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Life Begins on Friday
179
he did from a distance. He
recounted what he could
remember, starting with the
nicest part, about the toy
cow, and finally he gave his
own opinion.
He chose his words with
care: ‘I’m not certain of it,
but he may be a Martian. I
don’t know whether you’ve
heard of them,’ he added.
‘It was in yesterday’s paper.
You are sure he’s not Jack,
the Ripper, I mean?’
‘Why?’ asked Costache,
rather confused by the ‘you
are sure?’ not knowing that
Nicu talked to himself in
the second person when he
was flustered. The Prefect
had indeed discounted the
hypothesis about Jack from
the outset. Every police
force and every newspaper
in Europe were in ferment
because of the murderer.
‘Because he’s a good man:
I’ve seen him. He looks a bit
like Miss Iulia. You would
think that they were brother
and sister.’
Costache’s expression was
inscrutable.
‘Where’s the toy he gave
you? I want to see it!’
‘Athome,’ saidNicu, resisting
the urge to touch his pocket.
He shrugged regretfully, as
if to reinforce what he was
saying.
In a sudden rage, Costache
asked himself aloud what
kind of subalterns he
had and how they had
gone about searching the
stranger. Who knows what
else they had missed? Even
the case had vanished. Nicu
waited for him to vent his
fury; he was accustomed to
the highly-strung, what with
his mother, but he made a
mental note of this item of
new information.