''I asked the question; the original question rather.
It was only to talk.
It was not an interrogation.''
''I don't think it was.
You do not have the face of an inquisitor, my Colonel, and I know about the Order, although I am not a member.''
''You may be member material.
I'll take it up with the Gran Maestro.''
''We come from the same town; but from distinct quarters.''
''It's a good town.''
''My Colonel, I have so little political development that I believe all honorable men are honorable.''
''Oh you'll get over that,'' the Colonel assured him. ''Don't worry, boy.
You've got a young party.
Naturally you make errors.''
''Please don't talk like that.''
''It was just rough early morning joking.''
''Tell me, my Colonel, what do you really think about Tito?''
''I think several things.
But he's my next door neighbor.
I've found it better not to talk about my neighbor.''
''I'd like to learn.''
''Then learn it the hard way.
Don't you know people don't give answers to such questions?''
''I had hoped they did.''
''They don't,'' the Colonel said. ''Not in my position.
All I can tell you is that Mister Tito has plenty problems.''
''Well, I know that now truly,'' the night porter who was really only a boy said.
''I hope you do,'' the Colonel said. ''I wouldn't call it, as knowledge, any pearl of great price.
Now, good-day, for I must take a walk for the good of my liver, or something.''
''Good day, my Colonel.
Fa brutto tempo.''
''Bruttissimo,'' the Colonel said and, pulling the belt of his raincoat tight, and settling his shoulders into it, and the skirts well down, he stepped out into the wind.
CHAPTER 21
THE Colonel took the ten centesimi gondola across the Canal, paying the usual dirty note, and standing with the crowd of those condemned to early rising.
He looked back at the Gritti and saw the windows of his room; still open.
There was no promise nor threat of rain; only the same strong wild, cold wind from the mountains.
Everyone in the gondola looked cold and the Colonel thought, I wish I could issue these wind-proof coats to everyone on board.
God, and every officer that ever wore one, knows they are not water-proof, and who made the money out of that one?
You can't get water through a Burberry.
But I suppose some able jerk has his boy in Groton now, or maybe Canterbury, where the big contractors' boys go, because our coats leaked.
And what about some brother officer of mine who split with him?
I wonder who the Benny Meyers of the ground forces were?
There probably wasn't only one.
Probably, he thought, there must be very many.
You must not be awake yet, to talk that simply.
They do keep the wind out though.
The raincoats.
Raincoats my ass.
The gondola pulled up between the stakes on the far bank of the canal and the Colonel watched the black-clad people climb up out of the black-painted vehicle.
Is she a vehicle? he thought. Or must a vehicle have wheels or be tracked?
Nobody would give you a penny for your thoughts, he thought. Not this morning.