The Alexandria Quartet - Lawrence Durrell [300]
Nothing of much interest. Manuscript of a novel. The whole business came as a complete surprise. He had been drinking very heavily — as usual, I’m afraid. Yes.’
‘But …’ said Mountolive feebly, the rage and incredulity mixing in his mind like oil and water. ‘What on earth….’ His legs felt weak. He drew up a chair and sat down at the telephone crying peevishly: ‘Yes, yes, Telford — go on. Tell me what you can.’
Telford cleared his throat, aware of the interest his news was creating, and tried to marshal the facts in his fuddled brain.
‘Well, sir, we have traced his movements. He came up here, very unshaven and haggard (Errol tells me) and asked for you. But you had just left. Your secretary says that he sat down at your desk and wrote something — it took him some time — which he said was to be delivered to you personally. He insisted on her franking it
“Secret” and sealing it up with wax. It is in your safe now. Then he appears to have gone off on a … well, a binge. He spent all day at a tavern on the seashore near Montaza which he often visited. It’s just a shack down by the sea — a few timbers with a palm-leaf roof, run by a Greek. He spent the whole day there writing and drinking. He drank quite a lot of zibib according to the pro-prietor. He had a table set right down by the sea-shore in the sand. It was windy and the man suggested he would be better off in the shelter. But no. He sat there by the sea. In the late afternoon he ate a sandwich and took a tram back to town. He called on me.’
‘Good: well.’
Telford hesitated and gasped. ‘He came to the office. I must say that although unshaven he seemed in very good spirits. He made a few jokes. But he asked me for a cyanide tablet — you know the kind. I won’t say any more. This line isn’t really secure. You will understand, sir.’
‘Yes, yes’ cried Mountolive. ‘Go on, man.’
Reassured Telford continued breathlessly: ‘He said he wanted to poison a sick dog. It seemed reasonable enough, so I gave him one. That is probably what he used according to Dr Balthazar. I hope you don’t feel, sir, that I was in any way….’
Mountolive felt nothing except a mounting indignation that anyone in his mission should confer such annoyance by a public act so flagrant! No, this was silly. ‘It is stupid’ he whispered to himself. But he could not help feeling that Pursewarden had been
guilty of something. Damn it, it was inconsiderate and underbred
— as well as being mysterious. Kenilworth’s face floated before him for a moment. He joggled the receiver to get a clear contact, and shouted: ‘But what does it all mean?’
‘I don’t know’ said Telford, helplessly. ‘It’s rather mysterious.’
A pale Mountolive turned and made some muttered apologies to the little group of pashas who stood about the telephone in that dreary outhouse. Immediately they spread self-deprecating hands like a flock of doves taking flight. There was no inconvenience. An Ambassador was expected to be entrained in great events. They could wait.
‘Telford’ said Mountolive, sharply and angrily.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell me what else you know.’
Telford cleared his throat and went on in his slushy voice:
‘Well, there isn’t anything of exceptional importance from my point of view. The last person to see him alive was that man Darley, the schoolteacher. You probably don’t know him, sir. Well, he met him on the way back to the hotel. He invited Darley in for a drink and they stayed talking for some considerable time and drinking gin. In the hotel. The deceased said nothing of any special interest — and certainly nothing to suggest that he was planning to take his own life. On the contrary, he said he was going to take the night train to Gaza for a holiday. He showed Darley the proofs of his latest novel, all wrapped up and addressed, and a mackintosh full of things he might need for the journey —
pyjamas, toothpaste. What made him change his mind? I don’t know, sir, but the answer may be in your safe. That