Читать книгу Captain Nicholas - Hugh Walpole - Страница 12

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Opening the door, he found himself in a little stuffy hall, with a large palm, a soiled settee, two shabby chairs, and an aperture on the left; behind this last a stout woman with untidy yellow hair was seated.

“Good-evening,” he said, smiling his charming smile.

The lady looked up, scowling, then seeing so elegant a gentleman, patted her hair and looked at him expectantly.

“Is a gentleman, Mr. Mandez, staying here?”

She turned over the pages of a book.

“What name?”

“Mandez.”

“No, I don’t think—oh, yes——”

“He’s expecting me.”

She leaned forward and cried: “Henry, see if the gentleman in Number Ten is in.”

A long, thin youth appeared apparently from the middle of the palm.

“What name?” she asked.

“Oh, never mind—say the gentleman he’s expecting.”

Henry disappeared.

“Nice weather we’re having,” she remarked.

“Yes, aren’t we?” said Nicholas, very friendly. “It will soon be proper spring.”

“Yes—I like the spring. What I mean is, you know the winter’s over.”

“Business good?” Nicholas asked.

“Oh, mustn’t complain—not what it was, of course, but then nothing is, what with the slump an’ all.”

He could see that she was stirred with a great curiosity. It wasn’t often that a gentleman like this visited the hotel. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Henry appeared.

“Gentleman’s in his room,” he remarked. He, too, stared at Nicholas as though he had never seen anything like him.

“Take the gentleman up.”

She leaned out, looking after him. Another lady appeared from nowhere. They began an eager conversation.

The stairs were dark and smelt—as Nicholas had expected—of drains, sour beer, and tobacco. The passage was so dark that the doors were invisible, but there was a knock and Mandez stood there, his lighted room illuminating him. Nicholas went in, closing the door after him.

So here was little Abel again, just as he had been in so many other places, the room with its frowsty smell, untidy litter, so like all the other rooms of his that he might be a snail who carried his house on his back.

Nicholas sniffed.

“I say—open the window a minute.”

As Nicholas looked at the man it seemed to him, as it always did after an absence, that he was greeting part of himself. Abel Mandez was short and sturdy, with a round childlike, plump, brown face. He had great breadth of shoulder, width of chest, strong arms, but his legs were small and meagre. He had small hands and feet. His hair was of a jet-gleaming blackness, and his brown face clean-shaven, almost bare of eyebrows, naked. He had black eyes, very white teeth which he often showed because he smiled continually. He was a Jamaican half-caste. He was dressed very quietly in a dark brown suit, and he was wearing brown bedroom slippers. The backs of his brown hands were covered with thick black hairs. His little eyes, his mouth, his whole body were smiling, for he loved Nicholas more than any man, woman, or child in the world. He loved him and blackmailed him, robbed him, stole from him.

“Well, Abel,” Nicholas said after he had watched him open the window. “How are you? What a filthy room this is!”

It was filthy with its stained wall paper, a bed unmade, a basin with dirty water in it.

“Yes,” said Abel. “I’ve been sleeping all afternoon.” They sat down near to one another.

“How are you, Captain?” said Abel. “It’s damned good seeing you again.” Indeed, he could not take his eyes from Nicholas. He looked at him, grinning, as though he had never seen him before, as though he had never known that there was anyone so splendid in the world.

“Have a drink?” said Abel.

“No, thanks. How did you know where I was?”

“Why, Captain, sure. I know everything you do, every place you go. Sure I do. You know that. I’m your friend.”

Nicholas looked at him and thought that yes, that was probably true. Abel was perhaps the only friend he had in the world. Yet he would rob him without mercy, murder him perhaps if there was enough reward offered. But he would be sorry afterwards—he would be sorry and lonely and unhappy for the rest of his life.

“Yes—well—all right,” said Nicholas. “I’ve only come in for a moment—just to say that it’s no good your hanging around this time. There’s nothing to get, and after tonight I don’t see you again. Understand?”

Abel crossed his little legs while his fingers were busy rolling a cigarette.

“Certainly, Captain, I understand. How’s Lizzie?”

“Never mind about Lizzie. I’ve only come back here to say the one thing. You’d better get back to where you came from.”

“Sure. How long are you going to stay where you are?”

“Never mind how long. I’m with my own people, and that’s just where you don’t come in. If you show your face anywhere near me while I’m in London, I’ll have you gaoled.”

“Why, yes, I understand.” Abel drew his chair a little closer. “But don’t go for a minute. It’s good to see you again. I miss you something terrible—honest I do.”

And Nicholas felt it also. This man had been mixed up with so much of his life, with all the rottenest part of it. To be with him was so easy, familiar. He could be himself. There was nothing to conceal. Abel was bad all through, there was nothing he would stop at if his passions of lust, fear, greed, jealousy were driving him. And Nicholas liked that. He liked a man who would stop at nothing and about whom there was nothing concealed, no nonsense, no hypocrisy, no fine sentiment. Yes—but this time Abel must keep off.

He got up. “No, I mean it. Every word of it. I’ve come here only to say that. Don’t let me see your dirty little face or handle one of your mean little letters while I’m here. I’ve said this before, and you haven’t believed it. But now you’ve got to believe it or you’ll be sorry.”

“O.K., Captain.”

Abel also rose. They stood close together, Nicholas by far the taller, magnificent, superior; the little man like a dog, watching, at his feet.

“I haven’t a sou in the world, Captain,” Abel said.

Nicholas took the loose change from his pocket and put it on the table.

“There! That’s all I have on me.”

“That’ll do for the present.”

“It’s got to do, now and ever. I’m sick to death of your following me. I’m going to lead a respectable, English, God-fearing life—the sort of life you haven’t the least notion of.”

“O.K., Captain.” Abel swept the silver into his pocket. Then they both laughed. Nicholas couldn’t help himself, for it was like being at home again to see that round plump face, the small sparkling eyes, the restless brown hands.

Nicholas moved to the door.

“Well, that’s enough. I’ve told you and you’ve heard. You don’t need telling again. If you come near me or interfere in any way whatever, I’ll break your neck.”

Abel put his hand on Nicholas’s arm. For a moment they stood close together.

“Good-night,” Nicholas said sharply and went.