Dean Spanley Page #3

Mrs Travers, did I ever tell you that

I collect birds? I'm a real cornucopian.

What's that?

Only thing that made sense

in the whole damn farrago

was what the chap said about dogs

thinking you are better than you are.

Canine flattery is a survival mechanism,

according to Darwin.

The chap never had a dog,

is all I can say.

I thought he had a beagle.

I had a dog once. Wag.

One of the seven great dogs.

At any one time, you know,

there are only seven. Did you know that?

I can't say I did.

Neither did that swami. Made me think

he didn't know much about dogs.

Let's go to my club, have a stiff one.

I thought you didn't go there any more.

That was in the past.

This is the present, young Fisk.

There's no time like the present,

as that swami called it.

- What was it? The Eternal Now?

- I don't know, sir. I wasn't listening.

- How are you, Marriot?

- I'm well, sir. And yourself?

Oh, one step nearer the grave.

How's that boy of yours?

Tommy, isn't it?

Yes, sir. Tommy, sir.

He... he's dead, sir.

The war, sir. The Boer War.

Oh, the Boers.

Lost one myself in that nonsense.

Haven't seen you for a while, sir.

Hasn't changed much.

Clubs aren't supposed to change, surely.

Part of their charm.

There's that chap again.

Is he following us?

Where are you going?

- Fisk.

- What?

Horatio Fisk.

This is young Fisk. Surprised

we were to see you at the nawab's.

Oh, yes, yes.

So, what did you make

of all that mumble-jumble?

The beliefs of others

are always of interest.

Really? Tell me this, then.

Why don't they get in touch?

Souls, I mean.

Never a word from beyond the grave.

You'd think one of them

would have given a shout.

Well, I imagine if the swami is correct

they're all too busy

being whoever they've become.

And what about him pinching my line?

- What line was that?

- The anteroom of eternity.

Well, I'd rather thought that

common usage.

Not at all.

Out of my own head that came.

Rather like having your pocket picked.

- What's that you're drinking?

- Ah, this is Tokay.

Not an Imperial, I'm afraid,

but... good enough, for all that.

A bit syrupy for my taste.

Well, we'll leave you to it.

You must excuse my father.

He can be... rather impulsive.

Not at all.

Pardon me, Dean, but...

am I to understand you give

some credence to these beliefs?

- Only the closed mind is certain, sir.

- Oh, I agree.

I agree.

- Good day, sir.

- Good day to you, sir.

Rum chap, Spanley.

Do you know him well enough

to form that opinion?

One can tell. Not quite sound.

Dabbling in Eastern religion.

Drinking that Hungarian treacle.

Can I get you gentlemen a drink?

I'd like a brandy and soda, Marriot,

with the emphasis on the brandy.

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