Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [35]
"Do I intrude?" asked Corker. He was standing on the verandah outside the window, leaning into the room. "Oh dear," said the girl. She and William left the boat and stood among the shavings. "We were just trying the canoe," William explained. "Yes," said Corker. "Whimsical. How about trying the mistletoe?" "This is Mr. Corker, a fellow journalist." "Yes, yes. I see he is. I must go away now." "Not Garbo," said Corker. "Bergner." "What does he mean?" "He says you are like a film star." "Does he? Does he really say that?" Her face, clouded at Corker's interruption, beamed. "That is how I should like to be. Now I must go. I will send a boy for the valise." She went, pulling the collar of her raincoat close round her throat. "Not bad, old boy, not bad at all. I will say you're a quick worker. Sorry to barge in on the tender scene, but there's trouble afoot. Hitchcock's story has broken. He's at the Fascist headquarters scooping the world." "Where?" "Town called Laku." "But he can't be. Bannister told me there was no such place." "Well there is now, old boy. At this very moment it's bang across the front page of the Daily Brute and it's where we are all going or know the reason why. A meeting of the Foreign Press Association has been called for six this evening at the Liberty. Feeling is running very high in the bunch."
The German girl came back. "Is the journalist gone?" "Yes. I am sorry. I'm afraid he was rather rude." "Was he teasing, or did he really mean I was like a film star?" "I'm sure he meant it." "Do you think so too?" She leaned on the dressing-table studying her face in the mirror. She pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead; she turned her head on one side, smiled at herself, put out her tongue. "Do you think so?" "Yes, very like a film star." "I am glad." She sat on the bed. "What's your name?" William told her. "Mine is K�hen," she said. "You must put away the boat. It is in the way and it makes us seem foolish." Together they dismembered the frame and rolled up the canvas. "I have something to ask," she said. "What do you think is the value of my husband's specimens?" "I'm afraid I have no idea." "He said they were very valuable." "I expect they are." "Ten English pounds?" "I daresay." "More? Twenty?" "Possibly." "Then I will sell them to you. It is because I like you. Will you give me twenty pounds for them?" "Well, you know, I've got a great deal of luggage already. I don't know quite what I should do with them." "I know what you are thinking � that it is wrong for me to sell my husband's valuable specimens. But he has been away for six weeks now and he left me with only eight dollars. Frau Dressler is becoming most impolite. I am sure he would not want Frau Dressler to be impolite. So this is what we will do. You shall buy them and then, when my husband comes back and says they are worth more than twenty pounds, you will pay him the difference. There will be nothing wrong in that, will there? He could not be angry?" "No, I don't think he could possibly be angry about that." "Good. Oh, you have made me glad that you came here. Please, will you give me the money now? Have you an account at the bank?" "Yes." "Then write a cheque. I will take it to the bank myself. Then it will be no trouble to you." When she had gone, William took out his expense sheet and dutifully entered the single, enigmatic item: Stones... �20.
Every journalist in Jacksonburg, except Wenlock Jakes, who had sent Paleologue to represent him, attended the meeting of the Foreign Press Association, all, in their various tongues, voluble with indignation. The hotel boys pattered amongst them with trays of whisky; the air was pungent and dark with tobacco smoke. Pappenhacker was in the chair, wearily calling for order. "Order, gentlemen. Attention, je vous en prie. Order please. Messieurs, gentlemen..." "Order, order," shouted Pigge, and Pappenhacker's voice was drowned in cries for silence. "... secretary to read the minutes of the last meeting." The voice of the secretary could occasionally be heard above the chatter. "...held at the Hotel Liberty...Sir Jocelyn Hitchcock in the chair... resolution...unanimously passed...protest in the most emphatic manner against...Ishmaelite Government...militates against professional activities..." "... objections to make or questions to ask about these minutes ..." The correspondents for Paris-soir and Havas objected and after a time the minutes were signed. Pappenhacker was again on his feet. "Gentlemen, in the absence of Sir Jocelyn Hitchcock..." (Loud laughter and cries of "Shame!") "Mr. Chairman, I must protest that this whole question is being treated with highly undesirable levity." "Translate." "On traite toute la question avec une l