Boredom - Alberto Moravia [96]
I went in, and he rose to his feet, holding out his hand and introducing himself: “Major Mosconi.” I sat down and for a moment looked at him, first at his meager face and worn black suit and twisted tie, and then at the old ink stains that speckled the top of the desk. I wondered what all this could possibly have to do with Cecilia and me, and the answer was: nothing. I said, however: “There’s a person I want to have watched.”
The major answered in a prompt, brisk tone: “That’s what we’re here for. Is it a man or a woman?”
“A woman.”
“Is this woman your wife?”
“No, I’m not married. It’s somebody to whom I am bound by special affection.”
“Then it’s a case of pre-matrimonial investigations?”
“Call it that, if you like.”
The major indicated, by a gesture, that he did not wish to insist, that it was not necessary for me to say any more. He asked: “For what reason do you want to have this person watched?”
I looked at him again. For the director of an agency that called itself “Falcon,” he had a face which seemed to contradict that sharp-eyed appellation in every possible way. His eyes, deep-set, small, lusterless, expressionless, made one think not so much of a falcon as of a blind finch. With a roughness that gave me a certain satisfaction, I said: “I have very good reasons for believing that this person is unfaithful to me.”
It was quite obvious that the major was unwilling to come quickly to the main point of the question by way of the very simple truth; and this, it appeared, was more in order to uphold the decorum of his office than because he had not understood what it all about. “Is this person married?” he asked.
“No, she’s unmarried.”
“Are you married?”
“I’ve already told you that I’m not.”
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t remember. And so you have the impression that this young lady...it is a question of a young lady, is it not?”
I could only confirm this, impatiently: “Obviously.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t explain myself: I wished to know whether it is a question of a young lady of good family or of a woman who lives on her own and leads an independent life?”
“It’s a young lady of good family.”
“I could have sworn it was,” he affirmed mysteriously.
This time I could not refrain from asking: “Why could you have sworn it was?”
“Those are the ones who give us most trouble. Very young girls, of eighteen or twenty. And so you have the impression that the young lady is unfaithful to you?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“It’s the usual reason. You must excuse my saying so, but ninety per cent of those who come here say the same things. And alas, in at least sixty per cent of these cases, suspicions are shown to be well founded.”
“If their suspicions are well founded, why then do they have recourse to your agency?”
“In order to have a mathematical certainty.”
“And you—are you able to provide this certainty?”
The major shook his head with indulgent forbearance. “Look,” he said, “you might perhaps think that anybody can carry out certain inquiries. Even the interested party, you might think, but that isn’t so. There is as much difference between the inquiries of an amateur investigator and ours as there is between an analysis made by an amateur scientist, without proper means and without serious knowledge, and an analysis carried out in a scientific laboratory. If you wanted to find out whether you had a definite disease, would you go for an analysis to a charlatan,