A Gun for Sale by Graham Greene Read Free Book Online Page B

with his face pressed against the pane to hide his hare-lip, watching London recede from him: a lit signal box and inside a saucepan of cocoa heating on the stove, a signal going green, a long line of blackened houses standing rigid against the cold-starred sky; watching because there was nothing else to do to keep his lip hidden, but like a man watching something he loves slide back from him out of his reach.
    2
    Mather walked back up the platform. He was sorry to have missed Anne, but it wasn’t important. He would be seeing her again in a few weeks. It was not that his love was any less than hers but that his mind was more firmly anchored. He was on a job; if he pulled it off, he might be promoted; they could marry. Without any difficulty at all he wiped his mind clear of her.
    Saunders was waiting on the other side of the barrier. Mather said, ‘We’ll be off.’
    ‘Where next?’
    ‘Charlie’s.’
    They sat in the back seat of a car and dived back into the narrow dirty streets behind the station. A prostitute put her tongue out at them. Saunders said, ‘What about J-J-J-Joe’s?’
    ‘I don’t think so, but we’ll try it.’
    The car drew up two doors away from a fried-fish shop. A man sitting beside the driver got down and waited for orders. ‘Round to the back, Frost,’ Mather said. He gave him two minutes and then hammered on the door of the fish shop. A light went on inside and Mather could see through the window the long counter, the stock of old newspapers, the dead grill. The door opened a crack. He put his foot in and pushed it wide. He said, ‘’Evening, Charlie,’ looking round.
    ‘Mr Mather,’ Charlie said. He was as fat as an eastern eunuch and swayed his great hips coyly when he walked like a street woman.
    ‘I want to talk to you,’ Mather said.
    ‘Oh, I’m delighted,’ Charlie said. ‘Step this way, Mr Mather. I was just off to bed.’
    ‘I bet you were,’ Mather said. ‘Got a full house down there tonight?’
    ‘Oh, Mr Mather. What a wag you are. Just one or two Oxford boys.’
    ‘Listen. I’m looking for a fellow with a hare-lip. About twenty-eight years old.’
    ‘He’s not here.’
    ‘Dark coat, black hat.’
    ‘I don’t know him, Mr Mather.’
    ‘I’d like to take a look over your basement.’
    ‘Of course, Mr Mather. There are just one or two Oxford boys. Do you mind if I go down first? Just to introduce you, Mr Mather.’ He led the way down the stone stairs. ‘It’s safer.’
    ‘I can look after myself,’ Mather said. ‘Saunders, stay in the shop.’
    Charlie opened a door. ‘Now, boys, don’t be scared. Mr Mather’s a friend of mine.’ They faced him in an ominous line at the end of the room, the Oxford boys, with their broken noses and their cauliflower ears, the dregs of pugilism.
    ‘’Evening,’ Mather said. The tables had been swept clear of drink and cards. He plodded down the last steps into the stone-floored room. Charlie said, ‘Now, boys, you don’t need to get scared.’
    ‘Why don’t you get a few Cambridge boys into this club?’ Mather said.
    ‘Oh, what a wag you are, Mr Mather.’
    They followed him with their eyes as he crossed the floor; they wouldn’t speak to him; he was the Enemy. They didn’t have to be diplomats like Charlie, they could show their hatred. They watched every move he made. Mather said, ‘What are you keeping in that cupboard?’ Their eyes followed him as he went towards the cupboard door.
    Charlie said, ‘Give the boys a chance, Mr Mather. They don’t mean any harm. This is one of the best-run clubs –’ Mather pulled open the door of the cupboard. Four women fell into the room. They were like toys turned from the same mould with their bright brittle hair. Mather laughed. He said, ‘The joke’s on me. That’s a thing I never expected in one of your clubs, Charlie. Good night all.’ The girls got up and dusted themselves. None of the men spoke.
    ‘Really, Mr Mather,’ Charlie said, blushing all