The Europe That Was by Geoffrey Household Page B

not—officially—a gentleman. He was safely seated in the stalls of this detestable comedy and could see what the actors did not.
    I drove round to the bank, and he had me shown into his office at once. He was very fond of Magda and Rob, and, I think, disapprovingly fond of me. He was horrified when he heard of sabres and took all the blame on himself. Given Rob’s character, he ought to have foreseen, he said, what might happen.
    I felt the disgrace so strongly that I had not even formulated to myself what I wanted him to do: to tell the police. I couldn’t allow Rob to be killed or sentenced. Magda was deeply in love with him, and he was the only man of first-class character likely to come her way who wouldn’t care whether she had money or not.
    Marguliesh understood all that without my having to stammer more than two words of it. ‘Just tell me the time and place,’ he murmured, ‘and forget you ever did.’
    I pointed out agitatedly that the police were inclined to malicious gossip. If they let it slip that their information came from Marguliesh, everyone would guess that I …
    â€˜Don’t worry about that,’ he replied. ‘It is often of great importance that information should not be traced to me.’
    Of course. Brokers, the market, issues of stock—he could handle all that. But what about the police?
    â€˜A man such as I in a country like this,’ Marguliesh said slowly in his melancholy way, ‘is unfortunately compelled to have his agents everywhere.’
    I told him the time and place of the meeting, horrified at what I was doing. He smoked half a cigarette and asked me a question or two. Then he said: ‘There is a pleasant little tavern some two kilometres up river from your sandbank. I think you know it?’
    I didn’t dare ask him why he thought so. It was a rendezvous which I had found useful for a very private and sentimental affair.
    â€˜Be there with Mr Tymson a good hour before the meeting. Any conversation you have will be overheard and reported to police headquarters.’
    â€˜But Rob and I will be speaking English,’ I protested.
    â€˜The person who composes the report,’ said Mr Marguliesh, ‘will not think it worth while to bother with too many details.’
    I called for Rob next morning at eleven. He was fiercely determined to appear normal. The only sign of nerves was in his language as he fumbled about the hotel bedroom looking for his matches. I told him that he wouldn’t need any matches—which was hardly the best way of putting it—and then had to explain that I had brought some. I knew he would keep on lighting his pipe until his right hand was otherwise occupied.
    It offended him to be looked after as if his thoughts were out of joint.
    â€˜Got the sabres?’ he asked sharply.
    â€˜Yes—and a picnic basket with drinks for the party when it’s all over.’
    â€˜Don’t the other fellows do anything?’
    I said they didn’t. As a matter of fact they were bringing the surgeon.
    â€˜What do we want to start so early for?’
    â€˜Just to get clear of the town in case the police suspect anything.’
    â€˜Blast the police!’ he exclaimed. ‘Slip twopence to the right man and he’ll fix the police for you.’
    These business men seemed to think alike. But in an affair of this kind it was not so easy. Police procedure was to give a polite and formal warning to principals and seconds. If that failed—and it was supposed to fail—the police tried to turn up when the duellists were already on the ground. That ended the quarrel, for the principals had already shown their courage, and nothing more was to be gained by firing in the air or very cautiously poking at each other with the fleurette. If, however, police were successfullyavoided, a duel fought and damage done, the criminal law was enforced—not so heavily as on a pair of