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It couldn’t be, but it was. Casper Gutman, the fat man of the Maltese Falcon caper!
Looking at the unholy trio there - Joel Cairo, the little Levantine still as oily and smiling as ever and still fragrant, Marvin, a sullen-faced, hollow-eyed youth as near Wilmer’s double as anyone could expect to find, and Gutman, spruce as ever in his black cutaway coat, black vest, and grey striped trousers – you’d have thought nothing had happened since then, not even the war.
The grayness at Cairo’s temples only made his baby-face look more babyish, and about Gutman nothing was different except his watch chain. A curious, jewel-encrusted ornament dangled from it, shaped like a claw.
“You seem surprised to see me, sir! And no wonder. One is always surprised to see a ghost, especially such a substantial ghost! Aha ha… Suffice it to say, sir, that the bloated and unpleasant object the police dredged up from San Francisco Bay and identified as myself was some other poor soul.”
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Looking at the unholy trio there - Joel Cairo, the little Levantine still as oily and smiling as ever and still fragrant, Marvin, a sullen-faced, hollow-eyed youth as near Wilmer’s double as anyone could expect to find, and Gutman, spruce as ever in his black cutaway coat, black vest, and grey striped trousers – you’d have thought nothing had happened since then, not even the war.
The grayness at Cairo’s temples only made his baby-face look more babyish, and about Gutman nothing was different except his watch chain. A curious, jewel-encrusted ornament dangled from it, shaped like a claw.
“You seem surprised to see me, sir! And no wonder. One is always surprised to see a ghost, especially such a substantial ghost! Aha ha… Suffice it to say, sir, that the bloated and unpleasant object the police dredged up from San Francisco Bay and identified as myself was some other poor soul.”
( Read more... )
