LESLIE EPSTEIN
129
Mr. Moto knows herbs. He knows poisons. Just a pinch. Merely a drop. He
won't have to kill his victims. He'll make these Austrians sterile.
Mr. Moto
and the Miscarriage.
The whole course of history will be changed. Instead,
I'm supposed to fly back thousands of years and answer the riddle of the
Sphinx. You'll see. You 'll see, Magda. I'll put a sword into my stomach.
Banzai!"
The little cage which enclosed us was no longer traveling between the
floors . At most we went up a few inches and, an instant later, a few inch–
es down. A gentleman, an Old-Worlder, this Herr Laszlo Loewenstein: I
turned round completely and, as is the world-wide custom of those in
elevators, faced the interlocked door. I was too shocked to say another
word. Behind me Magda panted. She groaned. The smell of her sex filled
the little room. Suddenly the lift stopped rocking. The machinery above
us fell silent. Ashamed, abashed, I looked down at my hands. The light
from the light bulb fell upon them, like a dusting of make-up, turning the
skin as yellow as that of the agent of the International Police.
"All right, Peter," said Magda, in the husky voice familiar to millions.
"It's over. You can turn around."
I did as requested. She was crouched on the floor. She had lifted her
pillbox hat, and with it the veil, from her flowing hair, which was longer,
and darker, than I had ever seen it before. Her face, I thought, was the
same, with the thin, arched, penciled brows, the high cheekbones and the
full lower lip, after everything still like that of a pouting child's. The
cheeks were even deeper, hollower than ever, an effect, perhaps, of the
overhead illumination. Her eyes, so deep-set, also seemed darker, blacker,
but that might have been caused by the dilation of her pupils in the inad–
equate light. Faintly she smiled, probably because she had caught me in the
act of doing what everyone did at first impulse: glancing toward her legs.
But they were folded beneath her, out of sight.
"Don't be upset, little lamb. It's over. I'm calm. I'm not troubled. Not
tortured. No victim."
"Magda. Darling Magda. I wish I were not here. It would be better if
I hadn't seen this. If I didn't exist."
The actress gave a laugh, surprisingly light, almost carefree. "This? It's
nothing, lambie. I want you to understand. You wonder why I left
Hollywood? My contract at Granite? Do you think I felt any different
about my work than you feel about yours? I too wanted to commit hara–
kiri. The difference between us is that I have already done so. You have
heard the rumors about meeting
him
in Vienna? The rumors are all true.
I was invited to his hotel after the Anschluss. We 'd met before - years ago.
Then he was shy. A flush on his neck. Looking past me, over my shoul–
der. Of course then he was not then the world's master. In the Hotel
