The Complete Short Stories of Evelyn Waugh - Evelyn Waugh [10]
MR. SAYLE’S ROOMS IN MERTON.
Flowers, Medici prints and Nonesuch Press editions. Mr. Sayle is playing “L’Après midi d’un Faun” on the gramophone to an American aunt. He cannot dine with Adam.
MR. HENRY QUEST’S ROOMS IN
THE UGLIER PART OF MAGDALEN.
The furniture provided by the College has been little changed except for the addition of some rather repulsive cushions. There are photographs of Imogen, Lady Rosemary and Mr. Macassor’s son winning the Magdalen Grind. Mr. Henry Quest has just given tea to two freshmen; he is secretary of the J.C.R. His face, through the disability of the camera, looks nearly black, actually it forms a patriotic combination with his Bullingdon tie; he has a fair moustache.
Adam enters and invites him to dinner. Henry Quest does not approve of his sister’s friends; Adam cannot stand Imogen’s brother; they are always scrupulously polite to each other.
“I’M SORRY, ADAM, THERE’S A MEETING OF THE CHATHAM HERE TONIGHT. I SHOULD HAVE LOVED TO, OTHERWISE. Stay and have a cigarette, won’t you? Do you know Mr. Trehearne and Mr. Bickerton-Gibbs?”
Adam cannot stop, he has a taxi waiting.
Henry Quest excuses his intrusion to Messrs. Trehearne and Bickerton-Gibbs.
MR. EGERTON-VERSCHOYLE’S ROOMS
IN PECKWATER.
Mr. Egerton-Verschoyle has been entertaining to luncheon. Adam stirs him with his foot; he turns over and says:
“There’s another in the cupboard—corkscrew’s behind the thing, you know . . .” and trails off into incoherence.
MR. FURNESS’S ROOMS
IN THE NEXT STAIRCASE.
They are empty and dark. Mr. Furness has been sent down.
MR. SWITHIN LANG’S ROOMS
IN BEAUMONT STREET.
Furnished in white and green. Water colours by Mr. Lang of Wembley, Mentone and Thatch. Some valuable china and a large number of magazines. A coloured and ornamented decanter of Cointreau on the chimneypiece and some gold-beaded glasses. The remains of a tea party are scattered about the room, and the air is heavy with cigarette smoke.
Swithin, all in grey, is reading the Tatler.
Enter Adam; effusive greetings.
“Adam, do look at this photograph of Sybil Anderson. Isn’t it too funny?”
Adam has seen it.
They sit and talk for some time.
“Swithin, you must come and dine with me tonight—please.”
“Adam, I can’t. Gabriel’s giving a party in Balliol. Won’t you be there? Oh no, of course, you don’t know him, do you? He came up last term—such a dear, and so rich. I’m giving some people dinner first at the Crown. I’d ask you to join us, only I don’t honestly think you’d like them. It is a pity. What about tomorrow? Come over to dinner at Thame tomorrow.”
Adam shakes his head. “I’m afraid I shan’t be here,” and goes out.
AN HOUR LATER.
Still alone, Adam is walking down the High Street. It has stopped raining and the lights shine on the wet road. His hand in his pocket fingers the bottle of poison.
There appears again the vision of the African village and the lamenting wives.
St. Mary’s clock strikes seven.
Suddenly Adam’s step quickens as he is struck by an idea.
MR. ERNEST VAUGHAN’S ROOMS.
They stand in the front quadrangle of one of the uglier and less renowned colleges midway between the lavatories and the chapel. The window blind has become stuck halfway up the window so that by day they are shrouded in a twilight as though of the Nether world, and by night Ernest’s light blazes across the quad, revealing interiors of unsurpassed debauchery. Swithin once said that, like Ernest, Ernest’s rooms were a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. The walls are devoid of pictures except for a half-finished drawing of Sir Beelzebub calling for his rum, which, pinned there a term ago, has begun to droop at the corners, and, spattered with drink and leant against by innumerable shoulders, has begun to take on much the same patina as the walls. Inscriptions and drawings, ranging from almost inspired caricature to meaningless or obscene scrawlings, attest Ernest’s various stages of drunkenness.
“Who is this Bach? I have not so much as heard of the man. E. V.” runs across the bedroom door in an unsteady