away. Good wolf doggie. Nice mutt. Duties on the estate to chew up any visitor not invited. Doggie, don't think I don't know that.
New guests. More and more. In hunting equipage. A string octet striking up in the distant summer room. Wherever it is. But hear the faint strains of violins. A blue gowned woman. Hair streaks of grey. Undulated up to Smith. Talking down her nose.
"Hello, who are you."
"Who are you."
"I asked you first."
"I am Fang."
"You like dogs, Mr. Fang."
Tall languid woman. Creamed face. Soft breasts. See through the blue. Diamonds sticking on the ear lobes. Rests on one slipper and then the other. George leaning to peer down her careless cleavage. She put her hand there so he could not see. And grinning weakly she stepped away. Tripping backwards into an empty ice bucket on the floor. Where she fell. Wolf doggies leaping round her. Nipping playfully and growling. Smith prayerfully gazing in the distance, across the crowd. Thicker and bigger. All Bonnifaces. Mind areel. Matilda you black ox. Giant breasted. Giving parties in Merry Mansions while I'm away. Marvelous how one can receive these messages on the ether. That black is busting out. Skin so smooth.
Smith out through the guests. Pardon me. Sorry. Excuse me. Do you mind. I'd like to pass please. What for white. How are you. And into the pantry by the zinc sinks. The sweating footmen. Four of these faces I recognise from Cinder Village. Layabout louts. Side door here. Peer in. The bacon room, hams hanging. Catch Calvin gnawing one of those. Ah kitchen. Hello. Cook. I'm scraping and slaving in here for the stingy likes of Mr. Jiffy. You know Maureen. An upstart of a girl. Gentleman such as yourself would not want to be friendly with the likes of her. Into bed with any pair of pants. Mr. Clementine. O my God sir, that one. I mean with all respect. O what a merry kettle of fish. Do you know his whereabouts. And sure I do not. And the quicker the likes of him are last seen in Pomfret the better. Ah now, cook. Don't call me cook. Madam then. How do I get to the ice house. Don't mention that place to me. Under our feet.
Smith bowing at the kitchen door to the cook. Across a hall. Peeking into the servants' drawing room. An ironing board. Peering out on a porch. An ice cream churn. Down the stairs. Musty, damp and cold. Cobwebs in all the corners. Peeling paint. Deep passage way. Cinder smells. And hay. Damp. And rot. In these cellars in the direction under the kitchens. Ah. A gigantic door. Of stout massive timbers. Great bar of iron. Squeezing it shut. Hinges size of thighs. In here the ice. Cut in winter down on the lake. Hounds will find me here full of guilt and chew me up.
Smith reaching grasping the great iron bar. Pushing it up. Pulling the giant door open. Plenty of knowledge about doors. Open up to darkness. To the cold air in there.
A cackle. A quiver. In the dim light. The blocks of ice. Six feet down. In the far corner. On a cold throne. Cedric Calvin Bonniface Clementine. Encircled with brown bottles marked export. And X. A piece of cheese. One ham. A giggle. Of a dark uniformed maid making for the door to the outside world.
"My dear George, come in, join me. Cooling off down here. Think I'm mad. Think I'm going to ask you for money. Terrified. True I'm going to ask you for money. George. So good to see you. The trip here, goes without saying, was shameful. I do not mind a ship pitching. And rolling. But when there is the pitch, the roll and the lurch. Then by God."
"Hello."
"You build a tomb. Make mountain of marble for moment of last chill. Mean you have money. Me big temporary chief."
"You're drunk."
"O me chief. You build tomb. Much money. Me have none. Me want money. Me want big suitcase full of. I will tell Mumchance to come get you. The MacGillicuddy. He come too on big boat. We all come on big boat. After you. You desert your wife and children in the sticks. Shame. Naughty. You have black help in your house. The Merry Mansion. Naughty. You ride with two way telephone in black auto. Naughty. I am old friend. We go college together. We depart. I go down. You go up. Evil. I walk hot pavements. You