Читать книгу Death and the Dancing Footman - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 23

‘No one person,’ Jonathan was saying, ‘is the same individual to more than one other person. That is to say, the reality of individuals is not absolute. Each individual has as many exterior realities as the number of encounters he makes.’

‘Ah,’ said Dr Hart, ‘this is a pet theory of my own. The actual “he” is known to nobody.’

‘Does the actual “he” even exist?’ Jonathan returned. ‘May it not be argued that “he” has no intrinsic reality since different selves arise out of a conglomeration of selves to meet different events?’

‘I don’t see what you mean,’ said William, with his air of worried bafflement.

‘Nor do I, William,’ said Hersey. ‘One knows how people will react to certain events, Jo. We say: “Oh, so-and-so is no go when it comes to such-and-such a situation.”’

‘My contention is that this is exactly what we do not know.’

‘But, Mr Royal,’ cried Chloris, ‘we do know. We know, for instance, that some people will refuse to listen to gossip.’

‘We know,’ said Nicholas, ‘that one man will keep his head in a crisis where another will go jitterbug. This war –’

‘Oh, don’t let’s talk about this war,’ said Chloris.

‘There are some men in my company –’ William began, but Jonathan raised his hand and William stopped short.

‘Well, I concede,’ said Jonathan, ‘that the same “he” may make so many appearances that we may gamble on his turning up under certain circumstances, but I contend that it is a gamble and that though under these familiar circumstances we may agree on the probability of certain reactions, we should quarrel about theoretical behaviour under some unforeseen, hitherto un-experienced circumstances.’

‘For example?’ asked Madame Lisse.

‘Parachute invasion –’ began William, but his mother said quickly: ‘No, William, not the war.’ It was the first time since dinner that Mandrake had heard her speak without being addressed.

‘I agree,’ said Jonathan. ‘Let us not draw our examples from the war. Let us suppose that – what shall I say –’

‘That the Archangel Gabriel popped down the chimney,’ suggested Hersey, ‘and blasted his trumpet in your ear.’

‘Or that Jonathan told us,’ said Nicholas, ‘that this was a Borgia party and the champagne was lethal and we had but twelve minutes to live.’

‘Not the Barrie touch, I implore you,’ said Mandrake, rallying a little.

‘Or,’ said Jonathan, peering into the shadows beyond the candle-lit table, ‘that my new footman, who is not present at the moment, suddenly developed homicidal mania and was possessed of a lethal weapon. Let us, at any rate, suppose ourselves shut up with some great and impending menace.’ He paused, and for a moment complete silence fell upon the company.

The new footman returned. He and Caper moved round the table again. ‘So he’s keeping the champagne going,’ thought Mandrake, ‘in case the women won’t have brandy or liqueurs. Caper’s being very judicious. Nobody’s tight, unless it’s William or Hart. I’m not sure of them. Everybody else is nicely, thank you.’

‘Well,’ said Jonathan, ‘under some such disastrous circumstance, how does each of you believe I would behave? Come now, I assure you I shan’t cavil at the strictest censure. Sandra, what do you think I would do?’

Mrs Compline raised her disfigured face. ‘What you would do?’ she repeated. ‘I think you would talk, Jonathan.’ And for the first time that evening there was a burst of spontaneous laughter. Jonathan uttered his high-pitched giggle.

‘Touché,’ he said. ‘And you, Madame Lisse?’

‘I believe that for perhaps the first time in your life you would lose your temper, Mr Royal.’

‘Nick?’

‘I don’t know. I think –’

‘Come on, now, Nick. You can’t insult me. Fill Mr Compline’s glass, Caper. Now, Nick?’

‘I think you might be rather flattened out.’

‘I don’t agree,’ said Chloris quickly. ‘I think he’d take us all in hand and tell us what to do.’

‘William?’

‘What? Oh, ring up the police, I suppose,’ said William, and he added in a vague mumble only heard by Mandrake: ‘Or you might go mad, of course.’

‘I believe he would enjoy himself,’ said Mandrake quickly.

‘I agree,’ said Hersey, to Mandrake’s surprise.

‘And Dr Hart?’

‘In a measure, I too agree. I think that you would be enormously interested in the behaviour of your guests.’

‘You see?’ said Jonathan in high glee. ‘Am I not right? So many Jonathan Royals. Now shall we go further. Shall we agree to discuss our impressions of each other, and to keep our tempers as we do so? Come now.’

‘How clever of Jonathan,’ thought Mandrake, sipping his brandy. ‘Nothing interests people so much as the discussion of their own characters. His invitation may be dangerous, but at least it will make them talk.’ And talk they did. Mrs Compline believed that Nicholas would suffer from extreme sensibility, but would show courage and resource. Nicholas, prompted, as Mandrake considered, by a subconscious memory of protective motherhood, thought his mother would console and shelter. William, while agreeing with Nicholas about their mother, hinted that Nicholas himself would shift his responsibilities. Chloris Wynne, rather defiantly, supported William. She suggested that William himself would show up very well in a crisis, and her glance at Nicholas and at Mrs Compline seemed to say that they would resent his qualities. Mandrake, nursing his brandy-glass, presently felt his brain clear, miraculously. He would speak to these people in rhythmic, perfectly chosen phrases, and what he said would be of enormous importance. He heard his own voice telling them that Nicholas, in the event of a crisis, would treat them to a display of pyrotechnics, and that two women would applaud him and one man deride. ‘But the third woman,’ said Mandrake solemnly, as he stared at Madame Lisse, ‘must remain a shadowed figure. I shall write a play about her. Dear me, I am afraid I must be a little drunk.’ He looked anxiously round, only to discover that nobody had been listening to him, and he suddenly realized that he had made his marvellous speech in a whisper. This discovery sobered him. He decided to take no more of Jonathan’s brandy.