The Magus, A Revised Version (113 page)

‘
In
The Times Educational Supplement.
’
He gave even the most
familiar English institutions an interrogative intonation, as if I might not have heard of them.

We came to my flat. I closed the door.

‘
I thought the British Council had stopped doing the recruiting
–’

‘
Is that so? I suppose the school committee decided that as Mr

Conchis was over here he might as well do the interviewing.
’
He had gone into the sitting-room and was looking at the view down grimy old Charlotte Street.
‘
This is great. You know, I
love
this city.
’
I indicated the least greasy of the armchairs.

‘
And … Mr Conchis gave you my address?
’

‘
Sure. Was that wrong?
’

‘
No. Not at all.
’
I sat on the window-seat.
‘
Did he tell you anything about me?
’

He raised his hand, as if I might need quietening down.
‘
Well yes, he—1 do know, I mean … he warned me how dangerous these college intrigues can get. As I understand you had the misfortune he gave up.
‘
You still feel sore about it?
’

I shrugged.
‘
Greece is Greece.
’

‘
I bet they
’
re rubbing their hands already at the thought of a real live American.
’

‘
They probably are.
’
He shook his head, as if the thought that anyone could involve a real live American in a Levantine academic intrigue was almost past belief. I said,
‘
When did you see Mr Conchis?
’

‘
When he was here three weeks ago. I
’
d have gotten in contact earlier, but he lost your address. He just sent it me from Greece. Only this morning.
’

‘
Only this morning?
’

‘
Yep. A cable.
’
He grinned.
‘
Surprised me too. I thought he
’
d forgotten about it. You … you know him pretty well?
’

‘
Oh I … met him a few times. I was actually never terribly clear about his position on the school committee.
’

‘
What he told me, no
off
icial position. Just helping out. Jesus, his English is marvellous though.
’

‘
Isn
’
t it?
’

We sized each other up. He had a relaxed way about him that seemed inculcated by education, by reading some book on How To Be At Ease With Strangers, rather than by any intuitive gift. Nothing, one felt, had ever gone wrong in his life; but he had a sort of freshness, an enthusiasm, an energy that couldn
’
t be totally cancelled by envy.

I analysed the situation. The natural coincidence of his appearing and my call to Much Hadham was so improbable that it was almost an argument in favour of his innocence. On the other hand Mrs de Seitas must have deduced from my telephone call that I was undergoing a change of heart; and this was nicely timed to test its genuineness. Yet telling me about the cable made him sound truly innocent; and though I had understood that the
‘
subject
’
had to be a matter of hazard, perhaps there was some reason, some unknown result of that summer, that had made Conchis decide to choose his next guinea-pig. Faced with the guileless, earnest Briggs I felt a little of what Mitford must have felt with me: a malicious amusement, bedevilled in my case by a European delight in seeing brash America being taken for a ride; and beyond that a kinder wish, which I would never have admitted to Conchis or Lily de Seitas, not to spoil his experience.

Of course they must have known (if Briggs was innocent) that I might tell him everything; but they also knew I knew the cost of it, if I did. It could only mean, to the
m, that I accepted nothing; and
could be given nothing further in return. I was torn before the risks they took: tempted to punish, forced to admire. But finally, once again, I was left standing with the cat in my hand, unable to bring it down.

Briggs had pulled out a pad from the briefcase he had with him.

‘
May I ask questions? I
’
ve got quite a list.
’

And again: the coincidence. He was doing exactly what I had done only a few days before, at Dinsford House. His eager, deceitless face smiled up at me. I smiled back.

‘
Shoot.
’

He was tcrrifyingly methodical. Teaching methods, textbooks, clothes, climate, sports facilities, medicines to take, food, the size of the library, what to see in Greece, character sketches of the other masters—he wanted information about every conceivable aspect of life on Phraxos. Finally he looked up from his pad and the notes he had copiously pencilled and took up the beer I had poured him.

‘
Thanks a million. This is wonderful. Covers everything.
’

‘
Except the actual business of living there.
’

He nodded.
‘
Mr Conchis warned me.
’

‘
You speak Greek?
’

‘
Little Latin, less Greek.
’

‘
You
’
ll pick it up.
’

Tm taking lessons already.
’

‘
And no women.
’

He nodded.
‘
Tough. But I
’
m engaged, so anyway.
’
He produced a wallet and handed me a photo. A black-haired girl smiled rather intensely out at me. She had too small a mouth; I detected the ghostly beginnings of the mask of the bitch-goddess Ambition.

I handed it back.
‘
Looks English.
’

‘
She is. Well, Welsh, actually. She
’
s studying drama right here in London.
’

‘
Really.
’

‘
I thought maybe she could come out to Phraxos next summer. If I haven
’
t I got the sack by then.
’

‘
Did you … mention it to Mr Conchis?
’

‘
I did. And he was really nice about it. Even said she might be able to stay in his house.
’

‘
I wonder which one. He has two, you know.
’

‘
I think he said in the village.
’
He grinned.
‘
Matter of fact he said he
’
d make me pay for her room.
’

‘
Oh?
’

‘
Wants me to help him on this …
‘
he made a kind of you-know gesture.

‘
On this?
’

‘
Didn
’
t you …
‘
but he obviously saw from my face that whatever it was, I didn
’
t.
‘
Well, maybe

‘
Oh good lord, you can tell me.
’

He hesitated, then smiled.
‘
It
’
s just that he does want it kept secret. I thought you might have heard, but if you didn
’
t meet him much … this remarkable find on his estate?
’

‘
Find?
’

‘
You know the house? It
’
s some place on the other side of the island.
’

‘
I know where it is.
’

‘
Well, it seems part of a cliff fell away this summer and they
’
ve discovered what he believes to be the foundations of a Mycenean palace.
’

‘
He
’
ll never keep that quiet.
’

‘
I
’
d guess not. But he thinks he can for a while. Apparently he
’
s covered it up with loose dirt. Then next spring he
’
s going to dig. But naturally right now he doesn
’
t want everyone visiting all over.
’

‘
Of course.
’

‘
So I hope
I
shan
’
t be too bored.
’

I saw Lily dressed as the snake-goddess of Knossos; as Electra; as Clytemnestra; Doctor Vanessa Maxwell, the brilliant young archaeologist.

‘
Doesn
’
t sound as if you will.
’

He finished his beer, and looked at his watch.

‘
Jesus, I must run. I
’
m meeting Amanda at six.
’
He shook my hand.
‘
You don
’
t know how much this has meant to me. And believe me, I
’
ll write and let you know how it goes.
’

‘
Do that. I
’
d very much like to know.
’

I followed him down the stairs and watched his
crew-cut
head. I began to understand why Conchis had picked him. If one had taken a million young college-educated Am
ericans and distilled them down
into one quintessential exemplar one would have arrived at something like Briggs. I did not like to think of the omnipenetrating Americans reaching to so private a European core. But I remembered his name; much more English than my own. And there was already Joe; the prosecuting Doctor Marcus.

We came out on the front step.

‘
No last words of wisdom?
’

‘
I don
’
t think so. Just my very good wishes.
’

‘
Well…
’

We shook hands again.

‘
You
’
ll be all right.
’

‘
You really think so?
’

‘
Of course you
’
ll find some of the experiences distinctly strange.
’

‘
Oh sure. Don
’
t think I
’
m not going with a wide open mind. And prepared for everything. Thanks to you.
’

I gave him a long smile; I wanted him to remember that it was a smile that had said more than the occasion warranted. He raised his hand and set
off
. After a few paces he looked at his watch, and began to run; and in my heart I lit a candle to Leverrier.

She was ten minutes late; came quickly, a polite small torment of apology on her face, and straight to where I had been standing next to the postcard counter.

‘
I
’
m so sorry. The taxi crawled.
’

I shook her outstretched hand. For a woman half a century old she was impressively good-looking; and she was dressed with an easy flair that made most of the dull afternoon visitors to the Victoria and Albert around us look even drabber than they really were; defiantly bareheaded, and in a grey-white Chanel suit that set
off
her tan and her clear eyes.

‘
It
’
s such a mad place to meet. Do you mind?
’

‘
Not in the least.
’