More Than You Can Say Read Online Free PDF Page A

His eyes remained fixed on me all the time we spoke, scarcely blinking.
    ‘I have been fortunate,’ he said. ‘I am a trader and a private banker, a rich man back at home, and not a poor man even in this wealthy country. I live here for a few weeks every year and I like to keep the house up to a good standard for my friends and guests.’
    ‘And where is home, Mr Khan?’
    ‘Where indeed, Mr Gaunt? I travel so much I scarcely know where home is, or once was. A long time ago it was a small village in the mountains of my homeland. Now Dubai is my base, but I also have houses in Palermo, Beirut, and here – I am a fortunate fellow.’
    Mr Khan was good at not answering questions. I tried again.
    ‘You must do very good business, being a banker,’ I said politely.
    ‘Yes, the families I work for support me and I do my best to reward their good faith.’
    There was a silence while we both continued to eat. The exchange of career notes seemed to be over. Mr Khan refilled my glass of water, and offered me more lamb, which I refused. He must have pressed a bell push out of sight under the table because the man in the dark suit appeared with a tray containing coffee cups. He set out the coffee things, cleared away the plates and dishes and retreated with his tray.
    ‘Are you a married man, may I ask?’ enquired Mr Khan, as we sipped our coffee. The conversation was becoming odder by the minute yet I felt a weird sense of inevitability about it.
    ‘No, as a matter of fact, I’m not,’ I admitted.
    ‘Have you ever considered it?’ asked Mr Khan. This was such an odd remark, in the circumstances, that I think my mouth dropped open for a moment. I decided to keep talking. Maybe in the end I would find out what this was all about.
    ‘Well, I might have done. But I have never really come close to the married state. Not so far.’
    This was not quite accurate, but I felt that the present situation did not warrant too much candour.
    ‘I myself,’ said Mr Khan, taking a case from his pocket and offering me a large cigar, ‘have several wives. I have found marriage to be a rewarding state of affairs and I thoroughly approve of it. You won’t smoke? Do you mind if I do?’
    He clipped the end from his cigar, then lit it and drew on it, puffing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. I rather wished I had accepted his offer, it smelled so good.
    ‘God wants men to marry women,’ said Mr Khan, continuing his discourse. ‘It is our natural state, after all.’
    He puffed some more on his cigar. Maybe now was themoment to ask why his hireling had knocked me down with a car and dragged me here, thereby causing me to lose a six-thousand-pound bet. But before I could assemble the right words, Mr Khan forestalled me.
    ‘How old are you, Mr Gaunt?’
    ‘I’m thirty-three,’ I replied. ‘Now, Mr Khan, I really must ask you—’ But he stopped me again, raising one hand.
    ‘I think it is time you got married.’
    ‘Me? I’m afraid that’s not on the cards, Mr Khan. Perhaps you won’t mind if I change the subject. Could you explain why I was brought here—’
    Again he cut me off, not impolitely, but firmly.
    ‘But that is what we are talking about.’
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘That is why you were brought here. To get married.’
    By this stage of the conversation all I could do was stare at him. Mr Khan didn’t look like a madman and he didn’t sound like one. But the words he spoke were not reasonable.
    ‘Yes,’ said Mr Khan, noticing my surprise. ‘It is an important step in your life. Unfortunately there has not been much time to consult with you about this. Nevertheless, I feel very certain that you will soon be married and that your marriage will find favour with God.’
    ‘But I don’t know anyone I want to marry,’ I said feebly. If I had been feeling stronger I would have jumped up and tried to leave this place – and yet there was something oddly compelling about this conversation, even if it repelled me at the