A Dead Man in Tangier Page 21

  ‘So what did you do?'

  ‘Looked for revenge. Or justice, as I would prefer to call it.'

  ‘How?'

  ‘Through my writing. The article I planted in New Dawn was just the beginning. I thought that in the end I would get him through my writing. It would be slow, but that,’ she said, looking Seymour straight in the face, ‘would only make it sweeter. ’

  ‘You didn’t go further?'

  ‘I would have, probably. Only Armand got there before me.'

  ‘Did you know what he was going to do? Did you talk about it? He, of course, won’t tell me. But perhaps you will.'

  ‘No, we didn’t talk. And no, I didn’t know. But if I had, I would have been with him all the way. I tell you this because I don’t want you to think Armand was alone. If he is to blame, so am I.'

  She laid her hand on his arm.

  ‘You know, I think, what you mean to me. And I, I think, mean something to you. If that is so, can I take advantage of it to ask a favour? See that Armand is not treated too harshly.'

  In the end he decided to consult Mrs Macfarlane.

  ‘Hmm.'

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘This is, actually, as my husband would say, a ticklish legal problem. Under whose jurisdiction might this fall? This happened in Tangier. Tangier’s legal status is as yet undefined. An international zone? Maybe, but tomorrow. Today? Morocco? France? And in practice?’ She thought some more.

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I believe justice might best be served by going to Monsieur Lambert. The one thing certain in all this is that de Grassac is under military law. I don’t think that anyone is going to complain too much if this is left to the army to sort out.

  ‘Not the international powers, certainly, who won’t want to get involved. Nor the government in France, and not the settlers here, who would do well to keep quiet about Bossu. The Mahzen? Not just at the moment, with Moulay Hafiz taking over.

  ‘No, leave the army to sort out its own dirty washing. And for once, I suspect, they will sort it out very sensibly. You know, there is a custom in Morocco known as “God’s door”. You should always leave the door open. Being too cut-and-dried on anything is a mistake. I suspect the army in Morocco is well aware of this custom and if ever there was a case for its application, this is it.'

  Mr Bahnini came to see him.

  ‘To say goodbye,’ he said.

  ‘You’re leaving?'

  ‘I’m going back to Casablanca. To set up as a bookkeeper. I think that when the Protectorate is established, there will be a lot of demand for my services.'

  ‘I think you could be right.'

  They shook hands.

  ‘Macfarlane will miss you.'

  ‘Less than you might think. Sadiq will be replacing me.'

  ‘Really?'

  Sadiq looked rather shame-faced.

  ‘He talked me into it,’ he said. ‘Macfarlane. He said that if I wished to stop the French from taking everything over, the way to do it was to get Tangier made into a free international zone: and that the best way for me to do that was to come and work for the committee.'

  And Awad? Awad was going into politics.

  ‘Of which,’ said Mr Bahnini, ‘there is likely to be a lot in future.'

  Mustapha and Idris embraced him and wept.

  ‘We’ve sort of got used to you,’ they said. ‘In fact, this doesn’t seem a bad line of business at all.'

  Seymour left recommendations all over the place. However, he placed greater reliance on Chantale’s mother, who had promised to keep an eye on them. On Chantale Seymour thought long and deep.

  ‘She will always be torn,’ he said to Madame de Lissac, ‘between the French side and the Moroccan side of her. The only way out that I can see is to add a moderating influence. Let’s call it the English side, and I will do my best to see that she remains as true to that as to the others.'