To JOAN
This souvenir of one of the most difficult years of my life, which by our united efforts has turned out to be one of the most successful, and, thanks to her, has certainly been one of the happiest.
I — A Cry for Help
The Duke de Richleau and Mr. Simon Aron had gone in to dinner at eight o’clock, but coffee was not served till after ten.
Aron had eaten sparingly of each well-chosen course, and to one who made a hobby of such things the wines had proved a special pleasure. Since their mutual friend Richard Eaton had brought them together, he had dined on many occasions with De Richleau at his flat.
A casual observer might have considered it a strange friendship, but despite the difference in age and race, appearance and tradition, the two had many tastes in common.
Both the young English Jew and the elderly French exile loved beauty in its many forms, and could linger happily over a jade carving or a page of prose. They had also developed a pleasant rivalry in producing for each other great wines, fine food, and well-matured cigars.
Aron accepted a long Hoyo de Monterrey from the cedar cabinet which the Duke’s man presented to him, and his dark eyes flickered towards his host.
During dinner the impression had grown upon him that there was some special reason why the Duke had asked him to dine on this occasion. His intuition had not deceived him. De Richleau exhaled the first cloud of fragrant smoke from another of those long Hoyo’s which were his especial pride, and drew from his pocket a dirty piece of paper, which he flicked across the table. “My friend,” he said, raising his grey eyebrows a little, a slightly cynical smile on his thin lips, “I should be interested to have your opinion on this curious document.”
Simon Aron unfolded the piece of grimy paper. It had light blue rulings upon it, and was covered with a pencil scrawl; it might well have been a page torn from an exercise-book. Simon’s full mouth broadened into a wide grin, and, with a sudden gesture peculiar to himself, he gave a little nervous laugh, stooping his bird-like head with its pronounced Semitic nose to the hand which held his long cigar.