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.The impression, however, was contradicted by his clothing, which was soincongruously dapper that Arabella had to control herself sternly to keep fromgiggling out loud.His trousers were immaculate light-grey flannels, belted atthe waist which in his case meant somewhere on the re-entrant undersurface ofthat ballooning midriff.At least two of his chins were camouflaged by astartlingly debonair cravat, and the upper part of his pear-shaped torso wasgift-wrapped absurdly in the type of blazer in which lean young men atCambridge once used to look dashing.Page 36 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlArabella's attention dwelt only briefly on these details of the fat man.Shewas too hungry to trouble herself about where, if anywhere, she might haveseen him before, or someone who resembled him.She was impatient to catch theeye of the white-jacketed waiter, an apparently world-weary old retainer of atype still found in some French provincial hotels.He had a face like a crossbetween a pensioned-off clown and a tired bloodhound, and he seemed quietlydetermined, in the traditional manner of waiters, that his eye should not becaught.He pottered busily at a corner trolley with napkins and cutlery, orstraightened a tablecloth here and there, giving the impression that suchengrossing exertions could easily fill his entire day.Arabella toyed with the menu impatiently.She was about to call out when thefat man beat her to it."Monsieur!"The voice was a rich bass, full of authority.He rapped imperiously on thetable, snapped his fingers and assumed an expression of fierce chivalry, asthe startled waiter came towards him."The young lady is waiting to be served," he told him in French."S'il vousplait!""Mais certainement."The waiter turned to Arabella."I am sorry you have beenkept waiting.""De rien,"Arabella said after nodding her thanks to the fat man.And shecontinued in rather hesitant French."I should like to have, first, some horsd'oeuvres, and afterwards thefilet mignon, medium, with a green salad."The fat man watched with his head cocked slightly on one side."Permit me to advise you, Madame," he put in, in English."I could not avoidto overhear your order.May I suggest, if you are considering a wine,theChateau Durfort-Vivens? It is a fine Bordeaux wine, most reasonablypriced." The fat man hesitated."Indeed, if you will permit a further liberty,I too will be feasting onle filet mignon de Charolais and I will be honouredif you will join me at the table and share with me a bottle of theChateauDurfort-Vivens.""Well, I don't know." Arabella looked appraisingly at the fat man.He waswhat Mrs Cloonan would undoubtedly have called "rather forward", but he mightwell make an interesting dinner companion.She wavered.The baggy-featuredwaiter glanced from one to the other.Arabella made up her mind."Why, yes, I should like that.Thank you."The fat man beamed.After he had dispatched the waiter with a barrage ofinstructions, Arabella sat down at his table."Well, well," he said, as he un-Gallically tucked one corner of a napkinbehind his cravat making himself look like a vast nursery Tweedledum "aremarkable coincidence, is it not, Madame Tatenor?"Arabella stared at him startled."I beg your pardon.Do I know you?"Page 37 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlThe fat Frenchman spread his hands apologetically."In truth, it is I who should beg yours.Perhaps I should have pretended notto recognise you, rather than place myself in the necessity for reminding youof what must be most distressing.Perhaps you did not notice? Quiteunderstandable in the circumstances.You see, I was in the courtroom duringthe inquest on your unfortunate husband.It was a terrible tragedy, butterrible.And you are a widow so young." He shrugged to convey thehopelessness of trying to put these things into words."You have my deepestsympathies.""Thank you.Now that you mention it, I think I do recall seeing you incourt
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