devoured by the Mountain crowd. They admired him for his well-aimed barbs but deplored him behind his back. He was too witty for them, dressed in shabby clothes, and was dangerous on account of his outspokenness and his unpredictable beaux gestes . Françoise de Lauzon had once told him that she didn't like his beard. He'd shaved it off the following day, then sent her the bristling hairs by express.
"Ah, Hamid, have you heard about the blowup at the English church?" Robin liked to begin their talks with bits of shocking news.
"The Vicar was in to see me this morning, in the strictest confidence , of course. He wanted a full investigation, which I refused. But I see the story's all over town."
Robin laughed, then pounded the little table with his fists. "Oh, the English, the English!" he said. "They're so antiseptic and they have such complicated lives." He laughed more, and then began to cough. He was fascinated by gossip, excited by it, collecting it the way other men collected stamps.
"We're holding a quintet of British ballet dancers on account of you."
Robin beamed. "Oh, Hamid. I loathed those nelly queens. They were rude to meânasty little snobs." He did a quick imitation with a free-flowing limp wrist. "Wanted me to drink their sherry, share their Russian cigarettes, then thought I was a Philistine when I ordered beer and lit a cheap cigar. But I could tell at once they shared my vice. Mind youâwith me it's all mental now, ever since my arrest."
"Yes," said Hamid. "Of course."
"Anyway, I heard around the Socco they were on the lookout for little boys. And I said to myself: 'My friend Hamid hates anything that smacks of the corruption of Moroccan youth.' Thought I'd do you a service and turn them in. A sweet revenge when I saw them taken away."
"Were they caught in the act? I didn't read the dossier."
"Caught with their pants down. A veritable orgy at the hotel. I could hear their squeals even in my room, though they were three floors above."
Their relationship had begun ten years before when Robin was twenty-five, and Hamid a mere detective in the foreign branch. When Hamid first saw Robin he was lying nude on a great, old, sagging bed with two boys working him over and another four looking on. Hamid had been furious, determined to see him expelled, but in their interviews something about the Canadian boy mitigated his disgust. Maybe it was his honesty, and his irony about himself. Whatever it was, Hamid had been touched, and when he'd discovered how much it meant to Robin to live in Tangier, how much he loved the town and wanted to stay, he'd offered him a bargain which in the decade that had passed he'd found no reason to regret. Robin would be allowed to stay on providing he kept clear of younger boys. In return he had to become an informer and turn in others indulging in his vice. To Hamid's great surprise, Robin had leaped at the chance. He loved to pry into people's lives and felt no scruples about being a traitor to his kind.
"What's going on with the Americans and Zvegintzov?" Hamid asked. "First it was Knowles, now it's Lake hanging around the shop."
"Yeah. Someone told me he and Lake have gotten thick, that Lake's in there a couple times a day."
"What's it all about?"
"Beats me. But the American's a curious bastard. Does his work all right, but his eyes are strange. He thinks he's some kind of mechanical genius. Always working on his car or down in the cellar fixing the water heater."
"I saw Luscombe on the way up. Looked awful. What's happening with him?"
"Poor Larry." Robin lit up one of his cigars. "Big brouhaha at the theater club. They're all ganging up on him, especially Kelly, who wants to take over the stupid group. There's a play Saturday. You ought to come. Even if it's lousy I'm going to give it a good review. Pathetic, isn't it, the way people take things so seriously here? These theater people, Larry excluded, are the worst trash in town. Mountain crowd's what interests
"Ah, Hamid, have you heard about the blowup at the English church?" Robin liked to begin their talks with bits of shocking news.
"The Vicar was in to see me this morning, in the strictest confidence , of course. He wanted a full investigation, which I refused. But I see the story's all over town."
Robin laughed, then pounded the little table with his fists. "Oh, the English, the English!" he said. "They're so antiseptic and they have such complicated lives." He laughed more, and then began to cough. He was fascinated by gossip, excited by it, collecting it the way other men collected stamps.
"We're holding a quintet of British ballet dancers on account of you."
Robin beamed. "Oh, Hamid. I loathed those nelly queens. They were rude to meânasty little snobs." He did a quick imitation with a free-flowing limp wrist. "Wanted me to drink their sherry, share their Russian cigarettes, then thought I was a Philistine when I ordered beer and lit a cheap cigar. But I could tell at once they shared my vice. Mind youâwith me it's all mental now, ever since my arrest."
"Yes," said Hamid. "Of course."
"Anyway, I heard around the Socco they were on the lookout for little boys. And I said to myself: 'My friend Hamid hates anything that smacks of the corruption of Moroccan youth.' Thought I'd do you a service and turn them in. A sweet revenge when I saw them taken away."
"Were they caught in the act? I didn't read the dossier."
"Caught with their pants down. A veritable orgy at the hotel. I could hear their squeals even in my room, though they were three floors above."
Their relationship had begun ten years before when Robin was twenty-five, and Hamid a mere detective in the foreign branch. When Hamid first saw Robin he was lying nude on a great, old, sagging bed with two boys working him over and another four looking on. Hamid had been furious, determined to see him expelled, but in their interviews something about the Canadian boy mitigated his disgust. Maybe it was his honesty, and his irony about himself. Whatever it was, Hamid had been touched, and when he'd discovered how much it meant to Robin to live in Tangier, how much he loved the town and wanted to stay, he'd offered him a bargain which in the decade that had passed he'd found no reason to regret. Robin would be allowed to stay on providing he kept clear of younger boys. In return he had to become an informer and turn in others indulging in his vice. To Hamid's great surprise, Robin had leaped at the chance. He loved to pry into people's lives and felt no scruples about being a traitor to his kind.
"What's going on with the Americans and Zvegintzov?" Hamid asked. "First it was Knowles, now it's Lake hanging around the shop."
"Yeah. Someone told me he and Lake have gotten thick, that Lake's in there a couple times a day."
"What's it all about?"
"Beats me. But the American's a curious bastard. Does his work all right, but his eyes are strange. He thinks he's some kind of mechanical genius. Always working on his car or down in the cellar fixing the water heater."
"I saw Luscombe on the way up. Looked awful. What's happening with him?"
"Poor Larry." Robin lit up one of his cigars. "Big brouhaha at the theater club. They're all ganging up on him, especially Kelly, who wants to take over the stupid group. There's a play Saturday. You ought to come. Even if it's lousy I'm going to give it a good review. Pathetic, isn't it, the way people take things so seriously here? These theater people, Larry excluded, are the worst trash in town. Mountain crowd's what interests
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