“I might have known,” said I wearily. “You know I hate cards, and that I play Bridge about twice a year.”
“Never mind,” said Berry, piercing a cigar. “If you revoke more than once, put the blame on me, and say that I made a mistake, and it’s Grab you’re such a nut at – or draughts. If he tries to assault you, pretend that you think you’re John Bunyan in a fit of religious terror. Has any gentleman got a lucifer match?”
The train which was to bear us to Port Said, en route for England, was due to leave Cairo in less than a minute, and Jonah, Berry, and I were about to follow the girls into the corridor carriage, when a shriek from Adèle attracted our attention. We rushed down the corridor, to see the far door of the compartment open and Adèle swinging herself down on to the metals. Jill pointed excitedly to a native who was running as hard as he could with a green dressing case in his hand.
As I passed Adèle I heard a whistle.
“Go back!” she cried. “You’ll lose the train.”
“And leave you behind? Not likely.”
A moment later the thief dropped his booty – for I was overtaking him fast – and started to leg it harder than ever. Recognizing the hopelessness of trying to catch him, now that he had shed his encumbrance, I contented myself with picking up the dressing case, and turned to see the train gliding out of the station. Framed in the doorway of the compartment we had left were as much of Berry, Jonah, Daphne and Jill as its dimensions would admit. All four were waving and crying what I took to be instructions and advice. Thirty paces away stood Adèle – all among the points – waving frantically in response.
As the train roared into the distance, I began to pick my way across the rails to where my companion was standing. She spread out her hands with a little gesture of dismay.
“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she cried. “I’ve made you miss your train, and—”
“He made us miss our train,” I corrected, nodding in the direction of the runaway thief. “It wasn’t your fault. I only wish I could have caught the brute.”
“I can never thank you enough. But whatever shall we do?”
It was certainly awkward.
It was now half-past four. Another train would not leave for Port Said until ten the next morning and the boat by which we were sailing was expected to leave at noon on that day. Incidentally, with the exception of the contents of the dressing case, neither of us had anything at all but the clothes we were wearing.
It is, however, the acute crisis which provokes the brain-wave.
As we left the line for the platform, I caught Adèle by the arm.
“Adèle, will you waste your sweetness on the desert air a second time? In other words, if Geoffrey can fly us to Port Said, are you on?”
“But of course!”
The little group of curious officials who were stolidly regarding our approach were galvanized into action by my peremptory demand for a telephone, and I was conducted to the RTO’s office without delay. As soon as the connection had been made, and I recognized Geoffrey’s voice:
“I say, old fellow,” said I, “have you got another pair of slacks you don’t want?”
“What – again?” he cried. “Besides, I thought you’d gone.”
I explained. When I had finished:
“There’s a Handley-Page going to Ismailia in half an hour,” he said. “I’m not taking her really, but I will. Can you do it? She’ll have to dress in my hut.”
“Is Ismailia any good?” I queried.
“The train you missed’ll call there about nine.”
“Prepare the slacks,” said I. “We will be with you in fifteen minutes.”
We were. And in another twenty we were off the ground and heading north-east.
Fifty minutes later we sighted Lake Timsah, and when we landed in a spacious aerodrome at Ismailia, it was barely an hour since we had left Cairo.
Fortunately our arrival occasioned no excitement, and, with the exception of a mechanic or two, nobody appeared as we taxied towards the hangars.
Geoffrey pointed to a shed in the distance.
“That’s where they keep the cars and tenders,” he said. “Just stroll over there, and I’ll find the EO and get him to send you into the town right away.”
He was as good as his word.
As we reached the garage, I heard a mechanic speaking upon the telephone.
“Very good, sir. To the station at once. Yes, quite ready. Goodbye, sir.”
The next moment he was starting up a great touring car.
As we took our seats, Geoffrey came running up.
“Aren’t you coming?” said Adèle.
He shook his head.
“Might see you later at the Club, unless you take an earlier train to Port Said. The one your party’s on won’t fetch up there till about eleven. If you do, just leave the coats at the Club. I’ll have to dine in the mess here tonight, anyway. If I don’t see you again…” He put out his hand.
Adèle caught that and the other in her own.
“I can’t ever thank you enough,” she said. “Come to America one day, and I’ll try and show you I’m grateful. When I think of your beautiful trousers, I feel so guilty. Two pairs!”
“Cheap at the price,” said Geoffrey gallantly. “And so long as I have a pair to my back, they’re always at your service.”
“Goodbye, St Martin.”
“So long, Geoffrey,” said I. “You know what I think of you. Come home soon.”
Geoffrey nodded to the chauffeur, and the car slid past a sentry and on to the white-brown track. We turned and waved till we could see him no longer.
We stopped at the Club. Here I learned that the station was five minutes’ walk, and that a train left for Port Said in a quarter of an hour.
After a hurried consultation we dismissed the car, and, as we emerged from the garden entrance, no one would have recognized the smart American girl and her companion as the two muffled aviators who had entered the Club from the street five minutes before.
To catch the down train was easy enough.
At eleven o’clock Adèle and I were still seated upon the verandah of the Casino Palace Hotel, Port Said, taking our ease. We had dined excellently, if a little late, and were feeling as fresh as paint. Except for a distant waiter and a party of French people at the other end of the verandah, we were alone.
“They’ll be here any time now,” said I, looking at my watch. “Keep calm.”
Adèle gurgled delightedly.
“Berry’ll have a fit when he sees us,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss his face for a thousand dollars.”
“Which reminds me,” said I. “You and I have an account to square.”
My companion stopped laughing and sat very still. I turned to glance at her. She was leaning back in her bent-cane chair, looking straight ahead into the darkness over the sea, whose great rollers we could hear tumbling lazily towards us but a hundred paces away. As I looked, a puff of wind ruffled its way through her soft, dark hair. The light was dim, and I could not be sure whether that same faint ghost of a smile that once before had mocked me was haunting her red mouth. I continued:
“You were to give me anything, you remember, if I got you back to Cairo that evening by half-past six.”
“In reason,” whispered Adèle.
“Would you rather knit me a body-belt in the Guards’ colours, or let me see your ears?”
The ghost became a reality.
“Which you like,” said Adèle.
“What’s the American for ‘darling’?” I said. “I want to address you.”
As she paid her debt, the rattle of more than one approaching arabiya made itself heard. We settled ourselves nonchalantly, and began to discuss the situation in Poland.
“What a day!” It was Berry’s voice. “Nice little journey hasn’t it been? I think I enjoyed that wait at Zagzig as much as anything. You know. Where the engine sprayed us with dirty water and we had to shut the windows.”
&n
bsp; “For goodness’ sake, get out,” said Daphne.
“Why?” said her husband. “Listen to the thunder of the Atlantic on our left front. What was it Cowper said?” He raised his voice, “Jonah!”
“Hullo,” came from the other arabiya.
“Do you say ‘Coughper’ or ‘Cooper’? Personally I always say ‘Wordsworth.’”
“Will you get out?” said Daphne fiercely.
A moment later, wearily she and Jonah ascended the steps. I could hear Jill laughing as Berry entrusted various articles of baggage – Adèle’s and mine among them – to the porter’s care.
Jonah saw us first.
“Good lord!” he cried, standing still.
Then my sister saw us, and caught her breath.
“You are late,” said I, stifling a yawn.
There was a shriek from Jill, and then she and Daphne flung themselves upon Adèle with every manifestation of amazement and delight. Jonah sank on to a chair, wide-eyed and shaking his head. I rose to my feet and took a step forward.
Berry came up the steps.
“What is it?” he was saying. “Rabies, or have you met someone you know?”
Then he saw me.
For fully a quarter of a minute we regarded one another in silence. Then he dropped everything he was carrying, and, stepping out of the havoc of wraps and sticks and dispatch-cases, walked round me on tip-toe. Presently he came up and felt me, then peered into my face.
“From the hooded (sic) look in your eyes and the unpleasant stench of spirits emanating from your person, I assume you have been the guest of the Royal Air Force. Did you have a nice flight?”
“Lovely, thanks. Hope our luggage wasn’t a nuisance?”
“Don’t mention it. I love working for you. Give me your room number, and I’ll go and turn your bed down. You know, I’m not at all certain you didn’t do it on purpose.”
I clapped him on the back.
“I knew I could depend upon you,” I said. “And there” – I pointed to a table – “is your reward?”
“Don’t say it’s iced beer,” said Berry. “I can’t bear it.”
“But it is,” said Jonah, opening a bottle.
Berry turned to me, glass in hand.
“I’m not going to wish you luck,” he said, “because you have more than your share already. But I am gratified to observe that, waster as you will always be, somewhere beneath that mass of corruption which you call your soul there are still stirring the instincts of humanity. And now I want a cigarette. You’ll find some in your dispatch-case.” He pointed to where he had dropped it. “By the way, I wish you wouldn’t lock your things. Jonah and I had to borrow a ticket punch from the conductor to get it open.”
5: As Rome Does
Solemnly we regarded the Colosseum. “Reminds me of the Albert Hall with the lid off,” said Berry. “But it does want doing up. Glad I haven’t got it on a full repairing lease.”
“Is anything sacred to you?” demanded Daphne.
“Yes,” said her husband. “My appetite. That is why I venture for the second time to suggest that we should leave this relic of barbarity without delay. Besides, it revives painful memories.”
“When were you here before?” said Jonah.
“In a previous existence. Joan of Arc was by no means my first incarnation. In AD 77 I was a comic gladiator. Used to fight with gorgonzolas which had been previously maddened by having Schiller read to them in the original tongue. They used to call me ‘Sticking Plaster,’ because I was always coming off.”
“Of course you’re spoiling the whole place for me,” said his wife. “I came here—”
“They seem to have moved the cloak-room,” continued Berry, looking about him. “It used to be over there just behind the mammoth-hutches.”
This was too much for Jill and Adèle, who abandoned themselves to uncontrolled merriment. With a gesture of resignation, Daphne detached herself from the party and strolled out of earshot. Berry looked at me.
“I wonder if we can smoke,” he said. “They used not to allow it before 1300 hours. Anyone who broke the rule was thrown to the bears. Not the ordinary ones, but the Camemberts. A shocking fate.”
“Trajan altered all that,” said I. “But, of course, that was after your death.”
“Yes,” said Berry. “I was flayed alive for trespass in 96. After that I became a sacred sucking-pig at Antioch. Thank you.” He accepted a cigarette. “How many of these did we bring in all?”
“Adèle and I brought, five hundred each,” said Jill. “So did Daphne.”
“Jonah and I a thousand,” said I. “And you?”
Berry spread out his hands.
“Most unfortunately—”
I shut the case with a snap.
“Make the most of that one,” said I. “It’s the last you’ll take off me. If I’d had the slightest idea you hadn’t troubled, d’you think I’d have been financing you for the last ten days?”
“D’you mean to say you never brought any at all?” said Jonah.
“Fact,” said Berry. “Look at those idle tiers. Do you know what they mean?”
Jonah turned to me.
“And I let him have a box of a hundred yesterday because he said he couldn’t get at his.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“It was the truth,” said Berry. “If they weren’t there, I couldn’t get at them. Obviously.”
Jonah raised his eyes to heaven and turned to follow Daphne, who was alternately consulting a guide-book and scrutinizing the tremendous ruin.
“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” said Adèle, looking about her. “How many did it hold?”
“Eighty thousand, I think,” said I. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
She nodded.
“You ought to have seen it full,” said Berry. “Crammed. And not a bit of paper in the house. They used to have to put the orchestra in the arena sometimes. It didn’t work, though. They were roped off, of course. But the lions didn’t see the rope or something. Anyway—”
He stopped to light his cigarette.
“I’m afraid to ask anything else,” said Adèle, with such gravity as she could command, “and there are such heaps of things I want to know.”
“Come along,” said I. “This way. My memory’s not like his, but one term I came out top in Roman History.”
As we moved away, my brother-in-law addressed himself to Jill.
“My dear,” he said, “let this be a lesson to you. Never cast a silk purse before swine.”
We were all on the way from Egypt to England. We had come by Taranto, and had seized upon the opportunity of spending a few days in Rome. No one of us had visited the city before.
It is not remarkable that we were all fascinated. Even Berry, for all his ribaldry, was profoundly impressed. There was so much that was so venerable. If Rome had been smaller – if we could have seen a quarter at a time, perhaps it might have been otherwise. But there was so much – and every yard of it was hallowed ground. We stood as pygmies beside the mighty ghosts with which, for me, the streets were thronged. It was difficult to think that they, too, had been men and women of like passions with us. They had been the Royalty of the world; and so, for us, Rome was a palace and her ways ‘the presence strew’d.’ What manner of man had sunned himself at this corner? Maybe but a greasy-chopped scullion, a coarse fellow, one-eyed, yet – a Roman. Small enough fry while he lived, two thousand years have made his shade that of a giant. So with their deeds and lives and manners – Time has magnified them all, good and evil alike, dressed them in purple dignity, so that the venue of them is full of such tremendous memories, the aged stocks and stones conjure up visions so notable, as make you fall silent with thinking on them.
But that was when we were grave.
Adèle Feste and I were fast friends. Indeed, we all loved her, and the reflection that, when we reached England, she was destined to leave us and continue her journey to her home in the United States was alre
ady painful, and one which we endeavoured to thrust aside so often as it recurred.
Together she and I passed beneath one of the great archways.
“Of course, I shall simply live to come here again,” said Adèle, staring up at the great walls.
“May I come with you, when you do?”
Adèle tilted her chin.
“If you still want to, and my husband doesn’t object.”
“Your marriage would, of course, complicate matters. I suppose you couldn’t revisit Rome first and marry afterwards?”
Adèle looked thoughtful.
“Most American girls seem to get married between their first and second visits to Europe,” she said. “Of course, I might be an exception. You never know.”
“You’re an exception to every rule I ever knew,” said I. “Look at the way you move, for instance.”
“But I can’t.”
“Nor you can. And you can’t see yourself from behind, either. Or when you’re dancing, or – You do miss a lot, Adèle. D’you mind smiling for me? Thank you.”
She threw back her head and laughed.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “That wasn’t for you. I smile for nobody.”
I sighed.
“That’s right. Break my heart. Throw it down and jump on it. You cracked it the first day I saw you. Now smash it up.” I looked at her. “And when my sister taxes you with your carelessness, what shall you say?”
“I shall tell her that it ‘came in two in me ’and,’” replied Adèle. “And there’s Jill waving. I expect they’re thinking about lunch.”
As we came up:
“To say,” said Berry, “that I am an-hungered conveys nothing at all. My vitals are screaming for nourishment. My paunch—”
“Beast,” said Daphne. “Vulgar beast.”
“No coarseness, please,” said her husband. “But I’ve been butchered to make one Roman holiday, and I’m not going to be starved to make another. Have you ever been flayed, Jonah?”
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