cc.iceberg-第30章

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traight　and　natural　down　her　back。　Pitt　hung　his　arm　loosely　around　her　waist；　letting　the　hand　slip　down　out　of　sight；　and　pinched　her　soft　bottom。　He　smiled　as　he　looked　down　into　those　wide　brown　eyes…eyes　that　possessed　a　wise；　knowing　quality。
　〃I　missed　most　of　it；　I'm　afraid。〃　She　reached　behind　her　back　and；　clutching　Pitts　hand　discreetly；　twisted　his　little　finger　until　he　gave　in　and　just　as　discreetly　removed　his　arm　from　her　waist。　〃The　blast　knocked　me　against　a　cupboard　in　the　galley。〃　She　touched　a　small　swelling　on　her　forehead；　the　purplish　bruise　neatly　covered　by　makeup。　〃I　was　pretty　much　out　of　it　for　the　next　hour　and　a　half。　Poor　Dirk　here　trembled　and　threw　up　all　the　way　back　to　Reykjavik。〃
　
　Pitt　could　have　kissed　her。　Tidi　had　picked　up　the　situation　without　the　bat　of　an　eye　and　e　through　like　a　trooper。
　〃I　think　it's　time　we　mingled；〃'　he　said；　taking　her　by　the　arm　and　whisking　her　off　toward　the　punch　bowl。
　
　He　passed　her　a　cup　of　punch　and　they　helped　themselves　to　the　hors　d'oeuvres。　Pitt　had　to　fight　from　yawning　as　he　and　Tidi　drifted　from　one　group　to　another。　An　experienced　party…goer；　Pitt　usually　mixed　with　ease；　but　this　time　he　couldn't　seem　to　make　a　beachhead。　There　was　an　odd　atmosphere　about　this　function。　He　couldn't　put　his　finger　on　it；　yet　there　was　something　definitely　out　of　place。　The　usual　subdivisions　were　present…bores；　the　drunks。　snobs　and　the　backslappers。　Everyone　they　joined　who　could　speak　English　was　quite　polite。　No　anti…American　sentiments…a　favorite；　ploy　during　most　conversations　involving　guests　of　other　nations…came　to　the　surface。
　
　To　all　outward　appearances；　it　seemed　like　the　mon；　middle…of…the…road　get…together。　Then　suddenly　he　had　it。　He　bent　down　and　whispered　in　Tidi's　ear。
　〃Do　you　get　the　feeling　we're　persona　non　grata？〃
　
　Tidi　looked　at　him　curiously。　〃No；　everyone　seems　friendly　enough。〃
　〃Sure；　they're　sociable　and　polite；　but　it's　forced。〃
　〃How　can　you　be　certain？〃
　〃I　know　a　warm；　sincere　smile　when　I　see　one。
　
　We're　not　getting　any。　It's　as　though　we're　in　a　cage。
　
　Feed　and　talk　to　the　animals；　but　don't　touch。〃
　〃That's　silly。　You　can't　really　blame　them　for　being　uneasy　when　they　talk　to　someone　who's　dressed　the　way　you　are。〃
　〃That's　the　catch。　The　oddball　is　always；　without　fail；　the　center　of　attraction。　If　I　wasn't　dead　sure；　I'd　say　this　was　a　wake。〃
　
　She　looked　up　at　Pitt　with　a　sly　smile。　〃You're　just　nervous　because　you're　way　out　of　your　league。〃
　
　He　smiled　back。　〃Care　for　an　explanation？〃
　〃See　those　two　men　over　there？〃　She　nodded　her　head　sideways　to　her　right。　〃Standing　by　the　piano？〃
　
　Pitt　casually　rolled　a　slow　glance　in　the　direction　Tidi　indicated。　A　small；　rotund；　lively　little　man　with　a　bald　head　was　gesturing　animatedly　as　he　spoke　in　rapid　bursts　into　a　wiry；　thick　white　beard　no　more　than　ten　inches　from　his　nose。　The　beard　belonged　to　a　thin；　distinguished…looking　man　with　silver　hair　that　fell　well　below　his　collar；　giving　him　the　appearance　of　a　Harvard　professor。　Pitt　turned　back　to　Tidi　and　shrugged。
　〃So？〃
　〃You　don't　recognize　them？〃
　〃Should　I？〃
　〃You　don't　read　the　society　pages　of　The　New　York　Times。〃
　〃Playboy　is　the　only　publication　I　bother　with。〃
　
　She　threw　him　a　typical　feminine　disgusted…withthe…male…of…the…species　expression　and　said：　〃It's　a　pretty　sid　state　of　affairs　when　the　son　of　a　United　States　Senator　can't　identify　two　of　the　richest　men　in　the　world。〃
　
　Pitt　was　only　half　listening　to　Tidi。　It　took　a　few　seconds　for　her　words　to　sink　in。　But　then　they　slowly　began　to　register　and　he　turned　his　head　and　brazenly　stared　at　the　two　men　who　were　still　heavily　involved　in　conversation。　Then　he　swung　back　and　gripped　Tidi's　arm　so　hard　she　winced。
　〃Their　names？〃
　
　Her　eyes　flew　wide　in　surprise。　〃The　bald…headed　fat　man　is　Hans　Von　Hummel。　The　distinguished…looking　one　is　F。　James　Kelly。〃
　〃You　could　be　mistaken。〃
　〃Maybe　。　。　。　no；　I'm　positive。　I　saw　Kelly　once　at　the　President's　Inaugural　Ball。〃
　〃Look　around　the　room！　Recognize　anyone　else？〃
　
　Tidi　quickly　did　as　she　was　told；　scanning　the　main　salon　for　a　familiar　face。　Her　gaze　stopped　not　once；　but　three　times。　〃The　old　fellow　with　the　funny…looking　glasses　sitting　on　the　settee。　That's　Sir　Eric　Marks。　And　the　attractive　brunette　next　to　him　is　Dorothy　Howard；　the　British　actress…〃
　〃Never　mind　her。　Concentrate　on　the　men。〃
　〃The　only　other　who　looks　vaguely　familiar　is　the　one　who　just　came　in；　talking　to　Kirsti　Fyrie。　I'm　pretty　sure　he's　Jack　Boyle；　the　Australian　coal　tycoon。〃
　〃How　e　you're　such　an　authority　on　millionaires？〃
　
　Tidi　gave　a　cute　shrug。　〃A　favorite　pastime　for　a　lot　of　unmarried　girls。　You　never　know　when　you　might　meet　one；　so　you　prepare　for　the　occasion　even　if　it　only　es　off　in　your　imagination。〃
　〃For　once　your　daydreams　paid　off。〃
　〃I　don't　understand。〃
　〃Neither　do　I　except　this　is　beginning　to　look　like　a　meeting　of　the　clan。〃
　
　Pitt　pulled　Tidi　out　on　the　terrace　and　slowly　walked　her　to　a　corner　away　from　the　mainstream　of　the　crowd。　He　watched　the　small　groups　of　guests　milling　about　the　expansive　double　doors；　catching　them　looking　his　way　and　then　turning　back；　not　in　embarrassment；　but　rather　as　if　they　were　scientists　observing　an　experiment　and　discussing　its　probable　oute。　He　began　to　get　the　uneasy　feeling　that　ing　into　Rondheim's　lair　was　a　mistake。　He　was　just　in　the　process　of　thinking　up　an　excuse　to　leave　when　Kirsti　Fyrie　spied　them　and　came　alongside。
　〃Would　you　care　to　be　seated　in　the　study？　We're　almost　ready　to　begin。〃
　〃Who　is　giving　the　reading？〃　Tidi　asked。
　
　Kirsti's　face　brightened。　〃Why；　Oskar；　of　course。〃
　〃Oh；　dear　God；〃　Pitt　mumbled　under　his　breath。
　
　Like　a　lamb　to　slaughter；　he　let　Kirsti　lead　him　to　the　study　with　Tidi　tagging　behind。
　
　By　the　time　they　reached　the　study　and　found　a　seat　among　the　long　circular　rows　of　plush　armchairs　grouped　around　a　raised　dais；　the　room　was　nearly　brimming　to　capacity。　It　was　small　consolation；　but　Pitt　considered　he　and　Tidi　fortunate　to　sit　in　the　last　row　near　the　doorway；　offering　a　possible　means　of　unnoticed　departure　when　the　opportunity　arose。　Then　his　hopes　went　up　in　smoke…a　servant　closed　and　bolted　the　doors。
　
　After　a　few　moments；　the　servant　turned　a　rheostat　and　dimmed　the　lights；　throwing　the　study　into　solid　darkness。　Then　Kirsti　climbed　the　dais　and　two　soft；　pink　spotlights　came　on；　giving　her　the　aura　of　a　sculptured　Greek　goddess　standing　serenely　on　her　pedestal　in　the　Louvre。　Pitt　mentally　undressed　her；　trying　to　imagine　what　an　awesome　picture　she　would　have　made　in　that　revealing　condition。　He　stole　a　glance　at　Tidi。
　
　The　enraptured　quality　of　her　expression　made　him　wonder　if　it　were　possible　that　her　thoughts　were　similar　to　his。　He　groped　for　her　hand；　found　it　and　squeezed　the　fingers　tightly。　Tidi　was　so　absorbed　with　the　vision　on　the　dais；　she　didn't　even　notice　or　respond　to　Pitts　touch。
　
　Standing　there　motionless；　soaking　up　the　stares　from　an　audience　still　invisible　beyond　the　glare　of　the　spotlight　。　Fyrie　smiled　confidently　with　that　inner　glow　of　self…assurance　that　only　a　woman　truly　secure　in　her　loveliness　can　possess。
　
　She　bowed　her　head　toward　the　hushed　bodies　in　the　darkness　and　began　to　speak。　〃Ladies　and　gentlemen；　distinguished　guests。　Tonight；　our　host；　Mr。　Oskar　Rondheim；　will　offer　for　your　enjoyment　his　latest　work。　This　he　will　read　in　our　native　Icelandic　tongue。
　
　Then；　since　most　of　you　understand　English；　he　will　read　selected　verses　from　the　marvelous　new　contemporary　Irish　poet；　Sean　Magee。〃
　
　Pitt　turned　and　whispered　to　Tidi。　〃I　should　have　fortified　myself　with　at　least　ten　more　cups　of　that　punch。〃
　
　He　couldn't　see　Tidi's　face。　He　didn't　have　to…he　felt　her　elbow　jab　him　sharply　in　the　ribs。　When　he　turned　back　to　Kirsti；　she　had　disappeared　and　Rondheim　hid　taken　her　place。
　
　It　might　have　been　said　that　Pitt　suffered　the　agonies　of　the　damned　for　the　next　hour　and　a　half。　But　he　didn't。　Five　minutes　after　Rondheim　began　delivering　his　Icelandic　saga　in　a　rolling　monotone；　Pitt　was　sound　asleep；　content　in　the　fact　that　no　one　would　notice　his　lack　of　poetry　appreciation　in　the　darkened　surroundings。
　
　No　sooner　had　the　first　wave　of　unconsciousness　swept　over　him　than　Pitt　found　himself　back　on　the　beach　for　the　hundredth　time；　cradling　Dr。　Hunnewell's　head　in　his　arms。　Over　and　over　he　watched　helplessly　as　Hunnewell　stared　vacantly　into　Pitts　eyes；　trying　to　speak；　fighting　desperately　to　make　himself　understood。
　
　Then　finally；　barely　uttering　those　three　words　that　seemingly　had　no　meaning；　a　cloud　passed　over　his　tired　old　features　and　he　was　dead。
　
　The　strange　phenomenon　of　the　dream　wasn't　its　actual　recurrence；　but　rather　the　fact　that　no　two　sequences　were　exactly　the　same。　Each　time　that　Hunnewell　died；　something　was　different。　In　one　dream　the　children　would　be　present　on　the　beach　as　they　had　been　in　reality。　In　the　next；　they　would　be　missing；　nowhere　in　sight'。　Once　the　black　jet　circled　overhead；　dipping　its　wings　in　an　unexpected　salute。　Even　Sandecker　appeared　in　one　scene；　standing　over　Pitt　and　Hunnewell　and　sadly　shaking　his　head。　The　weather；　the　layout　of　the　beach；　the　color　of　the　sea…they　all　differed　from　fantasy　to　fantasy。　Only　one　small　detail　always　remained　faithfully…Hunnewell's　last　words。
　
　The　audience's　applause　woke　Pitt　up。　He　stared　at　nothing　in　particular；　stupidly　gathering　his　thoughts。
　
　The　lights　had　e　on　and　he　spent　several　moments　blinking　and　getting　his　eyes　accustomed　to　the　glare。
　
　Rondheim　was　still　on　the　dais；　smugly　accepting　the　generous　acclaim。　He　held　up　his　hands　for　silence。
　〃As　most　of　you　know；　my　favorite　diversion　is　memorizing　verse。　With　all　due　modesty；　I　must　honestly　state　that　my　acquired　knowledge　is　quite　formidable。　I　would；　at　this　time；　like　to　put　my　reputation　on　the　block　and　invite　any　of　you　in　the　audience　to　begin　a　line　of　any　verse　that　es　to　your　mind。　If　I　cannot　finish　the　stanza　that　follows　or；　plete　the　poem　to　your　total　satisfaction；　I　shall　personally　donate　fifty　thousand　dollars　to　your　favorite　charity。〃　He　waited　until　the　murmur　of　excited　voices　tapered　to　silence　once　more。
　〃Shall　we　begin？　Who　will　be　first　to　challenge　my　memory？〃
　
　Sir　Eric　Marks　stood。〃　'Should　the　guardian　friend　or　mother…'　Try　that　one　for　an　introduction；　Oskar。〃
　
　Rondheim　nodded。　〃　'Tell　the　woes　of　wilful　waste；　Scorn　their　counsel；　scorn　their　pother；　You　can　hang　or　drown　at　last！'　〃　He　paused　for　effect。　〃　'One　and　Twenty'　by　Samuel　Johnson。〃
　
　Marks　bowed　in　acknowledgment。　〃Absolutely　correct。〃
　
　F。　James　Kelly　rose　next。　〃Finish　this　one　if　you　can　and　name　the　author。　'Now　all　my　days　are　trances；　And　all　my　nightly　dreams…'　〃　Rondheim　hardly　skipped　a　beat。
　〃　'Are　where　thy　grey　eye　glances；　And　where　thy　footstep　gleams…In　what　ethereal　dances；　By　what　eternal　streams！'　'The　tine　in　Paradise'　and　it　was　written　by　Edgar　Allan　Poe。〃
　〃My　pliments。　Oskar。〃　Kelly　was　visibly　impressed。　〃You　rate　an　A　plus。〃
　
　Rondheim　looked　about　the　room；　a　smile　s