Bond looked again over his shoulder. The patron was
discussing the menu with the new customer. It was a
perfectly normal scene. They exchanged smiles over
some item on the menu and apparently agreed that it
would suit, for the patron took the card and with, Bond
guessed, a final exchange about the wine, withdrew.
The man seemed to realize that he was being watched.
He looked up and gazed incuriously at them for a
moment. Then he reached for a brief-case on the chair
beside him, extracted a newspaper, and started to read
it, his elbows propped up on the table.
When the man had turned his face towards them,
Bond noticed that he had a black patch over one eye. It
was not tied with a tape across, the eye, but screwed in
like a monocle. Otherwise he seemed a friendly middle-
aged man, with dark brown hair brushed straight back
and, as Bond had seen while he was talking to the
patron, particularly large, white teeth.
He turned back to Vesper. ‘Really, darling. He looks
very innocent. Are you sure he’s the same man? We
can’ t expect to have this place entirely to ourselves. ‘
Vesper’s face was still a white mask. She was clutching
the edge of the table with both hands. He thought she
was going to faint and almost rose to come round to
her, but she made a gesture to stop him. Then she
reached for a glass of wine and took a deep draught.
The glass rattled on her teeth, and she brought up her
other hand to help. Then she put the glass down.