Hobohemians

216“Why should I? I’m not the weak sort of fellow to commit suicide.”

217“Why were you taken to the Prefecture?”

218Willy picked up a sheet of paper from the table: “To save myself trouble I will read an extract from a letter home. I sometimes write to my parents.”

219Viktor chuckled: “You’re not the only one.”

220Willy began to read:

221“On Thursday a police detective came to my room and very politely asked for my papers, passport, etc. He examined them with care, looked at my carte d’identité [identity card], but overlooked, whether through courtesy or negligence, that it was two months unrenewed. Don’t worry about that, it is purely a formality. Then he wanted to know if I had ever lost any papers. I said a passport once. Ah, he nodded, we thought so. I didn’t say it had been lost in Berlin and subsequently returned. He told me they were looking for an Englishman. ‘We know he is an Englishman but we don’t know his real name. He has been going under your name. There are only two people of your name on our register. I am obliged to you for showing me your papers.’ I was intrigued. I asked if he had a photograph of the man. ‘There is one at the Prefecture,’ he replied, so I asked if I could go to see it. It appeared he desired nothing more on earth. He suspected, I suppose, that it was a member of the family. We have not any rogue cousins abroad, have we? At any rate, I must say the face didn’t look English and they seemed to know nothing else but that it was. I took a very affectionate farewell of them so you mustn’t think. . . .”

222Willy laid down his letter. “You have decided to be a journalist,” flattered Viktor.

223“No, it’s true and this must be the same fellow who has committed suicide. I’ll have to write home now or they will think it’s me.”

224Viktor laid another unfinished letter on the table. “We had much the same thought,” he admitted, “but from a different angle. Tell me where you have been the last few days and I will give it you.”

225Willy pondered. “As a matter of fact, when I came out of the Prefecture I met an old friend, a girl, an old friend that is, I used to know in Berlin. That made me think about things. I walked about a lot and in cafés, thinking of my creative life and I decided not to come into the café any more. An artist must work. I was going to come over later and tell you about it, and have a last talk.”

226Viktor made up his mind to order three drinks. “I am not angry you are not dead. But I shall lose thousands of pounds which I might have got by selling my pictures in England. Your father would have occupied his lonely old age in patronising the talented men his intelligent son had met when alive. However, here is the letter.”

227Heinke said: “You must introduce me to your sister someday, won’t you?”

228“I haven’t one,” said Willy.

229Flowers of café hours bloomed, were picked, drooped. Bored, Heinke, Viktor and Willy went out to play billiards. Willy won.