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sure which; he didn't look the kind of man who would waste his time studying any of the others at that table. The courses came and went.
    Antoine was on duty in the kitchen that night, and you could almost reach out and feel the blissful hush that descended on the company.
    Velvet footed goanese waiters moved soundlessly on the dark grey pile of the persian carpet; food appeared and vanished as if in a dream; an arm always appeared at the precisely correct moment with the precisely correct wine. But never for me. I drank soda water. It was in my contract. The coffee appeared. This was the moment when I had to earn
    my money. When antoine was on duty and on top of his form, conversation
    was a desecration and a hallowed hush of appreciation, an almost cathedral ecstasy, was the correct form. But about forty minutes of this rapturous silence was about par for the course. It couldn't and never did go on. I never yet met a rich manor woman, for that matter of it who didn't list talking, chiefly and preferably about themselves, as among their favourite occupations. And the prime target for their observations was invariably the officer who sat at the head of the table. I looked round ours and wondered who would set the ball rolling.
    Miss harrbrideher original central-european name was unpronounceable-thin, scrawny, sixtyish, and tough as whalebone, who had
    made a fortune out of highly expensive and utterly worthless cosmetic preparations which she wisely refrained from using on herself? mr.
    greenstreet, her husband, a grey anonymity of a man with a grey sunken face, who had married her for heaven only knew what reason, for he was a
    very wealthy man in his own right? tony carreras? his father, miguel carreras? there should have been a sixth at my table, to replace the curtis family of three who, along with the harrisons, had been so hurriedly called home from kingston, but the old man who had come aboard
    in his wheel chair was apparently to have his meals served in his cabin during the voyage, with his nurses in attendance. Four men and one woman; it made an ill-balanced table. Senor miguel carreras spoke first. "The campari's prices, mr. carter, are quite atrocious," he said calmly. He puffed appreciatively at his cigar. "Robbery on the high seas would be a very fitting description. On the other hand, the cuisine is as claimed. You have a chef of divine gifts. It is perhaps not too much to pay for a foretaste of a better world." this made senor carreras very wealthy indeed and was old hat to me. Wealthy men never mentioned money, lest they be thought not to have enough of it. Very wealthy men, on the other hand, to whom money as such no longer mattered, had no such inhibitions. The passengers on the campari complained all the time about the prices. And they kept coming back.
    "From all accounts, sir, 'divine' is just about right. Experienced travellers who have stayed in the best hotels on both sides of the atlantic maintain that antoine has no equal in either europe or america.
    Except, perhaps, henriques."
    "Henriques?"
    "Our alternate chef. He's on to-morrow."
    "Do I detect a certain immodesty, mr. carter, in advancing the claims of the campari?" there was no offence meant, not with that smile. "I don't think so, sir. But the next twenty-four hours will speak for themselves-and henriques-better than I can."
    "Touche!" he smiled again and reached for the bottle of remy martin-the waiters vanished at coffee time. "And the prices?"
    "They're terrible," I agreed. I told that to all the passengers and it seemed to please them. "We offer what no other ship in the world offers, but the prices are still scandalous. At least a dozen people in this room at this very moment have told me that-and most of them are here for at least their third trip."
    "You make your point, mr. carter." it was tony carreras speaking and his voice was as one might have expected slow, controlled, with a deep resonant timbre. He looked at his father.