I
This story, let me tell you my friend, is neither about a mouse nor it took place in the city of Manhattan. But it once occurred to me, while I was on a vacation and intended to see a few of the Danish cities where I came to know of such an incident. I was sitting inside one club which was at a decent distance away from the Odense River. The smooth wave of the river and the pleasant breeze outside turned the evening to a perfect one.
A young man who was the waiter, waiting to take further orders, was walking at all the corners with a small piece of paper in his hand.
On the opposite table there was one old man who was constantly looking at me and then at intervals was writing something in his diary. Sometimes he would glance at the window to take the outside view.
This behaviour of his aroused suspicion in me. Am I being followed by this man? Maybe my wife, who I divorced just a month ago, has hired this informer. But what else she needs now? As far as I remember, my lawyer has settled every deal between us.
I rose in anger and walked to the table occupied by that man and I thumbed my hand on the table, “What are you writing about me?”
Seeing my sudden temper, some people turned their heads towards us. But that old man was as calm as a white paper. Neither I saw any reaction in him nor any guilt in his eyes.
“Did anything happen, young man?” he asked.
“What! Anything happened!” I was now annoyed. “You are looking at me and then scribbling notes in your diary. Are you following me? Are you making notes of my activities?”
“Cool down, young man, and have a seat.” The old man said calmly. The other spectators also lost interest in us and got busy with their drinks.
I had no intention to sit with an old man on such an evening to get it ruined. But I also have to figure out the mystery and so I had to take a seat. “So, what is it and what do you want from me?” I asked.
“Young man, you may be thinking that I am making some records about you. No, no, no. Not at all. I was looking at you but in the diary I was writing some old notes that I suddenly remembered as I saw you.”
“Saw me! Have you ever seen me before? Can you explain it in a better way?”
“Why not? I can and a thousand times. But tell me, are you free now or do you have any train to catch?” asked the old man.
I remembered well that there is no train to be catched by me for the next one week. And so I said, “I am as free as a quail.”
“Very well then, Mr. uh–, you didn’t tell me your name, young man”, he said.
“Drake. You can call me Drake.”
“Oh! Why, why, why? Why this evening is so cruel to me? Oh dear Odense, enfold me in your curls and take me far.” The old man gave a wail and such a wail was last heard in history by the men of Troy when they were attacked by the Achaeans.
“Why? What disturbed you? Should I call a doctor?” I asked him.
“I doubt. A doctor can’t cure it. It’s an unusual incident that takes place once in a millennium when two men like us meet beside the Odense bay.”
I said nothing but stared at the face of that old man.
“When I looked at you, your face seemed quite familiar at first but it dint took long for me to recall that you can’t be that man, as it took place several years before. I was a young man at that time and I was renting an apartment at the city of Hobro, a small railway town. Just beside my apartment was living another young man whose face was similar to you. His name was Dappler. He was however, not alone like me and was with his old aunt. Let me tell you the interesting story of Dappler. But I have a very peculiar way of telling the stories and I believe it won’t be harder for you to understand that?”
“Not at all, my friends tell me that I am a great listener. You can also try”, I said.
“Very well then. Let’s begin.”
II
Dappler is very busy these days. He looked at the red marking on the calendar and remembered one old deal. It was a meeting fixed by him and his friend in front of the Bake’s cafe for tomorrow.
He looked outside through the window. “It won’t stop soon”, he said to his aunt.
“Yes, from the past seven days it’s continuing”, his aunt replied while gathering the dried flowers.
The rain from the past seven days has left the market in cold air. Still, it was a busy evening. Men and women with colourful umbrellas were scattered here and there under the continuous drizzle.
The next evening the day of the meeting arrived and he had to visit that cafe. “I will return soon, and don’t forget to take the pills on time”, said Dappler to his aunt as he went outside the door.
“It’s not raining now but take this umbrella, you can’t predict the shower”, his aunt said while passing an umbrella.
“It’s just a hundred meters from here, I will be reaching soon, don’t worry”, but still Dappler took the umbrella and walked out as his aunt closed the door. He put on his hat and marched out.
Dappler was being very cautious while walking. This, my friend, was not his character. Let me tell you, he walks very fast. His caution came from the fact that an hour ago it rained heavily.
The streets are now washed. Kids popped out of their attic and disobeyed their parents. They splashed the water with their rain boots. With all precautions and avoidance, Dappler made his walk. And so he avoided the ditches and the kids equally.
He reached the Bake’s cafe, pulled out his old chain pocket watch which was gifted by his grandfather to his father and then was passed by his father to him, and glanced at the time. His smile explains he was earlier.
The sky was turning grey; he glanced above and had no hope of sunshine for at least the next three days. He saw men smoking cigarettes while crossing the street but Dappler could not afford one. His friend promised that he would be exactly at Bake’s cafe around six o’clock and Dappler reached the place ten minutes earlier.
The smooth music of piano filled the cafe. Pedestrians crossing the street have no time to applaud the music but were in a great hurry. He looked in both directions where a load of pedestrians were crossing him. His eyes went to those kids splashing water, where two young girls avoided the kids in order to save their stockings.
III
As he was busy watching the pedestrians and in his own thoughts, someone with an immense force dashed him to his side. His well-built athletic body was just moved by a few inches but that poor man fell to the ground. Dappler looked at that man, whose cigarette was now soaked in the street water and that man was now laying on the ground.
“Can’t you stand properly!” cried that man as he got up and held Dappler’s collar.
“It was you who dashed with me and you are pointing me for my standing?” Dappler replied still in his calmness.
“I know you people well, standing in front of the cafe’s just to get some nice picks”, he shouted, seeing the poor clothing on Dappler’s body.
This time Dappler got angry and gave a nice knock on his opponent’s face. Seeing this street fight few men came and separated both the fighters. “There’s a constable on the beat!” shouted someone from the crowd. As soon as those words came out Dappler took a side and the men went inside the cafe pressing his jaw with a piece of cloth.
He went inside and sat beside the glass pane and ordered a waiter to bring coffee.
“How are you Sir today?” asked the waiter. “What happened to your face and your cloth?” the waiter said in amazement looking at the drenched clothes and the face.
“Ah! That idiot standing outside, I just had a small fight”, replied that man. The waiter looked outside through the glass pane. “That man in a black coat?”
“Yes that one, if the constable would not have been there I would have returned that knock.”
“Oh! I missed the fight”, murmured the waiter. “I think someone from the crowd may have shouted about the constable”, he said again.
“And how does it matter?” questioned he.
“Whenever there is a fight in this area, the crowds usually say these, but there is never a constable in the beat. It is said just to disperse the fight so that they can walk the street freely without disruption”, said the waiter intending to see both of them fighting each other once more.
This made the man angrier, not on his enemy but on that man from the crowd. “If I can get that man?” said he.
“He is still standing there”, pointed the waiter.
“Not him, but that man who shouted the false alarm”, said he.
While the waiter got the coffee and placed it on the table he asked that man, “can I ask something, if I may not make you angry?”
He looked at the waiter and said, “What is the matter now?”
“For the past three days, I have observed you reaching this cafe at the same time and always waiting till eight o’clock. Are you waiting for someone?”
He looked at the waiter and with an angry tone he replied, “Yes, I am waiting for a man, and how does it matter to you?”
“Well, maybe I can help you, you know, there are so many faces who visit this cafe”, said the waiter expecting some recognition.
That man took a pause and thought for a while. “You are right. This man named Bruno whom I am waiting for has promised to return my money which he took a few months ago. He promised me that he would return that money to this cafe and told me the time to wait for him. But three days passed, and he did not show up.”
The waiter gave a queer smile and moved out. But as soon as he was walking away, that man stopped him. “Why are you laughing?”
The waiter then said, “That man waiting outside with whom you had a quarrel is also waiting for one Bruno who took some money from him and told to wait in front of this cafe.”
He gave a quiver look at his opponent whose name he does not know and then he asked the waiter, “How do you know he is waiting for the same person?”
“Well, it’s my job to ask anyone standing outside the cafe to get in. My manager has instructed me the same. He is a poor man, and earns a little but Bruno has not even spared him. He then told me that he is waiting for his friend for some money, his name is Bruno. But let me tell you, this Bruno is not a man to be made a friend.”
While the waiter was moving he asked, “Sir, do you believe that today he will show up and will return your money?”
“I don’t know if that crook will ever arrive”, said the man with a hopeless tone while watching his opponent through the glass pane.
Then the waiter said, “Sir, one such person by the name Bruno came to this cafe six months earlier and worked here. After a month he took some money from me and promised me that he will return that in a week. The next day he left the cafe and I have never seen him. Six months passed, I never got my money.”
He looked at that old waiter with surprise and then hopelessly towards Dappler.
Outside, Dappler was still watching the pedestrians hoping to see his friend among them. Even the lamp man came and lit the lamps on the street but there was no sign of his friend! In his mind, he was thinking to get into the cafe and have a coffee.
IV
“So, this my friend, was the story that I remembered while seeing you”, said the old man, the storyteller.
“I must say, that man was really a felon. He has made a lot of holes in the pockets”, I further added.
“I think he had the ardour to take money despite whether he really wants the money or not. Maybe a disease!” said that old man.
“Maybe”, and I looked outside the window.
“Well, young man, I have to catch a train, I must leave now. Perhaps we may meet at some corner of the earth”, and the old man took his leave.
After he was gone, I was alone again in myself, ‘it was not a bad evening at all’, I thought.
And then a waiter came, to collect the orders. “Yes one more wine and you can send the bill”, I said.
“Sir, you don’t have to pay. Your drinks are free for this evening”, said the waiter and making me a surprised man.
“Why?” I asked in sudden amazement.
“Because you are the friend of this Club’s owner”, said he.
“Wait a minute. And who is the owner of this Club?” I was puzzled.
“The old man with whom you had the entire evening, Mr. Bruno, the owner of this club.”
