushingthroughtheclusterofmenroundthebar,he thought,

withanothertwingeofanguish,thatifTimhadstayedwithhimhemightstillbeleanandhandsome.Timwasfatbecauseheateanddrankthewrongthings.Friedfishandchips,breadandcheese,pintsofbitter—itwas the cheapest food anddrink thatwas themost fattening.ButTimwould havehad steaks andsaladsandfruitontheyacht.Theworkwouldhavekepthimlean.

Timcamebackwiththedrinks.Streaksofsweatwererunningdownhisswollenface.Heraisedhisglassofbeer.“Cheers!It’sgreattobewithyouagain.”

“Itwastremendousluckmeetingyou,”Ewingsaidsteadily.“Butyou’reabrutenottohavedroppedmeonesinglelineoveralltheseyears.”

“You’llneverknowhowoftenInearlydid,”Timreplied.“AtleasttwiceIwroteyoualongletter.ButeachtimeItoreitup.”

“Whydidyou?”“Ididn’twantyoutothinkI’dcomecrawlingbacktoyoujustbecauseIwasskintandthingswere

goingbadforme.Iwasplainproud,Isuppose.ButI’vebeenthroughsomeprettyfoultimes,Idon’tmindtellingyou.Whentheyknowyou’rereallydownandout,somegeezerstakeadvantageofit.Theycanbefairbastards.I’vebeenthroughit,Ireallyhave.”

“IfonlyI’dknown.”“IfonlyIhadn’tbeensuchamug.You’llneverunderstandjusthowmuchIregrettedleavingyou.I

onlywishIcouldbeayoungchickenagain.DoyouknowI’dgivemyrightarmtoliveeachoneofourdaystogetheralloveragain.God,whatalittlefoolIwas!Ijustdidn’tknowwhenIwaslucky.Ididn’tappreciateitwhenIwaswelloff.I justhadn’taclue.EvenninemonthsafterI’dleftyouIstillhadn’tlearnedmy lesson. So I toldWayne I didn’twant to know. I chucked awaymy last chance ofmakingsomethingworthwhileoutofmylife.Itwasmylastchance,andallIsaidwasIdidn’twanttoknow.”

————————EwinglookedtowardsArnoldandnoddedhisheadwearily.

“Something inTim’svoicestirredmemories I thought I’dkilled,”Ewingsaid.“Visionsofour lifetogethercamerushingback.Iturnedawayfromhimbecausemyeyeswerefulloftears.

“IthoughtoftheleanyoungsoldierI’dknownwithhisshiningeyesandclearskinandslenderwaist.Ilookedbackathimacrossthetable.Justforonemomenttherollsoffleshseemedtomeltaway,andIsawtheyoungmanthatI’dknownandloved.SoIaskedTimtomyflatforthenight.Butitwasadisaster—utterandcomplete...Yousee,itwasquitehopeless...Icouldn’tgothroughwithit.AndwhenTimrealizedthatIcouldn’tevensummonupatremorofpassionforhim;heturnedawayfromme.PresentlyIsawthathisshoulderswereheaving,andhebegantocrylikeachild.

“Hewascryingbecausehisvanityhadbeenhurt.Hewascryingforhislostyouthandbeauty.Butitwasn’tonlythat.Therealbitternessofhisgriefsprangfromthefactthatheknew,now,thathehadcomeback tome too late. You see, whilewewere going round the bars together earlier that evening he’drealized Iwasno longer attracted tohimas aperson.He’dnoticed Ino longer listened spellbound toeverywordheuttered.Inolongergazedrapturouslyintohiseyes.He’dseentheform.Buthestillhoped—almostinsomemysticway—thatbedwoulddothetrickandbringustogetheragain.Butitdidn’t.Andhewasnowsobbingbecauseheknewthathe’dlostmeforever.

“AndIlaystaringupattheceilingofmybedroomintheflat,lookingbackonitall,wonderingwhereitfirstwentwrong.Whycouldn’tIbecontentwithhiscompanionshipnowasIhadbeentenorelevenyearsago?Afterall,sexhadonlybeenonepartofourrelationship.

“IthinkitwasthenIrealizedfinallythatalthoughIhadtouchedhimemotionallyattimes,I’dneverreallyreachedhismind.AndI’dnevergotthroughtohimandnevercouldhavedonebecauseI’darrivedtoo lateon the scene.By the timehewasnineteen,allTim’sprejudicesandwaysof thoughthadbeenformed.Hisreactionshadalreadybeenconditioned.HisresponseswereassetasthoseofPavlov’sdogs.For instance, Tim would always prefer to spend an evening roving round the pubs with people likeGeorgeandHarrythantodinewellandgotoaconcertwithme.FromthemomentImetTimandtookhimon, Ihadbeen fightinga losingbattle.Themost important formativeyearsofhis lifehadbeen the sixyearsbeforeImethim.HehadacceptedthevaluesoftheboysinthestreetwherehelivedinLondonandtheboyshe’dmade friendswith at the approved schoolwhere they senthim.Later, he’d accepted thecodeofbehaviourhelearnedintheranks.BythetimeImethim—whenhewasnineteen—TimDeakinandIbelongedtotwodifferentworlds.Wecouldmakecontactemotionallyandphysically.Butourmindscouldnevermeet.”

————————EwingtookthreepacestowardsArnoldandraisedhisforefingerasiftogiveawarning.

“But if I couldhavemetTimDeakinwhenhewas thirteenor fourteen,”Ewing said, accentuatingeachwordwithhisfinger,“Iamconvincedthathewouldstillbewithme,andI’mconvincedthatwe’dbothbehappy.You see,hewouldhavebeen suchawonderful companion . . .Doyouknow that in acuriouswayI’mstillfondofhim—evenafterthatlastdreadfulmeeting.Idon’tsupposeyou’llbeallthatsurprisedwhenI tellyouthatwenowcorrespondregularly.OccasionallyIsendhima littlepresent tobuyhimselfanewsuitorgotoParisforagayweekend.Afterall,itwasn’tTim’sfaultthatImethimfiveorsixyearstoolate.Ishallneverforgetthemonthsofhappinesswehadtogether...

“But Imust comeback to the point thatmay affect you . . .WhenWayne toldme thatmorning inTangierthatTimhadleftwithInezontheearlyferry,andIknewthatI’dlosthim,ImadeupmymindthatIwasn’tgoingtobeweakandescapefromitall.Ideterminedtostickitoutinthevilla...Butitwasanguish.Eachroom,eachpieceoffurniture,everyrecord,everydish,everysoundheldmemories.ThemuezzincallingthefaithfultoprayerfromtheminaretofthemosqueontheMarshan,theliquidnotesofBashir’sflute,thehoarseshoutofthewater-carrier,thebirdsinthegardentowardsdawn—allremindedmeofepisodesinmylifewithTim.Itwasthesameontheyacht—thebinnacleinthewheel-house,thefixedmahogany table in thesaloon, thebroad-basedheavyship’sdecanters in the tantalus, thedouble-

bunkinmycabin, thelooking-glassoverthewash-basininthelavatory, theHogarthprintsbetweentheport-holes...Icouldn’tbeartostayinTangieraninstantlonger.IknewthatImustgetrightawayfromeverythingthatremindedmeofTim.SoIwenttoatravelagencyintheBoulevardPasteurandbookedapassageonashipcallinginatGibraltaronitswaytoIndia.Iwasawayeightmonths.

“WhenIleftonthatshipI’dmadeupmymindtosellthevillaandleaveTangierforgood.Butasthemonths went by and I felt less unhappy, I changed mymind. After all, Tangier had got very definiteadvantages—noincometaxandalmostunlimitedlicencetoindulgeone’sownparticulartastes.ButIstillcouldn’tfacelivingaloneinmyvillaontheMarshan—particularlyafterthefailureofWayne’smissiontoLondon.However,ataboutthetimeIgotbacktoTangier,theVillaGaultwhereI’mnowlivingwasupfor sale and reasonably cheap. So I bought it, and herewe are. I didn’t sell the villa on theMarshanbecauseIcouldn’tgetthepriceIwanted.SoIkeptitonasaninvestment.It’sgenerallyemptyduringthewintermonths. It’semptynow,for instance.But I let itatanexorbitantpriceduring theothersevenoreightmonthsoftheyear.I’lltakeyoutoseethevillatomorrowafterlunch—ifyoucanbeartoforsaketheluresofRiffiandtheCavesofHercules.AndafterI’veshownyouthevilla,I’llexplainwhyI’vetoldyouaboutTiminsuchdetail.Yousee,there’sareason—quiteapartfromthedopethatDr.Valdezgavemeformystomach,whichseemstohavehadthemostpeculiareffectonme,andquiteapart frommyhopeofachievingcatharsis.There’sareason.AndIpromiseI’lltellityoutomorrow.MeanwhileI’msureyou’relongingtogettobed,buthelpyourselftoanightcapifyoufeellikeone.I’vetalkedsomuchI’vewornmyselftoafrazzle.Thankyouforputtingupwithme.I’mofftosleep.Goodnight.”

Ewinghurriedoutoftheroomwithhisquick,shortsteps.————————

Arnoldsatstaringatthedeadashes,wonderingattheinfinitecapacityofmentoinflictpainunwillinglyoneachotherandonthemselves,wonderingifhecouldhavemanagedTimanybetter,wonderingwhathadreallycausedEwingtotellhimthewholestoryfrombeginningtoend.

ButArnold soon gave up his search for any answers.He could always continue his speculationswhenhehadreturnedtothegrimroutineofMeltonHall.Meanwhilehemustsavoureachmomentofthepresent.Hemuststoreupthememoryofeachexperience.Duringhisfewremainingdaysinthevillahemusttrytoamassahoardofmemories,forherealizednowthatbemighthavetoexistonthathoardfortherestofhislife.

Arnoldpickedupacoldcinderthathadfallenonthecarpet.ThenhewalkedalongthecorridortohisroomwhereRiffiwascurledupinbed,asleep.

Arnoldwas awakened by a faint tinkling sound. Riffi, wearing jeans andArnold’s slippers, waswheelingabreakfasttrolleyintothebedroom.

“Weeathere,”Riffisaid.Farbetter.Ihavelockdoorsonoonecomein.Why-forlastnightyounowakemewhenyoucometobed?”

“Becauseyouwerefastalseep.”“Isleep.LaterIcanwake.”“YouweresleepingsosoundlyIdidn’twanttowakeyou.”ArnoldcouldnotexplaintoRiffithepleasureithadgivenhimtogazedownatthesleepingboyand

toliedownveryquietlybesidehimsoasnottodisturbtheunguardedexpressiononhisface.“Itinkyounolikemeanymore.”“I’vetoldyou,Riffi,Iloveyou.”“Iloveyou,”Riffirepeated.“Youmyfreng.”Theheavybrocadecurtainswerestilldrawn.Arnoldgotoutofbedanddrewthemaside.Rainwas

fallingsteadilyfromaleadensky.“No,”Riffisaid.“Nowwhat’swrong?”

“Notgood.Peoplelookin.”Rifficarefullyclosedthecurtains.“Last night you tired andme sleep,”Riffi explained. “Afterwe now eat, you no tired andme no

sleep.”————————

Ewingappearedinthedrawing-roomintimetomixadaiquiribeforelunch.“Thanks to the almost over-effective dope provided by Dr. Valdez, my inside has completely

recovered,”Ewingsaid.“Pleaseforgivemeforkeepingyouupsolate.ButonceI’dstartedtellingthestoryIfoundIjustcouldn’tstop.Didyousleepwell?”

“Yes,thanks.”“Andisthatwaywardchildyouseemalmosttohaveadoptedbehavinghimself?”“Perfectly.”“Shallwetakeourcocktailswithusintolunch?I’msimplystarving.Iratherthinkthatwe’restarting

withœufsencocotte,whichdon’tliketobekeptwaiting.Youleadtheway.”————————

WhileIsmail,hislargehandsencasedasusualinwhitecottongloves,pouredoutthewineintothelong-stemmedglasses,Arnoldglancedoutofthewindow.Therainhadstopped.Smallpatchesofbluewerebeginningtoshowthroughthegreyclouds.

“Nowit’syourturn,”Ewingsaidashefinishedeatinghiseggs.“Myturnforwhat?”“Yourturntotalkaboutyourself.DoyourealizeIknowpracticallynothingaboutyou?Forinstance,

whatmadeyoudecidetobeaschoolmaster?”“Ididn’tdecide,”Arnoldsaidgrinning.“Eventsdecideditforme.I thinkI toldyouthatmyfather

was a schoolmaster. He was terribly keen for me to get a scholarship. He wanted me to have theuniversityeducationhe’dmissed.Well, I failed toget thescholarship.So then itwasdecidedIshouldstudytobeacharteredaccountant.”

“Thatwasquiteabrightidea,”Ewingsaid.“Weallseemtoneedcharteredaccountantsnowadays.”“I’mafraidyou’llneverusemyservices.Theexamsweretoosteepforme.Igaveupthestruggle

afterthreeyears.IdriftedaroundforawhileuntilI’dspentthemoneymyfatherleftme.Thentherewasnothingforitbuttogetajobofsomekind.Well,I’dgotthequalificationstoteach,soIgotajobatanelementaryschool.ThenforvariousreasonsImovedtoanapprovedschool.”

“Whatwerethe‘variousreasons’?”“Pay, for a start. At an approved school teachers get two increases above their salary for their

specialwork—andbecauseweonlygeteightweeksayearholidayinsteadoftwelve.Wealsogetasmallcottage at a reasonably cheap rent on the estate if we live out. I don’t suppose that sounds of anyconsequence to you. But I can assure you that it makes a lot of differencewhen one has got a smallsalary.”

“Whatotherreasonsmadeyougotoanapprovedschool?”“I suppose it sounds rather smug,but thework there reallydoesprovide farmoreopportunity for

doingsomethingtohelpthekids.Atanelementaryschool they’vegot theirparents togobacktoeverynight.Atanapprovedschoolthey’vegotnoone.”

Ewing glanced down at his hands, then gazed steadily across the table at Arnold. “I expect yourschoolprovidesfarmoreopportunityforotheractivities,”Ewingsaid.

“Idon’tgetyou.”“Theboyssleepintheschoolatnight,don’tthey?”Arnoldfelthimselfblushing.“I’mnotahousemastersoIliveout.ButIshouldsaythatverylittleofthatkindofthingwenton.”

“Buthaven’tyoubeentemptednowandthentohavealittledallywithoneoftheboys?”“Ifyouwanttoknow,yes,Ihave.I’vebeentempted.That’strue.ButI’venevertouchedoneofthem,

andIneverwill.”“Isthatvirtueorcowardice?”“Perhapsit’sboth.”“Howoldaretheboysatyourschool?”“MeltonHall’sanintermediateschool.Wetakeboyswhoarethirteenorfourteenonadmission.The

maximumperiodtheycanbesenttousforisthreeyears.”“SothereareboysofRiffi’sage?”“Iexpectedyoutosaythat.”Ewingsmiledathimblandly.“Nowdon’tgetcross,”Ewingsaid.“I’mnotaskingyouthesequestions

toirritateyou.Ireallydowanttofindoutaboutyourschool.AndI’veaparticularreasonfordoingso.Tellmethis.Howdoboysgetsenttoyourschool?”

“They’resentbyajuvenilecourt.”“Fordoingwhat?”“All kinds of things—stealing a bicycle, pinchingmilk bottles, shop-breaking, smashing open the

money-boxinaphonekioskwithacrowbar,pawningtheirfathers’boots,breakingopenthegasmeter,pilferingoffstalls.Andifajuvenilecourtwantsto,itcanmakeanApprovedSchoolOrderinthecaseofachildfoundbythecourttobe‘inneedofcareorprotection,orbeyondcontrol’.”

“Whatdoyouthinkcausesjuveniledelinquency?”ArnoldsmiledatEwing’scalmassumptionthathecouldanswerinafewwordsacrossalunch-table

thequestionthatexpertshadspenttheirlivesworkingon.“You’llhearallkindsofreasonsgiven,”Arnoldsaid.“You’llbetoldit’stheinfluenceofthecinema

andthe telly—orbadschoolteachersorovercrowdedclassesor theresultof theWelfareState.But, infact,Ibelievethatmostchildrenwhoarebroughtbeforethejuvenilecourtscomefrombrokenhomesorunkindparents.Theirdelinquentconductbeginsasakindofescapefromtheirbasicneedforaffection.It’s a kind of compensation for their deprivation of tenderness and love—you might almost call itemotionalmalnutrition.”

“Buthowcananapprovedschoolprovidetendernessandlove?”“That’sjustit.That’sthewholetrouble.Itcan’t.Atbestitcansatisfyonlytwootherhumanneeds—

theneedforcompanionshipandthedesireforexpression.Butwhatadeprivedchildreallywants—iftheparentsaredivorcedordeadorsimplybrutalorcallous—is tobeputwithaffectionate foster-parents.Thedifficultyistofindthem.”

“I’dimaginedthattheboysinyourschoolwerecriminallyviciouslittlethugs,”Ewingsaid.“You’regivingmeaverydifferentpicturefromwhatIexpected.”

“Someofthemarethugs,”Arnoldsaid,thinkingofCharlieMason,withhisslantinggreeneyesandbristlingredhair.“ButI’dsaythatfewofthemwerecriminal.”

“Howmanyboysarethereatyourschool?”“Nearlyahundred.”“Andyoubelievethatmostofthemaretherebecausetheycomefromhomesthathavebeensplitup

orfromhomeswherethey’vebeenill-treated?”“Yes.”“Thenwhydoboysrunaway?OnesometimesseeslittleparagraphsintheEnglishpapersaboutboys

runningawayfromapprovedschools.”Arnold laughed. “The termwe use for it is ‘absconding’,” he said. “Youmust remember that an

approvedschoolisn’taprison.Thegatesaren’tlocked.Andboysescapeforvariousreasons.Theymaywanttogobacktoaparenttheyreallyloveortoseetheirfriendsintheirhometown.Theymaywantto

befreeofallrestrictionsandgoonthebash.Ortheymayabscondbecausetheyjustcan’tbeartheschoolamomentlonger.”

“Whathappenswhenaboyabsconds?”“Whyareyousointerestedinallthis?”EwingpressedthebellbyhisrighthandforIsmailtoclearthetable.“I’lltellyouwhenwegettotheMarshan,”hesaid.“Butfirstyoutellmewhathappenswhenaboy

hasabsconded.What’sthedrill?”“Firstweringupthelocalpolice.Wegivethemtheboy’snameandadescriptionofhimwhichthey

circulatetoallpolicecars.Asoftenasnottheboyissoonpickedupatabus-stoproundthecornerorfromtherailwaystationandbroughtbacktous.Atthesametimewenotifythepoliceattheboy’shometown.Ifattheendofforty-eighthourswe’veheardnothing,thenweringScotlandYard,andadescriptionoftheboyisprintedinthePoliceGazette.”

“Butafteraboyhasescaped,don’tthePressbuzzroundyou?”“Heavensno!WhileI’vebeenatMeltonHallwe’vehadsevenboysabscondatdifferenttimes.But

there’sneverevenbeenaparagraphinthelocalpaper.It’sonlywhenaboyontherunbreaksintoashoporgetsintotroubleofsomekindthatthePressgetinterested.”

“Good,”Ewingsaid.“That’sjustwhatIwantedtofindout.Let’sfinishourcoffeeandgostraightuptothevilla,shallwe?”

==:==:==:==Thecarbumpedslowlyalonganarrowcobbledlaneofsingle-storeyeddecrepithouseswiththeplasterpeelingroundtheMoorishwindows,skirtedatrimwhitemosque,clatteredyetmoreslowlyuparutteddriveofdrippingtrees,andstoppedinasuddenclearingwhereacompactvillawithwhitewashedwallsandgreenshuttersglistenedintheafternoonsunshine.Thevillastoodonaprojectingtongueoflandwithaviewof the seaon three sides. Itwasbuiltona slope so thatboth floorscouldbeentered from thegarden.AsEwingandArnoldgotoutofthecar,agrimy-lookingMoorwithatorndjellabaandagnarledfacecameuptoEwingwithabunchofkeysandbeganalongconversationinArabic.

“That’sAbdessalam,”Ewingexplained,astheoldmanshuffledawaytowardsthevilla.“He’sreallythegardener.Buthekeepsaneyeonthehousewhenthere’snoonehere.He’snowgonetoopenuptheplace.Let’sgointothetophalffirst.”

Theywalkedintoalong,pale-greenroomwithlightrosewoodfurnitureandawidedivancoveredwithcushionsofdifferentshapesandcolours.ThreeFrenchwindowsopenedontoaveranda.Belowtheverandawasaterracedgardenandbelowthatthesea.

“ThisistheflatwhereTimlived,”Ewingsaid.“It’sgotalargebedroomwithahugedoublebed.It’sgotakitchenwitharefrigerator.There’sabathroomandlavatoryandaspareroom.Infact,asyoucansee,there’sreallyeverythingonecouldwant.”

Theroomswerelightandcheerful.WhateverwindowArnoldlookedoutofseemedtohaveaviewoftheseasparklinginthesunshine.

“Thisvilla’sontheMediterraneansideofTangier,”Ewingsaid.“TheMediterranean’sfarwarmerthantheAtlantic,butalasthebeachesaremorecrowded.Nowcomeandinspectthedownstairsflat.”

The living-roomdownstairs lookedsmallerbecause itwasdarkerandmoreelaboratelyfurnished.ThewallswerepanelledwithJapanesepaintingsofgardensandlandscapes.Arnoldstaredwithdistasteatvermilion-paintedpagodasbeside lotuspools, grovesofpinkandwhiteblossomalong riverbanks,billowinghummocksofmossbeneathgoldenpavilions,waterfallstumblingdownravinesabovetemples,whitepeacocksandwillowtrees.Theblacklacqueredtablesintheroom,theporcelainjarsandpotterybowlsdepressedhim.Arnoldpreferredthespaciousnessandsimplicityoftheflatabove.

“Thisdownstairsflatisfarthelarger,”Ewingexplained.“It’sgotthreesparerooms.”“DidyoulivehereallthetimeTimwaswithyou?”

“Inthisveryroom.I’mdevotedtoit.”“Ilikethetopflatbest.Theviewsarefantastic.Wouldn’titbewonderfulifwecouldmoveherefor

mylastweek.Icouldliveinthetopflat,andyoucouldlivedownhere.”Ewingcarvedtheairwithhisplumphandsinanexpansivegesture.“Ifonlyyouplayedyourcardsright,”Ewingsaid,“youcouldstayherefortherestofyourlife.”Arnoldlaughed.“Youalwaysmanagetomakemylifesoundsoeasy,”hesaid.“Isupposeyourealizethatifyouhadthisvillayoucouldlivealltheyearroundinthetophalffrom

whatyou’dgetfromrentingthelowerhalf.ThetopflatwouldbeperfectforyouandRiffi.”“ButIhaven’tgotthevilla,andInevershallhave.Sostopteasingme”“I’mnotteasingyou.”Ewingcrossedtothewindow.Hestoodinsilencegazingoutatthebanksofwildirisandnarcissus

andtheblueseabeyond.“It’sawonderfulview,isn’tit?”“I’veneverknownabetter,”Arnoldrepliedtruthfully.“It’soddwhenyoucometothinkofit,”Ewingsaidafteranotherpause.“I’vegotthisvillawhichI

supposecouldbringyouasmuchhappinessasanythingelseintheworld—becauseyoucouldliveherealltheyearroundwithlittleRiffi.Andyou’vegot—orrather,youcouldprovideifyouwantedto—theverythingthatImostwantintheworld.”

“Andwhatisthat?”Ewingstretchedoutthefingersofhisraisedhandsandthenlethisarmsdowntohisside.“ShallItellyouthereasonIgaveyousuchadetailedaccountofmyrelationshipwithTim?”Ewing

asked.“ItwasbecauseIwantedyoutoappreciatethemoralofthestory.Ihopeyou’veunderstoodit.Yousee, themoral is this. It’squitehopeless to takeonaboyasoldasTimwas.Bynineteenhe’salreadyformed.Hischaracterandtastesandprejudicesarealreadyset.There’snothingyoucandotochangehim.Atbestyoucanonlyhope tomodifyhim.Timhadbeenmouldedbyhisenvironment longbeforeImethim.”

EwingturnedawayfromthewindowandfacedArnold.“But supposing Tim had been five or six years younger when we met,” Ewing said slowly.

“SupposingTimhadbeenthirteenorfourteen,thenwhataverydifferentstoryitwouldhavebeen.Icouldhavetaughthimtounderstandpaintingandsculpture.IcouldhavetakenhimtoseetheworksofElGrecoandPraxiteles.IcouldhaveencouragedhimtoappreciateBachandBeethoven.IcouldhavetaughthimtopreferProusttoPeterCheyney.Icouldhavetakentheunhardenedclayofhismindandmouldeditintoashapeofbeauty.PerhapsIcouldhaveachievedthegreatestworkofart thatanyartistcaneverhopetocreate—aperfecthumanbeing.”

EwingwasstaringatArnoldwithglitteringeyes.Hewasbreathingheavily.“AMoroccanofthirteenorfourteenisnogoodtome,”Ewingsaid.“Iexplainedthattoyoulastnight.

You’reallright.YoucanbehappywithRiffibecauseyoulovehimasheis.Youdon’twanttomouldhim.ButImustfindaboywho’sEnglish.That’smyonlyhope.Andhemustn’tbemorethanfourteen.Theclaymuststillbesoft.ButwherecanIfindhim?”

EwingtookthreequickpacestowardsArnoldandthenstopped,hisfeetplacedneatlytogether,hisarmsoutstretchedasifhehadjustconcludedanintricatedance.

“Where can I find anEnglishboyof thirteenor fourteen?”he asked, gazing intently intoArnold’seyes.“Ican’t.Idon’tknowany.AndI’minnopositiontogettoknowany.HowcanIfindaboywho’sgoingtobepreparedtoleaveEnglandforgood—whichmeansthathemusthavenoemotionaltiesthere?HowcanIfindaboywho’snotanchoredtohisbackground,aboywhowon’tsuddenlybereclaimed?Ican’t.”

SlowlyEwingextendedhisforefingerandpointeditatArnold.

“Ican’t,”Ewingrepeated.“Butyoucan.You’re in theperfectposition todoso.Theboysatyourschoolaretherefortheveryreasonthattheirfamilybackgroundisrotten.Yousaidsoyourself.Iftheyhadpleasanthomeenvironmentstheywouldn’tbeatMeltonHall.Probablyoverhalftheboysatyourschooldetesttheirparentsorguardians.OverhalfofthemhavegotnoemotionaltietoanchorthemtoEngland.Andyouseethemeveryday.You’reideallysituated.”

“Ideallysituatedtodowhat?”Arnoldaskedcoldly.Ewingtriedtosmile.Hestretchedthecornersofhismouthandpattedhisthinlips.Thoughthelidof

hislefteyewasquivering,hismouthwassteady.“You’re ideally situated to find a boy of thirteen or fourteen who’s intelligent and sensitive and

malleable—aboywhowantstogetawayfromEnglandtobeginanewlife.”Arnoldcontrolledagestureofrevulsion.“AndifIfindaboylikethat,whatdoIdo?”“YouarrangeforhimtojoinmeinTangier.”“You’renotserious?”“SoseriousthatIpromiseI’llmakeoverthisvillatoyouonthedaytheboyarrives.Youcanletout

thelowerflatandliveinthetopflatwithRiffi.You’llhaveenoughmoneytokeepyoubothinfoodanddrink.”

“I’msureyoumustbejoking.”“I’llputitinwritingifyoulike.”Arnoldtookadeepbreath.“You’renotseriouslyaskingmetokidnaponeoftheboysatMeltonHall

andshiphimouttoTangier?”“I’mnotaskingyoutokidnapanyone.I’msuggestingthatyoufindaboywho’sonlytooanxioustoget

awayfromtheplace.Oncewe’vefoundtheboyandyou’vetoldhimtheform,yourpartintheoperationwill be finished. I shall be responsible forgetting theboyout toTangier.You’ll just sit pretty atyourschooltillthescandal’sblownoverandit’ssafeforyoutocomeouthereandmoveintothisvilla.”

“Youcan’treallybelieveI’ddoit?”“Whynot?”“Buttheboysareinmycharge.I’mresponsibleforthem.”“Sowhat?”“I’mnotgoingtoberesponsibleforshippingoneofthemabroadtobeseduced.”“Whosaidanythingaboutseduction?”“Isn’tthatwhatitamountsto?Whyareyousokeenthatthekidshouldhatehisparentsandhaveno

tiesofaffection?Isn’titbecauseyouwanthimtofallforyou?Isn’titbecauseyouwanttomakecertainhe’sgotnowhereelsetogo?Nootherchoice?”

SuddenlyEwingclappedhishandstogetherenthusiasticallyasifhewereapplaudingabrilliantaria.“Youmust forgiveme,”Ewingsaid laughing.“I reallyamsorry.But,mydearman, I simplycan’t

resist teasing you. I adore the expression on your face when you get all flushed and indignant. It’senchanting.You’resowonderfullyeasytotakein.OfcourseIwasn’tbeingserious.Nowthesun’sgoneinandit’sgettingchilly.Isupposeweoughttogobacktoourlogfireatthevilla.”

————————WhentheyreturnedtothevillaonthemountainEwingannouncedthathewasafraidofcatchingachillandintendedtotakeahotbath.ArnoldwanderedalongthecorridortohisbedroomandwasdisappointednottofindRiffiwaitingforhim.Hehadseenhimontheterraceasthecarcameupthedrive.

TenminuteslaterBashirarrivedwithanotefromEwing.“Terriblysorry,”Ewingwrote.“ButIcompletelyforgottotellyouthatformysinsI’vegottodine

withLukeWesttonight.I’veordereddinnerforyouhere.Seeyouatbreakfast.Yours,Ewing.”Arnoldlookedup.Bashirwaswatchinghimcarefully.“Youwantwriteanswer?”Bashirasked.

“No,thanks.”“Barrakelaufic,yasidi,”Bashirsaid.“Thankyou,sir.”Bashirbowedlimplyandturnedtogo.“Bashir...”WithaslackgestureofhishandsBashirturnedback.“CouldyouaskRiffitocomeandseeme?”BashirstaredatArnoldwithhisheavilymade-upeyes.“Riffinothere,”Bashirsaid.“Nothere?Where’shegoneto?”“RiffigobacktohisvillagenearChauen.Maybefortwoorthreedays.”Bashirspokethewordsasifhehadlearnedthembyheart.Arnoldwascertainhewaslying.“WhendidRiffigo?”“Thisafternoon.”“Atwhattime?”“Atfour.”“ButIsawhimontheterracelessthanaquarterofanhourago.”Bashirshruggedhisshoulders.“RiffigotoChauen,”herepeated.Whydidhego?”“Hegotoseehisfamily.”“DoesSeñorBairdknowhe’sgone?”ForaninstantBashir’seyesflickered.“Yes.Heknow,”Bashirsaid.“Rifficomebackintwoorthreedays.”ThenArnoldunderstoodwhathadhappened.“Thankyou,Bashir,”hesaid.Bashirnolongerbotheredtodisguisehiscontempt.Hesmiledandmadeanelaboratebow.“Barrakelaufic,yasidi,”Bashirsaid,andlefttheroom.

————————Ashe sat alone at dinner that night,with Ismail in hiswhite gloves standing behind his chair,ArnoldrehearsedthevariousmanœuvresEwinghadengagedinsincethemomenthehadsentWaynetosummonhimtohis tableforadrink.Herealizednowthateachmovein their relationship—eachepisodeat thevilla,eachstorythatEwinghadtoldhim,eachsentenceeven—hadallbeencarefullyplanned.TheclimaxofEwing’stortuousplothadbeenreachedintheJapaneseroomofthevillaontheMarshanthatafternoon.Therewasnodoubtthattheoffertogivehimthevillahadbeenseriouslyintendedasaneffectivebribe.ItwasthefinaltwistofEwing’sintricatelycontrivedscheme.Thegroundhadbeenneatlycleared,thebaitprovided,theperfectbribeproduced.Buttheplanhadfailed,soEwinghaddonehisbesttorecoverfromhis failure by pretending it was all a joke. His sudden applause and loud laughter had been quiteconvincing. But even Ewing’s expert performance could not erase the memories of various hints andallusionshehadmadepreviously.

Thepositionwasclear.FromthemomentEwinghadmetArnoldinWayne’sbarhehaddeterminedinanalmost insanelyobsessiveway to subornArnold intoprocuringaboy forhim fromhis school.Theelaborate andexpensivemeals, thevisit toConchita’sbar, the twodancingboys, theexpedition to theCaves of Hercules, the invitation to stay at the villa—all were part of an elaborate plot to weakenArnold’sresistancetoEwing’splan.Riffihadbeenusedasapawninthisschemeofthings.ButEwingwasonlyprepared to approveofArnold’s affairwithRiffi ifArnoldbehaved according toplan.AndArnoldhadn’t.HehadmadeitobviousthatEwing’splanrevoltedhim.

SoArnoldwasnowbeingpunished.Riffihadbeentakenawayfromhim.

==:==:==:==ThefollowingmorningArnoldfoundanotefromEwingonthebreakfasttableinthepatio.

“I’vehadtogotoGibraltaronbusiness,”Ewingwrote.“Backtomorrowafternoon.”Arnoldtookadetectivenovelfromthebookcaseinthedrawing-roomandsatdowninadeck-chair

ontheterraceandbegantoread.Buthecouldnotconcentrateontheplot.VisionsofRiffi’sslightbodymovedacrosshismindlikecolouredlantern-slides.Hecouldseetheskinstretchedtautacrosshisbonychestandthegleamofhispolishedthighs.Hecouldseetheboy’swhiteforeheadandvioleteyesbeneaththewildlycurlingblackhair.Hesawthedeepredofhislipsandhispaletonguequiveringbetweenhiseventeethwhenhelaughed.Andhewastorturedbythefearthattheboyhadbeentakenawayfromhimforever.

IntheafternoonArnoldwalkedoverthehillsidetowardsCapeSpartel,pastavenuesofeucalyptustrees,pastyellowclumpsofmimosaandbanksofwildirisandnarcissus,pasttinklingflocksofgoatsandtowardstheheadland.AndasArnoldgazeddownatthelongfoaminglinesoftheAtlanticbreakers,hethoughtonceagainofEwing’sproposal,andimmediatelyaglimpseofMeltonHallswungintohismind.Hesawthegreyschooluniform;hesawadozenrowsofheadsbowedwearilyoverthewoodendesks.Andsuddenlythefaceoftheshyboywhosatinthefifthrowswungintohismind.DanGedge—oneofStobart’svicariousvictims;theboywhohadabscondedandhadbeenleftfor“punishment”inthegym.WouldlivingwithEwingandtheperversionitimpliedbeanyworsethanthemiseryofMeltonHallforthat boy? Was seduction any more harmful than constant ill-treatment? Then, suddenly, ArnoldrememberedEwinglyingon thebeach.Hesawthebulging limbsandhairystomach, thegrossnessandvirility.Andhehadaglimpseofthatheavybodypressingdowntowardsthescaredboy’supturnedface.

Arnoldshudderedandwalkedquicklybacktothevilla.AsArnoldwandereduneasilythroughtheemptyroomshebegantobeoppressedbytherichnessof

their furnishing. The swags of the heavy velvet curtains, the damask of the sofas, the elaborateworkmanshipofthegiltsconces,thepaletintsoftheAubussoncarpetonthecreakingparquetfloor,thebulbousceladonlampsonbow-frontedEmpireside-tables,thedark-colouredsilkcushionsinthenarrowMoorishroomwithitsintricatelycarvedarches—allseemedtofillthevillawithaluxuriousscentthatstifledhim.HewouldhaveleftthevillaandspenttheeveningdowninthetownifhehadnotstillclungtothefrailhopethatRiffimightyetreturn.

TowardssunsetArnoldclimbedupthestonestaircasethatledtothetopofthevilla’scentraltower.Hepushedopenawoodentrap-doorandsteppedoutontotheleadroofthatwasstillwarmfromthesun.TothesouthhecouldseethesnowgleaminglikecreamonthepeaksoftheRîfmountains.UnlessBashirhadbeenlying,littleRiffiwasatthismomentinoneoftheBerbervillagessetbetweenthefoldsofthatmountainrange.

Arnoldturnedawaysadly,towatchthesunasitdippedbelowthehorizon,leavingadeep-redglowabovetheshininggreenseathatwasdappledwithdarkpatcheslikeaquilt.Tothenorth,wispsofcoralcloudfloatedslowlyacrossthesky,turningtopurpleasthetatteredstripstrailedtowardstheeast.Fromthetower,Arnoldcouldhearthequickrhythmictinklingofthegoat-bellsastheflocksweredrivenbackfromgrazingonthemountainsidetothe fondouks in the town.Thefirsat theendof thegardenseemedvery dark and as thick as a forest, though from below they seemed widely spaced, and above themthousandsofmidgesfloatedupanddown.Tothewest,now,themountaincragswererazor-sharpandjet-blackagainsttheorangeglowofthebackground,andasheenofbrightsmoothwaterstretchedacrosstheAtlantic like a lake surroundedby indigobanks.Darkpurple clouds to thenorthwere reflected in thetranquilsea.Thehillsidewasnowdottedwiththetinyglowsofthecharcoal-burners’fires,andthebeamoftheCapeSpartellighthouseswervedacrossthedusk.

Itwasgrowingcold.Arnoldlefttheroofandclambereddownthetwistingstonestaircase,closingthetrap-doorbehindhim.

————————ThateveningArnolddinedaloneatthemarbletableinthecandle-litdining-room,waitedoninsilencebyIsmailwithhisleatherydarkfaceandstiffcottongloves.Afterdinnerhewentintothedrawing-roomanddranktwolargebrandies.Thenhewalkedwearilyalongthecorridorandacrossthepatiotohisbedroom.

==:==:==:==ArnoldwaswalkingrestlesslyalongtheterracewhenEwingreturnedlatethefollowingafternoon.

“Pleaseforgivemeforleavingyouallonyourown,”Ewingsaidblandly.“ButIhadthemostboringcurrencyproblemtosettle,andGibwastheonlyplacetofixit.IdohopethatIsmailgaveyouenoughtoeatanddrink?”

“Yes,thanks.”“Youdon’tseemwildlygaythisafternoon.”“I’mnot.”“Anythingwrong?”“Youknowwhat’swrong.”Ewingglancedathiminsurprise.“DoI?”heasked.“Yes.”SuddenlyEwingclappedhishandstogether.“Oh,ofcourseIdo!”hesaidtriumphantly.“Howstupid

ofme!You’vebeenmissinglittleRiffi.Isn’tthatit?”“WhereisRiffi?”Arnoldasked.“Didn’tBashirtellyou?HewentbacktohisvillagenearChauentoseehisparents.”“Heleftrathersuddenly,didn’the?”EwingsmiledatArnoldasifhewereachildtowhomsomeobviousfactmustbeexplained.“They

getthesesuddenmessages,”Ewingsaid.“AwomanfromChauenhadcomeintoTangierthatmorningwithaloadoffirewoodandamessagefromRiffi’sbrothertosaythattheirmotherwasillandhemustreturnimmediately.Sooffhewent.”

“Canyoufindoutthenameofhisvillage?I’dliketogoandseehimbeforeItaketheplanebacktoEngland.”

Ewingchuckled.“You’vereallyfallenforthelittlecreature,haven’tyou?”hesaid.“NotthatIblameyou. I only wish I could work up some excitement for him myself. It would make my life so muchsimpler.”

“I’dliketogotohisvillagetomorrow,”Arnoldsaid.Ewingsmiled.“Don’tbeworried,”hereplied.“Youdon’tneedtomovean inch.All iswell.Just

relax.”“IintendtoseeRiffibeforeIleave.”“And so you shall.Only giveme a chance to explain.You see, by the timeRiffi got back to his

village he discovered that hismother had recovered. So he stayed there two nights and came straightback.”

“Howdoyouknow?”“Howsuspiciousyou’vesuddenlybecome!”Ewinglaughed.“HowdoIknow?BecauseIsawhim

downintownonlyanhourago.”“Whereishenow?”“Idon’tknowwherehe isat thismoment.ButIcan tellyouwherehe’llbe thiseveningateleven

o’clockwhenwecomebackfromdinner.Righthereinthisvilla,waitingforyou.Soyouneedn’tlooksodistraught,needyou?”

“You’recertain?”“Absolutelycertain.He’sanintelligentboy.Hewouldn’t letmedown.Besides,I thinkhe’sreally

becomequitedevotedtoyou.”

“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”“Hiseagernesstofindoutifyou’dstillbehere.”Arnoldwassilentaswavesofpainandhappinesssweptoverhim.Hehadonlyfivecompletedays

lefttospendwithRiffi,butatleasthewouldseehimagain.“QuiteapartfromRiffiI’vegottwospecialtreatsforyoutonight,”Ewingcontinuedblandly.“We’re

goingtoDiego’splace,whichwillfascinateyou,andthenI’mtakingyoutodineatthePavillon.”“What’sDiego’splace?”“Well, in the good old days here before the Moroccans got their independence, one could have

described Diego’s place quite simply as a male bordello. But now that all brothels have beenmadeillegal,it’sslightlymorecomplicated.Yousee,theboyscan’tliveonthepremises.Theyhavetocomeinfromoutside.SoDiego’slittlehouseisasortofmeeting-place,amaisondepasse.”

“WhyshouldIwanttogothere?”“Becauseyou’llbeenthralledbyit.”“I’dratherstayhereandwaitforRiffi.”“How unadventurous you are! Besides, as I told you, Riffi won’t be here till after dinner. And

Diego’splaceisquiteanexperience.Allkindsofinterestingthingsgoonthere.”“Suchas?”“Well, tostartwith,perhapsIshouldexplainthere’sasecretaboutthehousethatveryfewpeople

know.Inthemainroomthereareconcealedholesinthemirrorsothatonecanlookinfromtheroomnextdoorandseeeverythingthat’sgoingonwithoutbeingseenoneself.It’sauniqueexperience.”

“Ishouldhavethoughtitwasquiterevolting.Justwhatdoesgoon?”Ewingsmiledandspreadouthisfingerslikeafan.“You’lljusthavetowaitandsee,”hesaidcoyly.

“Icanonlypromiseyouthatyou’llbequitefascinated.”“Can’tIskipDiego’sandmeetyouatthePavillon?”Ewing’sfacestiffened,andhisfingerscurledupintohispalms.“I’mdoingmybesttoentertainyou,”Ewingsaidcoldly.“YoumustadmitIhaven’tdonetoobadlyso

far.Surelytheleastyoucandoistofallinwithmyplans?”“Allright,”Arnoldsaid.“Sorrytosoundungrateful.Whattimedoweleave?”“Atseven,”Ewingreplied.“Theperformanceislaidonforeighto’clock.”

==:==:==:==Ithadbeenraining.Thestreetsthat ledofftheZoccoChicoreflectedthelightsofthecafés.EwingledArnoldpast theCinéAméricain and turnedupanarrowwindingpassagebetweenclose-packeddingyhouseswithpeelingfaçades.AMoorshuffledtowardsthemalongthegleamingcobbles, lookinglikeadecrepitmonkinthelongcloakandhoodofhisdjellaba,hisfeetsplayedoutashepushedhistoesintohisslippers.Hewasfollowedbyaprostituteclickingdownthepassagewithbrisklittlestepsonspikedhigh-heeledshoes,herantimoniedeyespeeringanxiouslybetweenthefoldofherbluehaikandherblackveil.

At the dark bend aheadwas a two-storeyed housewith charred-lookingwalls. A single windowfixedhalfwayupthehousecommandedaviewdownthepassage.OutsidethehouseEwinghesitatedandlookedroundquicklytomakecertaintheyhadnotbeenfollowed.Asheturned,thedoorofthehousewasopenedbyaround-facedSpanishboy.EwingwalkedquicklyinsideandbeckonedtoArnoldtofollow.

Together they passed into amurkyhall lit faintly by two red-shaded angle-lamps and glazedwithworn tiles to the height of three feet. Thewalls abovewere painted a dull ochre and decoratedwithadvertisementsforAmericancigarettesandSpanishbeer.TheplumpSpanishboygesturedtothemtobesilent.Cautiouslyhepulledout a coupleof the fourwicker chairs thatweregroupedarounda stainedwoodentable.Astaircaseandtwodoorsledoutofthelittlehall.Onthelandingabovethestaircasetheredendofacigarettebuttglowedinthehandofthesilentwatcherbythewindow.

Presently,fromthedoorontheleft,theywerejoinedbyaslimSpaniardofaboutsixtywhoswayeddelicatelytowardsthem.Hisfacewaspowderedandrouged,andhereekedoflavenderwater.

“ThisisDiego,”Ewingwhispered.Diego’s thin lips stretched into a smile ashe shookArnold’shand limply.His shrewdblack eyes

examinedArnold’sfaceasifitwereamaptobeglancedatquicklyandmemorized.“Any friendofSeñorEwing is a friendofmine,” hemurmured. “I’mgladhehas a companion to

sharehisamusement.Comenow,andIwillshowyoutheway.”Silently they followed Diego into a narrow windowless room. An advertisement for Fundador

brandyhungonthescabrousgreenwallsaboveatableandtwochairs.AlargefadedprintoftheKing’spalaceinRabatcoveredthewallopposite.

Diegoputhisfingertohismouth.“Wenospeaktoomuchloud,”hesaid.Thenhemovedquietlyacrosstheroomandtookdowntheprintandproppeditagainstachair.Inthe

spaceofwallcoveredbytheprintweretwoeyepiecessetayardapart.DiegoturnedtoArnold.“Youstandhere,”hesaid.“Andyouwatch.Youlookintotheotherroom.

Comeandsee.”Arnoldstoodinfrontofthenearesteyepieceandlookedthroughit.Immediatelyherecoiled.Inthe

dimlylitwhitewashedroomnextdooramanwassittinginanarmchairthreeyardsawaylookingstraightathim.

Diego tittered softly. “Themancannot seeyou,”hewhispered. “Theother sideof thewall it is amirror.Hecanbeallclosetoyouandstillhecannotsee.”

“Doesn’theknowwe’rehere?”“Whyshouldheknow thatyouarehere?”Diego replied.“Your friendhaspaidmegoodmoney. I

knowthathelikestowatchpeopleinthishousewhentheydonotknowthattheyarebeingseen.”Themaninthearmchairwasholdingashortcigarbetweenthebonyfingersofhisrighthand.Agold

watch-braceletwasclampedroundhisslenderwrist.Heworeadarkgreysuit thatseemedtoobigforhimandawhitesilkshirtandablacksatintie.Hewasatallthinmanofaboutsixtywithalonghollow-cheekedfacethecolourofchalk.Hislefthandwasthrustdeepintothepocketofhistrousers.

“Whoishe?”Arnoldaskedquietly.“TheArabboywhofirstbringhimherecallhim‘Mister’,”Diegosaid.“Weknownoothernamefor

him,sowecallhim‘Mister’.”“He’saretiredAmericanfilm-producer,”Ewingsaid.“‘Mister’retiredbecausehewasdiseased.

Twoyearsagotheycutouthalfhisinside.Sincethenhe’spreferredhissexbyproxy.You’llseewhatImean.”

Theround-facedSpanishboyslidintotheroomandwhisperedsomethingtoDiego.“Thefirstonehasalreadyarrived,”Diegosaid.“NowIwill leaveyoutowatch.Doyouwantthe

boytostaywithyou?”“Nottonight,”Ewingsaid.“Asyouplease.”Diegowalkedoutoftheroom,andtheSpanishboyfollowed,closingthedoorbehindhim.“Whyhaveyoubroughtmehere?”Arnoldasked.Ewinglookedathiminsilence,thensmiled.“BecauseIthinkit’stimeyoulearnedthefactsoflife,”

hesaid.“Whatfacts?Thefactsofmaleprostitution?”“The odd experiences thatmoney can buy.Look now.Look at the roomnext door and learn your

lessonlikeagoodboy.”ThroughtheeyepieceArnoldsawDiegoopenthedoorinthenextroomandusherinatall,heavily

builtNegroofaboutthirty,whowasdressedinalooseyellowsweaterandtight-fittingjeans.“Thefirstone,”Diegosaid,andlefttheroom.TheNegro stood in silence,hishugeheadand thickneck thrust forwardanddownwards fromhis

massiveshoulderslikeacorneredbull,watchingthemaninthearmchair.“Strip,”themansaid.ForaninstanttheNegrohesitated.Thenslowlyhepartedhisprotuberantlipsinasmilesobroadthat

Arnoldcouldseehisgums,brightpinkagainsttheblacknessofhisskin,asheraisedhisheadarrogantly.Stillsmiling,theNegropeeledoffthesweaterfromhisgleaminghairlesschestandpulleddownthejeansfromhisheavythighsandmovedindolentlytowardsthegrey-hairedmanandstoodbeforehim,largeandnaked.

Therewasaknockatthedoor.“Comein,”themansaid.Diegoput his head round thedoor. “Areyou ready for the secondone?”he asked themancalled

“Mister”.“Sendhimin,”“Mister”said.Diegowentout.TheNegrohadturnedawayfromtheman.Hewaswatchingthedoorexpectantly.He

wasnolongersmiling.Thedooropenedalittleandayoung,fair-skinnedBerberboyinatatteredbrownburnoosecamenervouslyintotheroom.ForonemomentofstarkhorrorArnoldthoughtthatitwasRiffi.Buttheboywasyoungerandthinner.Hewasfrailer—scarcelymorethanachild—andhisfeatureswerelesssharplydrawn.Heglancedforamomentatthemaninthearmchair.ThenheturnedandstaredattheNegrowithwideeyes.

“Strip,”“Mister”said.Theboynoddedhishead.Hemovedawaymodestlytowardsthestainedmattressinthefarcornerof

theroom.AshepulledtheburnooseoverhisheadArnoldsawthatitwastheonlypieceofclothinghehad.AgainsttheshiningebonyoftheNegro’sskintheboy’sbodywasaswhiteasmilk.Hislimbsweredelicate.Helookedverysmallandfragile.

ArnoldmovedhisheadawayfromtheeyepieceandturnedtoEwing.“I’mgoing,”hesaid.“I’mnotgoingtostayandwatchthis.”

“You’llstay,”Ewingsaid.“You’llstayandyou’llwatch—becauseyouknowthatifyouleavenowyou’llalwaysbetorturedbythedesiretoknowwhathappened.”

“I’mgoing,”Arnoldrepeated.Butasifhisheadwerecontrolledbyaseparatebeinghefoundhiseyespressedagainstthepeephole

inthewall.Hisgazewasunwillinglyfixedonthescenebeingenactedinthedimlylitroom.InsilenceArnoldwatched. Itseemedaneternityof timebeforehecouldsummonthestrength towrenchhisheadaway.Somehowhemanagedtoforcehimselftowalkoutintothehallway.Somehowhestumbleddownthestepsandmovedoutintothedarkstreet-passage.Butbythenitwastoolate.Thoughhestareddownatthewetcobbledstonesaheadofhim,animageofwhathehadwitnessedremainedfixedinhismind,andhismemorywouldneverbeabletorejectit.AsheshudderedinhorrorArnoldknewwiththecertaintyofdespair thatwhathehadseenhappening in thatwhitewashed, shabby roomwouldpoisonhismind forever.

Withdraggingstepshewalkedalongtheslimydarkpassageway.VaguelyhewasawarethatEwinghadfollowedhim.Hecouldfeel thepoisoncreepingthroughtherecessesofhisbrain, taintingthepastandthefuture.WhenEwingcaughtholdofhisarm,hetriedtobreakawayfromhim.ButEwing’sgripwasstrong.

“Leavemealone,”Arnoldmuttered.“Whatareyousoshockedabout?Justtellme.”ArnoldstaredatEwingwithdisgust.“WhatamIshockedabout?”hesaid.“Youcanaskmethat!You

watched,didn’tyou?”“Imostcertainlydid.”“AndyouaskwhyI’mshocked?”“Ido.”“Whenthatboywasamerechild?”“Hedidn’thavetocometoDiego’splace.Heknewwhatwasgoingtohappen.”“Heobviouslycamebecauseheneededthemoney.Helookedas ifhewerehalf-starved, thepoor

littlewretch.”“ThatboymakesenoughmoneyinDiego’splacetoeatsteakseverydayoftheweek.”“Idon’tbelieveyou.”“Iknowhim,Itellyou.Hisname’sAllal.He’sbeenonthegameforthelasttwoyears.”“Howcouldyoustandbyandwatch,whilethatchild...”“Iwishyou’dstopcallinghim‘thatchild’.Infact,he’sthesameageasRiffi.Ifyouwanttoknowthe

truth,RiffiusedtoworkinDiego’splace.That’swherehisEnglishfriendthatyouaskedmeaboutfirstfoundhim.”

“YoumeanRiffi...”“ImeanRiffididwhatthatboydid.”“You’relyingtome.”“Askhim,ifyoulike.”“Howlongdidheworkthere?”“For a yearwith an interval of amonthwhile PaulAshtonwas in Tangier to keep him.Hewas

workingatDiego’swhenhecaughtmyfancy,andIdecidedtotakehimonatmyvilla.”Arnold’seyessearchedEwing’sfleshyface.WasthatwhyyoutookmetoDiego’splacetonight?”he

asked.Ewinggazedbackathimcalmly.“Itookyoutheretolearnalesson,”Ewingsaid.“Whatlesson?”“Thelessonofwhatmoneycanbuy.”“MeaningaboylikeRiffi.”“AboylikeRiffi,amongstotherthings.”“But tomakemerealizewhatRifficouldbemade tosufferwas themainpointofyouroperation,

wasn’tit?”“ThepointwastomakeyouunderstandtheimportanceofhavingmoneyifyouwanttoprotectRiffi.”“But he’s safewhere he is.When I’ve goneback toEngland, he’ll still beworking at your villa,

won’the?”“Iexpectso.”“Butyou’renotsure?”“He’llgoonworkingformeunlesshemisbehaveshimselfandgetsthesack.”“Thenwhatwouldhappen?”“He’dgobacktoDiego’s,Isuppose.”“You’dallowthat?”Ewingstoppedwalkingandstoodstill.Arnoldturnedandfacedhim.“Look,”Ewingsaid.“I’dbetter tellyou frankly,hereandnow, Idon’t feelmyself responsible for

Riffiinanyway.I’veneverbeenbesottedabouthim,remember.”“Sobecauseyou’veneverwantedhim,you’dlethimgobacktothehellofDiego’s?”“Ifhe’dmisbehavedbadly,ifhe’dstolenmoneyforinstance,andIhadtogetridofhim,howcouldI

preventitifhewantedtoresumehistradeasalittlewhore?”“You’dfeelnoobligationtohelphim?”

“Notifhe’dstolenmoney,Iwouldn’t.ButifImaysayso,you’remissingthewholepoint.I’mnotsayingthatIintendtosackRiffiandsendhimbacktoDiego’s.I’mmerelysayingthatIdon’twanttoberesponsibleforhim,whereasyoudo.Youwant to lookafterhim.All I’mpointingout toyouis that tolookafterRiffineedsmoneyaswellasaffection.”

“Andyou’vealreadypointedout that I canget thatmoneybykidnappingaboy fromMeltonHall.Isn’tthatcorrect?”

Ewing laughed. “Don’t let’s start that over again,” he said. “I told you at the time that I’d onlysuggesteditasajoke.”

“Ratheranelaboratejoke,wasn’tit?”EwingputhishandonArnold’sshoulder.“Youscorethere,”hesaid.“Iadmititwasratherelaborate.

Butperhapsthatwasbecausetherewasatinygrainoftruthbehindit.”“Morethanagrain,I’dsay.”Theyhadbeenwalkingup theRuedesSiaghinesandhadcomeoutbeside theflowerstallsof the

ZoccoGrande.Ewinghailedataxi.“MydearArnold,”Ewingsaid,“youmusttrynottogetsocrosswithme.Itmakesmequitenervous.

In fact, my nerves are positively jangling. I’m longing for a strong drink and lashings of wine at thePavillon.Soshallwemakeapact?ShallweagreenottodiscusseitherRiffiorMeltonHalluntilwe’vefinisheddinner?”

==:==:==:==Twohours later theyweresitting in theenclosed terraceof thePavillon finishing the secondbottleofMoutonRothschildthatEwinghadordered.

WhileEwinghadmadedeliberatelycasualconversationaboutoperasandballets,ArnoldhadbeensustainedbytheprospectofseeingRiffiateleven.AsEwingtalkedofViennaandSalzburg,Arnoldwasimagininghisreunionwiththeboyforwhomhenowyearneddesperately.WhenthepallidFrenchwaiterbroughtthemcoffee,Ewingorderedabottleofliqueurbrandy.ThenheturnedtoArnoldandwinkedathim.

“We’vefinishedourmeal,”Ewingsaid.“Sothepact’sover.IcanmentionRiffi’sname.Aren’tyouexcitedtothinkhe’llbewaitingforyouwhenwegetbacktothevilla?”

“Veryexcited,”Arnoldreplied.“Ienvyyou.Doyourememberthelines?‘Christ,ifmylovewereinmyarms,andIinmybedagain!’

It’salongtimesinceanyloveofminewasinmyarms.You’reveryfortunate.”“WhenI’vegottoleavehiminfivedays’time?”“Youcanalwayscomebackagain.”“IfIcansaveupthemoney.”Ewing spread out his hands and examined his polished finger-nails. “Finish yourwine,” he said.

“Thenlet’sconsiderthoselittlegrainsoftruththatyoutellmeliebehindmyjoke.Orshallwesupposeforamomentthatitwasn’tajoke?Shallwepretenditwasalltrue?”

“Youknowitwastrue.”“Allrightthen.Haveityourownway.Itwastrue.ButI’mstillcertainyoudidn’tunderstandwhatI

wasgettingat.”“Iunderstoodallright.”“Youcouldn’thavedoneoryou’dneverhaveused theword ‘kidnap’ justnow.The last thing I’m

suggestingisthatyoushouldkidnapaboy.”“Whatareyousuggestingthen?”“Listen,Arnold,I’vetriedtoexplainwhatIwanttodo.PerhapsIexplainedmyselfbadlyandyougot

thewrongidea.Letmetryagain,andseeifIdobetter.It’squitesimplereally.IwanttofindaboywhomIcaneducate.Thatmeans theboy’sgot tobe intelligent.By that Idon’tmeangoodat lessons. Imean

quicktoadapthimself,quicktolearn.”“Quicktolearnwhat?”Ewinghelduphisplumphairybands,palmsoutwards.“Nowdon’tjumpdownmythroat,beforeI’ve

finished,”hesaid.“Givemeachancetoexplain,willyou?”ArnoldrealizedthathehadonlytoenduretheeveningforanotherhourbeforehecouldbewithRiffi.

“I’mlistening,”hesaid.“The second qualification is that the boy must hate his own home,” Ewing continued, watching

Arnoldcarefully.“Otherwise,howeverthrillingthelifeheleadswithmeabroad,theboymaysuddenlylongtogetbacktoMumandDad.Infact,it’sprobablybetterthathedoesn’tevenhaveaMumandDad.Orperhapsthey’veseparatedandcan’tbebotheredwithhim.Thethirdqualificationisthattheboymustbeutterlymiserableatyourschool.Isthatclear?”

Arnoldsippedhisbrandy.“Clearenough,”hesaid.“Right.Now,all Iwantyou todo is toselect threeor fourboysofabout thirteenor fourteenwho

havegotthosequalifications.”“And then?” Arnold asked. After all, he thought, there could be no harm in listening to Ewing’s

fantasy.“I’dwanttoknoweverythingyoucouldtellmeaboutthebackgroundandcharacterofeachoneof

them.AndI’dwantaphotograph.”“Andthen?”“I’dmakemychoice.”“Thenwhathappens?”“Youcomeintothepicture.Yougotowork.Youtalktotheboy.Youtellhimthatyoucanhelphim

escapeor‘abscond’asyoucall it.YouexplainthatyoucangethimtoTangier.Andyoutellhimaboutme.”

“WhatdoItellhimaboutyou?”EwinglookedatArnoldsteadily.“YoutellhimthatI’vegotmoneyandcanlookafterhim,”hesaid.“DoItellhimanythingelse?”“No.”“Won’tthetruthcomeasratherashocktohim?”“Hewon’tknow‘the truth’asyouso tactfullyput it.At leastnotuntilhe’sreadyfor it.Youdon’t

thinkI’dbesuchafoolastoriskscaringtheboy?”“Soyou’lltakeyourtimetoseducehim.”Ewing’shandcarvedtheairwithanimpatientgesture.“Don’tbestupid,”hesaid.“I’ve toldyou I’mnot interested in that sideof things.Certainlynot—

unlesstheboyhappenedtowantit.”Arnoldfinishedhisbrandy.Ewingpouredoutanotherglassforthemboth.“Thisistheadvantageoforderingawholebottle,”Ewingmurmured.“Onedoesn’tneedtointerrupt

one’sconversationtocatchthewaiter’seye.I’mdeterminedweshouldn’tbeinterrupted.AndIdohopethatyou’rebeginningtounderstandthatat leastI’mnotproposingtokidnapaboyandperverthim.Myschemeisonaverydifferentplane.”

“ButIstillcan’tseeitworking.”“Whynot?”“Let’ssupposeI’vefoundthreecandidatesforyou,”Arnoldsaid.“Supposeyou’veselectedoneof

them and I’ve approached the boy and discovered that he’s longing to get away toTangier, thenwhathappens?”

“Youplanforhimtoabscondwhenyou’vegotaweekendfree.”Ewingspokewithouthesitation.HiseyeswerefixedcalmlyonArnold’sface.ThewineArnoldhad

drunkinthediscreetlysmartrestauranttogetherwithEwing’scalmcontemplationofacriminalactbegantospreadaveilofunrealityacrossArnold’smind.

“Whydoesn’ttheboyabscondjustbeforemynextholiday?”Arnoldasked.“Becauseinordertoavoidsuspicionit’sessentialyoudon’tleaveEnglandatthesametimeasthe

boydoes.”“Sowhentheboyabscondswheredoeshego?”“Isitpossibleforaboytogetawayfromyourschoolatnight?”“Yes.”“Haveyougotacar?”“Ofsorts.Yes.”“Thenyoumeettheboysomewhereoutsidetheschoolgrounds,andyoudrivehimtoFolkestone.”“WhytoFolkestone?”“Becausethat’swhereyou’llhandhimovertoTim.”“SoTimcomesintotheplan?”“Yes.He’sessential.”“Canyoutrusthim?”“I’m sure I can. If only because he’s come to rely on the presents I send him.At themoment his

coffee-barisn’tflourishing.”“SoIhandtheboyovertoTim.Andthen?”“Yourpart intheoperationisfinished.You’vegotnothingmoretodoexcepttogobacktoMelton

Hallandstayonthereforatleastanothertwomonths.”“Whytwomonths?”“Toavoidanytraceofsuspicion.Wedon’twantyoufollowedtoTangier.”Whathappenstotheboymeanwhile?”“Tim takes him across toFrance on one of those trippers’Channel boatswhere youdon’t need a

passport.Thoseboatspositivelyswarmwithparentsandtheirchildren,sotheywon’tbenoticed.OnceinFrance,TimknowsthecountrywellenoughtogettheboydowntotheyachtinMarseilles.He’llprobablytakeawagon-litsotheycanchangeintodifferentclothesontheway.”

“Whydifferentclothes?”“Because they don’t want to arrive in Marseilles looking like a middle-aged Englishman and a

thirteen-year-oldEnglishschoolboy.Oncetheboy’sontheyachtit’llbeallright.He’llbedressedasacabinboy,andnoonewillnoticehim.Onafifty-tonmotor-yachtoneexpectstofindacabinboy.”

“You realize that as soon as it’s discovered that the boy hasn’t gone back home—that he’s reallymissinginfact—there’llbeatremendoushue-and-cry.Headlinesinallthepapers.”

“Let’sbequiteclearaboutthis.AboyabscondsfromMeltonHallonaSaturdayevening.Nowwhatdotheschoolauthoritiesdoaboutit?”

“They’dringthroughtothelocalpoliceandgiveacompletedescriptionoftheboyforthepolicetocirculate.AsItoldyou,oftenaboy’spickedupatthenearestbus-stopbyapatrolcar.They’dalsoringthroughtothepoliceattheboy’shometown.Sometimesaboywhoabscondsheadsstraightforhishome.Evenifhedoesn’tgetonwithhisparents,he’sprobablygotfriendsthere.”

“Theboy’snotfoundlocallyandhe’snotfoundathome.Nowwhathappens?”“Ifattheendofforty-eighthoursthere’sbeennonewsofhim,theheadmasterwouldringScotland

YardandenteradescriptionoftheboyinthePoliceGazette.”“BythenIsupposethere’dbesomementionofitinthePress?”“Notnecessarily.We’vehadsevenboysabscondfromMeltonHallinthelastthreeyears,andthere

wasn’tevenamentionofitinthelocalpapers.Buttheboyswerealwaysfoundwithinaweek.”“Sounlessthere’sanysuspicionofabduction—andtherewon’tbe,becauseyou’llbesafelybackat

theschool—there’snochanceofanystoryofinternationalinterestbreakingforatleastsevendays.Theycertainlywouldn’tbringinInterpolatthatstage.Andsaytheydo,canInterpolquestioneverycabinboyoneveryyacht?Besides,evenbyTuesdaymorningTimwillhaveleftMarseillesintheyachtandwillbeheadingstraightforTangier.”

ArnoldsippedhisbrandyandstaredatEwingindazedastonishment.“Areyoureallyserious?”heasked.

“Can’tyouseethatI’vegotitallplanned?I’vebeenthinkingoflittleelseforthelastweek.Andyoumustadmitthatforafirstdraftmyplanisn’ttoobad.Yousee,theperfectpartofitisthatthere’snooneforthepolicetosuspect.Ofthethreeofusinvolved,you’retheonlyonewhowillbeknowntohavehaddirectcontactwiththeboy,andbySundaymorningyou’llbebackattheschoolandatworkthesameasever.SupposingsomeonespotsTimcrossingwithaboyontheChannelboat,whatproofhavetheygotofhiscomplicity?AssoonastheyachtarrivesinTangier,TimwillflybacktoLondon.Sowithinaweekofthe boy’s disappearance he’ll be back at his coffee-bar in Folkestone—with no thirteen-year-oldanywherenearhim.Andthere’llcertainlybenolinkwhatsoevertoconnectmewiththedisappearanceofaboyfromanapprovedschool.”

“What’syouryachtdoinginMarseilles?”“She’slaidupthere.Butamonthbeforethedatethatwefixfortheboy’sescape—andforvarious

reasons I suggest it should be inMay or June—I shall have the yacht put into commission and fullyequippedsothatshe’sreadytosailtheinstantthatTimarriveswiththeboy.”

“Whataboutthecrew?”“What about them?There’s a fifty-year-old Spanish engineerwho used towork on the smuggling

shipsandanoldMoorwhodoesthecooking.NeitherofthemreadsapaperfromoneChristmastothenext.”

“Whatabouttheskipper?”“I don’t have one.Tim’s a trained navigator, and he knows the boat.He can easily take her from

MarseillestoTangier.”“AndwhenTimgoesbacktoFolkestone?”“Ishallbetheskipper,asI’vealwaysbeen.Iwasinsmallboatsduringthewar,youknow.”Arnolddrankhisbrandy.“Andgotdecorated,soI’vebeentold,”hesaid.Ewinglaughed.“What’sthatgottodowithit?”heasked.“ThepointisthatIcanhandleayacht.”“Wherewouldyoutaketheboy?”Ewing’s right hand curved gently through the air. “Can’t you guess?” he asked. “If youwanted to

show a boy the most beautiful scenery in the world, the most perfect architecture and the loveliestsculpture,ifyouwantedtofillhimwithapassionatezealtoappreciatethefinestcivilizationthatmankindhaseverknown—whereelsecouldyoutakehimbuttoGreece?”

Ewingleanedbackinhischairandlitacigarette.Hissmallbrowneyesweregleaming.“We could spend the summer cruising round the Greek islands,” Ewing said. “Andwhen autumn

cameanditbegantogetcoldwe’dfollowthesun.We’dheadsouthfortheLevant.InTurkeyIcouldhelphimtolearnaboutByzantineart.InSyriaI’dteachhimaboutRomancivilization.InEgypthe’dbetaughtthe customs and manners of the Pharaohs. In Alexandria perhaps he might have his first taste of thepleasures of a brothel. In the desert he’dwitness the bedouin’smasochistic delight in self-denial andausterity.InMogadishuhe’dlistentothepulseandthrobofthedrumsastheysoundedtheheart-beatofAfrica.InZanzibarhe’dsmellthecloves,he’ddiscoveralluringintimationsoftheOrientinthetwistingalleys.”

Ewing’sheadwasswayingslightlyashespoke,buthis lightvoicewith itsslightAmericantwangwasclear.Eachwordwasdistinct.Ewingwasnotdrunkfromthewine.

“SomewherealongthelineI’dhaveprocuredapassportfortheboy,madeoutinadifferentname,”

Ewing explained. “After a while we’d leave the yacht and travel slowly across India and fly fromCalcuttatotheshiningtemplesofKathmandu.”

Ewingraisedhishandsinapologyandletthemfalllimplyontothetable.“But I’m getting carried away,” he said. “I’ve forgotten to fill up your glass with this excellent

brandy,andI’veforgottenthatyoumustbewaitingtoknowpreciselyhowyourfutureisprovidedforinmyplan.”

“Onlyhalfaglass,”ArnoldmurmuredasEwingtiltedthebottle.“Idon’twanttogetdrunktonight.”“Iwanttogetdrunk,”Ewingsaid.“AndIwilldoitifI’mgivenhalfachance—evenifit’sonlyfrom

thedeliciousintoxicationofmydreams.Butletmebringyourproblemsintothelight.Letme‘putyouinthepicture’—astheyusedtosayintheServices.Areyoulistening?Youseemveryfaraway.”

“I’mlistening,”Arnoldsaid.Butonlypartofhimwaslistening.Therewasanotherportionofhisbeingthathadleftthetableand

wasnowwatchinghimashesatwithhisrecedingpalehairandpink-skinnedfacegazingacrossthetableatEwing’sheavyjowlsandfleshybeakednose.

“The instant you bring the boy to Tim in Folkestone,” Ewing was saying, “Tim will give you ahundredpoundsincashandachequeforthreethousanddollarsdrawnoutonmyaccounthereinTangier.ThetitledeedstothevillaontheMarshanwillbedepositedinyournameatmybank.Attheendoftwomoremonthsatyourapprovedschool,youcanhandinyourresignationandflystraighttoTangier.Hereyou’llfindboththeMarshanvilla,whichwillthenbelongtoyou,andyourlittleRiffi—waitingforyou.I’dadviseyoutoletthelowerflatinthevilla,whichisthelargerone.Youcanliveinthetopflatontherentyougetfromit.”

ThedetachedhalfofArnoldlistenedtoEwing’sproposalswithpoliteinterest.Thepersonconcernedwastheotherhalf—theslendermanwitheager,protuberantblueeyesandaturned-upnoseandaclose-fittingtweedjacket,whowasleaningacrossthetable.

“Youcouldalwaysstopthechequeandcancelthedeedofgift,”heheardhimselfsaying.“I could,”Ewingagreed. “But it’smostunlikely that Iwould.On thecontrary. Ifyouexamine the

positionyou’llfindthatIriskfarmorefromyourbetrayalthatyoudofrommine.WhenIsailawaywiththeboyyoucouldalwaystrytoblackmailme.”

“SocouldTim.”“Certainly.ButIknowvariousfactsaboutTim’slifewhichareenoughtokeephimquiet.”“Onceyou’veleftontheyacht,willyounevercomebacktoTangier?”“Notforthreeorfouryears.Notuntiltheexcitementofthemissingschoolboyhasbeenforgotten.Not

untilmyyoungfriendhasgrownverydifferent ineverywayfromtheboywhoabscondedfromMeltonHall. And there’ll be no risk then. If I return to Tangier with an elegant young man of seventeen oreighteenwho speaks fluent French and Spanish andwho speaks Englishwith just the faint trace of aforeignaccentwhichIshallpersuadehimtocultivate,willanyonelookbackinto thepastandconnecthimwithlittleDickieBrownwhoabscondedthreeorfouryearsagofromanapprovedschool?Ofcoursetheywon’t.”

AsEwing spoke,Arnoldmade an effort to integrate his two selveswhowere now confusing histhoughts.

“Isn’tthereonefactoryou’veleftoutofyourplans?”Arnoldaskedafterapause.“Andwhatisthat?”“Theboyyouselectedmightloatheyourguts.”Ewingstaredbackathimblandly.“Hemight,”hesaidquietly.“That’soneof therisks I’vegot to

take.But I’vediscovered in thisoddworld thatprovidedyouneverdemandgratitude in any shapeorform,people—especiallyyoungpeople—dorespondtokindness.AndIpresumeyouwon’thaveallowedmetoselectamonster.ObviouslyIneedaboywho’scapableofloyaltyandaffection.Andjustthinkwhat

Ishallhavedonetodeserveit!Ishallhavetakenhimawayfromaschoolthatheconsidersaprison.Ishallhaveremovedhimfromthesordidbackgroundofafamilyhedislikesandwhodon’tcareforhimeither.Onthematerialside,Ishallhavegivenhimdecentclothesandgoodfoodandanexcitinglifeonboardanextremelycomfortableyacht.Onthespiritualside,IhopeIshallhaveopenedhismindtothebeautiesofmusicandliteratureandpaintingandsculpture.AndperhapsIshallhavemadehimawareofthewondersofancientcivilizations.Atleastyoumustadmitthatthere’squiteagoodchancetheboywillgrowfondofme.”

“Buthestillmaynotwanttogotobedwithyou.”Ewingcontrolleda twitchof irritation.“I’vealreadytoldyouthatsexisn’t the importantpart,”he

said.“IfIwantsexIcangetithereinTangier—orinanyoftheportsweshallstopatonourcruise,cometothat.”

“Doyoumeanthatyou’llbecapableoflivingdayindayout,nightafternight,onasmallyachtwithanattractiveadolescentwithouttryingtoseducehim?”

Ewingwrinkledhisnoseindistaste.“HowIhatethatword‘seduce’,”hesaid.“Forallyouknow,theboymaybefullyexperiencedinsuchmatters.IadmitthatIshallcertainlytrytofindout.”

“Butthatmightruineverything.”“Idoubtit.NotthewayIshallplayit.IfImaysayso,I’vegotconsiderablymoreexperiencethan

youhave.”“Whatiftheboyisdisgustedandwantstogobacktohishome?”“Butthenhewouldn’tbegoingbacktohishome,wouldhe?He’dbegoingbacktoMeltonHall.And

Isupposeifhewantedtoleavemeallthatmuch,I’dlethimgo.That’sariskthatyouandIhavegottotake.”

“So if you get drunk one night andmake a pass at the boy and scare him stiff, then I shall go toprison.”

“Youdon’tsupposeI’mgivingyouavillaworthtenthousandpoundsfornothing,doyou?TheboymaygetdesperatetogobacktoEngland.That’sthemainrisk—I’dsaytheonlyrisk—you’vegottotake.Butdoyoureallythinkit’slikely?DoyouhonestlysupposethatI’dbesocriminallystupidastofrightentheboy?I’mnotanalcoholic,andI’mnotafool.Moreover,I’mluckyenoughtohaveaninstinctinthesematters.Youmightalmostcallitsecondsight.AndI’veneverbeenwrongyet.”

“Youshouldtouchwoodwhenyousaythat.”“Besides,Idon’tsupposethatanyoftheboysatMeltonHallarecompletelyinnocent.”“Someofthemare.”“Comeoffit.Theymaybeinnocentwhentheyfirstarrive.Butafteraweekinadormitorywiththe

kindoflittlethugsthatgetsenttoanapprovedschool,Ibetthey’velearnedtheform.Theycouldprobablyteachyouathingortwo.”

Arnoldwasdimlyawarethathewasbeginningtogetdrunk.“Youcanargueallnight,”hesaidaggressively,“butIstill think it’s thehellofarisk,andI’mnot

prepared to take it. Not for a dozen villas on theMarshan. It’s far too dangerous—quite apart fromanythingelse.”

“Whatdoyoumeanby‘anythingelse’?”Arnoldgulpeddownhisglassofbrandyandpouredhimselfoutanother.“ImeanI’mnotkeenabouthandingoverakidofthirteentoyouasifhewerealumpofmeat.”“Youhavemoralscruples,infact?”“Yes.Ihave.”“Thencanweanalysethosescruples?Whatwillyourpartinthisplanbe?You’llbetheinstrument

whereby anunhappyboy fromawretchedhomewill be brought, on amaterial plane, to sunshine andfreshairanddecentfoodandsecurity,andbrought,onahigherplane,toanunderstandingofartandof

history,toanappreciationofcultureandtheworksofgenius.Soyou’lladmit, thusfar,thatyouractioncanonlybedescribedaspositivelygood.But,alas,anactioninthiswickedworldcanseldombewhollygood—justasitcanseldombewhollybad.Ouractionsarealmostalwaysachoicebetweenthelesseroftwoevils.Andonemustfacethefactthatinherentinyouractionthereisanelementofevil,whichonecouldputbrieflythus.Forthesakeofmoneyyouareexposingaboytothetemptation—nomore—ofanaffairwithamiddle-agedman.”

EwinghelduphishandstosilenceArnoldashebegantospeak.“AndjustwhatdoyouthinkwentonbetweenSocratesandhisyoungpupils?”Ewingasked.“Doyou

thinktheirrelationshipwaspurelyandsolelyspiritual?WeknowtheGreekidealoflovebetweenamanand a boy.We know that physical passion entered into it.And do you suppose that the lives of thosepupilswere blighted after they had been—as youwould put it—‘seduced’?Of course not.When theygrewup theymarried andbecame respected citizens of themost sensible andbrilliant civilization theworldhas everknown.Andperhapswhen theybecamemiddle-aged, someof them in their turn foundthemselvesacharmingboytoeducateandtolove.”

Arnoldglancedcovertlyathiswatch.Itwaseleveno’clock.AsArnold’seyesslidbacktoEwing,hewassurprisedtoseehimsmilingwithamusement.

“Eleveno’clock,isn’tit?”Ewinginquired.“Precisely—whichbringsmetooneotherpoint—whilewe’re on the subject of moral scruples. I said you would be performing this action ‘for the sake ofmoney’.Butbothofusknowthat thatdefinitionofyourmotivesisn’tquite true.‘ForthesakeofRiffi’wouldbemoreaccurate,wouldn’tit?You’rereallydevotedtothatboy,aren’tyou?”

“IsupposeIam.”“Sonaturallyyouwanttogivehimsecurityandadecentbackground,sothathehasnotemptationto

gobacktoDiego’splace.”“IwanttodoallIcantohelphim.”“Andisn’tthatyetanothergoodelementinyouraction?Youknowitis,Arnold.Mydearman,I’m

notaskingyoutomakeupyourmindtonightoranythingdrastic.IonlywanttopointoutthatifyoudidagreetomyideaitwouldbeentirelyforRiffi’ssake.”

“IfIdidagree,”Arnoldsaid.Ewinggazedathimblandly.“Ifyoudidagree,”herepeated.“AndspeakingofRiffi,canImakea

suggestion?”“I’mlistening.”“Ithinkyououghttogivehimalittlepresent.”“Whatwouldhelike?”“Ishouldgivehimmoney.Thenhecanbuyhimselfwhathewants.”“Perhapsyou’reright.”Ewingbeckonedtothewaiterandaskedforthebill.“Thatbringsmetoanotherpoint,”Ewingsaid, turningbacktoArnoldwithasmile.“Irealizeyou

onlyexpectedtostayinTangierforaweek,soIsuspectyourmoneymayberunningshort.Dopleaseletmelendyouabittotideyouoverthenextfewdays.”

“No,thanks,”Arnoldsaidquickly.Instinctwarnedhimnot toaccepta loanfromEwing,butheneededmoneyurgently.Thatevening,

whenArnoldhadtakenhiswalletoutofthetopdrawerofthedressing-table,hehadfoundthathalfthebanknotes in itweremissing.He had determined to say nothing to Ewing about it in caseRiffiweresuspected.

“Whywon’tyouletmelendyousomedirhams—justtheequivalentoftwentypoundsorso?”TorthesimplereasonthatIshouldn’tbeabletopayyoubacktillnextquarter.I’moverdrawnatthe

bankasitis.Ionlygetathousandpoundsayear,sothere’snotmuchleftoverattheendofeachquarter,I

cantellyou.”“Besensible.I’minnohurrytoberepaid.Letmelendyoutwentypounds’worthofdirhamssoyou

canmakeyouryoungfriendreallyhappyduringthesenextfewdays.Asyouknow,Riffiisn’tatalllikethe little tartsyouseehanging round theMarChica.Butall theseboysoutheredoexpect tobegivenpresentsfromtimetotime.It’saconventionwiththem.“When,asIhope,RiffigoestolivewithyouontheMarshan, then it will all be different. You can give him somuch aweek pocketmoney to amusehimselfwith.Andthatwillbethat.Butwiththingsastheyare,Ihonestlydothinkyououghttogivehimsomething.Obviously,Icouldgivehimalittlepresent.ButIdon’twanttopayhimanything—apartfromhiswages.IfIdiditmightbefatal.Yousee,itmightgiveRiffiquitethewrongidea.”

Arnoldwassilent.EwingleanedforwardandgentlytuckedsomeMoroccanbanknotesintothetopofhisjacket.

“No,”Arnoldprotested.“Please,”Ewingsaidquietly,andturnedawaytothewaiterwhohadbroughtthebill.Arnoldcouldfeelhimselfblushing.Foraninstant,hehesitated.Then,whileEwingwaspayingthe

bill,hetookthenotesoutofhisfrontpocketandputthemcarefullyintohisshabbyleatherwallet.Ewingglancedatthegoldwatchonhiswrist.“It’swellpasteleven,”hesaid.“Perhapsweoughtto

leavethisdeliciousplaceandgohome.I’msurethatRiffiwillbewaitingforyou.”Ewingdrewbackhischair.“Don’tlooksoworried,Arnold,”hesaid.“I’mnotaskingyoutomake

anydecisiontonight.You’vegotfivewholedaystothinkitover.”————————

AsMustapha sounded the horn outside the lodge, the dogs rushed up to the grille and began barkingwildly.Arnoldcouldfeelhisheartthuddingagainsthischest.ItseemedalongtimebeforetheoldMoorinhisarmygreatcoatshuffledoutofthelodgetoopenthegateandthecarrolleduneasilyuptherutteddrivetotheilluminatedfaçadeofthevilla.

Bashir, ina smartgreen tunicwithwhitepantaloons,waswaitingunder theportico togreet them.EwingspoketohimrapidlyinArabic.BashirturnedtowardsArnoldwithaleerandslacklynoddedhishead.Ewingsmiled.

“Yourlittlefriend’sarrivedalready,”hesaid,andcrossedthegarishlytiledhallandwalkedintothedrawing-room.Arnoldfollowedhim.Foramomenthethoughtthatthevastoctagonalroomwasempty.ThenhesawRiffilyingcurledupasleeponasofabythechimney-piece.

AstheycameinRiffiawokeandstaredupattheminadazedway.ImmediatelyArnoldnoticedthattheboylookedtiredandill.Theglowhadgonefromhisface;thereweredarksmudgesunderhiseyes.ThenArnoldsawthatRiffiwaswearinganewandexpensive-lookingwoollensweaterwithblueandredstripes,andhisheartlurchedinsuspicion.ButatthatinstantRiffiemergedfromhistranceandrecognizedthem.WithasmallcryRiffirushedtowardsArnoldandflunghisarmsroundhimandclutchedhimtightlytohischestandkissedhisface.Overtheboy’sshoulderArnoldcouldseethatEwingwasstandingatthedrink-traywithhisbacktowardsthem.

“Don’tmindme,”Ewingsaid.“I’mcollectingmyselfanightcap.ThenI’mtotteringtobed.”WhileEwingfixedhisdrink,ArnoldkissedRiffi’sforeheadandruffledhishair.Ewing turnedround,glass inhand.“Enjoyyourselves,”hesaid.“Enjoyyourselveswhileyoucan.

Goodnight.”Ewingwalkedoutoftheroom,withquick,lightsteps.

==:==:==:==TwohourslaterArnoldlaycomfortablyinbedwithRiffiasleepbesidehim,buthewasworried.RiffihadobviouslybeendelightedtoseeArnoldagain.Theboyhaddraggedhimawayfromthedrawing-roomto the privacy of his bedroom, and he had seemed in high spirits, splashing himwithwaterwhile hecleanedhisteethandturningcartwheelsroundtheroom.Yettherehadbeenastrained,nervouslookinhis

eyes,andhehadbeenoddlyreticentwhenArnoldhadaskedhimabouthisvisittoChauen.“Howwasyourmother?”Arnoldasked.“Mymotherbetter.”“WasyourfatherinChauen?”“NearChaueninourdouar.Yes.”“Wheredidyougetyournewpullover?”“Pullover?”“Yournewsweater.”“InTetuan.”“Whogaveyouthemoneytobuythatsweater?”“Myfatherhegivememoney.”“Wereyouhappytobebackhome?”“Mymotherbetter,soIcomebacktoyou.AndnowIamtired.Wetalktomorrow.”As soon as they had got into bedRiffi hadwriggled away from him and curled up in the corner

nearestthewall.“Nottonight,”Riffihadsaid.“Tonightsleep.Youwaittomorrow.”The curtainswere not fully drawn. Pale slivers ofmoonlight shone into the room.Arnold raised

himselfandlookeddownatRiffiasheslept.Riffi’sthickcurlyhairfelloverhisforeheadandtouchedhisdarkeyebrows.Hisfacelookedverywhiteanddrawn.Hewassleepingrestlessly,turningfromsidetoside,heavingwithquickpantingbreathsasifhewerehavinganightmare.SuddenlyRiffi’slimbsjerkedfrantically.

“No,”hecriedoutwithagasp.“No.Don’tlethim,Mister.Don’tlethim.”Thentheboybegantoscream.Hiswholebodywastrembling.Hisforeheadwaswetwithsweatas

Arnoldwokehim.ForamomentRiffistaredupatArnoldinterror.Thenherecognizedhimandsmiledandputhisarmsroundhim.

“You’vehadabaddream,”Arnoldsaidgently.“Yis.”“Butyou’llbeallrightnow.”“Yis,”Riffirepeated.Presentlyhewenttosleepagain.

————————When Arnold awoke, he could hear a faint rustling noise, as if someone were turning the page of anewspaper.Dawnwas filtering through the slatsof theVenetianblindsbehind thehalf-drawncurtains.Withoutmovinghisheadhewasawarethathewasaloneinbed.SlowlyhiseyesfollowedthedirectionoftherustlingsoundandfocusedonthefarendoftheroomwhereRiffiwasstandingnaked,withhisbackturned.ButArnoldcouldseehimreflectedinthetalllooking-glassbehindthedressing-table.RiffiwasholdingArnold’swallet,andhislipsweremovingashecountedoutthebank-notes.

ArnoldcouldnotbeartobeconfrontedwithproofthatRiffiwasathief.Hisreactionwasimmediate.“Riffi!”hecalledout.Riffi’sarmsjerkedapart,thenjoinedtogetherrapidlyashestuffedbackthenotesintothewalletand

threwitonthedressing-table.WhenRiffiswungroundtofaceArnoldhischestwasheaving,buthetriedtosmile.

“Iwanttoseeifyourich,”Riffisaid,panting.“YounohavetoomuchmoneyItink.”“Comehere,”Arnoldsaid.Riffihesitated,thenmovedafewpacestowardshim.“Why-foryouangry?”“Wherehaveyoubeenforthelasttwodays?”

“Itellyou.Indouar.ByChauen.”“Wheredidyoubuythatsweater?”“InTetuan.”“DidyougoalonetoTetuan?”“Yis.Igoalone.”“DidyoumeetanAmerican,atallthinman?”“No.Imeetmyfatherandmymother.”“Whois‘Mister’?”Riffistaredathimwithwidevioleteyes.“Inotknow‘Mister’.Why-foryouaskthesequestions?”“Youtalkedabout‘Mister’inyoursleeplastnight.”“Yis.Isleeplastnight.”Riffiwastryingtopretendhecouldnotunderstandhim.ButArnoldwasdeterminedtopersist.“Beforeyoucametothisvilla,”Arnoldsaidslowly,“youworkedatDiego’splace.”Riffi’seyessliddowntothefloorandhishandstwitchedslightly.“YouhavebeentoDiego’s?”Riffiasked.“Youonceworkedthere,”Arnoldsaid.Riffi’snarrowshoulderswriggledasheshookhishead.“MenolikeDiego,”hesaid.“Henomyfreng.”“Butyouworkedforhim.”“Meworkforhim?No.Workhere.”“Butyoudidoncebeforeworkforhim.”“WhotellyoumeworkDiego?SeñorEwing?”“Yes.SeñorEwingtoldme.”RifficrossedtheroomquicklyandsatdownbesideArnoldonthebedandputahandonhisshoulder.“Henospiktrue,”Riffisaidurgently.“MenoworkDiego.Megotherewhennomoneyforbuyfood.

Butgotherenomore.Workherenowinvilla.Andyoumyfreng.”Riffigazeddownathimanxiously.Thedarksmearsweremoistunderhiseyes.“Whendidyoulastmeet‘Mister’?”“Nomeet‘Mister’.Youmyfreng.YouRiffi’sonefreng.AndRiffiloveyou.ButyounoloveRiffi.

YouaskRiffiquestions.YounolikeRiffi.Riffinoyourfreng.Noyourfreng.”SuddenlyRiffi flunghimself across thebedandcoveredhis facewithhishands.Hiswholebody

shookashesobbedandgaspedforbreath.Hewastremblingviolently.Arnoldheldhimfastandtriedtocalmhim.GraduallyRiffi’sbreathgrewquieter,andthetearsdriedonhischeeks.Soonhewenttosleep.

————————WhenArnoldawoke,Riffiwasstrokinghisshoulder.Sleepilyhepeeredintotheboy’sface.Thesmearsbeneathhiseyeswerefainter.Thehauntedlookhadgone.Riffismiledupathimgaily.HetookholdofArnold’shandanddrewittohim.Arnoldtouchedtheboy’swarmskin.Slowly,hecouldfeelhisdesiremoving, creeping likea tide towards the shore.The silverbreakersbegan to riseand fall relentlessly.Theysurgedandfellripplingacrossthebeach.Butwhilethewavesofpassionhissedandswirledaroundhim,liftinghimhighwiththeirvastswellanddashinghimintothewhite-fleckedtroughs,apicturewhichatfirsthecouldonlyseeinblurredoutlinethroughthefoamandspray,apicturethatthrilledhimmorethanthethrobbingwaves,formedandoccupiedhiswholevision,fillinghimwithanexcitementsoviolentthat it pierced him like a dagger-thrust.The picturewas still indistinct.But as the force of thewavesincreaseduntil their pressure seemedunbearable, thepicture became clearer, and suddenly in a fiercerushofecstasyherecognizedthescene.Thenthewavesdropped.Theroarofthebreakersgrewfaint,andArnoldlaystaringattheceilingofhisroom,shudderingandsick.Forthescenehehadrecognizedwassetin a shabby roomwith damp streaks running down the whitewashed walls. The Negro’s ebony chest

glittered between his massive shoulders and bulging thighs. His gums were bright pink as he smiledtriumphantlytowardsthechalk-whitefaceofthemotionlessAmerican.

Arnoldhadwitnessedthatinstantbefore.Butinthescene,thistime,itwasRiffiwhohadtakentheplaceoftheskinnyBerberboy.

==:==:==:==WhenArnoldwentoutontothepatiohefoundEwingshavedanddressedandfinishingbreakfast.

“It’scoldout,”Ewingsaid.“Butthere’snotacloudinthesky,soIsuggestwedriveouttothecaves.Can you be ready—or should I say, have you the inclination to be ready—by noon? The time’s noweleveno’clock.”

“Fine,”Arnoldsaid.“Ipresumeyouryoungfriendwillcometoo?”“Youpresumeright.”“DoyouknowIfounditreallytouchingthewayherushedacrosstheroomtogreetyoulastnight.I’m

nowconvincedthathe’sdevotedtoyou.”Twohoursago,Ewing’swordswouldhavedelightedArnold.Now,theyfilledhimwithguilt.For

theloveheofferedRiffiinexchangeforhisdevotionwastaintedwithapassionthatdisgustedhim.“Youlookratherill,”Ewingremarked.“IhopenothingweateatthePavillondisagreedwithyou?”“Ijustdranktoomuch.That’sall.”“SodidI.ButadipintheAtlanticwillcureusboth.”

————————Thesunwasshininginapalebluesky.Thelongbreakersfell,slitheringinacreamyfoamovertheflatsand.Ewinglayonhisback,feetwideapart,nakedandasleep.Hishairystomachheavedwithhisfaintsnores.Arnold turned to thecornerof thecleft in the rockswhereRiffiwas lyingonhissidewithhisheadpillowedonhisarm,hischestrisingandfallingrhythmicallyasheslept.ForawhileArnold’seyesrovedslowlyfromthedustyclustersofcurlsontheboy’shead,pastthelittlecreaseoffleshattheboy’swaist to the smooth, glistening stretchofhis long thighs.ThenArnoldwalkedover toRiffi andgentlytappedhisshoulder.AsRiffigazedupathim,Arnoldputhis finger tohis lipsandpointed toEwing’shairy,scarredbody,lyinggrossandasleep.ThenheliftedRiffitohisfeetandbeckonedhimtofollow.

QuicklyArnoldwalkedawayfromthenarrowgullyandturnedtowardsthepaththatledupthesideofthecliff,lookingbackonlyoncetomakecertainRiffiwasfollowing.

“Wherewego?”Riffiasked.Arnold’sfingerwastremblingashepointed,andhisvoicewasthickashespoke.“Toyourcave.”

————————LaterthatafternoonasArnoldsteppeddownthestonypathtothecleftbetweentherockswhereEwinglayinert,ifnotasleep,herealizedthatwhathehadalwayssoughtandnowatlastobtainedfromRiffiwasnot requited lovebut the fulfilmentofapassionsoviolentandstrange thataweekagohewouldhaveresistedit—evenifhehadbeenawareofitsexistence.HecouldpretendtohimselfthathiswishtohelpRiffisprangfromaffection.Butheknew,now,thathisdesiretoprotecthimwasduetoafiercelyintensepassiontopossesstheboycompletely, tokeephimentirelytohimself, tocommandallhisaffection, tosatisfyallhisdesires,todominatehimutterlyineveryway.

ThethoughtofleavingtheboyinTangierforthreedays,letalonethreemonths,wasnowanguishtohim.Thefuturehadalwaysloomedgreyaheadofhim;nowitseemedhideousandunbearable.HeneededRiffibesidehimasheneededtheairhebreathed.Hefelthewouldstiflewithouthispresence.ThenforthefirsttimehethoughtcoldlyandseriouslyaboutEwing’splan.Itseemedtheonlyhopeforhim.Andashe considered the plan, the name of one boy slipped into his mind—Dan Gedge, the boy who hadabscondedandhadbeenmauledinthegymatStobart’sinstigation.Danwhomhehadvisitedinthesick-

bay, Danwith his pale, flat hair and thin, delicate face, Danwith his haunted blue eyes and nervoustwitch. The boy fulfilled all Ewing’s qualifications. He was intelligent, he had no affection for hisparents,andhewaswretchedlymiserableatMeltonHall.TheonlypersonintheworldthatDanlovedwashis“Auntie”,ashecalledher.Hehadabscondedtovisitherinhospital.Andthenshehaddied.

DanGedge.Arnoldbegantorememberhiscasehistory.Fatherkilledridingamotor-cycle.Mothermarriedagainayearlater.Wasn’thersecondhusbandabricklayer?Inanycasehewastenyearsyoungerthanshewas.Hewasadrunkard,andhebeather.Danwassystematicallyill-treatedandneglected.Fortwo years he had run wild with a gang of boys in the neighbourhood. One evening they raided atobacconist’sshop.Danwascaught.Inviewofhishomebackgroundhewascommittedtoanapprovedschool. Itwasallverysimple.DanGedge.Highlystrungandquick-witted.And, ifyouweredrawntodelicatefeatures,attractive.Dan.TherewasaphotographofhiminArnold’ssuitcase.Hewasstandinginagroupofthreeboys.ArnoldhadkeptthephotographbecausetheyoungfreckledthuginthecentrewasCharlieMasonwho had always attracted him—Charliewith his bristling red hair and green eyes andwidemouth, Charliewith his reckless impudence and raucous laugh. CharlieMasonwas now almostsixteenandalreadymoulded.CharliewouldneverdoforEwing.ButlittleDan...

Ewingwasstillasleep.Thoughgross,hisbodywasmanifestlystrong.But itwasmis-shapen,andblunt and ugly.Arnold shuddered in disgust.He could never deliverDan defenceless into those hairyarms.

==:==:==:==Duringthenextthreedays,Ewingwasfriendlybutaloof.Hemadenomentionoftheplanthathadonceseemedtobeanobsessionwithhim.HewascasuallypleasanttoArnoldwhentheymet,butheseemedabsorbedinthesociallifeofTangier.Helunchedouteachday;hewenttoacocktailpartyeachevening.Arnoldonlysawhimwhenhereturnedlatefordinner.

“I’dtakeyouwithmegladly,”Ewingexplained.“ButIknowyou’refarhappierleftalonewithRiffi.Afterall,youhaven’tverymanydaysleft.”

Therewas no need to remindArnold of that. Hewas now trying desperately to hold on to eachmomentofeachhour.AndRiffiwasbehavingevenbetterthanArnoldhadhopedinhismostoptimisticimaginings.Hewaswilling,andsometimeseagertoendurethefiercenessofArnold’spassion.HebaskedandfrolickedinthewarmthofArnold’sguilt-riddenaffection.

OnemorningArnoldsleptlate.Whenheawokeitwaseleveno’clock.Riffiwasstandingbesidehisbed,dressedinhisnewsweaterandjeans,withhishandsbehindhisback.

“Ihaveapresentforyou,”RiffiannouncedsolemnlyandhandedArnoldasmallflatparcel.Arnoldunwrappedthepaperandsawanoblonglittlecardboardboxwiththenameofashop—Kitto

—writtenacrossthelid.Heopenedit.Insidewasawell-madethingoldchain.“Youwearroundneck,”Riffisaid.“YourememberRiffi.”Arnoldwasecstaticallygrateful,andRiffiwasproudlydelightedwith thesuccess thathispresent

hadhad.When Arnold returned that evening from yet another day with Riffi at the caves, he met Ewing

crossingthetiledhall.“Icanseefromyourfacethatyou’vehadanotherrapturousday,”Ewingsaid.FormysinsI’mofftoa

cocktailpartyat theBritishConsulate.TheonesacrificeImaketorespectability is tokeepinwiththeConsularauthorities.Oneneverknowswhenonemaynotneedtheirassistance.”

“Willyoubebackfordinner?”“Yes.Let’sdinetogetheratnine-thirty.What’sthatcharminggoldchainyou’rewearing?”“Riffigaveitmethismorningasasurprise.Isn’titpretty?”“Entrancing.Iwonderwherehegotit.”“Fromashopcalled‘Kitto’intheRuedesSiaghines.Isawthenameontheboxhebroughtitin.”

“Yetmoreproofthathe’sinlovewithyou.Kitto’sisoneofthemostexpensivejewellersinthetown.Hemusthavespentallthemoneyyougavehimtobuyit.I’mbeginningtoenvyyoumoreandmore.Whyhaven’tIgotaboy-friendwhogivesmegoldnecklaces?Whycan’tIstayhereanddrinkwithmybelovedoneinsteadofhavingtomakepoliteconversationtotheConsul-General?There’snojustice!IshallthinkofyouwhileIploughmywaythroughthestaiderranksoftheBritishcommunity.Seeyouatnine-thirty.”

————————Thefollowingmorningtheweatherchanged.Rainfellsteadilyfromaleadensky.Asusual,Ewingwasouttolunch.IntheafternoonRifficlamouredtobetakentoacinema,soArnoldrangupataxiandtheydrovedownintotown.ThefilmhadbeenmadeinCairoforNorthAfricanconsumption.Thebanalplotservedas a linkbetweenelaboratedances andprotractedvocalperformances.The filmwas loudandlongandtedious.AndRiffienjoyedeveryminuteofit.

Rainwas still falling relentlesslywhen theyhaileda taxi anddroveback to thevilla.As the taxislithered up the drive between the avenue of dripping eucalyptus trees, Arnold saw that Ewing wasstandingundertheportico.Arnoldwavedtohim,butEwingneithermovednorspoke.InsilenceArnoldpaidoffthetaxidriver.

“What’swrong?”Arnoldaskedasthetaxidroveaway.“Wecantalkinthedrawing-room,”Ewingsaid.“Bringtheboywithyou.”TheyfollowedEwingintothegreyoctagonalroom.“Sitdown,please,bothofyou,”Ewingsaid.“What’sthisallabout?”Arnoldasked.“Theft,”Ewingreplied.“Theft.”Ewing crossed to the side-table and poured himself a drink. “Help yourself,” he said over his

shouldertoArnold.“Thanks,”Arnoldsaid.“IthinkIwill.”Ashe splashed thewhisky into the heavy crystal glass,Arnold felt his heart pounding against his

chest,forhehadseenalookoffearslideoverRiffi’sface.“Ifindallthisextremelydistasteful,”Ewingsaid.“ButI’mafraidit’sgottobedone.”Ewingstoodfacingthemwithhisbacktothelogfire.ForaninstanthiseyesflickeredtowardsRiffi,

thenhisgazeswervedbacktoArnold.“ImustexplainthatforthepastthreeweeksI’vefoundthatmoneyhasbeenmissingfrommyroom,”

Ewingsaid.“Loosechangehasbeentakenfrommydressing-table.Bank-noteshavebeentakenfrommywallet.AtfirstIthoughtthatmysuspicionsmustbemistaken.Iseldomcountmymoney,soImighteasilyhavebeenwrong.But tendaysagoIwascertain.Yousee, I’ddrawntwo thousanddirhams topay thewages.I’dspentnothingtospeakof.Butthefollowingdaytherewereonlyseventeenhundreddirhamsleftinmywallet.”

Ewing’seyesslewedtowardsRiffiwhowassittingontheedgeofagiltchair.“DoyouunderstandwhatI’msaying,Riffi?”Ewingasked.“OrshallIrepeatitinArabic?”“Yis,”Riffisaidinahuskyvoice.“Iunderstand.”“Nowthelossofthemoneyassuchdidn’tworryme,”Ewingproceeded.“ButwhatIfounddeeply

disturbingwasthethoughtthatsomeoneinmyhouseholdmustbestealingitfromme.Ican’tbearbeingsuspiciousofanyofmyservants.ButIknewnowforcertainthatsomeoneworkinginthishousewasathief.Doyouunderstandme,Riffi?”

“Yis.”“Ifoundmyuncertaintyintolerable.SothenexttimethatIgotcashfromthebank,Idrewthemoneyin

hundred-dirhamnotes,andImarkedeachnote.Imadeasmallcrossinindelibleinkinthetopright-handcorner. The noteswere old notes, and the cross didn’t show.Youwouldn’t notice it unless youwerelookingforit.”

OnceagainEwing’sgazeveeredslowlytowardsRiffi.“Doyouunderstandme,Riffi?”Ewingaskedsoftly.“Imarkedeachnotewithasmallblackcross.Is

thatclear?”“Yis,”Riffiwhispered.“Sevenofthosemarkednoteswerestolen,”Ewingsaid,noddinghishead.Slowlyhetookhisblack

leathergold-edgedwalletoutofhispocket.Hedrewfromittwobank-notesandhandedthemtoArnold.“Ifyoulookatthetopright-handcornerofthesetwonotesyou’llseeasmallcross.Canyouseeit?”“Certainly.”EwingtookbackthenotesandheldthemupinhisrighthandandwavedthemtowardsArnold.“These two notes,”Ewing said quietly, enunciating eachwordwith deliberate clarity, “these two

noteswereusedtobuythegoldchainthatishangingroundyourneck.”Arnoldglaredathimangrily.“Howdoyouknow?”heasked.“Because I went down to Kitto’s shop this afternoon, and the head assistant behind the counter

remembersRifficoming in tobuy thegoldchain.Heremembers thathepaidwith twohundred-dirhamnotes.Yourchaincostahundredandtwenty,soRiffiwasgiveneightydirhamsinchange.”

Riffiwassilent.HewasgazingtowardsArnoldwithimploringeyes.“Didtheassistantnoticethelittleblackcrossoneachnote?”“No.”“Thenhowinheaven’snamecanyoubesure that itwasRiffiwhopaidwith thoseparticular two

notes?Youcan’tpossibly. ItmighthavebeenBashirwhostole themforallyouknow.Hechanged thenotesdownintown,andsomeoneusedthemtobuysomethingatKitto’s.Youcan’taccuseRiffionthatevidence.”

“Ican.”“Notpossibly.”“Inoticedyourgoldchainlastnight,didn’tI?”“Youdid.”“YoutoldmethatRiffihadgivenityouthatmorning.”“Yes.”“Onmywaydown town last night it suddenly occurred tome that a gold chainwas anunusually

expensivepresenttogive,soIdecidedtotelephoneKitto’s.Theyknowmethere,ofcourse.IaskedthemifayoungBerberboyhadbeen into the shop thatmorning tobuyagoldchain.They toldme thatwascorrect.Thepurchasehadbeenmadeatnine-thirtythatmorning,shortlyaftertheyopened.Iaskedthemhow he’d paid for it. They toldme he’d given them two hundred-dirham notes and they’d given himchange.Iaskedthemtokeepthosetwonotes.”

Ewinghelduphisrighthand.“Andheretheyare.”“Whataboutthemoneyyoulentme?”Arnoldasked.“Weren’tthosenotesmarked?”Ewingglancedathimcoldly.“You know aswell as I do that themoney I lent youwas in denominations of ten-dirhamnotes,”

Ewingsaid.EwingwalkedquicklyacrosstheroomandstoodbesideRiffi’schair.“Youstolethatmoney,didn’tyou?”Ewingsaid.“No.Menosteal.Nothief.Othermanstealyourmoney.NotRiffi.Riffinosteal.”“Then turnoutyourpockets.And let’ssee thatgaudy little leatherwallet thatPaul theEnglishman

gaveyoulastyear.Theleatherwalletthatfoldsintwo.Whereyoukeepyourmoney,Riffi.”“Ikeepnomore.Iloseit.”“No,youhaven’t.”“Yis.Ihavenomore.”“You’vegotitallright.It’sinthebackpocketofyourjeans.Giveittome.Giveittome,Riffi.”

Riffididnotmove.HestaredupatEwingwithwidedilatedeyes.SuddenlyEwingseizedtheboy’sshoulderwithhislefthandalmostpullinghimtotheground.Withhisrighthandhegrabbedtheyellowwalletfromthehip-pocketofthejeans.CarefullyEwingunfoldedthewalletandexaminedthenotesinit.Thenhetookoutahundred-dirhamnoteandhandedittoArnold.

“Justlookatthetopright-handcorner,”Ewingsaidtriumphantly.“Justlookatit.”AshehandedthenotetoArnold,Riffibegantosobhysterically.Suddenlyheleapedup,rushedtothe

doorandranoutoftheroom.EwinglookedtowardsArnoldandnoddedhishead.Neitherofthemspoke.They could hear the boy’s footsteps scudding across the hall. They listened to the front door opening.Theyheardtheboyrunningdownthedrive.Ewingcrossedtheroomandrangthebell.

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Arnoldasked.“SendBashirandMustaphaafterhim.”“Why?”“BecauseIdon’tintendtolethimgetawaywithit.He’sbeendishonestanddisloyal.He’scauseda

lotoftrouble.He’snotgoingtoescape.”Bashirsidledintotheroom.EwingspoketohimrapidlyinArabic.Bashirbowedhisheadandleft

theroomswiftly.“Whentheybringhimbackwhatwillyoudo?”“Handhimovertothepolice,Iexpect.”“Areyoumad?”“What’smadaboutthat?”“Ifyoucallinthepolice,theboy’scertaintocomplainthat...”“Tocomplain thatoneofusorbothofushaveassaultedhim?Ofcoursehewill.But theTangier

policearen’tcompletefools.TheyknowthateveryMoroccanhouse-boywho’shadupbyhismasterforstealingalwaysmaintainsthathe’sbeenassaulted,soIdon’tsupposethey’lltakemuchnoticeofRiffi.”

Arnoldcrossedtotheside-tableandpouredouthalfaglassofneatwhisky.“Whybringinthepolice?”“NowthattheyallknowdownatKitto’sshop,Ican’tseewhatelseIcando.Itwouldbedifficultto

keepthingsquietatthisstage.IsupposeIcouldhushitup.Butquitefrankly,Idon’tfeelinclinedto.”“YouwantRiffitogotoprison,don’tyou?”EwinggazedatArnoldinsurprise.“Whatnonsense!”Ewingsaidquietly.“Besides,Idon’tsuppose

hewillgotoprison.TheysendyoungboyslikeRiffitojointhegangsmakingthenewroadsdowninthesouth.AndImaysaythathe’llbeusedtherebynightaswellasbyday.Asyouknow,themenoutheregoinforthatkindofthing—particularlywhentherearen’tanywomenabout.”

“Andyou’dletthathappentohim?”“I’ve told you time and again that I feel no responsibility for Riffi whatsoever. I’ve never been

infatuatedwithhim.Norhewithme.I’veneverclaimedIwasinlovewithhim.He’sneverboughtmeapresentwiththemoneyhe’sstolen.He’sgotnoclaimonmyaffectionswhatever.”

Arnoldgulpeddownhiswhiskyandpouredhimselfanotherglass.“Youcan’thandhimovertothepolice,”Arnoldsaid.“WhatelsecanIdo?”“Sendhimbacktohisvillage.”“There’snoworkforhiminhisdouar.They’restarvingasitis.Sowho’sgoingtopayforhiskeep?

Hisfamilycan’t.AndI’msureI’mnotgoingto.Ifhegoesbacktohisdouarthey’llthrowhimoutattheendofaweek.HisonlychancethenwillbetocadgealifttoMarrakeshorCasablancaandtrytoearnalivingbyplyinghistradeonthestreets.Whetherheworksdownsouthinaroadgangorwhetherhetriesto sell hiswares on thedocksideofCasablanca—it’s all the same in the end.So Imight just aswellprovetomyhouseholdconclusivelythattheftdoesn’tpayandcallinthepolice.”

“Howcanyoubesocallous?”Ewingshookhisheadwearily.“I’mnotcallous,”hesaid.“I’mjustnotinterested.Howmanytimes

doIhavetotellyou?Idon’tcarewhathappenstoRiffi.He’sbetrayedmytrustinhim,andthat’stheendofit.Ifyouwanttotakeontheboy,thenit’sacompletelydifferentmatter.”

Arnoldtookagulpofwhisky.“IfItookontheboy,”hesaidslowly,“thenwhatwouldhappen?”“IfyoudecidedthatyouwantedRiffipermanently,forgoodandall, thenI’dsuggestthatheleaves

Tangiertomorrowandgoestohisdouar.Wecouldarrangeforhisfamilytobesentmoneyeachweekforhiskeep.AndthereRifficouldstayperfectlyhappilyandsafelyuntilsuchtimeasyouwereinapositiontowelcomehimtoyourvillaontheMarshan.”

Ewing stretched out his arms and let them fall to his side. The lid of his left eye was slowlyquivering.

“Butasyouknow,”Ewingsaid,“thatisamatterentirelyforyoutodecide.”Bashir opened the door.His plump facewas creased in a smile.Mustapha draggedRiffi into the

room.Theboy’sfacewasbruised;bloodwasrunningfromthecornerofhismouth.Hewassobbingwithpain.Ewingspokequickly inArabic.Bashirbowedhisheadand left the room.Mustaphareleasedhisgrip on Riffi, pushed him towards Ewing with a vicious jerk, and followed Bashir, closing the doorbehindhim.Riffi lookeddesperatelyaroundhim.Thenherushedover toArnold, floppeddownonhiskneesinfrontofhimandclaspedhislegswithhisskinnyarms.

“Noletthemsendforpoleez,”Rifficriedfrantically.“Nosendforpoleez.Nopoleez.”WhenArnolddidnotanswer,Riffiletgoofhislegsandgrovelledathisfeet,beatinghisheadwildly

againstthefloor.“Nopoleez,”hemoaned.“Nopoleez.”“Riffi,”Arnoldcriedoutsuddenly.“Riffi,listentome.Listentome.”Theboy’smoansendedinagulp.Shakily,heraisedhistear-stained,bleedingfacetowardsArnold.“It’sallright,Riffi,”Arnoldsaidslowlyinavoiceofcalmcertainty.“There’llbenopolice.You’ve

nothingtofear.I’lllookafteryou.Don’tcry.Everything’sgoingtobeallright.Getupnow,andgotomyroomandwaitformethere.I’llbewithyousoon.Iwon’tbelong.”

RiffidraggedhimselftohisfeetandtookArnold’shandandkissedit.Thenhestumbledoutoftheroom. In silence Arnold went to the drink-tray and poured more whisky into his glass. Ewing wasstandingbythechimney-piecewatchinghim.Hiseyelidnolongerfluttered,andhislipswerestretchedinafaintsmile.

“Soyou’vemadeupyourmindatlonglast,”Ewingsaid.“Yes.”“I’mglad,”Ewingmurmured.

==:==:==:==That eveningafterdinnerArnold showedEwing thephotographof the threeboys in theplaygroundofMeltonHall.Ewingtookthephotographtothealabasterlampbehindthesofaandstudieditcarefully.

“What’sthenameofthetoughlittlenumberinthemiddle?”Ewingasked.“CharlieMason.”“He’sgotratheralookofRiffiabouthim.ButIexpectyou’venoticedthatalready!”For the first timeArnold saw the resemblance.Hecould feel himself blushing. “You’re right,”he

said.“ButCharlie’snearlytwoyearsolder.”“He’sjustyourtype.Youmusthavefanciedhim.”“Idid.”“Butyoudidnothingaboutit?”“Notathing.”“Fromfearorfromprinciple?”“Both,Iexpect.”

Ewingheld thephotographcloser to the light. “Who’s the fatonewith spectacleson the left?”heasked.

“RonnieMills.Hisfather’sinprisonforG.B.H.—grievousbodilyharm.Hismother’saprostitute.”“Poorboy.He’sdesperatelyplain,isn’the?Isthattheschooluniformthey’rewearing?”“Yes.Ihateit.I’msureit’swrongtomakethemalldressalike.Butthewholepolicyseemstobeto

suppresstheirindividualityasmuchaspossible.Doyourealizethey’renotevenallowedtohavephotosoftheirfamilybytheirbeds?”

“Thewholesystemsoundsquiteinhuman.”“Ifonlypeopleknew.Butnooneseemstocare.”Ewing’seyelidbegantoflutterslowlylikeadrowsybutterfly.“Who’sthefair-hairedlittleboyonthe

right?”Ewingasked.“DanGedge.”“It’sasensitiveface.Istheboyintelligent?”“Forhisage—very.”“Howoldishe?”“Fourteen.”“Whatwashesentinfor?”“Breakingintoatobacconist’sshopwithagangofotherboys.”“Doeshegetonwellattheschool?”“No.Heloathestheplace.Infact,he’sabscondedoncealready.”“Whatabouthisparents?”“Hisfather’sdead.Hismother’smarriedtoamantenyearsyoungerthansheis.He’sabricklayer,

buttheman’sgenerallyunemployed.He’sadrunk.Hebeatsherup.It’saprettytypicalcase.Dan’shadafairlywretchedlifeuptodate.”

“WhydidDanabscond?”“Becausehewasunhappy.Becausehisauntwasillinhospitalandhewantedtoseeher.Butshe’s

deadnow.ShewastheonlypersonDanreallyloved—orsoIgatherfromtalkingtohim.Yousee...”EwingraisedhiswhiteplumphandsintheairtosilenceArnold.“Don’ttellmenow,”hesaid.“ForvariousreasonsI’mtiredtonight,andIcan’ttakeitin.Tellmeall

you know about the boy tomorrowwhenwe’re both rested. It’s essential that I register each piece ofinformationthatyougiveme.IwanttobefreshandalertsoIcanconcentrateoneverysinglewordyousay,becauseeverytinydetailnowbecomesofoverwhelmingimportance.”

“Youmean...”“Yes,”Ewingsaidsoftly.“Danistheone.IknewitinstinctivelytheinstantIsawthatphotograph.”

PARTTHREERain dripped from the leaves of the chestnut tree on to the roof of the car. Arnold turned off thewindscreen-wiper, switchedoffhis side lights, buttonedup the collarofhis coat, and settleddown towait.Hewascold,andhisstomachwasqueasywithfear.HelookedatthewristwatchEwinghadgivenhimfourmonthsagoasapartingpresentinTangier.Thetimewashalfpastsix.HehadarrangedtomeetDanGedgeinthedisusedcaravansiteattheendofRooker’sLaneatseveno’clock.

Uneasily,Arnold’smindrehearsedyetagainthedetailsofhisplan.TheboyhadgotpermissionfromStobart, his housemaster, to go to the village cinema. The performance on Saturday began at five andendedabouteight.Arnold,whowasallowedoneweekendinfourawayfromtheschool,hadleftMeltonHallafterthemiddaymeal.HehadtoldthestaffthathewasgoinguptoLondonforthedayandwouldreturn early on Sunday morning. If Dan turned up at the meeting place at seven, they would reachFolkestoneataboutnineo’clock.Timwaswaitingforthemathisflat.InaparcelatthebackofArnold’scarwereapairofoldflanneltrousersandabrownsportsjacket,sothatDancouldchangeoutofhisgreyschooluniformon theway toFolkestone.Theplanhadbeencarefullyworkedout.UnlessStobarthadchangedhismindandhadcancelledhispermissionforDantogotothecinema,ArnoldwascertainthatDanwouldappearontime.

Fromhis very firstmeetingwithDan after his return fromTangier,Arnoldhadbeen amazedhowquicklyDanhadfalleninwithEwing’selaboratelydevisedschemeandhoweagerhehadbeentoaccepttherisksinvolved.

Theirfirstmeetingshadtakenplaceintheschoolbuildings,sometimesinthedamp-smellingcorridor—adarklyglazedavenueofgloom,thelowerhalflinedwithbrowntiles,theupperhalfwithgreentilesasize smaller.Sometimes theyhadmet in the schoolroomat theendof class.Theyhad talked inabruptspurtsofconversation,nervouslygazingatthearithmeticalsumsstillscrawledontheblackboard,ortheyhadspokenbrieflytogetherastheystoodinfrontoftheschoolnotice-boardoroutsidethegrimdining-room.Arnold’sfirstobjecthadbeentowintheboy’sconfidence.Ithadbeensurprisinglyeasy,fortherewasnoneedtohurry.EwingdidnotwanttheboytobepersuadedtoabsconduntilthefirstweekinMay.Arnoldbeganslowly.First,hehadpersuadedtheboytotalkabouthishometownandhisfriendsthere.Later,hehaddrawnhimouttospeakofhislifeathomebeforehisfatherhaddied.Danhadevenconfidedin him the details of the gang’s raid on the tobacconist’s shop.WheneverDanhad the chance,Arnoldnoticedthathewouldcomeupandtalktohim.AndgraduallyArnoldbegantoformanoddimpression.Hebegantofeelthatattheendofeachmeetingtheboywasdisappointedandthatsomehowhehadfailedhim.

OnemorningDanranuptoArnoldashewascrossingtheasphaltplayground.Therewasadesperatelook in his blue eyes, and the corner of hismouthwas twitching. But whenArnold stopped, the boyseemedtohavenothingurgenttosay.

“Goodmorning,sir,”Danmumbled.“Goodmorning.Anythingwrong?”“No.Nothing.”“Thenwhatareyoulookingsoworriedabout?”“Nothing.”“Goon.Tellme,”Arnoldpersisted.

“There’snothingtotell.”“Haveityourownway!”Arnoldsaidgentlyandmovedaway.“Sir.”ThevoicewassoanxiousthatArnoldturned.“Can’tIcometoyourplaceoneSaturday?Thenwecouldtalkreallyproperly.”Arnoldhesitated.Othermastersinvitedboystoteaintheirroomsinthegrounds.Arnoldhadnever

donesobecausehewasafraidoftemptation.“Yes,”Arnoldsaid.“ComeroundnextSaturdayfortea.”Dan’sfacebrightened.“Thankyou,sir,”hesaid.“Thanksamillion.”

————————Arnoldhadasemi-detached,rent-freecottagehalfwaydowntheschool’sdrive.Hehaddonehisbesttomake theangular sitting-roomlook lessbleakbycovering thewallswithbrightlycolouredpapersandbuildinginbookcases.Anewloafofbread,aspongecakeandahoneycombwereonthetable,andthekettlewassimmeringonthegas-ringwhenDanknockedonthedoorandArnoldmovedquicklytoanswerit.Hehoped thatDanwouldnotbeseenby theP.T. instructorandhis long-nosedwifewho livednextdoor.

Dan satdownnervouslyby thegas fire, pluckingat theknotofhisblue school tie.Hispalehair,plastereddownwithwater,slanteddamplyacrosshisforehead.Hisfeatureslookedverydelicateagainstthecoarsegreyjacketandgreyshirtoftheschooluniform.Theheavygreytrousersweretoobigforhimandhung in folds fromhisnarrowwaist.The rightcornerofhismouthslidupwards in theoccasionalspasm of a twitch. His light-blue eyeswere fixed onArnoldwith an expression that seemed at oncehopefulandyearning.HewastoopaleandfragiletoarouseevenaslightresponseinArnold.Theboywasfartoonervousandtoogentle.ArnoldthoughtofRift’sboisterousvitalityandsighed.Whentheyhadfinishedtea,Arnoldknewthatthemomenthehadbeendreadingforthelastmonthhadcome.HemusttalktoDanaboutTangier.HemusttellhimaboutEwing.

“You’renothappyatMeltonHall,areyou?”Arnoldbeganquietly.“No.I’mnot.”“Whatisityoudon’tlikeabouttheplace?”“Everything,sir.FromthemomentIgetuptothemomentIgotobedagain.Thelot.TheonlythingI

don’tmindisMathsandEnglish,becausewhenyou’rethereIknowI’mallright.”“Dotheygiveyouaroughtime?”“Yes.”“HaveyoutoldCaptainStobart?”Dan’seyesflickeredtowardsthegas-fire.“No,sir,”hesaid.“Whynot?”Danputhishandtothecornerofhismouthtoconcealhistwitch.“I’mnotgoingtotelltales,”Dan

said.“Besides,they’donlymakeitworseformeifIdid.”“IsthereanythingIcandotohelp?”Danshookhishead.“Thanksjustthesame.”SuddenlyDan leaned forward. “If I tellyou something, sir, doyoupromiseyouwon’t tell anyone

else?”Danasked.“Yes.”“Promise?NotevenCaptainStobart?”“Yes.”“Well,it’slikethis.I’drunoffagaintomorrowifIhadthechanceandifIknewtheywouldn’tcatch

meagain.I’dgiveanythingtogetaway.AndI’ddoanything.I’dlieandI’dsteal.Iwould.Butwhat’stheuse?They’dcatchupwithmeintheend,andI’dgethellagainwhentheybroughtmeback.”

Arnoldstaredattheboy’shauntedeyes.“Dan,”hesaidgently,“doyouthinkIcantrustyou?”Theeagerresponseintheboy’sfacegaveArnoldhisreplyevenbeforeDanspoke.“Youcan trustmeforanything,sir,”Dansaid.“Youdon’thave toaskme that. I’ddoeverythingI

couldforyou.”“It’snotsomuchforme,”Arnoldsaid.“Whatisitthen?”Theroomwasgrowingdark.Arnoldswitchedonthelightsanddrewthecurtains.Whenheturnedhe

sawthatDanhadstoodupandmovedtowardshim.“Youdon’thavetogo,”Arnoldsaid.“No,Idon’t.Idon’thavetobebackforanhouryet.”“Thensitdown.”Danhesitated.Foraninstanthiseyesslidtowardsthesettee.Thenhemovedbacktohischair.“Allright,”Dansaidinawhisper.“Allright.”“Dan,you’vegottolistentomecarefully,”Arnoldsaid.“It’snotgoingtobeeasytoexplain.”“I’mlistening.”Arnoldtookalongbreathasifheweregoingtodiveunderwater.Nowthemomenthadcomehewas

horriblyafraid.Yet,afterall,theplanhehadtooutlineandthefactshehadtotellweresoimprobablethatevenifDanbetrayedhimandrepeatedwhathehadbeentoldnoonewouldbelievehisstory.

SlowlyandcarefullyArnoldexplainedtoDanthathehadafriendinTangier,afifty-year-oldAnglo-American,whowanted toadoptayoungboy.HedescribedEwing’svillaand thecruise thathadbeenplannedontheyacht.CautiouslyArnoldsuggestedthatEwingmightintimegrowfondoftheboyandthattheboymight feel someaffection forhim.Arnold’s explanationwasweakenedbyevasivepauses andunderstatement.ButDanlistenedintently,hispale-blueeyesfixedonArnold’sface.

WhenArnoldhadfinished,Danleanedforward,hisscarredhandsclutchinghisknees.“Anddoyouthinkthismanmighttakeme?”Danasked.

“Iknowit.Iknowhewould.”“Butwhyme?”“Hesawaphotoofyou.”Theworried expression left Dan’s face. He brushed back his pale hair with a quick gesture and

smiled.“You’vegotaphotoofme?”Danaskedexcitedly.“Yes.”“Youhaditwithyouinthatplaceyousaid?InTangier?”“Yes.”“Soyoudothinkofmesometimes?”ArnoldfeltitwouldbeunkindtotellDanthathehadkeptthephotographbecausehewasattractedto

CharlieMason.“Ofcourse I thinkaboutyou,”Arnoldsaid ina flatvoice.“It’salwaysworriedme thatyou’reso

unhappyhere.Ifyouweren’tunhappyI’dneverhavetoldyouaboutTangier.Butyoumustpromiseyou’llkeepallI’vesaidtoyourself.”

“Ipromise.Theycanbeatmesilly,andI’dnevertellthem.”“AndIwantyoutothinkoverallI’vesaid.”“I’vethoughtitover.Andtheanswer’s‘yes’.”“I’mnotgoingtoletyoumakeupyourmindsoquickly.You’vegottothinkitoutfromeveryangle.”“Whatistheretothinkout?Ican’tstickithere,andI’vegotthechanceofanewstartoverthere.No

matterwhathappens,itcan’tbeanyworse,canit?Iwon’tgetbeaten,willI?”“No,Dan.Youwon’tgetbeaten.”“ThenwhathaveIgottolose?”

“Youmightnotliketheman.”“He’safriendofyours,isn’the?”AnimageofRiffigrovellingonthefloorswungintoArnold’smind.Heswallowed.“Yes,”Arnoldsaid.“Thenifhe’safriendofyourshewon’ttreatmebad.”“That’snotthepoint.”“Whatisitthat’sworryingyouthen?”Arnoldturnedawayfromtheanxiousblueeyes.“Ifyoudidn’tlikehim,youwouldn’tbehappyliving

withhimonayacht.”“ButIwouldn’tgetknockedabout,wouldI?”“No.”“Thenwhat’stheretoworryabout?”Arnoldlookedathiswatch.“It’sgettinglate,”hesaid.“We’llhavetotalkaboutitanothertime.”“When?”“WhataboutnextSaturday?”“Notbeforethen?Can’tIcomeandseeyoubeforethen?”“Wedon’twantanyonegettingsuspicious,dowe?”“ButIcouldgetoutatnightwhentheywereallasleep.Iknowawaydownintothegrounds.”Arnoldshookhishead.“No.It’stoodangerous.Besides. . .Iwantyoutohaveatleastaweekto

thinkitallover.Nowyou’dbettercutalongandgetbacktoyourhouse.”Dan seizedArnold’s hands and clasped them. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for everything. I’ve got

somethingtolookforwardtonow.”Arnoldwithdrewhishandsandmovedawaytothedoor.“Ifanyoneseesyoucomingoutofhere—if

anyoneasksyouwhyyou’vebeenhere,”hesaid,“justtellthemthatIaskedyouinforacupofteaandwetalkedaboutyourhome.”

“Youcantrustme,”Danreplied,andwalkedoutquicklyleavingArnoldalonewithhisguilt.————————

Throughouttheweek,wheneverArnoldthoughtofDan’spalefaceandtremulousmouthhefeltsick.FromtimidityhehadgiventheboynowarningofEwing’sintentions.

WhenDanappearedthefollowingSaturdayfortea,Arnoldwasdeterminedtoforcehimselftogivean explicit warning. But it was essential that he should not shock Dan or frighten him, so he begancautiously.

“Idon’tsupposeyou’recompletelygreen,”Arnoldsaid,loathingtheforcednoteofjovialityinhisvoice.“Imean,Iexpecttheboysplayaroundinyourdormitoryquiteabit.”

“Sometimes.”“Isupposeyouknowallaboutthatkindofthing?”“WhenIfirstcamehereIdidn’t.Idonow.”Arnoldmadehisvoicesoundcasual.“Youknowthatmengoinforitaswell.”“’Coursetheydo.Iknowthat.”“Theideaofitdoesn’tshockyou?”“Whyshouldit?That’swhatgoeson,doesn’tit?”Arnoldcouldfeelhimselfblushing.“Ifmendoitwithboystheycangotoprisonforit.Imean,it’sagainstthelaw.”“Soarelotsofthings.Thatdoesn’tmeanthey’rewrong,doesit?”Arnold’shandsweretrembling.Heputtheminhispockets.“Lasttimewemet,Itoldyouaboutthis

friendofmineinTangier,”hesaid.Danleanedforwardeagerly.Hiswordscameinarush.

“I’vethoughtitallout.Carefully,likeyousaidIwasto.ReallyIhave.Andmyanswer’s‘yes’.Yes,everytime.”

Arnoldspokeslowlyandhesitantly.“SupposingthismaninTangier—supposinghewantedthatkindofthing—wouldyoumind?”

Danglancedupathimquickly,thenlookedaway.“Thatwouldn’tbotherme.”“Youmeanitwouldn’tbethefirsttime?”Dan’s handswerewrithing nervously on his knees. “Let’s just say that itwouldn’t botherme and

leaveitatthat,”Dansaid.————————

WhenArnoldhadclearedawaythetea-thingsandDanhadhelpedhimtowashup,ArnoldbegantotalkaboutEwing.Butthoughhetriedtopresentanattractiveportraitofhim,stressinghiswarrecordandhiscourage,his intelligenceandgenerosity,unpleasantaspectsof the truthfiltered intohisdescription.HefounditimpossibletoavoidwarningDanthatEwingwasphysicallyunattractiveandmorallycallous,andashespokeArnoldbegantobeafraidthatbyallowingthetruthtocreepinhehadspoiledhischanceofpersuadingDantoacceptEwing’sscheme.Butheneednothaveworried.DanseemedoddlyuninterestedinEwing.IndeedhewasonlyhalflisteningtowhatArnoldsaid.

“Idon’tcarewhathe’slike,”DansaidwhenArnoldhadfinished.“Solongashedoesn’tknockmeabout.”

“Hewon’thurtyou,”Arnoldhadanswered,“Icanpromiseyouthat.”“ThenI’llgotojoinhim,”Danhadreplied.ArnoldwasnowwaitinginhiscarbeneaththedrippingbranchesatthecornerofthelaneforDanto

meethim.==:==:==:==

ThecardooropenedandDangotinquickly.Hisschoolcoatwassoddenwithrain.Strandsofpalehairlayacrosshisforehead.

“Deadontime,”Dansaid,withatremorinhisvoice.WhenArnoldhadconsideredEwing’sscheme,hismindhadalwaysrefusedtoacceptthepossibility

thatitwouldinfactsucceed,slidingawayfromtheplaninreality,gainingcomfortfromtheimprobabilityofitssuccess.ButnowtheinstantArnolddreadedhadcome.Theboywassittinginthecarbesidehim.WhenArnoldpulledtheswitchandtheenginestarted,hewouldputintoactionachainofeventswhichwouldtakeDanfromMeltonHalltoacabinonEwing’syacht.EventuallythatyachtwouldsailacrosstheÆgeanwithitstwoill-assortedpassengers.AndEwing...

“Listentome,Dan,”Arnoldsaidurgently.“Areyousureyouwanttogothroughwiththis?There’sstilltimetochangeyourmind.Wecanstillturnback.Icaneasilygetyoubacktotheschoolbeforeeight.Areyoucertainyouwanttogotolivewiththisman?”

“IfyouknewwhatI’dbeenthroughinthatplace,youwouldn’task.”“Allright,Dan,butjustsupposing...”“Can’twestart,sir?”Daninterruptedanxiously.“I’llfeelbetteroncewe’reonourway.”Arnoldhesitated.“Please,sir.Pleaselet’sgo.Anyonemightfindushere.I’mscared.I’llbeallrightassoonaswe’re

away.”Arnoldstartedtheengineandletintheclutch.Thecarslitheredthroughtherainanddarkness.“Listen,Dan,”Arnoldsaid.“Youcanstillchangeyourmind.SupposingIcouldgetyousentaway

fromMeltonHall—Idon’tpromise,butIcouldtry—orsayIcouldgetyousenthome.”“Home!”Dansaidwithahoarselaugh.“Home!Youdidn’treadthecourtcase,didyou?No.That

first timewhenyoucametoseemeinthesickwardIknewyouhadn’tdone.Youaskedwhatthelineswereonmyarms,remember?AndIsaidI’dbeeninanaccident,remember?Well,itwasn’tanaccident.

Itwasfromwhentheygottornwhenhe’dhangmeupbymywristsfromthebarhe’dfixedonthesideofthewall.MydadIhadtocallhim—themanshemarriedaftermyrealdaddied.Hewaskinkythatway.Oratleastthat’swhatmyauntiesaid.Ifhegotsoreatmehe’dhangmeuptherebymywrists,andeachtimehe’dpassbyhe’dgivemeabashintheguts.Igotrealill.That’showtheygottoknowaboutit.”

“Didn’tyourmothertrytostophim?”“Whenhe’dgotdrinkinhim,shewasasscaredofhimasIwas.Theonlyonethatwouldstandupto

himwasmyauntie.Nowshe’sdead.IneverwanttogohomeaslongasIlive.”“PerhapsIcouldgetyoutransferredtoanotherschool?”“I’mnotworried,IpromiseI’mnot.Besides,eversinceyoucametoseemeinthesickward,I’ve

alwayswantedtobewithyou.”DoubtlikeacoldmistbegantoseepintoArnold’smind.“I’ve told you the plan, ifwe go throughwith it, haven’t I, Dan? I’m going to drive you now to

Folkestone,andwe’remeetingafriendofEwing’stherecalledTimDeakin.He’llbetakingyouacrosstoFrance and down toMarseilles, where the yacht’s waiting already. I’m driving back toMelton Halltonight.”

Danturnedtohiminthedarkness.“Youdon’thavetopretendanymore,”Dansaidquietly.“I’mwithyou,andI’mgladofit.”

“Pretend?”“Youdon’tthinkyoureallytookmeinwithallthattalkaboutarichmaninTangier?Whyshoulda

richmanwanttoadoptmeofallpeopleandtakemeroundtheworld,likeyousaid?Iknewitwasreallyyoufromthestart.”

Arnold’svoicetrembledindismay.“Butit’snotme,Dan.”“’Courseitis.Don’ttroubleyourself.Iknowwhatyouwant.AndIdon’tmind.Itoldyou,didn’tI?

AssoonasyoustartedoffaboutthisblokeinTangier,Icottonedon.IguessedCaptainStobartmusthavesaidsomethingtoyou.Orelseyoujustputtwoandtwotogether.”

AsDanspoke,an imageofStobart lurchedintoArnold’smind—Stobartsittingonhischairbytheshowers,red-facedandhearty,Stobartwithhisclippedblackmoustacheandpig-eyes,Stobartwithhisraucouslaughandarulerinhishand.

“WhathasStobartgottodowithit?”Arnoldaskedslowly.“Whatareyoupretendingyoudon’tknowfor?Idon’tmind,Ikeeptellingyou.Ididn’thavetogo

withyou,didI?Iwouldn’thavecomeifIhadn’twantedto,wouldI?YoumadeitclearwhatIwasinfor,didn’tyou?”

“DoesStobartknow?”“Notaboutus,hedoesn’t.Notlikely!Doyouthinkhe’dhavegivenmeleavetogotothecinemaif

he’dknown?He’dhavehalfmurderedme.”“Thenwhathashegottodowithit?”“Well,hestartedmeoff,didn’the?”“Stobart?”“Youmusthaveknownit.Whatelsemadeyoupickonmesosudden?I’vebeengoingwithhimever

sincethatsecondtimeIranaway...”Arnoldlistenedinhorror.AndasthecarslurreditswaythroughthedarknessDantoldhisstoryin

slow,haltingphrases.Thebeginningofitwassimple.DanhadbeensowretchedlyunhappyatMeltonHallthathehaddecidedtotrytoescapeagain.As

before,hehadwaiteduntiltheboysinhisdormitoryonthefirstfloorwereasleep.Hehadthencreptouttothelavatory.Hehadfoundanewescape-route.Inthecornerofthetwooutsidewallsforminganangleof the building was a drain-pipe which ran down to the ground close to the tree-lined drive. It wasraining.Thepipewasslippery,butDanreachedthedrivesafelyandmadeforthecoverofthetrees.But

halfway along the avenue he saw Stobart walking back through the rain towards the school building,swingingatorchfromsidetoside.

“I thought he hadn’t seenme,”Dan said. “So I crept down into the ditch.But he’d seenme rightenough. He suddenly leaped forward and grabbed hold of me. He bent my arm behind my back andmarchedmedownthedriveagaintotheschoolandtookmestraighttohisroom.Myclotheswereallwet,sohelitthegasfire.Thenhesaid,‘You’redrenchedtotheskin,boy.’Youknowthatvoiceofhis.‘Takeoffyourclothesanddryyourselfbythefire.’”

As Dan spoke, Arnold could see the shiny yellow walls of Stobart’s little room with a framedphotographofBaden-Powellononesideof thedoorandagroupof theRoyalFamilyontheother.Hesawthelitterofhockeysticksandcricketbatsinthecornerandthepeelingcoversofthedetectivenovelsinthebookcase.

“Itookoffmyclothesashesaid,”Dancontinued.“Myteethwerechattering.Ithoughthemightturntheotherboysontome,likehedonebefore.Buthewentovertohiscupboardandtookoutabottle.Isawitwasport.

“‘You’reshivering,boy,’hesaid.‘Drinkthis.’“SoIdid.AndImustsaythoughitburnedmyinsideitmademefeelbetter.Thenhestartedaskingme

whyI’dtriedtorunawayagain.SoItoldhimitwasbecauseIwantedtoseemyauntiewhowasstillillinhospital—andbesidesIdidn’tliketheplace.

“Sothenhewantedtoknowwhy Ididn’t like it.Weretheboysbullyingme?Isaid,yes—someofthem.Thenhewantedtofindoutwhattheydidtome.SoItoldhimthey’dkickmewhenIwasundressingandthey’dpullmedownintheplaygroundandmessupmybookssoI’dgetintotrouble.

“Well,thenheaskedmeiftheydidanythingtomeafterlights-out.Isaidno.OneboyhadtriedbutIwouldn’tlethim.Ofcoursethenhewantedtoknowthenameoftheboy,butIwouldn’tsay.

“Suddenlyhesaid,‘Iknowthenameoftheboy.ItwasCharlieMason,wasn’tit.’ThenIknewthatCharliemusthavetoldhim,becauseotherwisehecouldn’thaveknown.AllthesameIsaidno,itwasn’tCharlie.

“‘You’relying,boy,’hesaid.‘IknowitwasCharlie.Andwhatdidhedotoyou?Showmewhathedid.Takemyhandandshowme.’

“Iwasfrightenedthen.Imusthaveshownit,becausehemovedawayfrommeandpouredoutanotherglassofportforhimselfandanotheroneforme,andhemademedrinkitrightup.Thenhewentovertohiscupboardagainandtookouthiscamera.AssoonasIsawthecameraIknewwhatIwasinfor.AndIwasright.”

For the first time since Dan had begun to talk, Arnold spoke. “Why did the camera make youunderstand?”heasked.

“BecauseCharliehad toldme,”Dan replied.“The first timehe’dmadeCharliecome tohis roomhe’dtakenhisphotographbeforeitstarted.”

SuddenlyArnoldhadaglimpseofCharlieMasonstandinginfrontof thegasfire—CharlieMasonwithhisbristlingredhairandslantinggreeneyesandstockybuild.

“Hashemadeotherboyscometohisroom?”“No.Idon’tthinkso.Charlie’stheonlyoneIknowof.Charlieandme.”“Whydidn’tyoucomplain?”“Becauseitwasn’tworthit.Becauseeverythingwasdifferentafterthat.Idon’tknowifhespoketo

theseniorboys,butIwasn’tbulliedhalfsomuch.AndeverySaturdayhe’dletmegoofftothepictures,andhe’dgivemethreeshillingsaweekpocketmoney.Besides,whowastheretocomplainto—exceptAuntie?Andshewasrealill.Twomonthslatershedied.ThenI’dgotnoonetillyoucamealong.Andwhenyousuddenlypickedonme,Ithoughtyoumustknowalready.IthoughtthatwaswhyyouwantedmetocometoTangier.Ithoughtyouwereintheknow—likeCharlieMasonwas.”

“DoesCharlieMasonknowaboutTangier?”“Coursenot.IpromisedI’dneversplit,didn’tI?HeknewaboutmeandCaptainStobart, thatwas

all.Anyhowit’salloveranddonewithnow.Ineverwantedtodoit,becauseIhatedhim.Butyou’remyfriend,so it’sdifferent.There’snothing toworryabout. I’llgowithyouanywhereyou like—anywhereyousayintheworld.”

Dan’svoicewashuskywith emotion.Theyhad reached theoutskirtsofEastGrinstead. Itwasnolongerraining.Arnoldstoppedthecar.Thenheturnedandlookedattheboy’spalefaceandmoisteyes.NotonetremorofdesirecouldArnoldfeel.Dantookhishandandheldit.Forawhiletherewassilence.Gently,Arnolddrewbackhishand.

“Dan, there’sbeena terriblemistake,”Arnoldsaidquietly.“It’sallmyfault.WhenyouhearwhatI’vegottosayyou’llmostlikelywanttogoback.IfyoudogobackIcanpromiseyouthatStobartwon’ttroubleyouanymore.Nowthen,listentome...”

SlowlyandpatientlyArnoldexplainedthatEwingdidexist,thathedidownayacht,thathedidwantaboy to takeona longcruiseand tobringup tobehiscompanion.Dan listened insilence,hismouthtwitching.WhenArnoldhadfinished,Dangropedforthedoorhandleandgotoutofthecar.

“I’llbebackinaminute,”Danmuttered.Arnoldwaitedwretchedly,staringatthedamptarmac.Hewishedthathecouldfeelevenaflickerof

emotion for Dan. He looked round. The boy was leaning against the wall of a darkened house; hisshoulderswereheaving.WearilyArnoldgotoutofthecarandwalkedovertohim.Theboywascrying.Arnoldputanarmonhisshoulder,butDanshookhimselffree.

“Don’tmindme,”hemumbled.“I’mjustafool.”“ShallItakeyoubacktoMeltonHall?Isthatwhatyouwant?”“What’stheretogobackfor?Idon’twanttogoback.”“Thentellmewhatyou’reupsetabout.”“IthoughtI’dgotafriendatlast.ButnowI’maloneagain.”Arnoldwasdisgustedatthespurtofirritationthathefelt.Hecouldnotcontrolhisrageathisown

guilt andhis impotence todealwitha situationhehadnever foreseen.Concealinghisangerhe forcedhimselftoconsoleDanasbesthecould.Foolishpledgespouredfromhislips.HewouldalwaysbefondofDan,he said.Hewould always try tohelphim.Hewould come toTangierwithin twomonths.HeendedbysayingthatifDaneverneededhim,then,whereverhewas,hewouldalwayscometohim.

“IfIreallyneedyou,thenyoupromiseyou’llcome?”Danaskedthroughhistears.“Yes,Ipromise.”“Andyou’llbelivingoutthereinthisman’svilla?”“No.”“Whynot,ifhe’safriendofyours?”“I’llbelivinginaflatofmyown.”“Byyourself?”“No,”Arnold replied, driven to brutality byhis irritation at the undisguised emotionon the boy’s

upturned, tear-stained face.“Notbymyself. I’vegotayoung friendout there.He’saMoroccanboyofaboutyourage.Andhewillbelivingwithme.”

“Isee,”Dansaidquietly.“Nowdoyouunderstand?”“Yes.Thelot.”“Doyouwanttogoback?”“No.WhereI’mgoingtocan’tbeanyworsethanwhatI’veleftbehind,”Dansaid,astheywalked

backtothecar.==:==:==:==

TheflatwasonthethirdfloorofashabbyEdwardianhouseinthecentreofthetown.Aprintedcardonthedoorspelled“TimDeakin”ingothic type.Arnoldrangthebell,andthedoorwasopenedinstantly.Though Tim had put on weight, Arnold recognized the man who appeared in the doorway from thephotographsEwinghadshownhim.Timwasnowimmenselyfat,andhecarriedhisweightawkwardlyasifpadsoffelthadbeenstitchedinsidehisclothes.

“Goodevening,”TimDeakinsaid.“Comerightin,bothofyou.”Arnold followed Dan into a brightly lit, garish living-room. Posters announcing bullfights and

advertisementsfortheRivierahadbeenpastedontothevividgreenwalls.Potatoplantstwinedaroundafretworkdado.Aredsatinsofawithpale-bluecushionsranalongthefarendoftheroom.

“Soyou’reArnoldTurner,”Timsaidcheerfully,shakinghishandfirmly.“I’vebeenwonderingwhatyou’dlooklike.”

Hispallid,moon-face turned towardsDanashestretchedouthis largeredhandoncemore.“Andthis,Isuppose,isyoungDan,”hesaid.

ImmediatelyArnoldsuspectedthatTim’sheartinesshadbeenassumedtodisguisehisuneasiness.“I’mdelightedtomeetyouboth,”Timcontinued.“I’vebeenwaitingforthismomentforquiteawhile

now, and I’vegot everything laidon. I expectouryoung friendhere is abit peckish, so the first thingwe’lldoistotakehimintothekitchenwherethere’safair-sizedspread.Thenwecantuckhimupinthespareroom,suchasitis,andyouandme,Arnold,canhaveadrinkandanatterbeforeyoudrivebacktotheschool.Doesthatsuityou?”

“Fine,”Arnoldsaid.“Thenlet’sgoinandeat,”Timsaid.“I’vegotsomebeerinthefridge,soweshan’tbethirsty.”“I’mnothungry,”Dansaidsuddenly.Timglancedathiminsurprise.“Youwillbewhenyouseethefood,”hesaidwithalaugh.“Come

alongin.”————————

AnhourlaterArnoldandTimweresittingontheredsatinsofadrinkingwhisky.Danhadbeenputtobedinthenarrowspareroom.

“Nice-lookingkid,”Timsaid.“Buthe’syoungerthanIthought.”“He’sfourteen,”Arnoldsaidquickly.“Yourealizewe’rebothtakingahellofarisk?”“Iknowit.”“Don’tworry,Arnold.Not to fuss. I tellyou frankly I’vebeenover theplan inmymind timeand

again.Isimplycan’tseewhatcangowrong.You’llbebackintheschooltonight.Noone’sgoingtoraiseastinkabouttheboy’sdisappearanceforatleastaweek.BythenI’llbebackhere.”

“Who’sgoingtolookafterthecoffee-barwhileyou’reaway?”“My friend.He’s on duty there tonight. I’ve told him I’m off to France for aweek’s holiday.He

knowsthere’salittlechickeninParisthatIfancy.Hewon’tsuspectathing.”“HowwillyougetDanintoFrancewithoutapassport?”“Ontheday trip toBoulogne.ThenI’ll takeawagon-lit straight throughfromParis toMarseilles.

FromMarseilles it’sallperfectlystraightforward—solongasthekiddoesn’tgiveanytrouble.Doyouthinkhe’sasafebet?”

“Yes.Ido.”“Youdon’tsoundverysureaboutit.”“Youcanseethathe’snervous,”Arnoldsaid,frowningatTim’sjovialexpression.“You’llhavetobe

verygentlewithhim.Hecouldeasilygetscared.I’dlikeyoutoexplainthistoEwingwhenyougetthere.Dan’sunusuallysensitive.He’sgotnoneofthetoughassuranceofotherboysofhisownage.He’sledaprettywretchedexistenceup todate.Heneedskindnessandaffectionaboveall things.Heneeds tobe

treatedwithconsideration.”“I’lltellourfriendthatwhenIgetthere.AndsofarasI’mconcerned,don’tworry.He’llbeallright

withme,Ipromiseyou.”Tim got up and poured out two more drinks. “Speaking of promises,” Tim said, fumbling in his

breast-pocket,“here’sasealedenvelopeIwasaskedtogiveyouwhenyouturnedupthisevening.Iwastoldyou’dknowwhatitcontained.”

“Thanks,”Arnoldmuttered,asheputtheenvelopeintohispocket.“Aren’tyougoingtoopenit?”“Notnow.”“Iseeyourpoint.Atleastonecantrustourfriendinmoneymatters.”“CanwetrusthimwithDan?That’swhat’sworryingme,”Arnoldsaid,fixinghisprotuberantblue

eyesonTim.“Ewing’sa lotoldersince thedays Iknewhim,”Timreplied.“He’s learneda lessonor two. I’m

surehe’schanged.”“Whatevertroublesyouhadwithhim,atleasthewaskindtowasn’the?”“Yes,”Timansweredafterapause.“Hewaskindallright.Ifhehadn’tbeen,youdon’tsupposeI’d

letthiskidinforit,doyou?”Arnoldtookalongdrinkofwhisky.Therewasstillaquestionthathefeltboundtoask.“Ifhewas

kindtoyou,”Arnoldsaidquietly,“whydidyouleavehim?”Timgotupandstoodwithhisbacktothefireplace,leaningonhisleftfoot,hisbrowneyessearching

Arnold’sface.“Whydoyouwanttoknow?”heasked.“BecauseIwanttobesurethatDan’sgoingtobeallright.”“Thatboywillbeallright.Iknowit.He’llbegiventhegreatestchanceanykidlikehimhasever

had.”“Butyoustillhaven’tansweredmyquestion,”Arnoldpersisted.“Ewinggaveyouagreatchance,but

youstilllefthim.Why?”Timranhishandoverhissaggingchinandraisedhishead.“Ifyouwanttoknow,itwasbecauseI

wasacompletefool.Igotfedupandleft.”“Whydidyougetfedup?”“Iwas tiredofbeingnaggedat all the time.WithourDan it’llbedifferent.He’s still akid.He’s

youngenoughtolearn.ButIwasgettingonfortwentywhenIgottakenon.Icouldn’tlearnallthateasily,andhewouldn’tjustletmebe.You’dthinkhewantedtomakeafuckingartistofme,thewayhecarriedon.”

“Wasthattheonlyreasonyoulefthim?”“Well,asyoucanimagine,hewasn’texactlymycupofteatobewithnightandday.ButI’dhaveput

upwithallthatifonlyI’dbeencertainofhim.ButtheoddthingwasthatforallhispresentsandallhisaffectionIstillwasn’tahundredpercentsureofhim.”

“Inwhatway?”Timshiftedhisweighttotheotherlegandtookagulpfromhisglass.“It’shardtoexplain,”Timsaid.“Nowit’salloverIoftenwonderifitwasn’tpartlymyimagination.

Butsometimes,whenhethoughtIwasn’twatchinghim,I’dturnandcatchhimglaringatmeasifhewereinablindragewithme.AndI’dhavedonenothingatall.Nothing.I’djustbesittingthere.Buthe’dbeglaringatmeasifI’ddonesomethingwrong.Itwasrealodd.SometimesIusedtothinkitwasbecausehewantedtobealoneanddidn’twantmeintheroom.ButwhenI’dmovetogo,he’dcallmeback.Ineverdidunderstandwhatallthatwasabout.”

“Buthewasneverroughwithyou?”

“Heavensno!I’dliketohaveseenhimtry!No,hetreatedmeallrightonthewhole,andIwasafooltoleavehim.IfI’dknownthenallIknowaboutlifenowI’dhavestayedwithhimaslongashe’dkeepme.”

Timsighedandstretchedouta largeredhandfor thewhiskybottle.“Whataboutonemorefor theroad?”heaskedwithagrin.

“Notforme,thanks,”Arnoldsaid.“ButcanIaskyoujustonemorequestion?”“Fireaway!”“IfDanjustdoesn’twant toknow,ifDandoesn’twant tohaveanythingtodowith itwhenEwing

makeshisfirstapproach,wouldtherebetrouble?Imean,mighthetrytouseforce?”“Never,”Timsaiddefinitely.“ForastartEwing’sfartooproud.Secondlythat’snothisformatall.

Stopfussing,Arnold.Icanseethatthekid’sreadytolearn.Ireckonit’llworkoutallright.You’refussingbecauseyou’vegotaguiltyconscience.Butlookatitthisway.Whatalternativehasthekidgot?Atleastourfriendwillgivehimagoodchanceinlife.Ifitmakesyoufeelanybetter,Icantellyouthis.Solongasthekiddoesn’tpanicI’mperfectlyhappyaboutthejob.Oncehe’ssettleddownonboardthatyachthe’llhaveawonderfultime.Ireckonwe’redoinghimafavour.”

SuddenlyinhismindArnoldsawthetearsslidingdownRiffi’sfaceastheyhadsaidgoodbye.Hecouldhearhishoarsevoicesayingthelittlespeechhehadobviouslylearnedbyheart.“Iwaitforyou.Iwaitforyoumyfrengforalway.”

ArnoldcouldnowbecertainofseeingRiffiintheflatontheMarshaninthreemonths’time.“Ionlyhopeyou’reright,”ArnoldsaidtoTim,ashestoodup.“Imustbeonmywaynow,butfirst

I’lljustlookinandsaygoodbyetoDanifhe’sstillawake.”“I’llcomewithyou,”Timsaidandledthewayalongtheshortcorridor.

————————Danwaslyingonhisback,wideawake,whentheycameintothenarrowroom.

“I’vecometosaygoodbye,”Arnoldsaidbriskly.“I’vehadalongtalkwithourfriendTim,andI’mdeadcertainyou’regoingtobeallright.”

“Iwanttoseeyoualone,”Dansaid.ArnoldturnedtoTim.ForaninstantTimhesitated,thenheshruggedhisshouldersandsmiled.“I’llwaitforyounext-door,”hesaidandlumberedoutoftheroom.Arnoldforcedhisvoicetosoundcalmashesmileddownattheboy’sanxiousface.“Well?”Arnold

asked.“What’sitabout?”“I’mfrightened,”Dansaid.ImmediatelyArnold’svisionofhisflatontheMarshanbegantocrumble.“You’refrightenedbecause

you’retired,”Arnoldheardhimselfsay.“Becauseallthisisnewtoyou.”“No.It’snotthat.”“Whatisitthen?”Dan’smouthbegantotwitch.“Idon’tlikethewayhelooksatme.”“Who?Tim?He’sallright.Youdon’thavetoworryabouthim,Ipromiseyou.You’llbeperfectly

safe,Iswearit.”“Helooksatmeinthesameway.”“Whatsameway?”“ThesamewayasCaptainStobartdid.”“That’spureimagination.”Arnoldcouldhearhisvoicetremblingwithvexation.“Iwaswatchinghim

whileyouweretogether.Hewaslookingatyounowandthen,becausehewasinterestedtoknowwhatyouwerelike.Afterall,he’sgottotakeyouallthewaytoTangier.You’rehisresponsibilityfromnowon.”

“I’mfrightenedofhim.”

“Listen,Dan,youtrustme,don’tyou?”“YouknowIdo,sir.”“Thenyou’vegot to trustmy judgement.Tim’sas safeaperson to lookafteryouasanyonecould

find.”Dan’shandswritheduneasilyaboutthesheets.“Can’tyoucomewithus?”Danasked.“YouknowIcan’t,”Arnoldsaid.“Itwouldbefartoodangerous.IfIdidn’tgobacktoMeltonHall

they’dsuspectyouwerewithme.Itwouldn’ttakethemlongtotrackusdown.”“Shan’tIneverseeyouagain,then?”“AsItoldyou,I’llbeinTangierintwomonths’time.”“ButI’llbeawaybythen.”Arnoldbegantolieagain.“Atleastwecanwritetoeachother,”hesaid.“Youwon’tforgetyourpromise?You’llcomeifIreallydoneedyou?”“IpromiseIwill.Ifyoufindyoucan’tgothroughwithitI’llcomeandgetyouback.”“AndIcanwritetoyou?”“I’vealreadysaidso.”“CanIwriteonthewayout,Imean?Ifanythinggoeswrong?”AsArnold hesitated he noticed a cardboardwriting-pad tucked into the bookcase by the bed.He

openedit,tookoutanenvelopeandputasheetofwriting-paperandaten-shillingnoteinsideit.Thenheaddressedtheenvelopetohimselfathislocalbank,writinginsmallblacklettersandmarkingit,“tobecalledfor”.

“Listen,Dan,”Arnoldsaidveryquietly,“I’mputtingthisenvelopeinyourtrouserspocket.Don’tletanyoneeverseeit.Ifanythinggoeswrong,thenwritetomeatthisaddress.”

“What’stheten-shillingnotefor?”Danasked.“Whatevercountryyou’rein,they’llchangethatnoteforyoudownintheport.Thenyou’llbeableto

buythestampstoairmailyourletterofftome.Thatwayatleastwe’llbeintouch.”“Thanks,”Dansaid.“Don’tbefrightened.You’llbeallright.You’regoingtohaveawonderfultime.”“NowI’vegottheenvelopeIfeelbetteralready.”Arnoldstretchedouthishand.Dangraspediteagerly.“Imustbegoing,”Arnoldsaid.“Goodbye,Dan.Allthebest.”“Goodbye,”Danmuttered.“Thanksforeverything.”

————————Timwaswaitingforhimintheliving-room.Whatwasallthatinaidof?”heasked.

“Last-minutenerves,”Arnoldreplied.“Nothingtoworryabout.”“Onefortheroad?”“Nothanks.Imustbegettingback.”

==:==:==:==WhenDandidnotreturnfromthecinemaonSaturdayeveningthelocalpoliceandthepoliceinGuildfordwere notified that he had absconded. By the time Arnold returned toMelton Hall at two o’clock onSundaymorning,allpatrolcarsintheneighbourhoodhadbeengivenadescriptionofDan.OnTuesdaymorning,Blair, theheadmaster, telephonedScotlandYard,andadescriptionofDanwasentered in thePoliceGazette.

In the lunch-break onThursdaymorningArnold drove to his bank.Hehad no reason to drawoutmoney,forthehundredone-poundnotesthathehadfoundinthesealedenvelopetogetherwiththechequeforthreethousanddollarswerehiddenbehindadrawerinhisbedroom.ButArnoldhadcalculatedthatifforanyreasonDanhadwrittentohimfromMarseillestheletterwouldhavearrivedthatmorning,ifnot

thepreviousday.Thecertaintythatnoletterhadcomewouldatleasthelptoassuagehisguilt.Arnoldfelthislegsquiveringashewalkeduptothecashier’sdesk.“Anyletterforme?”heaskedcasuallyafterhehaddrawnoutfivepounds.“I’llgoandsee,”thecashiersaid.Lettherebenoletter,ArnoldprayedtotheGodhetriedtobelievein.PleaseGod,let therebeno

letter.“Hereyouare,”thecashiersaid,handinghimtheenvelopeaddressedinsmallblockletters.“Thankyou,”Arnoldsaidandwalkedquicklytothedoor.Foraninstanthehadbeenafraidhewas

goingtovomit.Inthemainstreetoutside,thesunwasshiningdownonthedrypavement.Arnoldforcedhimselfto

walk to the car-park behind the Odeon Cinema and get into his car before he opened the letter withshakinghands.

“Tuesday,”theletterwasheadedinbackward-slopingunevenletters.“WereawayinanhourandTimsworkingontheenginessoI’vegotashoar.

LastnighthetoldmewhatI’dbetterexpectwhenwegetthereandImfriten.Ican’tgothroughwithithonestIcant.Ifyousticktoyourpromiseyouvegottohelpme.

LoveDan.”

Arnold read the letter through several times, trying each time to find adifferentmeaning, as if byreadingtheletteragainandagainhecouldchangethewordsoraltertheirsense.Thenheleanedbackinthecarandclosedhiseyes.Theweightofguiltthathadoppressedhimeversincethemomenthehadsaidgoodbye toDan nowbore down on him so heavily that he felt sick and faint.Desperately he tried todiscover some escape from the implications of the letter and from the bleak fact of his responsibility.What could Tim have said to frightenDan?Tim had assuredArnold that Ewing had treated himwithkindness.Wasthatalie?WasEwing’stalkofeducatingtheboytoappreciatecultureabluff?HadEwingforcedTimtoconspirewithhiminsomecrimehehadplannedtosatisfydesireshehadconcealedfromArnold?DidEwingsecretlydelightincruelty?

Suddenly,asthequestionsrushedthroughhismind,apicturelurchedintohisvision.Onceagainhestoodinthefetidhiding-placeandsawthegleamingebonyoftheNegro’sthicklimbsandthedarkstreaksofdamp runningdownwhitewashedwalls like stripesacrossapalebody.Fora long timeArnold satmotionlessinhiscar.ThenhestartedtheengineanddrovebacktoMeltonHall.Assoonashereachedtheschool,hewalkedalongtheglazedcorridortoBlair’sstudy.

When Arnold walked into the untidy room with its light-green walls and light-coloured woodenfurniture,Blair raisedhisgrey face fromaHomeOffice form thathewas filling inand smiledathimwearily.

“Morning,Arnold,”Blairsaid.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”“There’ssomethingIshouldhavetoldyoubeforeIcamehere,”Arnoldsaid.Blairglancedupathimquickly. “Takeapew,”he said,pointing toa leather armchair. “You look

donein.”Arnoldsatdown.Blairtookupapencilandbegantoplaywithit.“Nowthen,whatisit?”heasked.“BeforeIcamehereIhadabreakdown,”Arnoldsaid.“Hadyoubeenoverdoingthingsorwhat?”“Idon’t know,”Arnold said. “I canonly tell you that I began toget jittery. I couldn’t sleep and I

couldn’t eat.At nights I’d just lie in bed sweating and trembling all over. It got so bad Iwent to the

doctor.Iwasinhospitalforamonth.”Blairranhispencilthroughhisgreyhair.“Whyareyoutellingmethisnow?”heasked.“BecauseI’mafraiditmaybestartingagain.”“Haveyouseenthedoctor?”“No. What good can he do? The answer’s so very simple. It was the same answer last time.

Completerest.SoI’vecometoyoutosaythis.IknowI’mnotdueformyholidaysforanothermonth.AndIknowit’llbeanawfulnuisancehavingtoswitchthingsround.ButIpromiseyouthis—I’mcertainifIcouldgetawayforaweekI’dbeallright.”

Blairscratchedhisheadandsighed.“It’snotsatisfactory,”hesaid.“Infact,it’sextremelytiresome.I’llhavetochangethewholerota,andthat’sthedevilofabusiness.ButIsupposethere’snothingelseforit.Whendoyouwanttoleave?”

“Tonight,”Arnoldsaid.“Aftermyclasses.”“Wherewillyougoto?”“Ihaven’tmadeupmymindyet.SomewherequietwhereIcanbealone.”Blairstoodup.“I’llseeyouaweekfromtoday,”hesaid.“I’msureyourrestwilldoyougood.”“Thanks,”Arnoldsaid,andlefttheroom.

————————That eveningArnold took the train toLondon andwent to theB.E.A. terminal inCromwellRoad.Hemanaged to get a seat on the noon plane toTangier the following day.He paid for his ticketwith themoneyEwinghadgivenhim.

————————Astheplanedronedsteadilythroughtheclearbluesky,Arnoldtriedtosortouttheconfusedplansthattumbled through his mind. But each course of action he contemplated seemed inescapably disastrous.Therewasnowayoutofthemazehehadbeensocleverlypersuadedtoenter.Onlyonethingwasclear.HemustreachDan.HemustsavetheboyhehadbeenpreparedtosacrificebecauseofhisfierceyearningtopossessRiffi.HehadcalculatedthathewouldnowreachTangierataboutthesametimeastheyachtwasduetoarriveintheharbour.Ewinghadplannedtolettheyachtrideatanchorforatleasttwodaysbeforehewentonboardinordertoavoidgivingtheimpressionofahurrieddeparture.DuringthattimeDanwastoremainonboard.PapershadbeenobtainedwhichstatedthathewasaSpanishboyoffifteenwhohadbeensignedoninBarcelona.Arnoldwouldarrivebeforetheyachthadleft.AfterhehadrescuedDan,hewouldhavetomakefreshplans.Somehowhewouldbreakoutofthetrap,takingRiffiwithhim.Somehow.PerhapstheeveninginTangierwouldprovidehimwithananswer.

==:==:==:==AsArnoldclamberedstifflydownthegang-plankintothehot,dryairofthelateafternoon,hesawWaynesittingatatableoutsidethelittleairportcaféontheedgeofthetarmac.Waynestaredathimwithblearyeyesforaninstant,thenwavedahandingreeting.

“Hullo there!” he cried out shrilly, sidling towards the barrier. “Fancy seeing you of all people.You’renotonebitlikethepassengerIwasexpecting.Iwaswaitingherepatientlyforaveryprettydishinhis early twenties who’s supposed to be flying out fromMadrid. But the wretched boy has probablysettled forRomeafter all.Andheream Iat thisdrearyairport at thisghastlyhour,butat leastyou’veturneduptokeepmecompanyonthedrivebackintotown.”

“IsEwinginTangier?”Arnoldasked.“Yes.Mostcertainly.Andlargerthanlife.”“Hashisyachtarrived?”Wayne fluttered his eyelids in surprise. “His yacht?He’s not having his yacht come out, is he? I

thoughttheoldthingwassoboredstiffwithithewasleavingitlaidupinMarseilles?”

“Haveyougotacarhere?”“But of course. Freda my Ford awaits your pleasure. Get past those tedious and quite repellent

Customs officials and I’llmeet you in the car-park.Meanwhile I’ll just have onemore teenie-weeniedoublebrandytoconsolemyselfforthatwickedboy’streachery.”

“CanyoudrivemetoEwing’svillaonthemountain?”“I’dbedelightedto,mydear.”

————————TenminuteslaterArnoldwassittingbesideWayne,whowasprattlingbrightlyandreekingofbrandy.

“Hugeshoulders,”Waynesighed.“Andlegsofmarble.Aboxer’swaist.Divinegreeneyes.Whollyglabrous.Doyoublamemeforsavinguptopayforhispassage?”

“Isupposeyouhaven’tseenTimDeakinaround?”Arnoldasked.“Mydear,Ihaven’tseenthatnumérosincetheBattleofGettysburg.”Arnoldtriedtomakehisvoicesoundcasualasheputhisnextquestion.“How’sRiffi?”“Nowthere’sanotherwickedcreature!”Wayneexclaimed,swervingtoavoidaflockofgoats.“What

anaughtynumérothatoneis!Ihopeyoudidn’tcomeallthewayoutheretoseethatficklelady?Butofcourseyoudidn’t.Ewingmusthavewrittenandtoldyou.”

Arnoldcouldfeelhisheartpoundingfiercely.“Ihaven’theardfromEwingforsometime,”hesaid.“Whata lazy type thatone is!”Waynetittered.“At leastheshouldhavewritten to tellyouthesad

news.”“Whatsadnews?”“Well,‘sad’fromyourpointofview,Imean—‘sad’ifyou’vestillgotacrushonthatlittleBerber

pieceofnonsense.”“Whathappened?”“PaulAshtoncameback,that’swhathappened.YouknowwhoImean!Theold‘county’queenwho

wassomadaboutRiffilastyear.Andwhat’smore,MasterPaulcamebackafreeman.Hismadlyrich,desperatelydrab,andhorriblyrespectablewifefelloffhermount—orwhateveryoucalltheanimals—outinthehuntingfieldandbrokeherfatneck.SoPaulAshton’sinheritedafortune.So,mydear,hardlywastheoldhaginterredinherfamilyvaultthanourenrichedandradiantMasterPaulpoppedintoaplaneandarrivedinourwickedcityofvicepositivelypantingforhislittleRiffi.AnddespiteEwing’sthreatsanddespiteallmywilydeviceshetrackedRiffidowntohisdouaraboveChauenandwhiskedhimoffinanewBentleyconvertibleandacloudofdust.Thatwasamonthago.TheywerelastheardofinMonteCarlo. Imay tellyou thatEwingwas livid.You’dhave thoughthe fancied theboyhimself thewayhecarriedon.”

“DidRiffiwanttogooffwithhim?”“Want!Mydear,areyoumad?AssoonasRiffisawthatcarI’mtoldtherewasnoholdinghim.And

when theypassed throughhereon theirway toCannes,youshouldhaveseenMasterRiffi flashinghisgoldbangles.”

“Andthatwasamonthago?”“Atleast.”“AndEwingknewaboutit.”“I’ll sayheknew!Hedid everything short of lassoing theboy toget himback. I’m toldhe’s still

trying.Somehope!Butthat’sourdearEwingallover.Whenhe’sgotaboy,he’sboredrigidwithhim.Itisn’tuntiltheboyleavesthatheadmitshe’sbeenfondofhim.ItwasexactlythesamestorywithMasterTimDeakin.Ewingwouldn’tadmithewasdottyaboutthatnumberuntilTimhadleftforgood.OurdearEwing’stroubleisthatheresentseverysingleoneofthem.”

Arnold stared blankly at the blocks ofwhite concrete apartment houses looming through the dusty

hazeaheadandframedbetweentheeucalyptustrees.TheshockoflosingRiffihadparalysedhissensesliketheinjectionofapowerfuldrug.Hefeltnopain.Therehadbeenaquickstabofanguish,andthatwasall.Thelongagonywouldcomelater.MeanwhilehemustcontinuetobreatheandsituprightinthecarandreacttoWayne’sremarks.

“Resentsthem?”Arnoldasked,vaguelyrememberingWayne’slastsentence.“Ofcourse.Infact,hepositivelyloatheseachoneofthem.”“Why?”“BecauseEwingresentsbeingattractedtohisboy-friends.Becausehepassionatelyresentsthefact

thathe’saqueer.Yousee,atheartEwing’sdeeplyconventional.Andhe’sacrackingsnob.Essentiallywhathe’dlikewouldbetobemarriedtoacountessandliveinalargehouseinKentwherehe’dentertainroyalty. Instead of that he’s a hallmarked old queer living with a lot of riff-raff in a notorioushomosexual’sparadise.Andhejusthatesit.Buthewon’tadmitit.Noteventohimself.Sowhenhefallsforayoungman likeTimhesubconsciously resents it.TangerineEwingmay love theboy,butKentishEwingdetestshim.It’squitesimple,isn’tit?”

WayneglancedatArnold.“Areyoufeelingill?”heasked.“No.”“Youlookatriflepale,ifImaysayso,mydear.”“No.I’mfine.”“Ohdear!NowI’veforgottenwhatIwassaying!”“YouweretalkingaboutEwing.”“SoIwas!PoorEwing!Butyouknow,mydear,essentially.they’reallthesame.You’vejustgotto

havehadtheexperienceofknowingtwoorthreeoftheseupper-middle-classqueenstounderstandthelot.You’veonlygottolookintotheirpasttounearthpreciselythesamestory.It’snotatallthesametalewithpeoplelikeyouandme—who’verisen,asonemightsay,fromtheranks.Wemayhaveseensomethinginthewoodshedattheendofthegardenthat’sscaredus.Buttheirlifeisonelongwoodshedfromthedaythey’reborn.”

WithaquickmovementofhisrighthandWaynetookaloosecigarettefromhispocketandlititwithhisgoldlighter.

“At first it’sNannyNorah,”Wayne said. “NannyNorahwith her do’s and don’ts and her nurseryschoolofmorality.She’snotfatal,NannyNorahisn’t,becauseshe’sakindlyoldsoulwithherrootsfairandsquareintheground.She’sanoldoak,andshe’sdeterminedthatallherchargesshallgrowupjustlikeher—stalwartandsolidandunyielding.NowillowbendingtothewindisNanny.Dearmeno!Bluffandtough,broadandtrustworthy,forQueenandCountry,forDutyandDebrett.”

Wayne sounded his horn impatiently at an oldMoor in a tattereddjellaba riding a donkey in themiddleoftheroad.

“ButwhenMasterJohnnygetstoomuchofahandful,”Waynecontinued,“NannyNorah’spensionedoff. Then comes the real terror. There’s the sound of a stridently genteel voice in the hall, and it’sGertrudetheGovernesswho’sarrivedwithherwornleathertrunkandherspankingnewhandbagtostayintheManorortheSquareinBelgravia.Gertrude,thepurveyorofconventionality,thesupporterofarch-snobbery, the douser of originality, the detector of the slightest moral deviation, the destroyer of anyindividual personality. Gertrude, with her remorselessly puritanical watery eyes and her rigidlydisapproving long nose. Gertrude, the scourge of indolence, the slayer of impropriety. Gertrude, thespinsterish ogre who’s going to peer over Johnny’s shoulder for the rest of his life. Gertrude theGovernesshasarrived,andshe’sthereforgood.”

Waynepausedandsighed.“MydearArnold,”hesaid.“Gertrudeisindestructible.Theladyherselfmaybeeventuallyremoved

tomould another little Johnny in her own dismally strait-laced image, but her influence persists. Our

Johnnywhounderwenthertreatmentforthreeyearswillneverbethesameagain.Talkofbrainwashing!TheFascistsandtheCommieshavegotacompletelynewtechniquetolearnfromourGertrude.BecauseGertrudehaswreckedourpoorJohnny.Theboardingschooltheysendhimtowhenhe’sremovedfromherclutchesmerelystampsasmartsealonhisGertrude-causeddoom.DearJohnny’shadit—andforlife.

“Herevolts,ofcourse.Theyalldo—generallyinpreciselythesamefashion.Theyflingasidetheirstiffshirtsandhats.Theywaltzintocorduroysandsweaters.FortwoorthreeuneasyyearsatOxfordorCambridgetheyflauntuninhibitedbrightscarvesandideas.Andtolookatthemyoumightsupposethattheywere unenslaved individuals—like you andme, dear.But you’d be desperatelywrong.TheymayhaveturnedtheirbacksonGertrude,butshe’sstill there.Gertrudeis lurking.Gertrudeisevervigilant.Andintheendherinfluencetriumphs.Sothecorduroysaresenttothewashandgiventothediscardedboy-friend.ThesweaterisusedforoccasionalweekendsatNewmarket.Thebrightcoloursofthescarvesfadetogrey.AndfiveyearslateryoucanseeourdearJohnnywiththemeticulouslywornhallmarksofhisclass—theJermynStreetwhite shirt, theSavileRowdrab suit, theSulkadark tie, theLobbshoes, theBriggumbrella—andaninvisiblesheathoverhiswholepersonality.AndGertrudeiswithhimagain.

“Show me a pallid-faced, well-trimmed, stiff-backed, hard-collared, drably dressed, oppressed-lookingyoungmanatacocktailparty,andI’llsuspecthe’saqueer.Examinethemanstandingnexttohimwithafloppygreenshirtandpeacock-bluetrousersandyou’llprobablydiscoverhe’sahappilymarriedstockbrokerwithsevenchildren.

“AndwhydoesJohnnylooksooppressed?BecauseGertrudeiseternallypeeringoverhisshoulder.Of course, thedearman still hasoccasional spasmsof revolt.Aged fortyhemaycast aglance at thatcurly-haired youngwaiter at his club. But he looks away jolly quick.A sharp rap fromGertrude hasbroughthimbackundercontrol.Soheordersaglassofportandthenanotherandpresentlysomebrandy.And thenhe takes the taxiback tohisbachelor flat inWestminster.AndGertrudehas triumphedagain.Sometimes,ofcourse,theygettheirrevengeforthemiserythatGertrude’scausedthembytakingitoutonotherpeople.Ewinggothisrevengewhenhestrangledallthosemenwithhisbarehandsduringtheyearhewasfightingwith thepartisans.Youknowhowoftenhe looksathishands. I reckon it’sbecausehelikestoremindhimselfthathedidit.”

Theyhadreachedtheupperlevelofthemountainroad,andtheairwasheavywithatangofspicesastheydrovethroughtheeucalyptusforest.Arnoldkneweverybendoftheroad.EachdipandtwistbroughtbackmemoriesofRiffi.

“IfEwingcouldhavegotridofGertrude,”Waynewassaying,“hewouldn’thaveresentedTim.”Itwasgettingdark.Wayneswitchedonhisheadlights.“PoorEwing!”hesighed.“I’mafraidGertrudenagsathimquitedesperately.He’spositivelywater-

loggedwithguilt.That’swhywegetallthatcarry-onabouteducatingtheboyhehappenstohavefallenfor.It’sonlytoassuagehisguilt.HefeelsthatifhecanteachthemaboutElGrecothenit’ssomehowallright.Thenextthingweshallhearisthathe’spickedupaboyfromDiego’sbordelloandisteachinghimtoreadEuripidesintheoriginal.Itwouldn’tsurprisemeonebit.”

As they turned thecornerArnoldsawthecrenellatedcentral towerof theVillaGaultand the longgreywall that surrounded the property.Wayne had stopped the car outside the wrought-iron gate andsoundedthehorn.Twodogsrushedatthegrilleandbeganbarkingwildly.WithaspasmofpainArnoldrememberedthefirsteveninghehadbeentakentothevilla.

“DoyoumindifIdropyouhere?”Wayneasked.“Totellyouthetruththere’sbeenaslightfroideurbetweenEwingandme.ThesillyoldthingseemstothinkthatPaulAshtonbribedmetogiveawaythelocationofRiffi’sdouar.It’sperfectlyuntrue,ofcourse.ButIdon’tthinkI’llcomein.Youdon’tmind,doyou?”

Arnold had been searching for an excuse to get rid ofWayne. “Of course I don’tmind,” he said.“Thanksforthelift.”

“PerhapsI’llseeyoutonightinmyloucheestablishment?”“Iexpectso,”Arnoldmuttered.“Cheerie-bye!”Waynesaidanddrovequicklyaway.ThebeardedMoorshuffledoutofthelodgeandpulledopenthegate.Theeveningwaswarm.Arnold

tookoffhiscoat.Carryinghissmallbagwithonehandandhiscoatwiththeother,hewalkeduptherutteddrivebetweentheeucalyptustrees.Thefrontdoorwasshut.Hepressedthebell.Hecouldfeelhisheartpoundingagainsthischest.Thedooropened.Bashirpeeredoutathiminthedusk,andblinkedhislonglashesinsurprise.

“Msalkhair,”Bashirsimpered.“Goodevening,”Arnoldanswered.“IsSeñorEwingin?”“Yis,”Bashirsaid.“Followme.”ArnoldfollowedBashirasheswayedacrossthetiledhalltowardsthedrawing-room.Ewingwassittingontheyellowsofareadingamagazinebythelightofthetallceladonlamp.Hewas

wearingdarkshantung-silktrousersandabushshirtwhichwasundonesothatArnoldcouldseethehairsonhischestandstomach.ForawhilehestaredatArnoldinsilence.Arnoldcouldfeelhislegsquivering.

“Whyhaveyoucomehere?”Ewingasked,withoutmoving.“IwanttoseeDan.”“He’snothere.Theyacht’snotarrivedyet.Whydoyouwanttoseehim?”“BecauseIthinkhemaywanttogobacktoEngland.”Ewinggotupandcrossedtothechimney-piece.“Whatmakesyouthinkso?”heasked.“Ihadaletterfromhim.”“Aletter?Fromwhere?”“Marseilles.Justbeforetheyachtsailed.”“Whatdidtheboysay?”“Hewasfrightened.Hedidn’twanttogothroughwithit.”“YoutookthenoonplanefromLondon?”“Yes.”“DotheyknowatMeltonHallthatyou’veflowntoTangier?”“No.”“Whatexcusedidyoumakeforleavingtheplace?”“Igotaweek’sholiday.”“Haveyougottheboy’sletter?”“Yes.”“CanIseeit?”Arnoldtooktheenvelopeoutofhisbreast-pocketandhandedittoEwing.“Atleastyouhadthesensetogivehimtheaddressofyourbanksohedidn’twritetotheschool,”

Ewingsaid.“Readtheletter.”Ewingtookoutthesheetofwhitepaperandreadtheeightlinesonit.Thenhecrossedtothedrink-

trayandpouredhimselfawhisky.“Theboytalksaboutstickingtoapromise,”Ewingsaid.“Whatwasyourpromise?”“ThatI’dcometohishelpifheneededme.”“Soyoufancytheboyyourself?”“No.”“Thenwhymakesuchapromise?”“BecauseIwassorryforhim.”Ewing turned angrily. “Sorry for him!You sentimental idiot! If youwere really sorry for himyou

wouldn’thaveriskedhisonechanceofhappinessbycomingouthere,yousloppyfool.You’vefallenfortheboyandyouwanthimforyourself.Whynotadmitit?”

“I’vetoldyouthathedoesn’tattractme.”“Doyouexpectmetobelievethat?”“Idon’tcareifyoubelieveitornot.”EwingexaminedArnold’sfaceasifhewerestudyingacomplicatedchart.“Thenwhydidyoucome

outhere?”heasked.“I’vetoldyou.I’vecomeouttohelptheboy.”“Tohelphim!Whatintheworlddoyouthinkyoucandotohelphim?”“Ifhewantstogo,IcantakehimbacktoEngland.”Ewing’shandsslicedtheairinaviciousgestureofimpatience.“Areyoucompletelymad?Doyou

honestlysupposeforonemomentthatatthisstagetheboywillwanttogoback?”“Youreadhisletter.”“Didyoutakethatseriously?Ayoungboy’sslightfitofnervesbeforealongjourney?”“Hewasfrightenedwhenhewrotethatletter.”“Nonsense.Hehadamomentofdoubt,that’sall.”“DansaidTimhadtoldhimjustwhathe’d‘betterexpect’whenhegottoTangier.Canyouexplain

thatphrase?WhatdidTimtellhimhewastoexpect?”“Isimplycan’timagine.”“Butwhateveritwasmadetheboyfrightened,didn’tit?”“HowcanIpossiblyknowwhatTimsaid?”“Isn’titconceivablethatyoucanguess?”Ewing flungbackhis arms andheld themoutstretchedbehindhim. “You’re beginning tomakeme

angry,” he said. “So I suggest you’re silent for amoment and listen tome. I’m now going to tell youpreciselywhatyou’regoingtodo.You’regoingtotakethenextplanebacktoEngland.Ifanyonefindsoutyou’vebeentoTangierandsuspectsyouflewtheretofindDanGedge,youcantellthemyoudidindeedbelieve thatDanmight have gone toTangier because you’d told him about your holiday andDan haddevelopedanobsessiontovisittheplace.SoyouflewtoTangieronyourowninitiativebutdiscoverednotraceoftheboy.Soyoucameback.Finish.”

“I’mstayingheretillDanarrives.”“Ifyougobacknow,ourdealisstillon.Intwomonths’timeyou’llhavethatvillaontheMarshan

andyou’llhaveRiffi,who’ssafelyinhisdouarwaitingforyou.”“Waynegavemealiftfromtheairport,”Arnoldsaid.“Sowhat?”“HetoldmeaboutPaulAshton.”Inthesilencethatfollowed,Arnoldheardtheringofthefront-doorbell.“WhatdidWaynetellyouabouthim?”“Thathe’dgoneoffwithRiffi.”“Youdon’tseriouslybelievethat?”“Yes.Ido.”“Wayne was being his usual malicious self,” Ewingwas saying, when the door opened and Tim

Deakinwalkedslowlyintotheroom.Hisheavyarmsbulgedoutofawhitesingletthatseemedtoosmallforhim.HisheadturneduneasilyfromEwingtoArnold.ThenheaddressedEwing.

“Hullo!”Timsaidquietly.“What’sthatonedoinghere?”Ewing handed Dan’s letter to Tim. “Read that,” he said. “Read it and you’ll see his excuse for

comingoutandriskingourwholeplan.I’mstilltryingtofindouttherealreasonhecame.”Timreadtheletterquickly.“Thelittlebastard!”hemuttered.“Thelittlebastard!”“Istheboyallright?”Ewingasked.“Haveyougothimsafeonboard?”

“I’vegothimhere.Butthekid’snotwell.”“You’venot...”“Don’tbeabloodyfool,Ewing,”Timbrokeinroughly.“DoyouthinkI’mmad?Ofcoursenot.No.

Theboy’sill.That’sallthereistoit.He’soutsidenow—fastasleepinthebackofthecar.”“Whatcar?”Ewingasked.“Ihiredacardownintheport.”“Whydidyoubringhimhere?”“Becausethekid’ssick,Ikeeptellingyou.Heneedsadoctor.”“What’swrongwithhim?”“Vomitingandheadacheandfever.”“Itmaybesomethingthatheate.Oritmaybepurenerves.I’llgetholdofDoctorValdeztolookat

him.Butnothere.Onboard.Idon’twanttheboyinthishouse.Idon’twanttheservantstoseehimhere.I’llphoneValdeznowandarrangeforustomeethimatthatcafeonthequay-side.”

AsEwingcrossedtothetelephoneArnoldrushedtothedoor.“Stophim,”EwingsaidtoTimoverhisshoulder.Tim caughtArnold’s arm as he passed and dragged him round. Then he hit him hard in the face.

Arnoldstaggeredbackforthreestepsandfellonthefloor.Timgrabbedholdofhisshouldersandhauledhimtothesofa.

“Sitdownthereandbequiet,”Timsaid.“You’vecausedenoughtroublealready.”BloodwaspouringfromthecornerofArnold’smouth.Heleanedbackhisheadandtriedtostaunch

itwithhishandkerchief.Hefeltsickanddizzy.FromfarawayhecouldhearEwingtalkinginSpanishonthetelephone.Timwasspeakingtohim.

“God!Youwereanidiottocomeouthere,”Timwassaying.Hecouldhearmoreclearlynow.Ewingputdownthereceiver.“Valdezcanmeetusinanhour’stime,”heannounced.“We’lltakehim

onboardasfarasCeuta.”TimpointedtoArnold.“Whataboutgoldilocks?”heasked.“Arnold’sgoingstraightbacktoEngland,”Ewingsaid.Timcrossedtotheside-tableandpouredoutawhiskyanddrankitneat.“He’dbettergoquick,”Timmumbled.“Becauseifhedoesn’t,bothofushavehadit.”“No,Tim,”Ewingsaidquietly.“Notbothofus.AndIwantArnoldtohearthisbecauseitaffectshim

closely.Suppose theworsthappens.SupposeArnoldwas followedout toTangier.Suppose thepolicebreakintothegroundsandfindtheboyasleepatthebackofthatcar,thenlet’srememberthis.There’saprima facie case againstArnold—becauseheknew theboy andhelpedhim to escape.And I’mafraidthere’s a case against you,Tim—becauseArnold and theboy cangive corroborative evidence againstyou.Butneitherofyouwillbeextraditedifyoustayhere.”

“Doyouexpectmetoliveinthisbloodycountryfortherestofmylife?”“No,Tim.Idon’t.Ifyougobackandgetcaughtanddon’tinvolvemeinanyway,I’llgiveyoutwo

hundredpoundsforeverymonthyouget.”It’llbemorethanthatIcanpromiseyou.ButwhataboutArnoldandtheboy?Ifthey’recaughtyou

canbetthey’llshriekyournametohighheaven.”Ewingspokequicklyinavoicepitchedatonehigherthanusual.Hislefteyelidwasquivering.“Arnoldcouldgivemeaway.Ihopehe’llbesensibleenoughnottoriskit.Butshouldhedecideto

nameme as the author of this plan, then two things will occur. First, I’ll have two of the boys fromDiego’s place denounce him to the police for acts punishable with seven years in aMoorish prison.Secondly,you,Tim,willtellthepolicethatArnoldbribedyoutotakeDanacrosstoTangier.You’lltellthemthattheboy’sillandyou’venowrealizedthathe’sarunawayfromanapprovedschool.”

“ButDanisboundtotellthemallaboutyou.”“Howcanhe?He’sneverevenmetme.And ifArnolddecides tobedifficult, theboywillnever

meetme.”“Hestillknowsaboutyou.”“Certainly.ButourcasewillbethatArnoldtoldtheboythisrigmaroleaboutmywantingtoadopt

himinordertopersuadeDantorunawaywithhim.Andrememberthis.ArnoldwillhavebeenexposedasapæderastbytheevidenceoftwoBerberboys.Hisevidencewon’tcountformuchafterthat.”

“Let’shopenot,”Timsaidsulkily.Ewing turned to Arnold who was still holding a handkerchief to the corner of his mouth. It had

worriedhimtoseethebloodfallingontotheyellowdamaskofthesofa.“Soyousee,Arnold,there’slittleyoucandotoharmme,”Ewingsaid.“AndquitealotIcandoto

harmyou.Ontheotherhand,Icanstillhelpyouconsiderably.”Arnolddidnotreply.Hewasstilldazed;hewasafraidhewasgoingtobesick.Helookedvaguely

roundtheroomforanemptybowl.EwingglancedtowardsTim.“Goandseeiftheboy’sallright,”heordered.

“Don’tfuss,”Timsaidashemovedtowardsthedoor.EwingwaiteduntilTimhadlefttheroombeforehespoke.“Look,Arnold,”hebegangently,“I’msorryTimhurtyou.ButI’llmakeupforit.Myoriginaloffer’s

still valid. The deeds of theMarshan villa are in your name at the bank. If you go back on the earlymorningplaneandkeepyourmouthshut,I’llgiveyouanextrafivethousanddollars.Whatdoyousaytothat?”

Arnoldwassilent.Hewaswonderingifhecouldcrawlasfarastheflowerbowlonthecornertabletobesick.Ewingraisedhishandtothecornerofhislefteyetocontrolthetremor.Forawhiletherewassilence.

“Icangiveyou themoneynowifyou like,”Ewingsaid inasuddenrushofwords.“Andyoucanbankityourself.”

HetookthreequickpacestowardsArnold.“Arnold,you’vegottotrustme,”hesaid,forcinghislipsintoasmile.“Don’tyouseethatifIsailoff

withtheboyitmeansthatI’minyourhands.You’veonlygottogotothepoliceandsaythatyouknowthatDan’sonmyyachtandI’llbecaught.SoImusthavesome formofsecurity.I’llgiveyoufivethousanddollarsnow.I’vegotthecashreadytotakeoffintheyacht.Icangiveityourighthereandnow.AllIaskisthatyousignareceiptforit.”

“Idon’twantyourmoney.”“Thenwhatdoyouwant?Riffi?Ipromisedyouhe’dbehereintwomonths”time,andhewillbe.I

cangethimawayfromPaulAshton.Don’tyouworry!IsitRiffiyouwant?Isthatit?”Arnoldwassilent.“Isthatwhatyouwant?”Ewingrepeated.HewasstaringdownatArnold,hislipsstillpartedina

grimace,whenthedooropenedandTimcamebackintotheroom.“Theboy’sgone,”Timsaid.“Gone?”“He’snotinthebackofthecar.”“Hamidoshutthegatesafteryou,didn’the?”“Yes.”“Ifhe’sstillinthegrounds,whyaren’tthedogsbarking?”“Allthreeofthedogswererunninginfrontofthecarwhenwearrivedandmakingahellofarow,so

ItoldHamidotolockthemupandkeepthemlockedup.Wedon’twanttheboyscaredtodeath.”“DidHamidoseetheboyatthebackofthecar?”“No.I’dputarugoverhim.”“That’sonegoodthing.Idon’twanttheservantsbroughtintothis.Nowfollowme.”

TimglancedtowardsArnold.“Whatabouthim?”heasked.“Hecan’tmovefarifhetries,”Ewingsaidashewalkedquicklyoutoftheroom.AtthedoorTimturned.“You’dbetternottry,”hesaid,andfollowedEwingacrossthehall.Arnold heard the front door close behind them. Then he slowly raised himself to his feet and

staggeredacross to the flowerbowl andwas sick.Ashe raisedhishead,hemadehisdecision.Onalacquertablebeyondtheflowerbowlwasthetelephone—withatelephonedirectorybesideit.StepbystepArnoldmovedacrosstheroomandsatdownbythetableandopenedthedirectory.Heturnedtotheletter “B”.But theBritishConsulate-General did not seem to be listed. Feverishly he turned over thepages and at last found it under the main heading CONSULADOS—Consulado de Gran Bretaña. Hedialledthenumber.Aman’svoiceanswered.

“BritishConsulatespeaking.”Thevoicespokewithaforeignaccent.“IstheBritishConsulthere?”“Onemomentplease.”Therewasapause,andthelinewentdead.Arnoldwasafraidthathehadbeencutoff.Histhroatwas

dryandhisheadthrobbedpainfully.AtanymomentEwingandTimmightcomeback.“Hullo?”avoicesaidsuddenlyinhisear.“AreyoutheBritishConsul?”“Speaking.”Arnoldtookalongbreathandtriedtomakehisvoicesoundcalm.“Myname’sTurner,”hesaid.“I’m

amasteratMeltonHallapprovedschool.Aboyranawayfromtheschoollastweek.I’mspeakingfromtheVillaGault. It’son themountain road towardsCapeSpartel.Theboywho ranaway ishere in thegrounds.Youmustcomeherequickly.”

Foramomenttherewassilence.Thenthevoicesaid,“You’respeakingfromtheVillaGaultbeyondParkDonabo?”

“Yes.”“IsthatEwingBaird’svilla?Theonewiththebigirongates?”“Yes.”“Andtherunawayfromyourschoolisupthere?”“He’ssomewhereinthegrounds.”“DoesBairdknowaboutthis?”“Yes.Hedoes.”Therewasabriefpause.Thenthevoicesaid,“Whatdidyousayyournamewas?”“Turner.ArnoldTurner.”“WhendidyouarriveinTangier?”“Bythisafternoon’splane.”“Andyou’retelephoningmefromVillaGault?”“Yes.Butyoumustcomequick.They’retryingtogettheboyawayontheyacht.You’dbetterbringa

policecarwithyou,andadoctorifyoucan.Theboy’sill.”“WillyoubetherewhenIarrive?”“Yes.”“Withtheboy?”“Ihopeso.Buthurry.”“Waitwhereyouare,”thevoicesaid.Therewasaclickasthereceiverwasputdown.SuddenlyArnoldheardanoiseatthefarendoftheroom.Hemovedquicklyawayfromthetelephone

andstumbledtowardsthesofa.Thenhelookedup.ThecurtainsattheendoftheroomwerehalfdrawnandtheFrenchwindowswereajar.Aboywasstandingoutsidetheminthefaintmoonlight,peeringintothe lamp-lit room.The boywaswearing awhite singlet and tight black jeans. For one instantArnold

thoughtthatitwasRiffi.ThenDanrushedacrosstheroomtowardsArnoldandflunghisarmsroundhim.“Iwokeupanditwasdark,alldark,”Dansaid,stammeringinexcitement.“SoIwalkedtowardsthe

light.AndthenIsawyou.Butwhathavetheydonetoyou?Oh,I’vemissedyousomuch.You’llneverknowhowmuchI’vemissedyou.”

Evenwith the boypressed sobbing against him,Arnold could feel no flicker of emotion.Hewasconsciousonlyofadulldespair.Hismindwastorpid.WithafierceefforthemadehimselfworkoutthatEwingandTimwerestill in thegroundsoutsidesearchingforDanand itwaspossible that theymightreturnatanymoment.ArnolddetachedhimselfgentlyfromDan.Hecrossedtheroomandopenedthedoorleadingintothecorridor.Thepatiowasempty.Heturnedround.toDan.

“They’llbebackanymoment,”Arnoldsaid.“Theymustn’tfindyouhere.Don’tspeak.Justfollowme.”

Dandidnotmove.SuddenlyArnoldlostcontrol.“Don’tstandtheregapinglikeanidiot,”hehissed.“Followmequick,Itellyou.”

Dan flinchedas ifhehadbeenstruck,buthe followedArnoldoutof the room.Arnoldclosed thedoorbehindthemandledthewayacrossthepatiototheheavynail-studdeddoorwhichopenedontothestaircaseleadingtothetopofthecentraltower.InsilenceDanfollowedhimuptheflightsofstonestepsandwaitedwithoutspeakingwhileArnoldpushedopenthewoodentrap-door.Quietly,Danclamberedoutafterhimontothewarmroofwhichglistenedinthemoonlight.Arnoldclosedthetrap-doorbeforehespoke.

“I’msorryIsnappedyourheadoff,”hesaidquietly,tryingtosmile.“Doesn’tmatter,”Danmuttered.“Forgetit.”“Areyouallright?”Nottoobad.Iwassick,thatwasall.IthinkitwassomethingIateonboard.Ifeelbetternow.”“SorryIwas insuchahurry togetyouuphere.Butat leastwe’resafe.They’llnever lookforus

here,andwecanseethelightsofthecararriving.”“Whatcar?”Arnold looked up at the stars and prayed to the God in whose existence he tried to believe for

strengthtocontrolhisleapingnervessothathecouldatleastgivetheboysomegleamofaffection,somecrumbofsympathy.

“Dan,I’mafraidyou’vegottogobacktoEngland,”hesaidgently.“No.”“Youmust.”“NotnowthatI’mwithyou.”“Youwon’tgobacktoMeltonHall.Icanpromiseyouthat.AndIcanpromiseyouthatthere’llbeno

CaptainStobarttobeafraidofagain.”“I’mnotgoingback.”“There’snoalternativenow.”“Can’twegosomeplacewheretheycouldneverfindus?”“We’dneedmoneytobuyfood,foronething.”“Icouldfindwork.Icouldworkinacafé,washinguporsomething.Andyoucouldbeteachingin

someschool.”“Youmustgoback,Dan.Whereverwewentnow,they’dcatchupwithusintheend.”Danturnedawayfromhim.“Youdon’twantmetobewithyou,doyou?”hesaidinastifledvoice.

“Youdon’tneedmelikeIneedyou.You’rejusttryingtogetridofme.”“No,Dan.I’mgoingbacktoEnglandtoo.”Dan’sheadswungroundinsurprise.“Youmeanwe’llstillbetogether?”“No.”

“Whynot?”“BecauseI’llbearrestedandsentenced.”“Why?Whateverfor?”“Forhelpingyoutoescape.”“ButI’llsayyoudidn’t.I’llsayyou’dgotnothingtodowithit.”“TheyknowI’mhere.”“I’llsayyouflewoutheretobringmeback.That’sthetruth,isn’tit?”“Youcantellthemthetruth,Dan.Itwon’tmakeanydifference.”“DoyoumeantheycansendyoutoprisonjustfortakingmetoFolkestone?”“Iexpectso.”“Thecaryousaidyou’rewaitingfor?Isthattheonethat’sgoingtotakeyouoff?”“It’sthecarthat’scomingfromtheConsulate.Iphonedthemjustnowandtoldthemwewereboth

here.”“Andthey’lltakeusbacktoEngland?”“Yes.”“Butyou’llgotoprison,andtheywon’t letmeseeyou.I’llhavenoonetogotoat thenextplace

wheretheysendme.I’llbeallalone.Andthey’llhaveitinformebecauseIgotaway—youknowtheywill.”

SuddenlyDanseizedhishand.“Don’tmakemegobackrightaway,”hepleaded.“Don’tmakemegobackjustyet.Eveniftheycatchupwithusintheend,let’shaveafewmonthstogether.”

Arnoldraisedhisheadtothesky.Thestarsseemedveryclose.“Itwouldonlybeworseinthelongrun,”Arnoldsaid.“Pleasebelieveme.I’mnotjustthinkingofmyself.”

“Doyouknowthatyou’retheonlypersonwhogivesacurseformeinthewholeworld?”“Icansaythesamebacktoyou,Dan.”“Isthatright?AmItheonlyperson?”Arnoldstaredatthespeckledbluevaultabovehimandloweredhishead.“Yes,”Arnoldsaid.“Theonlyperson.”“Howlongwillyouget?”“Idon’tknow,Dan.Notlongwithanyluck.”“I’llwaitforyou—evenifit’sforawholeyear.I’llgetacalendarandstrikeoffthedays.”Arnold walked across to the balustrade where the corner of the tower cast a shadow across the

moonlight.Helookeddown.Thelightsalongthedrivehadbeenswitchedon.Thebeamsoftwotorcheswereflickeringatthelowerendofthegarden.Beyondthewalltotheeasthecouldseealongstretchofthemountainroad.Buttherewasnocarapproaching.Dancameuptohimandtouchedhisarm.

“IfItellyousomething,doyoupromiseyouwon’tbeangrywithme?”Danaskedquietly.“Yes.Ipromise.”“Well,it’sthis.YouknowtheletterIwroteyoufromMarseilles.Well,itwastruewhatIsaid.Iwas

scared,honestIwas.Timhadhadabagfultodrink,andhetoldmejustwhatkindofthingswentoninTangier.”

“WhyshouldIbeangrywithyou?Ofcourseyouwerescared.”“Butthatwasn’tthereason.”“Thereasonforwhat?”“Thatwasn’tthereasonIwroteyou.Iwasfrightenedallright,butI’dstillhavegonethroughwithit

—evenafterIknewthelot.Ididn’twritejustbecauseIwasfrightened.IwrotebecauseIknewitwastheonlywayIcouldgetyoutocomeoutheretobewithme.”

InthedistanceArnoldcouldhearthewavesshufflingonthebeach.Ameteorstreakedacrosstheskyandvanishedbelowthehorizon.

“NowI’vegotyouintoallthismess,”Dansaid.“Andit’sallmyfault.IfI’dnotwrittenthatletteryou’dneverhavecomeout,andthere’dhavebeennotrouble.You’llneverforgiveme,willyou?”

Awispofcloudwastrailinglikearaggedscarfacrossthemoon.“Don’tworry,Dan,”Arnoldheardhisvoicesayingfromfaraway.“Iforgiveyou.”Suddenlytheheadlightsoftwocarswereshiningalongtheflatstretchofthemountainroad.“Thatmaybethem,”Arnoldsaid.“Promiseyou’llletmebewithyouwhenyoucomeout,”Dancriedoutsuddenly.“Promiseyouwon’t

forgetme.”InthemoonlightArnoldcouldseeeachfeatureofDan’spale,uptiltedhead.Carefullyheobserved

theflathairandanxiouseyes,thedelicatenostrilsandtwitchingmouth.Butashestareddownattheboyhecouldfeelnotonetwingeofpassion.Hiswholebodyfeltnumbandemptyofalldesire.Hewasawareonlyofanoverwhelmingtirednessthatseemedtopressdownoneverylimb.

“Promise?”Danasked.“Promise?”Ashelistenedtotheboy’sinsistentvoice,sadnessbegantoseepintoArnold’smindlikeagreyfog

driftingintoaroomthathasgrowncold,coveringeachfamiliarobjectwithveilsofgauze,darkeningthecarpet, blurring the outlines of the chairs, concealing the pictures, filling the empty grate, until all theroombecomes shroudedwith grey.Both past and presentwere nowwrapped in a cold greyness.Butthroughthemurkoffoghecouldstillseetheboy’sfacedistraughtwithanxiety.Then,withastabofpain,Arnoldrealizedthathecouldnotavoidthetruthoftheplainstatementwrittenacrossthoseworriedeyes.Forthefirsttimeinhislifeanotherpersonneededhim.Therecouldbenopossibleescapefromthatstarkneed.

“Promise?”thevoicepleaded.“Yes,”Arnoldsaid,andthewordsfelllikeleadenweightsacrosshisheart.“Ipromise.”Theheadlightsofthetwocarsturnedtowardsthegatesattheendofthedriveandstoppedstill.“Thisisit,”Arnoldsaid.“Wemustgodown.Butlet’ssaygoodbyeuphere,shallwe?”AwkwardlyhestretchedoutanarmandpattedDan’sshoulders.Thecorneroftheboy’smouthwas

stilljerkingfrantically.Arnold’seyesslidawayinpity.“Goodbye,Dan,”Arnoldsaid.“Thebestoflucktillwemeetagain.”Evenashespoke,ArnoldthoughtbacktohisfarewellwithRiffiintheirbedroominthevillabelow.

With a pang he remembered the future that he then seemed to have in front of him. But even as herecollectedRiffi’spassion,he feltashamedofhisdisloyalty.HesearchedhismindforsomewordsofcomfortforDan.

“We’llgetthroughsomehow,”hesaid,cursingthetritenessofhiswords.“Thingsareneversobadasoneexpects.”

Hewasafraid that theboywouldbreakdown.Hedreadedanhystericalscene.Heglancedathimwarily.ButDanmethisglancecalmly.HetookArnold’shandinafirmgripandstaredupathimforamomentinsilence.Hiseyeswereserene;hismouthwasmotionless.

“Don’tworry,”Dan said. “I’m all right now.Evenwhen you’re not there, I shan’t feel alone anymore.”

The iron gates swungopen.The headlights of two carsmoved slowly up the drive, and the gatesclosedbehindthem.

PARTFOUR“Wayne,doyouseeanyreasonwhyIshouldn’thaveanotherdrink?”Ewingasked.

“Noreasonatall,”Waynereplied,swayingtowardshimswiftlyandpickinguphisglass.“Itwouldbeapleasuretogetyouone,MasterEwing.”

“You’renotveryfulltonight.”Wayneblinkedhiseyesapologetically.“It’salwaysquietinthefullheatofsummer.Youknowthat,Ewing.Allthegaybirdshaveflown.”AsWaynesweptaway to fixhisdrink,Ewing lookedaround thehalf-emptybarwithdisapproval.

Therewasnotoneinterestingorattractivefacetobeseen.Notasingleone.AminutelaterWaynereturnedwithhisginandDubonnetandsatdownathistable.“Youseemabitdistraittonight,”Waynesaid.“Iwasjustthinking,”Ewingreplied.“Butitwasaverybanalthought.”“Tell.”“Hasiteveroccurredtoyouhowsatisfactoryitwouldbeifonecouldbecertainonecouldattain

completeoblivion?”“Constantly,”Wayne replied. “But I’m always scared stiff it wouldn’t be complete. Think if one

swallowedabottleof luminalandwent intoaperpetualnightmare.Youknowthosehorriddreamsonegets after toomuch lobster. Just imagine enduring them for eternity! It’s unthinkable. If only one couldescapefromlifeforashortstretchoftime!Ifonlyonecouldstuffone’soldcarcasswithmothballsandhangitonapegandjustleaveitthereforaseason!”

“Butonecan’t,”Ewinginterruptedimpatiently.“One’sjustgottokeepdraggingthewretchedthingaround.Andnowwhat am I to dowithmine? Just tellme that.Where shall I take it to this evening?Where?”

“NottothedanceattheBritishConsulate,”Waynesaidwithatitter.“No.NottotheConsulate.Infact,probablyneveragaintotheConsulate.”“Butwhyshouldyoucare?”“Idon’tcare.Infact,I’mdelighted,”Ewingsaid.“WhenyouthinkthatImighthavebeenextradited

you’lladmitthattobebannedfromthatboringestablishmentisnogreathardship.OfcourseIdon’tcare.IwasmerelyaskingyouwhatIcoulddotoamusemyselftonight.”

“Whydon’tyouringLaviniaandaskherouttodineatthePavillon?ShallIgetherforyouonthephone?”

“No,don’t.Ican’tfacebeingtoldthefullpedigreeofherlatestlover.”“WhataboutLukeWest?I’mtoldhe’sredecoratedhiswholeliving-room.PureVictorian,he’sgone.

Youcanhardlyseeachairfortheantimacassars,andyoucanscarcelyploughyourwaythroughthepottedferns.ShallIgetLukeforyou?ShallI?”

ButEwingwasno longer listening.Hiseyeswere fixed intentlyon theendbar-stool thathad justbeenoccupied.

“Nowwhatisit?”Wayneasked.WithaneffortEwingturnedhisgazeawayfromthefarendofthebar.Slowlyhespreadouthishands

onthetableandexaminedthem.ThenhelookedupatWayne.Hislefteyelidhadbeguntoquiverslightlylikealeafinagentlebreezeasheputthequestion,buttheexpressionofhisfaceremainedunchanged.

“Who’sthenewcustomer?”Ewingaskedindolently.

THEEND