House of All Nations

by Christina Stead

  ‘Oh, shut up, William.’

  ‘Did you sign anything with Carrière?’ insisted William.

  ‘No, I told you.’

  ‘And if the pound goes off you’re not bound to pay him any losses?’

  ‘No, I told you,’ yelled Jules. He continued in a normal but irritated tone, ‘Do stop harping on Carrière, William.’

  Alphendéry was studying Jules minutely, and he put in, ‘It’s just as well you didn’t give Carrière a written guarantee on his sterling contracts, Jules, the way things look. I don’t see how the pound can stay on gold. I’m certain there’s nothing more in the vaults of the Bank of England but a few sheets of blotting paper and a mont-de- piété ticket.’

  ‘Who knows that?’

  ‘Why, some of us can read balance sheets and make calculations.’

  Jules, without replying, turned down the sheet with the market quotations and began to discuss their market policy for the day. Alphendéry let it pass, therefore, but said to William later, ‘I have a most uneasy feeling about this Carrière thing. He swears he signed nothing and yet you can never trust Jules. He certainly acts as if he signed a contract with Carrière.’

  ‘Well, I’ve stayed back at the bank a few nights and I’ve looked everywhere.’ William smiled. ‘I’ve got skeleton keys to every desk in the place; you know. And I don’t see any agreement with Carrière, so I think it’s all right. Besides he wouldn’t be so wild.’

  ‘Did you hear the rumor about Carrière—that a boy was killed at one of his parties?’

  ‘Oh, if they don’t kill themselves with drink and boys, they smash their neck at bobsleigh or in speedboats. That’s the way we make money.’ His gray, even tones ceased and Alphendéry only heard the jingling of the money he was lifting and silting back into his pocket. He laughed, ‘We don’t even have to send them wreaths like the gangsters in Chicago.’

  In a few days the detective agency, The Green Ray, turned in its report on Henri Parouart. A fragment follows—

  AFFAIR OF HENRI PAROUART

  July, 1931*

  * The date, of course, is made to fit in with the calendar of events in the tale. No real events are referred to.

  The watch was taken up at eight o’clock in the morning in the Passage de l’Opéra, where Mr. Parouart has a small room, as stated above.

  At 8h.45, Mr. P. comes out bareheaded, goes towards the Galérie Feydeau, then brusquely makes a half-turn and by the Rue Vivienne gains the Great Boulevards, in the direction of the Rue Montmartre, stands a few seconds in front of the Maison du Café, looks into the interior, seems to make a gesture, goes, after this, to the Grand Comptoir, drinks, and goes to get his traditional cigar, not without stopping frequently at the windows he passes. He comes back, thereafter, by the boulevard and reaches his domicile by the Passage de l’Opéra.

  It is 9h.14.

  At 10h. he comes out again, crosses the street, goes to the Banque Czorvocky, mixes with the groups there, exchanges a few words with several persons, and once more goes home.

  At 12h. we see him direct himself by the Rue Vivienne towards the Stock Exchange, which he enters at 12h.05, always by the same door, whence he comes to his habitual place, near the corbeille of the agents-de-change. The inspector stationed in the interior sees him talk with the same personage of middle height, dressed in gray, that we have already mentioned, and he quits the Stock Exchange at 14h.17, after having come out of it, for a short moment for his needs. He comes back to the Rue Vivienne, where he shakes for a long time the hand of a person of Semitic aspect, dressed in a beige suit, whom he met leaving the Bourse. Having reached the Rue St. Marc, he starts to run and penetrates down the Galérie Feydeau at a rapid pace. He passes the Galérie des Variétés, arrives on the Great Boulevards, goes to a newspaper kiosk situated in the neighborhood, where he buys the Intransigeant which he puts in his pocket without unfolding it. He looks around him, saunters a few steps as if he was waiting for someone, then enters the Rue Le Peletier, re-enters the Banque Czorvocky and comes out almost immediately and goes up to his room. It is 14h.45.

  At 15h.01 he comes out again with his hat on his head and goes towards the Bourse, of which he mounts the steps, rapidly disappearing from us. After having looked for him, some instants at his usual place, where he does not appear, we go back to the Rue Le Peletier to watch there.

  At 16h.40 he reappears by the Rue Rossini, accompanied by an individual tall, brown-complexioned, and dressed in blue, apparently about forty years old. Mr. P. appears very worried and goes up to his room with the quidam described.

  At 17h.50 the latter comes out alone, by the Rue Le Peletier and disappears along the Great Boulevards.

  At 19h.30 Mr. P. has not reappeared. The watch is maintained until 8h. without anyone having seen him.

  July 25, 1931

  The watch is taken up at 8h. a.m. At 8h.30 Mr. P. comes out by Rue Le Peletier, goes at a pace not usual with him at such an hour, towards Rue St. Marc, rapidly crosses the Place de la Bourse and goes to the Café du Vaudeville, stays there ten minutes, comes back as rapidly as before towards the Great Boulevards, and enters this time the Maison du Café where he drinks coffee. He appears disquieted, comes out of the Maison du Café, and goes home at the same rapid rate. It is 9h.

  At 9h.10 we see enter very rapidly the person dressed in blue and holding an umbrella, the one we mentioned yesterday. This person goes upstairs, without any doubt to Mr. P.’s room and we are confirmed in this surmise by seeing him come down about ten minutes later, after making a sign of adieu to a person that we do not yet see and who stays behind him in the staircase. This person is none other than Mr. P., who, moreover, by the Boulevard des Italiens goes to the newspaper kiosk which is on the corner, whence he goes back home.

  We then take up a position near the florist’s shop at the entry to the Passage. It is 9h.30. At 9h.40 we perceive that a person is approaching us with muffled footsteps, from behind, and is spying upon us: a rapid glance behind permits us to recognize the personage in blue, of which there is mention above: after having stared us over from head to foot, he goes to Mr. P.’s place. At 11h.50 he comes out in company with the latter and we can hear the following words, ‘… it’s a filthy thing to do …’ Mr. P. and this person say good-by to each other at the subway station Opéra. Mr. P. comes back alone and immediately goes to the Bourse, which he enters at 12h.05.

  We have observed, during this period of surveillance, several persons pass and repass on several occasions each, looking us over with insistence, notably a man carrying a net bag containing some merchandise which we were not able to make out. This person came out of number 6 Rue Taitbout. Trailing him, we find ourselves in front of 9 Boulevard Montmartre.

  At 12h.40, Mr. P. is still at the Bourse.

  At 15h.30 we take up our stand at the angle of the Rue Le Peletier whence we watch the door by which Mr. P. is obliged to enter his house and we are warned by one of our ‘indicators’ that Mr. P., whom we have lost in the crowd at the Bourse, has just passed the Rue Vivienne, whence he is going rapidly towards the Great Boulevards. We immediately start on his trail, but it is in vain that, at the crossing of the Great Boulevards, we attempt to find Mr. P. We come back to Rue Le Peletier, but wait vainly, until 8h.30 the return of Mr. P. whose window is not even lighted up. We leave our watch, since we have no instructions to maintain it.

  July 28, 1931

  Mr. P. comes out at 9h.15. He has his hat and seems more and more wary. He goes by the Boulevard des Italiens to the Maison du Café where we see him talk and laugh with a lady in black who is drinking beside him. He comes out at 9h.30 and by the Rue Louis-Le-Grand goes to his barber in this street where he is shaved.

  At 10h. he goes to the Crédit Sennonais to look at the stock-exchange sheets, and then goes home. Some minutes afterwards we see the brown-complexioned person in blue, already mentioned, go up to his room.
At 11h. this person comes down alone, while our ‘indicator’ perceives the landlady of Mr. P., Mme. Calcaldo, at the window of Mr. P.’s room, looking attentively up and down the street, then turn round, at which moment, one sees the head of Mr. P. scarcely visible behind her, and disappearing rapidly.

  At 12h.30 Mr. P. comes out at a rapid pace, walks several meters, stops brusquely, coming towards us with a hostile air. He is pale and seems very angry. He continues his way, then, almost running up to the crossing Richelieu-Drouot and ourselves going along at a smart pace to keep him in view. There, he stops and turns round again. We hide behind a kiosk, but being alone in the watch, we lose sight of Mr. P. during the few seconds in which we hid behind the kiosk. We take our watch up again to the Rue Le Peletier and at 5h.30 of this afternoon, we see Mr. P. appear, his hat in his hand. He seems exhausted, and we see that his feet are covered with dust, like someone who has walked a long way. He goes straight home. At 8h. of the evening he has not come out again.

  The results of inquiries made by us in ‘special circles’ show Mr. P. as being an accountant at the Banque Czorvocky, Rue Le Peletier, where he is perfectly intimate with one of the directors, Dr. Marcuzo, Bulgarian Israelite, living Rue du Docteur-Blanche, at La Muette.

  The Banque Czorvocky is reputed to discount Russian drafts. An inquiry is being made on this subject. We are probably not wrong in supposing that Mr. P., who seems absolutely determined to break the trail, went to a correspondent where he receives orders and it is possible that this correspondent is Dr. Marcuzo. It is for his account, apparently, that Mr. P. gives Bourse orders to the mysterious personages that he meets almost everywhere. It would be wise then, in our opinion, to reinforce the watchers, particularly on Saturday afternoon and to take the chance of a surveillance after 8h.30 in the evening.

  Note. We recommend that the watch be doubled and kept up after 8h.30 p.m.

  Green Ray

  Jules and William and Alphendéry howled with laughter. Even the clients down in the stock-exchange room began to look upwards and titter.

  ‘At any rate, he gave Parouart a terrible scare,’ Jules remarked, ‘I suppose it was worth it. Olympe tells me that if I pay them a higher fee they will tell me the name of the person in blue.’

  ‘Olympe is very useful,’ William said with calm. ‘Get him to pick out anyone for you, lawyer, indicator, agent, and then take someone else, for you can be sure Olympe will have picked for himself the stupidest in the whole city. It’s instinct. It’s uncanny. To have such a sure touch!’

  Jules was speaking lazily over the telephone, ‘Pierre, what on earth’s the idea of sending me this? My messenger boy downstairs knows ten times as much as this about Parouart. No, of course, don’t continue the watch and don’t pay a higher fee. Good God! No, don’t get another detective agency. Let it slide. He hasn’t been near us since your beautiful agency advertised all over Paris that he was being watched. He’s been scared out of his wits: he does nothing but run to the Bourse and run home … We’ll never get anything on him now … Oh—’ He put down the telephone. ‘If it wasn’t that Claire-Josèphe adores Pierre. I knew him when I was flying. What can you do?’

  ‘I knew him too, when I was flying,’ said William grimly.

  ‘Oh, you—you’re the flat-footedest airman I ever saw.’

  Alphendéry put in, ‘Maes in Antwerp says he was thrown out by the Belgian police. I asked him to try and get his record. It’s not easy.’

  ‘Ah, I’d rather pay him than go to all that trouble for Parouart,’ cried Jules. ‘Next time he comes make out a check, William. Let him have the pleasure of blackmailing us. We can afford it and he can have the fun.’

  ‘Nothing doing,’ said William.

  ‘I looked up this chap with the unpronounceable name, Czorvocky. Marcuzo is the nominal chief but he doesn’t seem to have any money in it. He’s doing a nice little business in discounting German bonds. I wanted to do that: I could have made a fortune if you hadn’t put me off, Michel,’ said Jules, with annoyance. He resumed loftily, ‘He makes them loans, and they hand over the bonds and sign a paper. On the back of the paper, printed in nonpareil type, are at least a dozen excuses for him to sell the bonds the next day. They pay interest, too. Seems a smart fellow … Do you think Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern could get us that business, Michel? All grain merchants are plastered up in bonds.’

  Michel and Alphendéry started. ‘You went to see him?’

  ‘Sure. I went to see him as soon as I got the confidential report. I thought I might smell out how he did it and if I could steal some of the business. He’s got a nice little office, some grilles, some clerks, no business that I could see. I asked him about Parouart, saying he was placing orders with me. He looked queer at that. I suppose he’s paying him to make a stink round my place. He told me Parouart is connected with the police. If he tells me, it’s hard to believe; if he says it! He belongs to the special milieu they’re talking about … Forget it …’ his lip curled. ‘All these Balkan geniuses have got Russia on the brain, anyhow. Perhaps he is in with the Soviets. It made me suspect Léon’s scheme, too. I see it’s just a geographical obsession of theirs, not a great scheme at all. I thought it was original with Léon. They’re not Western European. Weltpolitik, heu! Want a finger in every pie. Want to make the whole world one big pie! They’ve got el-e-phant-i-asis,’ he pronounced with care.

  Alphendéry shot up to the defense of Léon. ‘He has his foolish hours, when he thinks he’s a field marshal of industry and then he makes his worst mistakes: ‘Don’t stop me, Alphendéry, don’t interrupt me!’ He’s Napoleonic and has a star: ‘My instinct tells me to do such-and-such and do it now. Even if you’re right, and I’m wrong, I’m right. The creative impulse can’t go wrong!’ He is a giant, he makes giant mistakes. He never stops to know whether he is ridiculous or sublime. Why should one? You can use such a man. To make profit out of a man who is such a natural ‘bull,’ you have only got to notice his good points. He is very simple at heart, good, generous, and a superb money-maker. Now this scheme …’

  ‘I don’t trust any Roumanian, or any Bulgarian, either,’ said Jules with petulance.

  ‘He doesn’t trust you, either, don’t worry,’ William consoled him. Jules turned his back on his elder brother.

  ‘Bomba has got all his publicity ready and Stevie Pentous is sailing for America tomorrow,’ he threw out at Alphendéry imperially.

  ‘Does Léon know?’

  ‘Where is Bomba now?’ asked William.

  ‘Bomba is in New York. Got there yesterday.’ Jules’s tone forbade exclamation and inquiry.

  ‘That’s fine,’ said William.

  ‘Does Stevie know anything about the scheme?’ Alphendéry was appalled.

  ‘Sure, I told him all about it and I gave him your notes. Besides, Dan Waters, who just came from official business in Germany, is going over on that boat and Stevie can explain it all to him on the way over.’

  ‘That might save the day; Waters is a brilliant fellow.’ Jules refused to answer any more.

  There was a knock at the door. A boy in uniform came in,

  ‘From Van Cleef and Arpels, sir.’

  ‘Here, give it to this gentleman.’ He pointed to Alphendéry. He signed for it, thrust his hand in his pocket, and, without looking, gave the boy a fifty-franc note. The boy said, ‘Sir?’

  ‘It’s yours. Go on, scamper,’ said Jules.

  Alphendéry was clumsily trying to undo a knot. He slipped off the string. In a purple velvet case, on purple satin, lay a long thick gold pencil. Alphendéry picked it up and let it roll back into his palm in surprise.

  ‘It’s your birthday, isn’t it?’ asked Jules.

  ‘Yes, but Jules—it weighs ounces. It must be pure gold.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be surprised—or nearly,’ said Jules carelessly. He took out his hat and coat and wrapped himself elegantly
in them. He always had the curious appearance of being less material than the rest of mankind, part of him seemed always to belong to the chiaroscuro of a room, to the dark substance of lampposts in a street. When he moved amongst the pillars downstairs, it was almost impossible to see him clearly. He passed through crowds of his clients and they never saw him unless they ran into him, face to face, when, if they were intimate, he gave them a steel handgrip. His hands were long, beautiful, sculptured, firm, as the hands of one whose family has been in high commerce for long generations. His handshake showed a most uncommon strength in that frail form.

  * * *

  Scene Fifty-five: Bomba

  July-August, 1931 Stevie Pentous played the grand seigneur all the way, trailed by enchanted telegraph boys and reporters. The first intimation of Stevie’s state of mind received by Alphendéry was a telegram from the luxury-liner Ile de France.

  DAN WATERS ABOARD STOP ARRANGING PARALLEL COTTON RACKET STOP MODIFYING YOUR SCHEME NO ATTRACTION AMERICAN PSYCHOLOGY ELIMINATING RUSSIAN BILLS STOP ARRANGING STRAIGHT CREDITS SCHEME STOP HAVE TELEGRAPHED DEMOCRITUS HERMES

  ‘Hermes’ meant Pentous; ‘Democritus’ meant Bomba.

  ‘But Russia is essential,’ cried Alphendéry. ‘Oh, I hope at least, Bomba understands the plan: he spent a week end in Amsterdam with Léon.’ This doubt was not settled by the telegram received from ‘Democritus’ in New York the next day.

  THALES, ANAXIMANDRE ASSURE INTERVIEW EMPEDOCLES AND LEUCIPPE IF ARRIVAL WITHIN MONTH STOP SUCCESS BEST OMENS STOP NEED TO WATER THE TIGRIS ONE THOUSAND THANKS DEMOCRITUS

  The translation of the code was penciled above. Thales = Waters, Anaximandre = Devlin-Smith (a Washington official who blew hot and cold in one breath according to Bomba), Empedocles = Jules himself (apparently Bomba, in traditional style, was sabotaging Stevie Pentous), Leucippe = the President of the U.S.A. himself (who being an engineer preferred material values). The ‘best omens’ was in keeping. ‘Need to water the Tigris’ Jules, without the help of classical learning, understood well enough meant ‘more money.’ Democritus = Theodor Bomba (a self-flattery; he likened himself to Democritus born in a colony where Asiatic culture entered into contact with Greek culture, the reference being to Berlin).