He was startled by a prodigious snort followed by squelching footsteps close at hand.
“What the hell’s that?” Ricky exclaimed.
“It’s a horse,” Mr. Jones tossed off.
The invisible horse blew down its nostrils.
They arrived at the windows and at a door. Mr. Jones gave the door a kick and it ground noisily open. It had a dirty parody of a portiere on the inside.
Without an invitation or, indeed, any kind of comment, he went in, leaving Ricky to follow.
He did so, and was astonished to find himself face to face with Miss Harkness.
2: Syd Jones’s Pad and Montjoy
i
Ricky heard a voice that might have been anybody’s but his saying, “Oh, hullo. Good evening. We meet again. Ha-ha.”
She looked at him with contempt. He said to Mr. Jones: “We met at luncheon up at L’Espérance.”
“Oh Christ!” Mr. Jones said in a tone of utter disgust. And to Miss Harkness, “What the hell were you doing up there?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I came away.”
“So I should bloody hope. Had they got some things of mine up there?”
“Yes.”
He grunted and disappeared through a door at the far end of the room. Ricky attempted a conversation with Miss Harkness but got nowhere with it. She said something inaudible and retired upon a stereo system where she made a choice and released a cacophony.
Mr. Jones returned. He dropped onto a sort of divan bed covered with what looked like a horse rug. He seemed to be inexplicably excited.
“Take a chair,” he yelled at Ricky.
Ricky took an armchair, misjudging the distance between his person and the seat, which, having lost its springs, thudded heavily on the floor. He landed in a ludicrous position, his knees level with his ears. Mr. Jones and Miss Harkness burst into raucous laughter. Ricky painfully joined in — and they immediately stopped.