Across the shining stretches of floor, at the bottom of a well of yellow light, he saw his brief case waiting. The sight of it lying there reinforced his urge to be gone. But it was imperative that the leave taking be casual. If he mentioned it vaguely now, the suggestion would be easier to act upon in another five minutes. By then it would be eleven-thirty.
«Well,» he began, breathing in deeply and stretching, as if to rise.
«Do you know anyone who wouldn’t?» He suddenly realized that she was serious about whatever it was she was saying. There was something wrong with her; she ought to have been lying there contentedly, perhaps holding his hand or ruffling his hair and saying a quiet word now and then. Instead she was tense and restless, talking anxiously about wolves and monsters, seeking either to put something into his mind or to take something out of it; he did not know which.
«Do you?» she insisted, the words a despairing challenge. It was as if, had he been able to answer «Yes,» the sound of the word might have given her a little peace. He might have said: «Yes, I do know someone,» or even: «Yes, such a person exists,» and she would perhaps have been comforted. The world, that faraway place, would have become inhabitable and possible once again. But he said nothing. Now she took his hand, turned her face down to him coquettishly.
«Speaking of monsters, now that I recall your first evening here, I remember. God! You’re the greatest monster of all. Of course! With that great emptiness in your hand. But my God! Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember what I told you?»
«Not very much of it,» he said, annoyed to see his chance of escape being pulled further away from him. «I don’t take much stock in that sort of stuff, you know».
«Stock, indeed!» she snorted. «Everyone knows it’s perfectly true and quite scientific. But in any case, whether you take stock or not — what an expression! — just remember, you can do what you want. If you know what you want!» she added, a little harshly. «You have an empty hand, and vacuums have a tendency to fill up. Be careful what goes into your life».
«I’ll be careful,» he said, standing up. «I’m afraid I’ve got to be going. It’s getting late».
«It’s not late, darling,» she said, but she made no effort to persuade him to stay on. «Call a cab». She pointed to the telephone. «It’s 24–80».
He had not thought of that complication. «I’ll walk,» he said. «I need the exercise».
«Nonsense! It’s five miles. You can’t».
«Sure I can,» he said smiling.
«You’ll get lost. You’re mad». She was thinking: «He probably wants to save the money. Shall I tell him to have it put on our bill?» She decided against it. «Do as you like,» she said, shrugging.
As he took up his briefcase, she said: «I shall see you down to the door,» and despite his protestations she walked ahead of him down the stairs into the hall where a few candles still burned. The house was very still.
«The servants are all in bed, I guess,» he said.
«Certainly not! I haven’t dismissed Hugo yet». She opened the door. The wind blew in, rippling her peignoir.
«You’d better go up to bed. You’ll catch cold».
He took the hand she held forth. «It was a wonderful evening,» he declared.
«Luis will be back in a few days. You must come to dinner then. I’ll call you, darling».
«Right». He backed away a few steps along the gravel walk.
«Turn to your left there by that clump of bamboo. The gate’s open».
«Good night».
«Good night».
Stepping behind the bamboo thicket, he waited to hear her close the door. Instead, he heard her say: «Ah, Hugo. There you are! You may lock the gate after Mr. Dyar».
«Got to do something about that,» he thought, walking quickly to the right, around the side of the house to the terrace where the swimming pool reflected the stars in its black water. It was a chance to take, because she would probably have been watching, to see him go out through the gate. But she might think he already had slipped out when she was not looking; otherwise it would be very bad. The idea of just how bad it could be struck him with full force as he hesitated there by the pool, and as he hurried ahead down the steps into the lower garden he understood that he had committed an important tactical error. «But I’d have been locked out of the garden, God damn it,» he thought. «There was nothing else I could do».
He had now come out from behind the shadow of the house into the open moonlight. Ahead of him something which had looked like part of the vegetation along the path slowly rose and walked toward him. «Let’s go,» said Thami.
«Shut up,» Dyar whispered furiously. At the moment they were in full view of the house.
And as she strained to identify the second person, even to the point of opening one of the doors and silently stepping out onto the terrace to peer down through the deforming moonlight, the two men hurried along the path that led to the top of the cliff, and soon were hidden from her sight.
4
Another Kind of Silence
XX
Dyar lay on his back across the rear seat of the boat, his hands beneath his head, looking up at the stars, vaguely wishing that at some time or another he had learned a little about astronomy. The rowboat they had brought along to get aboard and ashore in scudded on top of the dark waves a few feet behind him, tied to a frayed towing rope that was too short. He had started out by arguing about the rope, back at Oued el Ihud when they were bobbing around out there a hundred feet or so from the cliffs, trying to attach the two craft together, but then he had decided to save his words for other, more important, things. And in any case, now that the Jilali was away from the land, he paid no attention to what was said to him, feeling, no doubt, that he was master of the immediate situation, and could afford to disregard suggestions made by two such obvious landlubbers as Thami and the crazy Christian gentleman with him. The moment of greatest danger from the police had been passed when the Jilali was rounding the breakwater, before the others had ever got into the boat. Now they were a good mile and a half from shore; there was little likelihood of their being seen.
From time to time the launch passed through choppy waters where the warmer Mediterranean current disagreed with the waves moving in from the Atlantic. Small whitecaps broke and hissed in the dark alongside, and the boat, heaving upward, would remain poised an instant, shuddering as its propeller left the water, and then plunging ahead like a happy dolphin. To the right, cut out by a razor blade, the black mountains of Africa loomed against the bright sky behind them. «This lousy motor’s going to give us trouble yet,» thought Dyar: the smell of gasoline was too strong. An hour ago the main thing had been to get aboard; now it was to get ashore. When he felt the land of the Spanish Zone under his feet he supposed he would know what the next step was to be; there was no point in planning unless you knew what the possibilities were. He relaxed his body as much as he could without risking being pitched to the floor. «Smoke?» called Thami.
«I told you no!» Dyar yelled, sitting up in fury, gesturing. «No cigarettes, no matches in the boat. What’s the matter with you?»