that.
"God bless my soul, God bless my soul!" He wrung our hands as if we'd brought him the first prize in the Irish Sweepstake. "What a surprise! What a surprise! Morning dip, you know-just drying off-couldn't believe my eyes-where in all the world have you two come from? No, no, don't answer now. Straight up to my house. Delightful surprise. Delightful." He scurried off in front of us, god-blessing himself with every other step. Marie smiled at me and we walked after him.
He led us along a short path, across a white-shingled front, up a wide flight of six wooden steps into his house: like the others, the floor was well clear of the ground. But once inside I could see why, unlike the other houses, it had walls: it had to have to support the large bookcases and glass-covered show-cases that lined three quarters of the wall area of the room: the rest of the walls were given over to doors and window spaces, no glass in the windows, just screens of plaited leaves that could be raised or lowered as wished. There was a peculiar smell that I couldn't place at first. The floor seemed to be made of the mid-ribs of some type of leaf, coconut palm, probably, laid across close-set joists, and there was no ceiling as such, just steep-angled rafters with thatch above. I looked at this thatch for a long and very interested moment. There was a big old-fashioned roll-top desk in one corner and a large safe against the inside wall. There were some brightly coloured straw mats on the floor, most of which was given over to low-slung comfortable looking rattan chairs and settees, each with a low table beside it. A man could be comfortable in that room-especially with a drink in his hand.
The old boy-with that beard and moustache. I couldn't think of him as anything else-was a mind-reader.
"Sit down, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. A drink? Yes, yes, of course, first of all a drink. You need it, you need it." He picked up a little bell, rang it furiously as if he were trying to see how much punishment it could stand before it came apart in his hands, replaced it and looked at me. "Too early in the morning for whisky, eh?"
"Not this morning."
"And you, young lady. Some brandy, perhaps? Eh? Brandy?"
"Thank you." She let him have the smile she never bothered letting me have and I could just about see the old boy's toes curling. "You are very kind."
I was just coming to the resigned conclusion that his staccato and repetitive way of talking was habitual and was going to be a little wearing if we had to stay with him for any length of time-and I had the thought, even then, that the voice was vaguely familiar to me--when a rear door opened and a Chinese youth came in. He was very short, very thin, dressed in khaki drill, and the only use he had for his facial muscles was to keep his expressions buttoned up for he didn't even bat an eyelid when he saw us.
"Ah, Tommy, there you are. We have guests, Tommy. Drinks. Brandy for the lady, a large whisky for the gentleman and-let me see now, yes, yes, perhaps I rather think I will-a small whisky for me. Then run a bath. For the lady." I could get by with a shave. "Then breakfast. You haven't breakfasted yet?"
I assured him we hadn't.
"Excellent. Excellent!" He caught sight of the two men who had rescued us standing outside on the white shingles with the water drums, raised a bushy white eyebrow in my direction and said: "What's in those?"
"Our clothes."
"Indeed? Yes, yes, I see. Clothes." Any opinion he held as to our eccentricities in the choice of suitcases he kept to himself. He went to the doorway. "Just leave them there, James. You've done a splendid job, both of you. Splendid. I'll speak to you later."
I watched the two men smile broadly, then turn away. I said: "They speak English?"
"Certainly. Of course they do."
"They didn't speak any to us."
"Urn. They didn't, eh?" He tugged his beard, Buffalo Bill to the life. "You speak any to them?"
I thought, then grinned: "No."
"There
"God bless my soul, God bless my soul!" He wrung our hands as if we'd brought him the first prize in the Irish Sweepstake. "What a surprise! What a surprise! Morning dip, you know-just drying off-couldn't believe my eyes-where in all the world have you two come from? No, no, don't answer now. Straight up to my house. Delightful surprise. Delightful." He scurried off in front of us, god-blessing himself with every other step. Marie smiled at me and we walked after him.
He led us along a short path, across a white-shingled front, up a wide flight of six wooden steps into his house: like the others, the floor was well clear of the ground. But once inside I could see why, unlike the other houses, it had walls: it had to have to support the large bookcases and glass-covered show-cases that lined three quarters of the wall area of the room: the rest of the walls were given over to doors and window spaces, no glass in the windows, just screens of plaited leaves that could be raised or lowered as wished. There was a peculiar smell that I couldn't place at first. The floor seemed to be made of the mid-ribs of some type of leaf, coconut palm, probably, laid across close-set joists, and there was no ceiling as such, just steep-angled rafters with thatch above. I looked at this thatch for a long and very interested moment. There was a big old-fashioned roll-top desk in one corner and a large safe against the inside wall. There were some brightly coloured straw mats on the floor, most of which was given over to low-slung comfortable looking rattan chairs and settees, each with a low table beside it. A man could be comfortable in that room-especially with a drink in his hand.
The old boy-with that beard and moustache. I couldn't think of him as anything else-was a mind-reader.
"Sit down, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. A drink? Yes, yes, of course, first of all a drink. You need it, you need it." He picked up a little bell, rang it furiously as if he were trying to see how much punishment it could stand before it came apart in his hands, replaced it and looked at me. "Too early in the morning for whisky, eh?"
"Not this morning."
"And you, young lady. Some brandy, perhaps? Eh? Brandy?"
"Thank you." She let him have the smile she never bothered letting me have and I could just about see the old boy's toes curling. "You are very kind."
I was just coming to the resigned conclusion that his staccato and repetitive way of talking was habitual and was going to be a little wearing if we had to stay with him for any length of time-and I had the thought, even then, that the voice was vaguely familiar to me--when a rear door opened and a Chinese youth came in. He was very short, very thin, dressed in khaki drill, and the only use he had for his facial muscles was to keep his expressions buttoned up for he didn't even bat an eyelid when he saw us.
"Ah, Tommy, there you are. We have guests, Tommy. Drinks. Brandy for the lady, a large whisky for the gentleman and-let me see now, yes, yes, perhaps I rather think I will-a small whisky for me. Then run a bath. For the lady." I could get by with a shave. "Then breakfast. You haven't breakfasted yet?"
I assured him we hadn't.
"Excellent. Excellent!" He caught sight of the two men who had rescued us standing outside on the white shingles with the water drums, raised a bushy white eyebrow in my direction and said: "What's in those?"
"Our clothes."
"Indeed? Yes, yes, I see. Clothes." Any opinion he held as to our eccentricities in the choice of suitcases he kept to himself. He went to the doorway. "Just leave them there, James. You've done a splendid job, both of you. Splendid. I'll speak to you later."
I watched the two men smile broadly, then turn away. I said: "They speak English?"
"Certainly. Of course they do."
"They didn't speak any to us."
"Urn. They didn't, eh?" He tugged his beard, Buffalo Bill to the life. "You speak any to them?"
I thought, then grinned: "No."
"There
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