Chapter 11 chapter Five

The morning of November 2nd descended in damp and gloom.The dining room at George's house was so dark that they had to light a lamp for breakfast. "Iris, contrary to her usual habit, did not ask for coffee and toast to be brought up, but came downstairs by herself, sitting at the table pale like a ghost, stirring the untouched breakfast on the plate George looked uneasily over the pages of The Times, while Lucilla Derek sat at the other end weeping into her handkerchief." "I know that sweet boy is going to do terrible things. He's so sensitive—he wouldn't say that if it wasn't a matter of life and death."

George, turning the pages of the paper, said sharply: "Please don't worry, Lucilla, I said I'd take care of it." "I know, my dear George, that you are always so kind. But I really feel that any delay may be irretrievable. All these inquiries you mention are time-consuming." "No, it won't, I'll rush them as soon as possible." "He said 'before the number three' and tomorrow will be the number three. I would never forgive myself if my kid had a third and a third." "No." George took a long sip of his coffee. "I still have some bonds to—"

"Lucila, leave everything to me." "Don't worry, Aunt Lucilla," Iris interposed. "George will take care of everything. It's not the first time this has happened." "It's been a long time." ("Three months," said George) "Not since the poor boy was tricked by his crooked friends on that dreadful farm." George wiped his beard with a napkin, stood up, and patted Mrs. Derek on the back kindly. "Cheer up, my dear, I'll send Ruth to telegraph." Iris followed her as he went into the living room. "George, don't you think our banquet should be postponed tonight? Aunt Lucilla is so upset, we'd better stay with her."

"Of course not!" George's face turned purple. "Why should that little bastard interfere with our lives? He's a rip-off, and it's not an exaggeration to say that. If I could do it my way, he'd be fine." Don't even try to get a dime." "Aunt Lucilla would never think so." "Lucila's a fool—always has been. These women who don't have children until they're forty never seem to learn how to be good. Children are spoiled by them from a young age, giving them what they want. If only Vito had a taste of it sooner." If you teach me a lesson, it won’t be like this today. Don’t argue with me, Iris. Before the dinner party, I will take care of it so that Lucilla can go to bed happily. If necessary, we can take her with me .”

"Oh no, she hates dining-rooms—and is prone to nodding off, poor aunt. She doesn't like the smoky, hot drafts of dining-room air, which give her asthma." "I know. I'm just talking. Go comfort her and make her happy, Iris. Tell her it's going to be all right." He turned and walked out the front door.Iris slowly returned to the restaurant.At this time, the phone rang and she came to answer it. "Hello—who?" Her face changed from hopelessly pale to joyful. "Anthony!" "It's Anthony. I called you yesterday and couldn't find you. Did you work hard on George?"

"What do you mean by that?" "Oh, George insisted on inviting me to your party tonight, almost obsessively, against his will! Insisted that I must go. I think it may be the result of your work." "No—no—that has nothing to do with me." "Is that because his own conscience discovered it?" "Neither. It's—" "Hey—are you still listening?" "I am still here." "What did you just say, what's the matter, dear! I hear you sigh. What's the matter?" "No--nothing. Tomorrow will be all right. Tomorrow will be all right."

"What a touching confidence. Didn't they say 'tomorrow never comes'?" "Don't make fun of me." "Iris—what happened?" "No, it's nothing. I can't tell you. I promised. You should understand." "Tell me, dear." "No—I really can't. Anthony, can you tell me something?" "If only I could." "Did you—did you ever fall in love with Rosemary?" There was a silence, and then a burst of laughter. "That's how it goes. Yes, Iris, I was a little bit in love with Rosemary. You know, she's so pretty. Then one day I was talking to her and I saw you coming down the stairs-- My love for her vanished at once. There is no one in this world but you, and it is true. Don't worry about such things, you know, if Romeo loved first Rosaleen, didn't he then bow forever to Juliet's pomegranate skirt?"

"Thank you, Anthony. I'm glad." "See you tonight. It's your birthday, isn't it?" "It's actually a week away—although it's my birthday party tonight." "You don't seem very keen." "good." "I think George knows exactly what he's up to, but it seems to me that he's out of his mind to arrange the party—" "Oh, I've been to the Luxembourg several times since—since Rosemary—I mean, one can't escape forever." "It's okay, it's nothing. Iris, I have prepared a birthday present for you, I hope you like it. Let's talk about it later."

He hangs up. Iris walked back to the restaurant and tried her best to stop Lucilla's crying by coaxing and coaxing. As soon as George arrived at the office he sent for Ruth Lessing. When she walked in wearing a fitted black dress with a smile on her face, his frown relaxed slightly. "Good morning." "Good morning, Ruth, here comes the trouble again. You look at this." She took the telegram in his hand. "It's Victor Derek again!" "That's right, bloody guy." She held the telegram and was silent for a while.When he laughed, his thin, brown face was lined, and he said mockingly, "a kind of girl who should marry the boss..." It all came back to her vividly.

She thought, "Like yesterday..." George's voice brought her back to reality. "Isn't it exactly a year or so since we last got him out to sea?" She thought about it. "I think so. As a matter of fact I remember it was October 27th." "You're an amazing girl with a great memory!" She thought to herself that there was a reason why she remembered so well that he didn't know.She was influenced by Victor Derek, and after receiving a call from Rosemary, she suddenly realized that she hated George's wife to the core. "We're lucky," said George, "that he's been able to stay that long. Though it cost us another fifty pounds three months ago."

"Three hundred pounds seems like a lot this time." "Oh, yes. He's not going to take that much. We've got to do a routine investigation." "I'd better get in touch with Mr. Ogilvy." Alexander Ogilvy was their agent in Buenos Aires--a sane, capable Scot. "Okay, telegraph right away. His mother is hysterical, as usual, and making tonight's party a problem." "Do you want me to accompany her?" "No." He vetoed firmly. "No, really. You have to go to the party. I need you, Ruth." He took her hand. "You are too sacrificial." "not at all." She smiled and suggested: "Would it be worth switching to long-distance with Mr. Ogilvy? That might get things sorted before evening." "Great idea. Worth the money." "I have to get busy." She gently withdrew her held hand and walked out. George moved on to the things that were waiting for him. At half past twelve, he walked out of the office and hailed a taxi to the Luxembourg restaurant. When he arrived at the restaurant, the popular head waiter Charles greeted him and bowed to welcome him with a smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Button." "Good afternoon, Charles. Are you all ready?" "I think you will be satisfied, sir." "Same table?" "The middle one in the round arch. Right?" "Yeah—you remember adding an extra chair?" "It's all arranged." "Have you got—Rosemary (Rosemary)?" (Note; "Rosemary" means "Rosemary") "Yes, Mr. Barton. I'm afraid it's not pretty enough. You don't want some red flowers—or chrysanthemums?" "No, no, just rosemary." "Yes, sir. You look at the menu. Jessup!" Charles made a gesture and attracted a middle-aged Italian with a smile on his face. "Bring Mr. Barton's menu." The menu was served immediately. Oysters, consomme, Luxembourg terry, roast grouse, French cuisine, chicken liver pods. George glanced at it casually. "Well, good, not bad." He handed back the menu.Charles accompanied him to the door, and said in a lower voice: "Mr. Barton, thank you very much——you came to our restaurant again." A pale smile crept across George's face.He said: "We have to forget about the past—you can't live in the past, it's all in the past." "You are right, Mr. Barton. You know how shocked and sad we were at that time. I sincerely hope that your aunt can have a very happy birthday party, and everything goes according to your wishes." Charles bowed deeply to him, and ran like a gadfly to a lowly waiter who had erred at the window table. George went out with a grin on his lips.He's not the kind of guy whose imagination stretches out enough to blame a Luxembourg restaurant.After all, it wasn't the Luxembourg restaurant's fault that Rosemary decided to commit suicide here, or that someone decided to murder her here, it was just a matter of luck. He had lunch at his club and then attended a board meeting. On the way back to his office, he hung up at a public phone booth.Walking out of the phone booth, he was relieved that everything had been arranged according to plan. He goes back to the office. Ruth came to him at once. "About Victor Drake—" "How about it?" "I'm afraid the situation is serious. He may be detained and prosecuted. He embezzled a company's public funds for a long time." "Did Ogilvy say that?" "Yes. I hung up on him this morning and he called back ten minutes ago. He said Vito was pretty brazen." "He is shameless!" "But he said there would be no prosecution if the money was returned. Mr. Ogilvy has seen the director of the company, and he seems to be right. The amount is one hundred and sixty-five pounds." "Then our great Victor wishes to have an extra £135?" "I think so." "Well, we're not going to let him get away with it anyway," said George Cold. "I told Mr. Ogilvie to proceed. Is there nothing wrong with that?" "Personally I'm glad he's in jail--but have to think about his mother.--she's a fool--but a lovely fool. Just let Vito get his way as usual." "It's very kind of you," said Ruth. "I?" "I think you're the nicest guy in the world." He was touched, and he was pleased and embarrassed at the same time.On impulse, he took her hand and kissed it. "My dearest Ruth. My dearest and best friend. What would I do without you?" They stand very close to each other. She thought, "I'd be happy with him, I could make him happy, if it wasn't for—" He thought, "Should I follow Reese's advice? Should I abandon my plan? Wouldn't that be the best thing?" After struggling for a while, he said: "At half past nine, see you at the Luxembourg restaurant."