Read Online A Murder of Quality by John le Carré - Free Book Online
Authors: John le Carré
Tags: Espionage
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Such a suggestion would be disagreeable at all times, but under the present tragic circumstances it is deplorable. Mrs Rode’s own … background and education did not naturally prepare her for our ways; that is quite a different matter. It does, however, illustrate the point that I wish to emphasise, Terence: it was a question of enlightenment, not of criticism. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Abundantly,’ Fielding answered dryly.
‘Did the other wives like her?’ Smiley ventured.
‘Not entirely,’ D’Arcy replied crisply.
‘The wives! My God!’ Fielding groaned, putting his hand to his brow. There was a pause.
‘Her clothes, I believe, were a source of distress to some of them. She also frequented the public laundry. This, too, would not make a favourable impression. I should add that she did not attend our church …’
‘Did she have any close friends among the wives?’ Smiley persisted.
‘I believe young Mrs Snow took to her.’
‘And you say she was dining here the night she was murdered?’
‘Yes,’ said Fielding quietly, ‘Wednesday. And it was Felix and his sister who took in poor Rode afterwards …’ He glanced at D’Arcy.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said D’Arcy abruptly. His eyes were on Fielding, and it seemed to Smiley that something had passed between them. ‘We shall never forget, never … Terence, if I may talk shop for just one moment, Perkins’s construe is abysmal; I declare I have never seen work like it. Is he unwell? His mother is a most cultured woman, a cousin of the Samfords, I am told.’
Smiley looked at him and wondered. His dinner-jacket was faded, green with age. Smiley could almost hear him saying it had belonged to his grandfather. The skin of his face was so unlined that he somehow suggested fatness without being fat. His voice was pitched on one insinuating note, and he smiled all the time, whether he was speaking or not. The smile never left his smooth face; it was worked into the malleable fabric of his flesh, stretching his lips across his perfect teeth and opening the corners of his red mouth, so that it seemed to be held in place by the invisible fingers of his dentist. Yet D’Arcy’s face was far from unexpressive; every mark showed. The smallest movement of his mouth or nose, the quickest glance or frown, were there to read and interpret. And he wanted to change the subject. Not away from Stella Rode (for he returned to discussing her himself a moment later), but away from the particular evening on which she died, away from the precise narration of events. And what was more, there was not a doubt in Smiley’s mind that Fielding had seen it too, that in that look which passed between them was a pact of fear, a warning perhaps, so that from that moment Fielding’s manner changed, he grew sullen and preoccupied, in a way that puzzled Smiley long afterwards.
D’Arcy turned to Smiley and addressed him with cloying intimacy.
‘ Do forgive my deplorable descent into Carne gossip. You find us a little cut off, here, do you not? We are often held to be cut off, I know. Carne is a “Snob School”, that is the cry. You may read it every day in the gutter press. And yet, despite the claims of the avant-garde ,’ he said, glancing slyly at Fielding, ‘I may say that no one could be less of a snob than Felix D’Arcy.’ Smiley noticed his hair. It was very fine and ginger, growing from the top and leaving his pink neck bare.
‘Take poor Rode, for instance. I certainly don’t hold Rode’s background against him in any way, poor fellow. The grammar schools do a splendid job, I am sure. Besides, he settled down here very well. I told the Master so. I said to him that Rode had settled down well; he does Chapel Duty quite admirably – that was the very point I made. I hope I have played my part, what is more, in helping him to fit in. With careful instruction, such people can, as I said to the Master, learn our customs and even our manners; and the Master
‘Abundantly,’ Fielding answered dryly.
‘Did the other wives like her?’ Smiley ventured.
‘Not entirely,’ D’Arcy replied crisply.
‘The wives! My God!’ Fielding groaned, putting his hand to his brow. There was a pause.
‘Her clothes, I believe, were a source of distress to some of them. She also frequented the public laundry. This, too, would not make a favourable impression. I should add that she did not attend our church …’
‘Did she have any close friends among the wives?’ Smiley persisted.
‘I believe young Mrs Snow took to her.’
‘And you say she was dining here the night she was murdered?’
‘Yes,’ said Fielding quietly, ‘Wednesday. And it was Felix and his sister who took in poor Rode afterwards …’ He glanced at D’Arcy.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said D’Arcy abruptly. His eyes were on Fielding, and it seemed to Smiley that something had passed between them. ‘We shall never forget, never … Terence, if I may talk shop for just one moment, Perkins’s construe is abysmal; I declare I have never seen work like it. Is he unwell? His mother is a most cultured woman, a cousin of the Samfords, I am told.’
Smiley looked at him and wondered. His dinner-jacket was faded, green with age. Smiley could almost hear him saying it had belonged to his grandfather. The skin of his face was so unlined that he somehow suggested fatness without being fat. His voice was pitched on one insinuating note, and he smiled all the time, whether he was speaking or not. The smile never left his smooth face; it was worked into the malleable fabric of his flesh, stretching his lips across his perfect teeth and opening the corners of his red mouth, so that it seemed to be held in place by the invisible fingers of his dentist. Yet D’Arcy’s face was far from unexpressive; every mark showed. The smallest movement of his mouth or nose, the quickest glance or frown, were there to read and interpret. And he wanted to change the subject. Not away from Stella Rode (for he returned to discussing her himself a moment later), but away from the particular evening on which she died, away from the precise narration of events. And what was more, there was not a doubt in Smiley’s mind that Fielding had seen it too, that in that look which passed between them was a pact of fear, a warning perhaps, so that from that moment Fielding’s manner changed, he grew sullen and preoccupied, in a way that puzzled Smiley long afterwards.
D’Arcy turned to Smiley and addressed him with cloying intimacy.
‘ Do forgive my deplorable descent into Carne gossip. You find us a little cut off, here, do you not? We are often held to be cut off, I know. Carne is a “Snob School”, that is the cry. You may read it every day in the gutter press. And yet, despite the claims of the avant-garde ,’ he said, glancing slyly at Fielding, ‘I may say that no one could be less of a snob than Felix D’Arcy.’ Smiley noticed his hair. It was very fine and ginger, growing from the top and leaving his pink neck bare.
‘Take poor Rode, for instance. I certainly don’t hold Rode’s background against him in any way, poor fellow. The grammar schools do a splendid job, I am sure. Besides, he settled down here very well. I told the Master so. I said to him that Rode had settled down well; he does Chapel Duty quite admirably – that was the very point I made. I hope I have played my part, what is more, in helping him to fit in. With careful instruction, such people can, as I said to the Master, learn our customs and even our manners; and the Master
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