if.moonraker-第6部分

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rk　blue　bow…tie　with　spots；　rather　loosely　tied；　the　thin　black　cord　of　the　rimless　eyeglass　that　M。　seemed　only　to　use　to　read　menus；　the　keen　sailor's　face；　with　the　clear；　sharp　sailor's　eyes。　It　was　difficult　to　believe　that　an　hour　before　he　had　been　playing　with　a　thousand　live　chessmen　against　the　enemies　of　England；　that　there　might　be；　this　evening；　fresh　blood　on　his　hands；　or　a　successful　burglary；　or　the　hideous　knowledge　of　a　disgusting　blackmail　case。
　And　what　could　the　casual　observer　think　of　him；　'mander　James　Bond；　GMG；　RNVSR'；　also'something　at　the　Ministry　of　Defence'；　the　rather　saturnine　young　man　in　his　middle　thirties　sitting　opposite　the　Admiral？　Something　a　bit　cold　and　dangerous　in　that　face。　Looks　pretty　fit。　May　have　been　attached　to　Templer　in　Malaya。　Or　Nairobi。　Mau　Mau　work。　Tough…looking　customer。　Doesn't　look　the　sort　of　chap　one　usually　sees　in　Blades。
　Bond　knew　that　there　was　something　alien　and　un…English　about　himself。　He　knew　that　he　was　a　difficult　man　to　cover　up。　Particularly　in　England。　He　shrugged　his　shoulders。　Abroad　was　what　mattered。　He　would　never　have　a　job　to　do　in　England。　Outside　the　jurisdiction　of　the　Service。　Anyway；　he　didn't　need　a　cover　this　evening。　This　was　recreation。
　M。　snorted　and　threw　his　cards　down。　Bond　automatically　gathered　in　the　pack　and　as　automatically　gave　it　the　Scarne　shuffle；　marrying　the　two　halves　with　the　quick　downward　riffle　that　never　brings　the　cards　off　the　table。　He　squared　off　the　pack　and　pushed　it　away。
　M。　beckoned　to　a　passing　waiter。　〃Piquet　cards；　please；　Tanner；〃　he　said。
　The　waiter　went　away　and　came　back　a　moment　later　with　the　two　thin　packs。　He　stripped　off　the　wrapping　and　placed　them；　with　two　markers；　on　the　table。　He　stood　waiting。
　〃Bring　me　a　whisky　and　soda；〃　said　M。　〃Sure　you　won't　have　anything？〃
　Bond　looked　at　his　watch。　It　was　half…past　six。　〃Could　I　have　a　dry　Martini？〃　he　said。　〃Made　with　Vodka。　Large　slice　of　lemon　peel。〃
　〃Rot…gut；〃　mented　M。　briefly　as　the　waiter　went　away。　〃Now　I'll　just　take　a　pound　or　two　off　you　and　then　we'll　go　and　have　a　look　at　the　bridge。　Our　friend　hasn't　turned　up　yet。〃
　For　half　an　hour　they　played　the　game　at　which　the　expert　player　can　nearly　always　win　even　with　the　cards　running　slightly　against　him。　At　the　end　of　the　game　Bond　laughed　and　counted　out　three　pound…notes。
　〃One　of　these　days　I'm　going　to　take　some　trouble　and　really　learn　piquet；〃　he　said。　〃I've　never　won　against　you　yet。〃
　〃It's　all　memory　and　knowing　the　odds；〃　said　M。　with　satisfaction。　He　finished　his　whisky　and　soda。　〃Let's　go　over　and　see　what's　going　on　at　the　bridge。　Our　man's　playing　at　Basildon's　table。　Came　in　about　ten　minutes　ago。　If　you　nbtice　anything；　just　give　me　a　nod　and　we'll　go　downstairs　and　talk　about　it。〃
　He　stood　up　and　Bond　followed　suit。
　The　far　end　of　the　room　had　begun　to　fill　up　and　half　a　dozen　tables　of　bridge　were　going。　At　the　round　poker　table　under　the　centre　chandelier　three　players　were　counting　out　chips　into　five　stacks；　waiting　for　two　more　players　to　e　in。　The　kidney…shaped　baccarat　table　was　still　shrouded　and　would　probably　remain　so　until　after　dinner；　when　it　would　be　used　for　chemin…de…fer。
　Bond　followed　M。　out　of　their　alcove；　relishing　the　scene　down　the　long　room；　the　oases　of　green；　the　tinkle　of　glasses　as　the　waiters　moved　amongst　the　tables；　the　hum　of　talk　punctuated　by　sudden　exclamations　and　warm　laughter；　the　haze　of　blue　smoke　rising　up　through　the　dark　red　lamp　shades　that　hung　over　the　centre　of　each　table。　His　pulses　quickened　with　the　smell　of　it　all　and　his　nostrils　flared　slightly　as　the　two　men　came　down　the　long　room　and　joined　the　pany。'
　M。；　with　Bond　beside　him；　wandered　casually　from　table　to　table；　exchanging　greetings　with　the　players　until　they　reached　the　last　table　beneath　the　fine　Lawrence　of　Beau　Brummel　over　the　wide　Adam　fireplace。
　〃Double；　damn　you；〃　said　the　loud；　cheerful　voice　of　the　player　with　his　back　to　Bond。　Bond　thoughtfully　noted　the　head　of　tight　reddish　hair　that　was　all　he　could　see　of　the　speaker；　then　he　looked　to　the　left　at　the　rather　studious　profile　of　Lord　Basildon。　The　Chairman　of　Blades　was　leaning　back；　looking　critically　down　his　nose　at　the　hand　of　cards　which　he　held　out　and　away　from　him　as　if　it　were　a　rare　object。
　〃My　hand　is　so　exquisite　that　I　am　forced　to　redouble；　my　dear　Drax；〃　he　said。　He　looked　across　at　his　partner。　〃Tommy；〃　he　said。　〃Charge　this　to　me　if　it　goes　wrong。〃
　〃Rot；〃　said　his　partner。　〃Meyer？　Better　take　Drax　out。〃
　〃Too　frightened；〃　said　the　middle…aged　florid　man　who　was　playing　with　Drax。　〃No　bid。〃　He　picked　up　his　cigar　from　the　brass　ashtray　and　put　it　carefully　into　the　middle　of　his　mouth。
　〃No　bid　here；〃　said　Basildon's　partner。
　〃And　nothing　here；〃　came　Drax's　voice。
　〃Five　clubs　redoubled；〃　said　Basildon。　〃Your　lead；　Meyer。〃
　Bond　looked　over　Drax's　shoulder。　Drax　had　the　ace　of　spades　and　the　ace　of　hearts。　He　promptly　made　them　both　and　led　another　heart　which　Basildon　took　on　the　table　with　the　king。
　〃Well；〃　said　Basildon。　〃There　are　four　trumps　against　me　including　the　queen。　I　shall　play　Drax　to　have　her。〃　He　finessed　against　Drax。　Meyer　took　the　trick　with　the　queen。
　〃Hell　and　damnation；〃　said　Basildon。　〃What's　the　queen　doing　in　Meyer's　hand？　Well；　I'm　damned。　Anyway　the　rest　are　mine。〃　He　fanned　his　cards　down　on　the　table。　He　looked　defensively　at　his　partner。　〃Can　you　beat　it；　Tommy？　Drax　doubles　and　Meyer　has　the　queen。〃　There　was　not　more　than　a　natural　exasperation　in　his　voice。
　Drax　chuckled。　〃Didn't　expect　my　partner　to　have　a　Yar　borough　did　you？〃　he　said　cheerfully　to　Basildon。　〃Well；　that's　just　the　four　hundred　above　the　line。　Your　deal。〃　He　cut　the　cards　to　Basildon　and　the　game　went　on。
　So　it　had　been　Drax's　deal　the　hand　before。　That　might　be　important。　Bond　lit　a　cigarette　and　reflectively　examined　the　back　of　Drax's　head。
　M。's　voice　cut　in　on　Bond's　thoughts。　〃You　remember　my　friend　mander　Bond；　Basil？　Thought　we'd　e　along　and　play　some　bridge　this　evening。〃
　Basildon　smiled　up　at　Bond。　〃Evening；〃　he　said。　He　waved　a　hand　round　the　table　from　the　left　to　right。　〃Meyer；　Dangerfield；　Drax。〃　The　three　men　looked　up　briefly　and　Bond　nodded　a　greeting　to　the　table　in　general。　〃You　all　know　the　Admiral；〃　added　the　Chairman；　starting　to　deal。
　Drax　half　turned　in　his　chair。　〃Ah；　the　Admiral；〃　he　said　boisterously。　〃Glad　to　have　you　aboard；　Admiral。　Drink？〃
　〃No；　thanks；〃　said　M。　with　a　thin　smile。　〃Just　had　one。〃
　Drax　turned　and　glanced　up　at　Bond；　who　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　tuft　of　reddish　moustache　and　a　rather　chilly　blue　eye。　〃What　about　you？〃　asked　Drax　perfunctorily。
　〃No；　thanks；〃　said　Bond。
　Drax　swivelled　back　to　the　table　and　picked　up　his　cards。　Bond　watched　the　big　blunt　hands　sort　them。
　Then　he　moved　round　the　table　with　a　second　clue　to　ponder。
　Drax　didn't　sort　his　cards　into　suits　as　most　players　do；　but　only　into　reds　and　blacks；　ungraded；　making　his　hand　very　difficult　to　kibitz　and　almost　impossible　for　one　of　his　neighbours；　if　they　were　so　inclined　to　decipher。
　Bond　knew　it　for　the　way　people　hold　their　hands　who　are　very　careful　card…players　indeed。
　Bond　went　and　stood　beside　the　chimneypiece。　He　took　out　a　cigarette　and　lit　it　at　the　flame　from　a　small　gas…jet　enclosed　in　a　silver　grille…a　relic　of　the　days　before　the　use　of　matches…that　protruded　from　the　wall　beside　him。
　From　where　he　stood　he　could　see　the　hand　of　Meyer；　and　by　moving　a　pace　to　the　right；　of　Basildon。　His　view　of　Sir　Hugo　Drax　was　uninterrupted　and　he　inspected　him　carefully　while　appearing　to　interest　himself　only　in　the　game。
　Drax　gave　the　impression　of　being　a　little　larger　than　life。　He　was　physically　big…about　six　foot　tall；　Bond　guessed…and　his　shoulders　were　exceptionally　broad。　He　had　a　big　square　head　and　the　tight　reddish　hair　was　parted　in　the　middle。　On　either　side　of　the　parting　the　hair　dipped　down　in　a　curve　towards　the　temples　with　the　object；　Bond　assumed；　of　hiding　as　much　as　possible　of　the　tissue　of　shining　puckered　skin　that　covered　most　of　the　right　half　of　his　face。　Other　relics　of　plastic　surgery　could　be　detected　in　the　man's　right　ear；　which　was　not　a　perfect　match　with　its　panion　on　the　left；　and　the　right　eye；　which　had　been　a　surgical　failure。　It　was　considerably　larger　than　the　left　eye；　because　of　a　contraction　of　the　borrowed　skin　used　to　rebuild　the　upper　and　lower　eyelids；　and　it　looked　painfully　bloodshot。　Bond　doubted　if　it　was　capable　of　closing　pletely　and　he　guessed　that　Drax　covered　it　with　a　patch　at　night。
　To　conceal　as　much　as　possible　of　the　unsightly　taut　skin　that　covered　half　his　face；　Drax　had　grown　a　bushy　reddish　moustache　and　had　allowed　his　whiskers　to　grow　down　to　the　level　of　the　lobes　of　his　ears。　He　also　had　patches　of　hair　'on　his　cheek…bones。
　The　heavy　moustache　served　another　purpose。　It　helped　to　hide　a　naturally　prognathous　upper　jaw　and　a　marked　protrusion　of　the　upper　row　of　teeth。　Bond　reflected　that　this　was　probably　due　to　sucking　his　thumb　as　a　child；　and　it　had　resulted　in　an　ugly　splaying；　or　diastema；　of　what　Bond　had　heard　his　dentist　call　'the　centrals'。　The　moustache　helped　to　hide　these　'ogre's　teeth'　and　it　was　only　when　Drax　uttered；　as　he　frequently　did；　his　short　braying　laugh　that　the　splay　could　be　seen。
　The　general　effect　of　the　face…the　riot　of　red…brown　hair；　the　powerful　nose　and　jaw；　the　florid　skin…was　flamboyant。　It　put　Bond　in　mind　of　a　ring…master　at　a　circus。　The　contrasting　sharpness　and　coldness　of　the　left　eye　supported　the　likeness。
　A　bullying；　boorish；　loud…mouthed　vulgarian。　That　would　have　been　Bond's　verdict　if　he　had　not　known　something　of　Drax's　abilities。　As　it　was；　it　crossed　his　mind　that　much　of　the　effect　might　be　Drax's　idea　of　a　latter…day　Regency　buck…the　harmless　disguise　of　a　man　with　a　smashed　face　who　was　also　a　snob。
　Looking　for　further　clues；　Bond　noticed　that　Drax　was　sweating　rather　freely。　Despite　the　occasional　growl　of　thunder　outside　it　was　a　cool　evening；　and　yet　Drax　was　constantly　mopping　his　face　and　neck　with　a　huge　bandana　handkerchief。　He　smoked　incessantly；　stubbing　out　the　cork…tipped　Virginia　cigarettes　after　a　dozen　lungfuls　of　smoke　and　almost