Klein went on to describe the cells slimed with damp, the floors deep in filth, the raped boys who, once corrupted, sold themselves for a few lei, and all the new crimes that came into existence in this community of men packed together with the hatreds, angers and lusts of propinquity.
‘How terrible!’ said Harriet.
Klein laughed: ‘But so interesting!’ He explained that he had never been officially released but had made a condoned escape. ‘And when they told me I might escape, almost I did not wish to leave, it was so interesting. Almost I wished I might stay to hear the end of so many scandals and feuds, and plots and plans. It was like leaving a world.’
At last the head waiter came himself and slapped their bill down in the middle of the table. When they had no choice but to go, Guy invited Klein and David to come back to the flat for tea, but they were going to the Minerva for a private talk. David agreed to call in later and Harriet, rather thankfully, took Guy home alone.
When they were indoors, he handed her a sealed envelope on which was written ‘Top Secret’ and said: ‘Sheppy gave these out. He says they’re to be kept under lock and key. I’m afraid of losing mine. Put it away for me, somewhere safe.’
Most of the drawers of the flat had locks but not one lock a key. Harriet put the envelope into a small drawer inside the writing-desk, saying: ‘It should be safe there. After all, we’re the only people in the flat.’
15
Clarence, returning from his party with the Polish officers, made his appearance after tea. He entered unsteadily, tried to cross the room and fell, instead, into a chair. Despina, who had admitted him, went out exploding with laughter.
‘I want to get drunk,’ said Clarence.
Harriet said: ‘You are drunk.’
He waved an arm laxly in the air. ‘Tell Despina to go out and bring back lots of beer.’
‘All right, where’s the money?’
‘Ha, you spoil everything,’ Clarence grumbled. He shut his eyes.
Despina now made an excuse to return and take another look at him. He shouted at her: ‘Hey, Despina, buy beer,’ and handed her a hundred lei.
‘You won’t get drunk on a hundred lei,’ said Harriet.
‘I don’t want to get drunk. I am drunk. I only want to stay drunk.’
Guy, who had been reading, put down his book, saying: ‘Stop wrangling, you two,’ and produced a five-hundred-lei note. He sent Despina for the beer. While she was out, David arrived, his cap and shoulders white with snow. When he had taken off his outdoor clothes and settled by the fire, he noticed Clarence sprawling, eyes shut, sulky and uncomfortable, and asked with derision:
‘What’s the matter with Clarence?’
‘He’s drunk,’ said Harriet.
‘Not exactly drunk,’ Clarence’s beautiful and gentle voice came as though from a great distance, ‘but I hope to be.’
Harriet said: ‘Do you want to get drunk, too, David?’
‘I don’t mind.’ David looked round for a drink.
‘It’s coming.’
Despina came back with a boy carrying a crate of beer. Excited by the sight of it, Guy jumped up, saying: ‘Let’s have a party. Let’s invite everyone we can think of.’
‘Oh, no.’ Clarence roused himself. ‘There won’t be enough,’ but Guy was already at the telephone ringing Inchcape. Inchcape said the snow was falling heavily; and he was in no mood to come out. Guy then tried to contact Dubedat, whom he thought might, for some reason, be at the Doi Trandafiri. While a piccolo was searching the café for Dubedat, Guy, with nothing to do but hold the receiver, reaffirmed his belief that Dubedat should be invited to move into the spare room.
‘A man is made by his circumstances,’ said Guy. ‘If you want to change him, you must change his circumstances.’
Harriet was aggrieved by Guy’s persistence, yet felt an irritated respect for it. She replied sharply: ‘He can change his own circumstances. He’s earning money now. You should not deprive him of initiative.’
Her tone caused in the other two a slightly embarrassed stir, so that she felt annoyed both with herself and with Guy.
Learning that Dubedat was not to be found in the Doi Trandafiri, Guy rang the English Bar to see whom he could find there. David, impatient with the disconnected conversation that resulted, began to talk of a visit he planned to make to the peasant leader, Maniu, who had a house at Cluj. Clarence sighed ostentatiously and said: ‘Oh Lord!’ When David gazed at him in surprised enquiry, he giggled and said: ‘Why don’t you learn to talk to yourself David?’
David’s left eyebrow rose, his small mouth turned to one side. Surveying Clarence’s abandoned figure with amused contempt, he said: ‘Because, my dear Clarence, I don’t want to talk to myself.’
‘Then you have more sympathy with others.’ After a moment Clarence, struck by his own wit, began to laugh helplessly.
David watched him with an expression that asked the world: ‘Have you ever seen a more ludicrous sight?’
Suddenly aware of the irritated tedium in the room, Guy put down the receiver, jumped up and said: ‘More beer?’ His return to the centre of things restored the atmosphere, and David, a full glass in his hand, asked: ‘Well, what’s been happening here since war broke out?’
Guy said: ‘Apart from the assassination, nothing.’
Clarence suddenly shouted: ‘Sheppy’s Fighting Force.’
There was a pause. David, his tone not much interested, his glance acute, asked: ‘What is Sheppy’s Fighting Force?’
There was another pause, then Guy, torn between the need for discretion and the desire to entertain his friend, said: ‘We’re supposed to keep quiet about it.’
‘David’ll be dragged in,’ said Clarence. ‘Everybody’ll be dragged in, except me. I opted out. I said to him,’ Clarence waved his glass about, ‘I said: “I’m a pacifist. I’m not prepared to take life. I’d like to know exactly what you want us to do.” “I’m not at liberty to tell you what you’re expected to do,” said Sheppy. So I said: “I think it would save time if I told you, here and now, I’m not at liberty to do it.”’
Laughing in spite of himself, Guy agreed: ‘He did say that.’
Clarence, revivified by the beer and his own brilliance, burst in: ‘I said: “I’m seconded from the British Council. The Council does not permit its members to take part in anything but cultural activities.” And Sheppy said’ – here Clarence flung a finger into air and made a drunken effort to imitate Sheppy’s peremptory tone – ‘“You are called here as Englishmen – young, robust, patriotic Englishmen who ought to be on active service and for one reason or another are not. You are required to perform an important mission …” “I’m not robust,” I said, “I have a weak chest.”’ Here Clarence subsided again, giggling to himself.
Harriet, sitting forgotten outside the circle, saw David smile at Guy in innocent enquiry: ‘Who is this fellow Sheppy?’
‘He’s out here to organise a sort of private army.’
‘What does he expect to do?’
‘It’s all very hush-hush.’
‘Have you signed the Official Secrets Act?’