Loser Takes Al

There was a song when I was young—“and then my heart stood still”. That was what I felt when she began to make conditions. “Have you told him,” she asked, “about the shares?”

“No.”

“I can’t go on that boat with him not knowing. It would be too mean.”

“I promise I’ll clear it up—before sleep.”

She had her head lowered, so that I couldn’t see her face, and she sat very silent. I had used all my arguments: there was nothing more for me to say either. The night was full of nothing but chinking cups and running water. At last she said, “What are we waiting for?”

We picked up all the bags and then we walked across to the Casino. She hadn’t wanted to come, but I said, “I promised to bring you.” I left her in the hall and went through to the kitchen—he wasn’t there. Then I went to the bar, and then on to the Salle Privée. There he was, playing for the first time with a 500-franc minimum. A.N. Other was at the same table—the five-thousand squares littered the table around him. He sat in his chair with his fingers moving like mice. I leant over his shoulder and gave him his news, but he made no sign of interest, for the ball was bouncing now around the wheel. It came to rest in zero as I reached Philippe and the bank raked in their winnings.

I said to Philippe, “Cary’s here. I kept my promise.”

“Tell her not to come in. I am winning—except the last round. I do not want to be disturbed.”

“She won’t disturb you ever again.”

“I have won 10,000.”

“But it’s loser takes all,” I said. “Lose these for me. It’s all I’ve got left.”

I didn’t wait for him to protest—and I don’t think he would have protested.

TWO

The Gom that night was a perfect host. He showed himself so ignorant of our trouble that we began to forget it ourselves. There were cocktails before dinner and champagne at dinner and I could see that Cary was getting a little uncertain in her choice of words. She went to bed early because she wanted to leave me alone with the Gom. We both came out on to the deck to say good night to her. A small breeze went by, tasting of the sea, and the clouds hid moon and stars and made the riding lights on the yachts shine the brighter.

The Gom said, “Tomorrow night you shall persuade me that Racine is the greater poet, but tonight let me think of Baudelaire.” He leant on the rail and recited in a low voice, and I wondered to whom it was in the past that the old wise man with limitless ambitions was speaking.

Vois sur ces canaux

Dormir ces vaisseaux

Dont l’humeur est vagabonde;

C’est pour assouvir

Ton moindre désir

Qu’ils viennent du bout du monde.

He turned and said, “I am speaking that to you, my dear, from him,” and he put his arm around her shoulder, and then gave her a push towards the companion-way. She gave a sound like a small animal in pain and was gone.

“What was the matter?” the Gom asked.

“She was remembering something.” I knew what it was she was remembering, but I didn’t tell him.

We went back into the saloon and the Gom poured out our drinks. He said, “I’m glad the trick worked.”

“She may still decide to get off at Genoa.”

“She won’t. In any case we’ll leave out Genoa.” He added thoughtfully, “It’s not the first time I’ve kidnapped a woman.”

He gave me my glass. “I shan’t keep you up drinking tonight, but I wanted to tell you something. I’m getting a new assistant accountant.”

“You mean—you are giving me notice?”

“Yes.”

Unpredictable, the old bastard, I thought—to tell me this now, as his guest. Could it be that in my absence he had met and spoken with the Other? He said, “You’ll need a bigger income now you are married. I’m putting Arnold in charge of General Enterprises. You are to be chief accountant in his place. Drink your whisky and go to bed. They are getting up the anchor now.”

When I went down I wondered whether Cary’s cabin would be locked, but it wasn’t. She sat on one bunk with her knees drawn up to her chin staring through the porthole. The engines had started and we were moving out. The lights of the port wheeled around the wall. She said, “Have you told him?”

“No.”

“You promised,” she said. “I can’t go sailing down Italy in this boat with him not knowing. He’s been so terribly kind…”

“I owe him everything,” I said. “It was he who told me how to act to get you back. The trick was his. I could think of nothing. I was in despair.”

“Then you must tell him. Now. At once.”

“There’s nothing to tell. You don’t think after he’d done that for me, I’d cheat him with Blixon?”

“But the shares?”

“When I went to find Philippe, I took back the money I’d left for the Other. The option’s forfeited. The Other’s fifteen million richer—and Philippe has our last five million if he hasn’t lost it. We are back where we were.” The words were the wrong ones. I said, “If only we could be.”

“We never can be.”

“Never?”

“I love you so much more. Because I’ve been terribly mean to you and nearly lost you.”