Doctor Fisher of Geneva

by Graham Greene

  ‘What emotion doesn’t wear off?’ Deane asked.

  ‘Love,’ Mrs Montgomery replied promptly.

  ‘I’ve never been able to sleep with the same woman for more than three months,’ Deane said. ‘It becomes a chore. ‘

  ‘Then that isn’t real love.’

  ‘How long were you married, Mrs Montgomery?’

  ‘Twenty years.’

  ‘I must explain to you, Deane,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘that Mr Montgomery was a very rich man. A big bank balance helps real love to last longer. But you aren’t eating, Jones. Don’t you find the beef tender enough or perhaps Mrs Montgomery hasn’t cut it up in small enough pieces?’

  ‘The meat is excellent, but I have no appetite.’ I helped myself to another glass of Mouton Rothschild; it wasn’t for the flavour of the wine that I drank it, for my palate seemed dead, it was for the distant promise of a sort of oblivion.

  ‘In the normal course, Jones,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘you would have lost your prize by not eating, but at this last party of ours no one will forfeit a prize except by his own express wish.’

  ‘Who could possibly refuse one of your presents, Doctor Fischer?’ Mrs Montgomery asked.

  ‘That is what in a few minutes I shall be very interested to discover.’

  ‘You know it could never happen, you generous man.’

  ‘Never is a big word. I’m not so sure that tonight… Albert, you are neglecting the glasses. Mr Deane’s is almost empty, and so is Monsieur Belmont’s. ‘

  It was not until we had begun to drink the port (at the end of the meal in the English manner served with Stilton) that he explained his meaning. As usual it was Mrs Montgomery who set him off.

  ‘My fingers are itching,’ she said, ‘to get at that bran pie.’

  ‘Just a lot of crackers,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘Mr Kips, you really mustn’t fall asleep until you pull your cracker. You are blocking the port, Deane. No. Not that way. Where were you educated? Clockwise.’

  ‘Just crackers,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘You silly man. We know better. It’s what’s in the crackers that counts. ‘

  ‘Six crackers,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘and five contain the same pieces of paper.’

  ‘Pieces of paper?’ Belmont exclaimed and Mr Kips tried to swivel his head in Doctor Fischer’s direction.

  ‘Mottoes,’ Mrs Montgomery explained. ‘All good crackers contain mottoes.’

  ‘But what else?’ Belmont demanded.

  ‘There are no mottoes,’ Doctor Fischer said. ‘These pieces of paper are printed with a certain name and address - Credit Suisse, Berne.’

  ‘Surely not cheques?’ Mr Kips asked.

  ‘Cheques, Mr Kips, and each one made out for the same sum, so that nobody need feel jealous.’

  ‘I don’t much like the idea of cheques between friends,’ Belmont said. ‘Oh, I know you mean to be kind, Doctor Fischer, and we’ve all appreciated the little presents you have often given us at the end of a party, but cheques - it’s not - well - not very dignified, is it, apart from any fiscal problems?’

  ‘I’m paying you all off - that’s what it amounts to.’

  ‘We are not your employees, damn it,’ Richard Deane said.

  ‘Are you so sure of that? Haven’t you all played your parts for my amusement and your profit? Deane, you for one must have felt quite at home taking my orders. I’ve been just another director, who lends you a talent you don’t possess yourself.’

  ‘I don’t have to accept your bloody cheque.’

  ‘You don’t have to, Deane, but you will. Why, you’d play Mr Darling in Peter Pan shut up in a dog kennel if the cheque was large enough.’

  ‘We’ve had an excellent dinner,’ Belmont said, ‘which we’ll always remember with appreciation. We mustn’t get over-excited. I can understand Deane’s point, but I do think he exaggerates.’

  ‘Of course you are quite at liberty to refuse my little farewell presents if you wish. I will tell Albert to take away the bran tub. Albert, did you hear me? Take the bran tub to the kitchen - no, wait one moment. Before you decide I think you ought to know what is written on those scraps of paper. Two million francs on each.’

  ‘Two million!’ Belmont exclaimed.

  ‘The name is left blank on all the cheques. You can fill in what name you wish. Perhaps Mr Kips would like to donate his cheque to some medical research on curing curvature of the spine. Mrs Montgomery may even want to buy a lover. Deane can partly finance a film. He is in danger of becoming what I believe in his world is called unbankable.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem quite proper,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘It sort of suggests that you think us mercenary friends. ‘

  ‘Didn’t your emerald suggest that?’

  ‘Jewels from a man one loves are quite different. You don’t realize, Doctor Fischer, how much we love you. Platonic perhaps, but is platonic less real than, well… you know what I mean.’

  ‘Of course I’m aware that not one of you needs two million francs to spend on yourselves. You are all rich enough to give the money away - though I wonder if any of you will.’

  ‘It does make a certain difference,’ Belmont said, ‘that our names are not on the cheques.’

  ‘Tax wise,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘I felt sure it would be more convenient. But you know better about such things than I do.’

  ‘I was not thinking of that. I was thinking of human dignity.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I understand you really mean that it’s more difficult to feel insulted by a cheque for two million Francs than one for two thousand.’

  ‘I would have phrased it differently,’ Belmont said.

  For the first time the Divisionnaire spoke. He said, ‘ I am not a financier like Mr Kips or Monsieur Belmont. I am only a simple soldier, but I cannot see the difference between accepting Caviare and accepting a cheque.’

  ‘Bravo, General,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘It was just what I was going to say myself.’

  Mr Kips said, ‘I made no objection. I only asked a question. ‘

  ‘I, too,’ Belmont said. ‘As our names are not on the cheques… I was only trying to be wise for all of us - especially for Mr Deane who is English. It’s my duty as his tax consultant.’

  ‘You advise me to accept?’ Deane asked.

  ‘Under the circumstances, yes.’

  ‘You can leave the bran tub where it is, Albert,’ said Doctor Fischer.

  ‘There is something unexplained,’ Mr Kips said. ‘You have mentioned six crackers and five pieces of paper. Is this because Mr Jones is not taking part?’

  ‘Mr Jones will have the same chance as any of you. In turn you will go to the bran tub and fish for your cracker - you will pull it while you stand by the bran tub and then return to the table. That is to say if you return at all.’

  ‘What do you mean - if?’ Deane asked.

  ‘I suggest, before I answer your question, that you all take another glass of port. No, no, please, Deane. I told you before - not anti-clockwise.’

  ‘You are making us quite tiddly,, Mrs Montgomery said.

  Deane said, ‘You haven’t answered Mr Kips’s question. Why only five pieces of paper?’

  ‘I drink to the health of all of you,’ Doctor Fischer said, raising his glass. ‘Even if you refuse to draw your cracker you will deserve your dinner, for you are helping me in my last piece of research. ‘

  ‘What research?’

  ‘Into the greed of the rich.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Dear Doctor Fischer. It’s one of his little jokes,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘Drink up, Mr Deane.’

  They all drank. I could tell they were more than a little intoxicated - it was only I who seemed hopelessly condemned to the sadness of sobriety however much I drank. I left my glass empty. I was determined to drink no more before I was at home alone and I could drink myself to death if I chose.

  ‘Jones doesn’t drink our toast. Never mind. Tonight all our rules are relaxed. I have for
a long time wanted to test the strength of your greed. You have submitted to a great deal of humiliation and you have accepted it for the sake of the prize which followed. Our Porridge Party was merely the final test. Your greed was greater than any humiliation that I had the imagination to invent.’

  ‘There was no humiliation, you dear man. It was just your wonderful sense of humour. We enjoyed it all as much as you did.’

  ‘Now I want to see whether your greed can even overcome your fear - and so I have organized what I would call - a Bomb Party.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean, Bomb Party?’ Deane’s drinks had made him aggressive.

  ‘The sixth cracker contains a small charge, lethal probably, which will be set off by one of you when he pulls the cracker. That is why the bran tub is set at a good distance from our table, and that is why the crackers are well buried and the bran tub covered by a lid in case of a spark landing there from one of the bonfires. I may add that it would be useless - indeed perhaps dangerous - for you to crinkle your crackers. They all hold the same type of metal container, but in only one container is there what I call the bomb. In the others are the cheques.’

  ‘He’s joking,’ Mrs Montgomery told us.

  ‘Perhaps I am. You will know by the end of the party whether I am or not. Isn’t the gamble worth while? Death is by no means certain, even if you choose the dangerous cracker, and I give you my word of honour that the cheques anyway are really there. For two million francs.’

  ‘But if someone was killed,’ Belmont said, winking rapidly, ‘why, it would be murder.’

  ‘Oh, not murder. I have you all as witnesses. A form of Russian roulette. Not even suicide. I am sure Mr Kips will agree with me. Anyone who doesn’t wish to play should leave the table at once.’

  ‘I am certainly not going to play,’ said Mr Kips. He looked around for support but he found none. ‘I refuse to be a witness. There will be a great scandal, Doctor Fischer. It’s the least you can expect.’

  He rose from the table and, as he paced his back-bent way between the bonfires towards the house, I was again reminded of a little black seven. It seemed odd that a man so handicapped should be the first to refuse the risk of death.

  ‘There are five chances to one in your favour,’ Doctor Fischer told him as he passed.

  ‘I have never gambled for money,’ Mr Kips said. ‘I consider it highly immoral.’

  In a strange way his words seemed to lighten the atmosphere. The Divisionnaire said, ‘I don’t see any immorality in gambling. I have passed many a happy week at Monte Carlo. I once won three times consecutively on 19.’

  ‘Sometimes I have been across the lake to the casino in Evian,, Belmont said. ‘Never high stakes. But I am by no means a puritan in these matters.’ It was as if they had quite forgotten the bomb. Perhaps it was only I and Mr Kips who believed that Doctor Fischer had spoken the truth.

  ‘Mr Kips took you too seriously,’ Mrs Montgomery said. ‘He has no sense of humour. ‘

  ‘What will happen to Mr Kips’s cheque,’ Belmont asked, ‘when his cracker remains unpicked?’

  ‘I shall divide it between you. Unless of course it contains the charge. You would hardly want me to divide that.’

  ‘Another four hundred thousand francs each,’ Belmont calculated quickly.

  ‘No. More than that. One of you will probably not have survived.’

  ‘Survived!’ Deane exclaimed. Perhaps he had been too drunk to take in the story of the explosive cracker.

  ‘Of course,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘all may very well end on a happy note. The sixth cracker may be the one that contains the bomb.’

  ‘Are you seriously saying there’s a bloody bomb in one of the crackers?’

  ‘Two million five hundred thousand francs,’ Mrs Montgomery murmured - she had obviously corrected Belmont’s figures and she was certainly dreaming of what Doctor Fischer had described as a happy ending.

  ‘You, Deane, I am sure, will not refuse the little gamble. I remember how in The Beaches of Dunkirk you bravely volunteered for a suicidal action. You were splendid - at least you were splendidly directed. You very nearly won an Oscar, didn’t you?.. I will go, sir, if I may go alone.” That was the great line I shall always remember. Who wrote it?’

  ‘I wrote it myself. Not the script writer or the director. It came to me suddenly like that, on the set.’

  ‘Congratulations, my boy. Now here’s your big chance to go to the bran tub alone.’

  I never expected Deane to go. He stood up and drained his port, and I thought he was going to follow Mr Kips. But perhaps in drink he really believed he was back on a film set and an imaginary Dunkirk. He touched the side of his head as though he were adjusting a non-existent beret, but while he was thinking himself back into his old role Mrs Montgomery acted. She left the table and ran across the snow to the bran tub crying, ‘Ladies first,’ knocked off the lid and plunged her hand into the bran. Perhaps she had calculated that the odds would never be as favourable again.

  Belmont had probably been thinking along the same lines, for he protested, ‘We should have drawn for turns. ‘

  Mrs Montgomery found her cracker and pulled. There was a small pop and a little metal cylinder fell on to the snow. She poked out a roll of paper and gave a scream of excitement.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Doctor Fischer asked.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, you dear man. Everything’s splendidly right. Credit Suisse, Berne. Two million francs.’ She ran back to the table. ‘Give me a pen, somebody. I want to fill in my name. It might get lost.’

  ‘I would advise you not to fill in your name until we have considered things very carefully,’ Belmont said, but he was speaking to a deaf woman. Richard Deane stood stiffly to attention. At any moment, I thought, he will salute his colonel. He must in his mind have been listening to the last orders he had been given and Belmont had the time he needed to reach the bran tub before him. He hesitated a little before pulling his cracker out: the same small cylinder: the same paper, and he gave a little smile of self-satisfaction and his eye winked. He had calculated the odds - he had been right to bet. He was a man who knew all about money.

  Deane said, ‘I will go, sir, if I may go alone.’

  All the same he didn’t go. Perhaps the director at that moment had ordered’ Cut.’

  ‘What about you, Jones?, Doctor Fischer said. ‘The odds are narrowing.’

  ‘I prefer to watch your damned experiment to the end. Greed is winning, isn’t it?’

  ‘If you watch you must eventually play - or leave like Mr Kips.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll play, I promise you that. I’ll bet on the last cracker. That gives better odds to the Divisionnaire.’

  ‘You’re a stupid and boring man,’ Doctor Fischer said, ‘there’s no credit in choosing death if you want to die. What in God’s name is Deane doing?’

  ‘I think he’s improvising.’

  Deane was still by the table, pouring out another glass of port, but no one this time had taken advantage of the delay for only myself and the Divisionnaire were left.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Deane said. ‘It’s a kind thought. Dutch courage never did anyone any harm - Quite unnecessary in your case, captain, I know - Thank you, sir, but the more unnecessary it is the better the flavour - If you come back safely we’ll split another bottle - Cockburn’s, like this, I hope, sir.’

  I wondered if he would spin the dialogue out till dawn, but at the last sentence he put down his glass, saluted smartly and marched to the bran tub, fumbled for a cracker, pulled it, and fell on the ground beside the cylinder and the cheque.

  ‘Dead drunk,’ Doctor Fischer said and told the gardeners to carry him into the house.

  The Divisionnaire looked at me from the end of the table. He asked, ‘Why did you stay. Mr Jones?’

  ‘I have nothing better to do with my time, General.’

  ‘Don’t call me that. I’m not a General. I am a Divisionnaire.’

  ‘Why have you staye
d, Divisionnaire?’

  ‘It’s too late to turn tail now. I haven’t the courage. I should have gone to the tub first, when the odds were better. What was that man Deane saying?’

  ‘I think he was acting a young captain who volunteers for a desperate mission.’

  ‘I am a Divisionnaire, and Divisionnaires don’t go on desperate missions. Besides, there are no desperate missions in Switzerland. Unless this is the exception. Will you go first, Mr Jones?’

  ‘What do you think of convertible bonds?’ I heard Mrs Montgomery ask Belmont.

  ‘You have too many already,’ Belmont said, ‘and I think it will be a long time before the dollar recovers. ‘

  ‘I suggest you go first, Divisionnaire. I’m not in need of money and it gives you the better odds. I’m after something else.’

  ‘When I was a boy,’ the Divisionnaire said, ‘I used to play at Russian roulette with a cap pistol. It was very exciting.’ He made no move to go.

  I could hear Belmont saying to Mrs Montgomery, ‘I am thinking myself of investing in something German. For example Badenwerk of Karlsruhe pay eight and five-eighths per cent - but then there’s always the danger of Russia, isn’t there? A rather unpredictable future.

  As the Divisionnaire seemed unwilling to move I did. I wanted to bring the party to an end.

  I had to sort through a lot of bran before I found a cracker. Unlike the boy with a cap pistol I felt no excitement - only a quiet sense when I touched the cracker that I was closer to Anna-Luise than I had been since I waited in the hospital room and the young doctor came to tell me she was dead. I held the cracker as though I were holding her hand, while I listened to the conversation at the table.

  Belmont said to Mrs Montgomery, ‘I have rather more confidence in the Japanese. Mitsubishi pay only six and three-quarters, but it’s not worth taking unnecessary risks with two million.’

  I found the Divisionnaire was at my side.