The Urchin : Memoirs of a Novelist

     Kalloo opened the door, and I was ushered into a closed room, with the Sanhedrin gathered around King Arthur’s table! Opposite my chair, sat Eddie Reid and Jack Lord. To my right, Kalloo added to the three Union officials, and to the left, taking minutes, sat the P.R.O., the Byre himself.

     So many serious-faced men, I thought. And all ready to crucify me! It is funny how in the midst of such seriousness, truant thoughts could enter the head. They talked, or passed words. I did not listen. In fact, I felt I would be safer, better off in the rum shop. I even thought about the damsel.

     Then I heard Eddie Reid saying to the officials: “After such an incident, you don’t expect us to hire him again?”

Jack Lord, with his pronounced British accent, added: “If we should employ Mr. Mohammed again, what do you think other companies would say? They would think we are the most humanitarian company in the world.”

     That was enough, I felt. I walked out on the Sanhedrin then… On Monday, after reading my letter of apology, Jack Lord said: “But this is not an apology. It is a love letter!”

 

 

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