I turned back into the room. The others were seated exactly as they had been before. Nobody spoke. The ticking of the cuckoo clock was quite loud. I went over to the bar and got out a bottle of cognac and some glasses. There was a clatter of skis being placed against the wooden walls of the hut. Then the door opened and the Contessa came in, followed by Engles. Joe got up and said, 'Hallo, Engles. Glad to see you. Had a good trip?' That was the only movement from the group by the stove. Mayne and Keramikos were watching Engles, and Valdini was watching the Contessa.
Joe sensed the silence and tried to talk it down. 'Here, I'll put your coat on the table. Need a drink, I expect, old man. Ah, I see Neil has already had the same idea. Well, better introduce you since you're staving here. We're all present. Can't get out in this damned snow.'
Engles nodded briefly at the group by the stove as Joe introduced him. Then he said, 'Come and have a drink, Joe. I want to hear what sort of shots you've got for me. You need a drink, too, Carla. What are you having?'
She removed her heavy fur-lined jacket. She was dressed in her scarlet ski-suit. It was a pleasant splash of colour in that drab room. 'I' would like a Strega, please, Derek.' And she took his arm as though he were the one man in the world.
Engles gave me a quick, secret smile. I poured the drinks. Joe began talking about his focal point. Engles was only half-listening. His attention kept wandering to a battered mirror that hung on the wall at the end of the bar. At first I thought he was checking up on his appearance. He was always meticulous about his toilet when women were around. But then I realised that he could not possibly see himself in it. What he could see was the little group by the fire.
I switched my attention and saw that Mayne, too, was watching that little mirror. Joe rambled on about the importance of the slittovia from the camera point of view. Engles did not even pretend to be interested. He was watching Mayne and there was something between amusement and excitement in his dark eyes.
At last Mayne got up and came over to the bar. His movements were casual enough, but it was a deliberate casualness. He and Engles were much of a height when they stood together, though Engles seemed shorter because of the slight stoop of his shoulders. Joe paused for breath and Mayne said, 'As you're joining us in this hermit's existence up here, Mr Engles, perhaps you will have a drink with me?'
'I'd like to,' Engles replied.
Mayne poured the drinks, chalked himself up for the round, brought Keramikos and Valdini in and, in short, became a most charming and natural host, talking pleasantly and easily of the advantages of peacetime air travel as compared with conditions in wartime. 'But peace or war,' he said, 'I can never reconcile myself to the take-off — that uninsurable half-minute when your eyes won't focus on your book and you feel hot and there is that rattling roar of the engines as the ground rushes past the window faster and faster and then suddenly recedes.'
Joe, who had been content to pause for another drink, now dived back into the original conversation. 'There's one point at any rate, Engles,' he said, 'that I'd like to get settled before I take any more shots. Do we or do we not—?'