Chapter 4 Chapter Three introduces Mr. Robinson

About six weeks later, in Bloomsbury, a young man knocked cautiously at the door of a room, and was told to enter. This is a small room.Behind the desk, a fat middle-aged man sat listlessly on a chair.He was wearing a crumpled suit with cigar ashes on the front.The windows were closed, and the air in the room was almost unbearable. "Huh?" said the fat man irritably, half-closed his eyes as he spoke, "What's the matter this time?" It was said that Colonel Pikeway slept with his eyes only slightly closed, or that he woke with them only slightly open.It was also said that his name was not Parkway, nor was he a colonel.Of course, some people can say anything!

"Sir, here comes Edmondson from the Foreign Office." "Oh," said Colonel Pikeway. He blinked, seemed to be falling asleep again, and whispered: "He was third secretary at our embassy in Ramat at the time of the revolution. Right?" "Yes, sir." "Well, I think I'd better see him," said Colonel Pikeway, less interested.He sat up a little bit, and brushed the cigarette ash off his big belly a little. Mr. Edmondson was a tall, fair-haired young man, well dressed and behaved to match, with an air of indifference. "Colonel Pikeway? I'm John Edmondson. They say you--well--might want to see me."

"Really? Well, they ought to know," said Colonel Pikeway. "Sit down," he added. His eyes began to close again, but before they did, he said: "You were in Ramat when the revolution happened." "Yes, I am. It's a dirty business." "I suppose so. You're Bob, Rawlinson's friend, aren't you?" "Yes, I have known him very well." "You should say you knew him well in the past," said Colonel Pikeway. "He's dead." "Yes, sir, I know. But I'm not sure..." He stopped. "You don't have to be so cautious about what you say here," Colonel Pikeway said. "On the day of the revolution, Rawlinson flew Ali Yusuf out of Ramat. Since then, there has been no news of the plane. It may have landed in an inaccessible place, or it may have crashed. The wreckage of a plane has been found in the mountains of Arolis. There are two bodies. The news will be released to the press tomorrow. Is that right? "

Edmondson admitted he was right. "We know everything here," said Colonel Pikeway. "That's our job. Flying into the mountains. Possibly weather conditions. Reasonable to believe sabotage. Time bomb. We haven't had all the reports yet. Airplane crash. It is difficult for people to enter the place. There was a reward for finding the plane, but it took a long time to carry out this kind of thing. Later, we had to send the plane to send our own experts to investigate. Of course, there are all kinds of cumbersome procedures. You need to apply to the foreign government, There are ministerial approvals, bribes - not to mention local farmers stealing what they need."

He stopped and looked at Edmondson. “It’s a sad story,” Edmondson said. “Prince Ali Yusuf could have been a very enlightened ruler who stuck to democratic principles.” "That poor fellow probably died for that," said Colonel Pikeway, "but we can't waste our time telling the sad story of the king's death. We've been asked to conduct some kind of—investigation. It's the people involved." , that is, people close to Her Majesty's government." He stared at the other person, "You know what I mean?" "Well, I've heard about it," Edmondson said reluctantly.

"You may have heard that nothing of value was found either on the body or in the wreckage of the plane, and that nothing of value was known to have been stolen by the locals. Of course, no one can say anything about the peasants. No. They're as tight-lipped as the Foreign Office. What else do you hear?" "Didn't hear anything else." "Didn't you hear that maybe something of value should have been found? Why did they send you to me?" "They said you might want to ask me some questions," Edmondson said primly. "If I ask you a question, I expect an answer," Colonel Pikeway pointed out.

"It's a matter of course." "Son, you don't take that for granted. Did Bob Rawlinson say anything to you before he flew the plane out of Ramat? Ali trusted him, if he trusted anyone. Come on, say it, he What did you say?" "About what, sir?" Colonel Pikeway stared at him and scratched his ear. "Ah, well," he murmured, "this one won't tell, that one. I think you're overdoing it! If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you don't, and that's all. " "I think there's something—" said Edmondson cautiously and reluctantly, "something important that Bob might want to say to me."

"Ah," said Colonel Pikeway, with the air of finally opening the gourd, "very interesting. Tell you what you know." "We agreed that all of Ramat's telephones were tapped. Bob had a chance to hear something at the palace, and I sometimes had some useful information to share with him. Therefore, when the two of us telephoned, if the prescribed Speaking of a girl or a few girls in a way, and saying she's 'rare in the world', that means something happened!" "Is this or that important information?" "Yes. At the beginning of that play, Bob called me and used that phrase. I made an appointment with him at our regular hangout—outside a bank. But the riot It broke out in that area and the police blocked the road. I couldn’t connect with Bob and he couldn’t connect with me. That very afternoon he flew Ali out of Ramat.”

"So that's it," Packway said. "Do you know where he called?" "I don't know. You can fight anywhere." "It's a pity." He paused for a while, and then asked casually: "Do you know Mrs Sutcliffe?" "Bob Rawlinson's sister, you mean? Of course, I met her at Ramat. She stayed there with her schoolgirl. I don't know her very well." "Was she intimate with Bob Rawlinson?" Edmondson considered it. "No, I don't think it's very close. She's much older than him, like his older sister. And he doesn't like his brother-in-law—always calls him a pompous ass."

"He's a jackass! One of our famous industrialists--those industrialists have a lot of pomp! So you think Bob Rawlinson won't tell his sister Lo a big secret?" "It's hard to say - no, I don't think so." "I don't think so either," said Colonel Pikeway. He sighed. "Well, so be it. Lady Sutcliffe and her daughter are returning home on the Queen of the Orient. Docking at Tilbury to-morrow." He was silent for a while, looking thoughtfully at the young man opposite him.Then, as if having made up his mind, he held out his hand and said briskly:

"Thank you so much for coming here." "I'm sorry, but I can't be of much use to you. Is there really nothing I can do for you?" "No, no. I don't think so." John Edmondson is gone. The cautious young man returned to the room. "I thought maybe I could send him to Tilbury to give the sister the news," said Packway, "of her brother's friend—and so on. But I decided not to. He's too dull. Trained by the Foreign Office. Not improvised. I'm going to send that—what's the name?" "Derek?" "That's right." Colonel Pikeway nodded approvingly. "You're starting to see what I mean, aren't you?" "I'm trying to do that, sir." "Thinking is not enough. You have to succeed. Go and get Lonnie for me first. I have a task for him." Colonel Pikeway was evidently about to fall asleep when the young man named Lonny entered the room.He was tall and cheerful, but he knew little manners. Colonel Pikeway looked at him for a moment, then grinned. "What do you think you're going to get into a girls' school?" he asked. "A girls' school?" The young man raised his eyebrows." It's never been done before: what are they going to do? Make bombs in chemistry class?" "No such thing. A high school with a reputation. The Meadows." "Fangcaodi!" the young man whistled, "I can't believe it!" "Shut your ignorant mouth and listen to me carefully. The cousin and only close relative of the late Prince Ali Yusuf of Ramat, Princess Shesta, is going to study in Fang Meadow next term . until now, she has been studying in Switzerland." "What am I going to do? To abduct her?" "I don't know what's going to happen, who's going to show up, but if any friend we don't welcome is interested in her, report it. Watch and report to me, that's what you have to do." The young man nodded. "How do I get in and observe? Am I going to be an art teacher?" "The faculty are all women." Colonel Pikeway looked at him, thinking, "I think I'll have to make you a gardener." "gardener?" "Yes. I suppose you know something about gardening, don't you?" "Exactly. When I was young, I did a year's 'Your Garden' column in the Sunday Mail." "Hey!" said Packway, "what's the point! I don't need to know anything about gardening to have a gardening column--just copy a few nursery catalogs with red and green illustrations and a gardening encyclopedia. Then I know all the jargon." "Why not break the shackles of tradition and give your garden a truly tropical look this year? It's not too hardy, but it will grow well at the foot of the western wall." He paused, grinning, "Nothing Brilliant: those fools who went to buy those flowers, which froze to death when the early frosts came, regretted not sticking to the old way of growing wallflowers and forget-me-nots! No, my boy, I was talking real shit. Spitting on hands, picking up shovels, working with compost, laboriously manure-covering flower roots, tree roots, using Dutch hoes and all kinds, digging deep trenches for sweet peas - and all the rest words. Can you do it?" "I've been doing these jobs since I was a kid!" "Of course you did. I know your mother. All right! It's settled." "Is there a vacancy for a gardener in Fang Meadow?" "Sure," said Pikeway, "every garden in England is short of staff. I'll write you a few nice letters of introduction. You see, they'll literally snap you up. There's no time to waste, summer. The semester starts on the 29th." "I do gardener's work and keep my eyes open, don't I?" "Yeah, but if some precocious teenage girl acts on you and you react to it, God help you. I don't want you to be kicked out by the ear anytime soon." He took a piece of paper: "What name do you want to use?" "Adam seems appropriate." "What's your last name?" "The last name is Eden, what do you think?" "I don't really like your line of thinking. Adam Goodman would be a good name. Go talk to Jensen, put together your resume, and get to work." He looked at his watch. I don't have time to talk to you any further. I can't keep Robinson waiting. He should be here by now." Adam (to call him by his new name) was walking towards the door when he stopped. "Robinson?" he asked curiously. "Is he coming?" "I said he was coming." The desk bell rang. "Here he is, Mr. Robinson is always on time." "Tell me," Adam asked curiously, "who the hell is he? What's his real name?" "His name," said Packway, "is Mr. Robinson. That's all I know, and all the others know." The man who walked into the room didn't look like someone named Robinson, and he could never have been called Robinson.His name could have been Demetrius, or Vinsaxtan, or Perena—though he didn't have to be called one or the other.He doesn't have to be Jewish, or Greek, or Portuguese, or Spanish, or South American.He seemed most unlikely to be an Englishman named Robinson.He was fat and well-clothed, with a yellow face, melancholy black eyes, a broad forehead, and a large mouth showing great white teeth.His hands are beautifully shaped and well maintained.He speaks pure English without any foreign accent. He and Colonel Pikeway greeted each other like two reigning kings.They exchanged some kind words with each other. Then, when Mr. Robinson took a cigar, Parkway said: "Thank you very much for your help." Mr. Robinson lit his cigar, commented on the flavor with admiration, and finally said: "My dear friend, I'm thinking—you know, I hear things a lot, and I know a lot of people, and they keep telling me things. I don't know why." Colonel Pikeway made no comment as to why. He said: "I assume you've heard that Prince Ali Yusuf's plane has been found?" "It was last Wednesday," said Mr. Robinson. "The pilot was young Rawlinson. It was a difficult flight. But the crash was not Rawlinson's fault. Someone made a mess of it—a man named Al Ahmad's man—he's a senior mechanic. He's totally dependable—or so Rawlinson thinks he is. But he's not. Now he's got a well-paying job under the new regime." "It was destruction! We couldn't be sure. It's a tragic thing." "Yeah. That poor young man - I'm talking about Ali Yusuf - is incapable of dealing with corruption and conspiracy. His public school education is stupid - at least that's my opinion. But we Leave him alone now, right? He's the news of the night. There's nothing duller than a dead king. All we care about is what's left of the dead king. You have your law of concern and I have mine care method." "What's left over is—?" Mr. Robinson shrugged. "Small bank deposits in Geneva, modest bank deposits in London, considerable assets in his own country, which have now been taken over by the glorious new regime - I hear there is a lot of trouble over the division of assets." There was some discord—and a small personal possession at the end." "Small?" "These things are relative. At least, they are small and easy to carry around." "As far as we know. These things are not on Ali Yusuf." "No. Because he gave them to young Rawlinson." "Are you sure?" Colonel Pikeway asked alertly. "Well, I can't be sure of anything!" said Mr. Robinson apologetically. "There are always gossips in the palace, and they can't all be true. But there are many rumors that say so." "They weren't on young Rawlinson either." "In that case," said Mr. Robinson, "someone must have got them out of Ramat by some other means." "Any other way? Do you know?" "Rawlinson went to a café in the city after he took the jewels. He was not seen talking to or making contact with anyone in the café. Then he went to the Ritz-Savoy where his sister was staying. He went upstairs and stayed in her room for nearly twenty minutes. She was not there. Then he went to the commercial bank on the edge of Victory Square to cash a check. As he walked out of the bank, the commotion started. The students were rioting for some reason. It took a long time before they left the square. At this moment he went to the airstrip, where he, accompanied by Ahmad Zhongtu, checked the plane. "Ali Yusuf drove to inspect the new roadworks, parked the car at the airstrip, met Rawlinson, and offered to fly for a short flight to inspect the dam and the new roadworks from the air. They Take off and never come back." "Your inference is—?" "My dear friend, the reasoning is the same as yours. Why did Bob Rawlinson spend twenty minutes in her room, since his sister was out, and he was told she would not be back until evening? He gave She left a letter, a three-minute note. What did he do with the rest of the time?" "You mean he found a suitable place to hide the jewels in his sister's luggage?" "That seems to be the case, doesn't it? Mrs Sutcliffe evacuated with the rest of the English that same day. She flew to Aden with her daughter. I believe she will be in Tilbury tomorrow." Parkway nodded. "Take good care of her," said Mr. Robinson. "We're going to take good care of her," Packway said. "Everything is in order." "If the jewels were with her, she would be in danger." He closed his eyes. "I hate violence." "You think violence is likely?" "A lot of people have a stake in it. All kinds of nasty people—if you know what I mean." "I see what you mean," said Packway sullenly. "Of course they will cheat." Mr. Robinson shook his head. "What a mess!" Colonel Pikeway asked mildly: "Do you yourself have any special connection in the matter—ah—?" "I represent the interests of a certain group," said Mr. Robinson.There was a sense of reproach in his voice: "Those gems, many of which were sold to His Royal Highness the late Prince by my joint venture - were sold at fair and reasonable prices. As for the parties I represent, I It can be boldly said that the deceased original owner would have given them permission to find those jewels. I don’t want to say too much, this kind of thing is very delicate.” "You must be on the angel's side," said Colonel Pikeway, smiling. "Ah, Angel! Angel's side--yes." He paused. "Do you know who lives on either side of Mrs. Sutcliffe's and her daughter's rooms here in the Ts-Savor Hotel?", Colonel Pikeway Seems to be in the dark. "Let me think about it - I believe I know. On the left is Angelica da Toledo - a Spanish woman - ah - asking to be a dancer at a local bar. She doesn't actually have to be Spanish She is not necessarily a good dancer, but she is very popular among the customers. On the other side, as far as I know, there is a school teacher who is traveling with some people." Mr. Robinson smiled approvingly. "You always do. I've come to tell you the news, but almost always you already know." "No, no," Colonel Pikeway politely denied. "Just between the two of us," said Mr. Robinson. "We know a lot." They look at each other. "I hope," said Mr. Robinson, rising to his feet, "that we know enough."

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