"The four?"
"I was counting Harry. What else did he see, Mr. Martins?"
"Nothing of interest—except he says Harry was dead when he was carried to the house."
"Well, he was dying—not much difference there. Have another drink, Mr. Martins?"
"No, I don't think I will."
"Well, I'd like another spot. I was very fond of your friend, Mr. Martins, and I don't like talking about it."
"Perhaps one more—to keep you company."
"Do you know Anna Schmidt?" Martins asked, while the whisky still tingled on his tongue.
"Harry's girl? I met her once, that's all. As a matter of fact, I helped Harry fix her papers. Not the sort of thing I should confess to a stranger, I suppose, but you have to break the rules sometimes. Humanity's a duty too."
"What was wrong?"
"She was Hungarian and her father had been a Nazi so they said. She was scared the Russians would pick her up."
"Why should they want to?"
"Well, her papers weren't in order."
"You took her some money from Harry, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't have mentioned that. Did she tell you?"
The telephone went and Cooler drained his glass. "Hullo," he said. "Why, yes. This is Cooler." Then he sat with the receiver at his ear and an expression of sad patience, while some voice a long way off drained into the room. "Yes," he said once. "Yes." His eyes dwelt on Martins' face, but they seemed to be looking a long way beyond him: flat and tired and kind, they might have been gazing out over across the sea. He said, "You did quite right," in a tone of commendation, and then, with a touch of asperity, "Of course they will be delivered. I gave my word. Goodbye." He put the receiver down and passed a hand across his forehead wearily. It was as though he were trying to remember something he had to do. Martins said, "Had you heard anything of this racket the police talk about?"
"I'm sorry. What's that?"
"They say Harry was mixed up in some racket."
"Oh, no," Cooler said. "No. That's quite impossible. He had a great sense of duty."
"Kurtz seemed to think it was possible."
"Kurtz doesn't understand how an Anglo-Saxon feels," Cooler replied.
9
IT WAS NEARLY dark (было почти темно) when Martins made his way along the banks of the canal (когда Мартинс шел: «делал свой путь» вдоль берегов канала): across the water lay the half destroyed Diana baths (через воду лежали = на другой стороне канала находились наполовину разрушенные бани Дианы) and in the distance the great black circle of the Prater Wheel (а на расстоянии = поодаль — огромный черный круг пратерского[1]