if.goldfinger-第24部分

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much　like　a　One。　I'd　say　that's　what　happened；　sir。　It　would　have　been　a　miracle　for　the　gentleman's　ball　to　have　ended　up　as　wide　as　where　it　was　found。'
　'Tommy　rot！'　Goldfinger　gave　a　snort　of　disgust。　He　turned　angrily　on　Bond。　'You　saw　that　was　a　Number　One　my　caddie　found。'
　Bond　shook　his　head　doubtfully。　'I　didn't　really　look　closely；　I'm　afraid。　However；'　Bond's　voice　became　brisk；　businesslike；　'it's　really　the　job　of　the　player　to　make　certain　he's　using　the　right　ball；　isn't　it？　I　can't　see　that　anyone　else　can　be　blamed　if　you　tee　the　wrong　ball　up　and　play　three　shots　with　it。　Anyway；'　he　started　walking　off　the　green；　'many　thanks　for　the　match。　We　must　have　it　again　one　day。'
　Goldfinger；　lit　with　glory　by　the　setting　sun；　but　with　a　long　black　shadow　tied　to　his　heels；　followed　Bond　slowly；　his　eyes　fixed　thoughtfully　on　Bond's　back。
　
　CHAPTER　TEN
　
　UP　AT　THE　GRANGE
　
　THERE　ARE　some　rich　men　who　use　their　riches　like　a　club。　Bond；　luxuriating　in　his　bath；　thought　that　Goldfinger　was　one　of　them。　He　was　the　kind　of　man　who　thought　he　could　flatten　the　world　with　his　money；　bludgeoning　aside　annoyances　and　opposition　with　his　heavy　wad。　He　had　thought　to　break　Bond's　nerve　by　playing　him　for　ten　thousand　dollars　…a　flea…bite　to　him　but　obviously　a　small　fortune　to　Bond。　In　most　circumstances　he　might　have　succeeded。　It　needs　an　iron　nerve　to　'wait　for　it'　on　your　swing；　to　keep　your　head　down　on　the　short　putts；　when　big　money　hangs　on　every　shot；　over　eighteen　long　holes。　The　pros；　playing　for　their　own　bread　and　butter　and　for　their　families'；　know　the　cold　breath　of　the　poor…house　on　the　back　of　their　necks　as　they　e　to　the　eighteenth　tee　all　square。　That　is　why　they　lead　careful　lives；　not　smoking　or　drinking；　and　why　the　one　that　wins　is　usually　the　one　with　the　least　imagination。
　But；　in　Bond's　case；　Goldfinger　could　not　have　known　that　high　tension　was　Bond's　natural　way　of　life　and　that　pressure　and　danger　relaxed　him。　And　he　could　not　have　known　that　Bond　wanted　to　play　Goldfinger　for　the　highest　possible　stakes　and　that　he　would　have　the　funds　of　the　Secret　Service　behind　him　if　he　lost。　Goldfinger；　so　used　to　manipulating　others；　had　been　blind　to　the　manipulation　for　once　being　practised　upon　himself。
　Or　had　he　been？　Thoughtfully　Bond　got　out　of　the　bath　and　dried　himself。　That　powerful　dynamo　inside　the　big　round　head　would　be　humming　at　this　very　moment；　wondering　about　Bond；　knowing　he　had　been　out…cheated；　asking　itself　how　it　came　about　that　twice　Bond　had　appeared　out　of　the　blue　and　twice　queered　his　pitch。　Had　Bond　played　his　cards　right？　Had　he　made　himself　appear　an　interesting　challenge；　or　would　Goldfinger's　sensitive　nose　smell　a　threat？　In　the　latter　case　there　would　be　no　follow…up　by　Goldfinger　and　Bond　would　have　to　bow　out　of　the　case　and　leave　it　to　M　to　devise　a　new　approach。　How　soon　would　he　know　if　the　big　fish　was　hooked？　This　one　would　take　plenty　of　time　sniffing　the　bait。　It　would　be　good　to　have　just　one　small　bite　to　tell　him　he　had　chosen　the　right　lure。
　There　was　a　knock　on　the　door　of　his　bedroom。　Bond　wrapped　the　towel　round　him　and　walked　through。　He　opened　the　door。　It　was　the　hall　porter。　'Yes？'
　'Telephone　message　from　a　Mr　Goldfinger；　sir。　His　pliments　and　would　you　care　to　e　to　his　house　for　dinner　tonight。　It's　the　Grange　over　at　Reculver；　sir。　Six…thirty　for　drinks　beforehand　and　not　to　bother　to　dress。'
　'Please　thank　Mr　Goldfinger　and　say　I　shall　be　delighted。'　Bond　shut　the　door　and　walked　across　to　the　open　window　and　stood　looking　out　across　the　quiet　evening　sea。　'Well；　well！　Talk　of　the　devil！'　Bond　smiled　to　himself；　'And　then　go　and　sup　with　him！　What　was　that　about　a　long　spoon？'
　At　six　o'clock　Bond　went　down　to　the　bar　and　had　a　large　vodka　and　tonic　with　a　slice　of　lemon　peel。　The　bar　was　empty　save　for　a　group　of　American　Air　Force　officers　from　Mansion。　They　were　drinking　whisky　and　water　and　talking　baseball。　Bond　wondered　if　they　had　spent　the　day　toting　a　hydrogen　bomb　round　the　skies　over　Kent；　over　the　four　little　dots　in　the　dunes　that　had　been　his　match　with　Goldfinger。　He　thought　wryly；　Not　too　much　of　that　whisky；　cousins；　paid　for　his　drink；　and　left。
　He　motored　slowly　over　to　Reculver；　savouring　the　evening　and　the　drink　inside　him　and　the　quiet　bubble　of　the　twin　exhausts。　This　was　going　to　be　an　interesting　dinner…party。　Now　was　the　moment　to　sell　himself　to　Goldfinger。　If　he　put　a　foot　wrong　he　was　out；　and　the　pitch　would　have　been　badly　queered　for　his　successor。　He　was　unarmed　…　it　would　be　fatal　for　Goldfinger　to　smell　that　kind　of　rat。　He　felt　a　moment's　qualm。　But　that　was　going　too　fast。　No　state　of　war　had　been　declared　…　the　opposite　if　anything。　When　they　had　parted　at　the　golf　club；　Goldfinger　had　been　cordial　in　a　rather　forced；　oily　fashion。　He　had　inquired　where　he　should　send　Bond's　winnings　and　Bond　had　given　him　the　address　of　Universal　Export。　He　had　asked　where　Bond　was　staying　and　Bond　had　told　him　and　added　that　he　would　only　be　at　Ramsgate　a　few　days　while　he　made　up　his　mind　about　his　future。　Goldfinger　hoped　that　they　would　one　day　have　a　return　match　but；　alas；　he　was　leaving　for　France　tomorrow　and　wasn't　certain　when　he　would　be　back。　Flying？　Yes；　taking　the　Air　Ferry　from　Lydd。　Well；　thanks　for　the　match。　And　thank　you；　Mr　Bond。　The　eyes　had　given　Bond　one　last　X…ray　treatment；　as　if　fixing　him　for　a　last　time　in　Gold…finger's　filing　system；　and　then　the　big　yellow　car　had　sighed　away。
　Bond　had　had　a　good　look　at　the　chauffeur。　He　was　a　chunky　flat…faced　Japanese；　or　more　probably　Korean；　with　a　wild；　almost　mad　glare　in　dramatically　slanting　eyes　that　belonged　in　a　Japanese　film　rather　than　in　a　Rolls　Royce　on　a　sunny　afternoon　in　Kent。　He　had　the　snout…like　upper　lip　that　sometimes　goes　with　a　cleft　palate；　but　he　said　nothing　and　Bond　had　no　opportunity　of　knowing　whether　his　guess　was　right。　In　his　tight；　almost　bursting　black　suit　and　farcical　bowler　hat　he　looked　rather　like　a　Japanese　wrestler　on　his　day　off。　But　he　was　not　a　figure　to　make　one　smile。　If　one　had　been　inclined　to　smile；　a　touch　of　the　sinister；　the　unexplained；　in　the　tight　shining　patent…leather　black　shoes　that　were　almost　dancing　pumps；　and　in　the　heavy　black　leather　driving　gloves；　would　have　changed　one's　mind。　There　was　something　vaguely　familiar　to　Bond　in　the　man's　silhouette。　It　was　when　the　car　drove　away　and　Bond　had　a　glimpse　of　the　head　from　the　rear　that　he　remembered。　Those　were　the　head　and　shoulders　and　bowler　hat　of　the　driver　of　the　sky…blue　Ford　Popular　that　had　so　obstinately　hugged　the　crown　of　the　Herne　Bay　road　at　about　twelve　o'clock　that　morning。　Where　had　he　been　ing　from？　What　errand　had　he　been　on？　Bond　remembered　something　Colonel　Smithers　had　said。　Could　this　have　been　the　Korean　who　now　travelled　the　country　collecting　the　old　gold　from　the　chain　of　Goldfinger　jewellery　shops？　Had　the　boot　of　the　innocent；　scurrying　little　saloon　been　stuffed　with　the　week's　takings　of　presentation　watches；　signet　rings；　lockets；　gold　crosses？　As　he　watched　the　high；　primrose…yellow　silhouette　of　the　Silver
　Ghost　disappearing　towards　Sandwich；　Bond　thought　the　answer　was　yes。
　Bond　turned　off　the　main　road　into　the　drive　and　followed　it　down　between　high　Victorian　evergreens　to　the　gravel　sweep　in　front　of　just　the　sort　of　house　that　would　be　called　The　Grange　…　a　heavy；　ugly；　turn…of…the…century　mansion　with　a　glass…enclosed　portico　and　sun　parlour　whose　smell　of　trapped　sunshine；　rubber　plants　and　dead　flies　came　to　Bond　in　his　imagination　before　he　had　switched　off　the　engine。　Bond　got　slowly　out　of　the　car　and　stood　looking　at　the　house。　Its　blank；　well…washed　eyes　stared　back　at　him。　The　house　had　a　background　noise；　a　heavy　rhythmic　pant　like　a　huge　animal　with　a　rather　quick　pulse。　Bond　assumed　it　came　from　the　factory　whose　plumed　chimney　reared　up　like　a　giant　cautionary　finger　from　the　high　conifers　to　the　right　where　the　stabling　and　garages　would　normally　be。　The　quiet　watchful　facade　of　the　house　seemed　to　be　waiting　for　Bond　to　do　something；　make　some　offensive　move　to　which　there　would　be　a　quick　reply。　Bond　shrugged　his　shoulders　to　lighten　his　thoughts　and　went