Dean Spanley Page #2

That is a most interesting question

and I thank you for asking it.

It is generally supposed

that the animal soul

must be of a different

and, by inference,

inferior nature to the human soul.

The soul is that part of the Godhead,

of All That Is...

What you said before, sir,

about the anteroom of eternity...

Would you be kind enough to allow

the swami to finish his thought, sir?

- Well, well.

- Shh.

- What?

- Shh.

However, although all animals have

their specific awareness of the Godhead,

the dog is, by virtue of his singular

relationship with all mankind, unique.

What about cats?

The dog amplifies...

the cat diminishes...

man's estimation of himself.

Poppycock!

So I shall wish you gentlemen good day.

I can be found here most mornings

and of the occasional evening.

What exactly is a conveyancer?

Well, nothing, exactly.

More a service of facilitation.

Assisting a thing

to be moved between parties.

So you're a middleman.

Well, sometimes in the middle

and sometimes at either end.

- Been a great pleasure, sir.

- You're easily pleased, is all I can say.

Mrs Travers, did I ever tell you that

I collect birds? I'm a real cornucopian.

What's that?

Only thing that made sense

in the whole damn farrago

was what the chap said about dogs

thinking you are better than you are.

Canine flattery is a survival mechanism,

according to Darwin.

The chap never had a dog,

is all I can say.

I thought he had a beagle.

I had a dog once. Wag.

One of the seven great dogs.

At any one time, you know,

there are only seven. Did you know that?

I can't say I did.

Neither did that swami. Made me think

he didn't know much about dogs.

Let's go to my club, have a stiff one.

I thought you didn't go there any more.

That was in the past.

This is the present, young Fisk.

There's no time like the present,

as that swami called it.

- What was it? The Eternal Now?

- I don't know, sir. I wasn't listening.

- How are you, Marriot?

- I'm well, sir. And yourself?

Oh, one step nearer the grave.

How's that boy of yours?

Tommy, isn't it?

Yes, sir. Tommy, sir.

He... he's dead, sir.

The war, sir. The Boer War.

Oh, the Boers.

Lost one myself in that nonsense.

Haven't seen you for a while, sir.

Hasn't changed much.

Clubs aren't supposed to change, surely.

Part of their charm.

There's that chap again.

Is he following us?

Where are you going?

- Fisk.

- What?

Horatio Fisk.

This is young Fisk. Surprised

we were to see you at the nawab's.

Oh, yes, yes.

So, what did you make

of all that mumble-jumble?

The beliefs of others

are always of interest.

Really? Tell me this, then.

Why don't they get in touch?

Souls, I mean.

Never a word from beyond the grave.

You'd think one of them

would have given a shout.

Well, I imagine if the swami is correct

they're all too busy

being whoever they've become.

And what about him pinching my line?

- What line was that?

- The anteroom of eternity.

Well, I'd rather thought that

common usage.

Not at all.

Out of my own head that came.

Rather like having your pocket picked.

- What's that you're drinking?

- Ah, this is Tokay.

Not an Imperial, I'm afraid,

but... good enough, for all that.

A bit syrupy for my taste.

Well, we'll leave you to it.

You must excuse my father.

He can be... rather impulsive.

Not at all.

Pardon me, Dean, but...

am I to understand you give

some credence to these beliefs?

- Only the closed mind is certain, sir.

- Oh, I agree.

I agree.

- Good day, sir.

- Good day to you, sir.

Rum chap, Spanley.

Do you know him well enough

to form that opinion?

One can tell. Not quite sound.

Dabbling in Eastern religion.

Drinking that Hungarian treacle.

Can I get you gentlemen a drink?

I'd like a brandy and soda, Marriot,

with the emphasis on the brandy.

I'll have the Tokay.

Oh, I'm afraid that won't be possible, sir.

The Tokay's private stock.

The dean keeps a bottle

for his personal use.

Very hard to come by, I believe.

Damned unsociable of him.

Told you the fellow wasn't sound.

In that case I'll have a brandy and soda

as well. In the inverse ratio.

Yes, of course, sir.

If I... may say so, Mr Fisk,

I'm most sorry to hear of your loss.

- What?

- Did you... Your boy, sir. In the war.

Wasn't my loss. He's the one got killed.

Sir.

That was, even for you, Father,

a singularly callous remark.

Nothing of the sort.

Here we sit about to be served

brandy and sodas.

What's our loss

compared to your brother's?

Women with the vote is like a cow

with a gun - contrary to nature.

Walking home, listening to my father

assert a variety of things

in tones of unbrookable authority,

Dean Spanley's words returned to me

with renewed force...

"Only the closed mind is certain. "

An excellent hotpot, Mrs Brimley.

Well, it ought to be,

seeing as how I've made it for you

about five hundred times.

Thank you.

"It may well be supposed

that this turn of events

came as a most disagreeable surprise

to Mr Chuttleworth,

accustomed as he was

to having his every whim catered for. "

I confess I had, until that moment,

always supposed certainty

to be rather a good thing.

Like money in the bank.

But something in the day's events

had occasioned in me a certain disquiet,

a sense that...

There may be more things

in heaven and earth, Horatio,

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I'll be off, Mrs Brimley.

He's dozing in the study.

Oh, I'll have to wake him up,

otherwise he won't sleep tonight.

Does he ever mention my brother?

Your father doesn't hold with grieving,

Mr Fisk, as you well know.

No, that's right.

No, you're right.

Thank you, Mrs Brimley.

- And thank you for the hotpot.

- Oh, don't you start, young man.

Hotpot, that's all

he'll let me cook for him.

Creature of habit, your father is. Knows

what he wants without having to think.

The certainty of a closed mind.

Well, I don't know about that.

But you do know where you are with him.

Where you was before. Nowhere.

- Bye-bye. I'll see you next Thursday.

- Like as not.

Creatures of habit. Oh!

I've heard it said

that one encounter is a happenstance,

two a coincidence

and three a significance.

Be that as it may,

that day I found myself, for the third

time, in the presence of Dean Spanley,

a man who, until that day,

I did not know existed.

Is it stuck up there?

It rather appears so.

They never think of that when they go up,

which I consider a serious reflection

on their intelligence.

Probably chased by a dog.

Dean? Dean Spanley?

Hello. I met you earlier at your club.

I was introduced by my father. Mr Fisk.

Oh.

- And you were at the nawab's.

- Ah, yes.

I am most eager to hear your further

views on the subject of reincarnation.

I assure you, sir, I have

no special knowledge on the matter.

Compared to my own,

I'm sure yours are encyclopaedic.

I was wondering if I might invite you

to dinner one evening.

I'm afraid that with my schedule

that would be rather difficult.

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