Three Fat Ladies With Purses (Part 2)

Before Pat could comprehend the sudden and strange gesture, Professor Darlington had already made himself comfortable on the opposite seat, placed a glittering silver box on the table, taken a cigar out of it, lit it, pursed it between his lips, pocketed the box and even made a perfectly circular ring of smoke.

Perhaps, it was the ring that blew Pat’s top.

“Who the hell are you?” he cursed.

“My name is Christopher Darlington; Professor Christopher Darlington”, the sing-song voice was so flawlessly rehearsed that Pat had a déjà vu.

“Professor what?”, Pat cried, as if he hadn’t caught the name, though it was hard to believe given the Professor’s enunciated diction.

“Professor Christopher Darlington”, the rhythm reverberated. Pat would have had another déjà vu if it wasn’t for the Professor doffing his hat synchronously with the enunciation of his name.

Pat looked at him. He looked at Pat.

Pat raised his eyebrows. He smiled.

Pat sniggered. He smiled.

Pat winced. He smiled and blew out another ring of smoke from his cigar.

Pat smiled. He began to speak,” You must be wondering why I am an unwelcome guest at your table. Well, don’t”.

Pat kept his ears focused in anticipation of a few more words. Apparently, none were forthcoming.

A waiter arrived; a different one. Perhaps, it would have hurt the self-esteem of the previous waiter to see the man he was trying to throw out, enjoying the costliest wine in town. He poured the shining liquid into two glasses and promptly left.

By now, Pat had started feeling indebted to the man, strange as he may have been. Not only had he jumped in to rescue him from an uncomfortable situation but had also bought him expensive wine. Questioning the motives of such a generous man would be blasphemy. Mum’s the word, he thought.

“So, how is Patricia?”, the professor enquired as he put out his cigar against the ash tray.

Pat was surprised. Pat was shocked. Pat was afraid. This man could be Patricia’s father, or elder brother. But then he remembered – Patricia’s last name wasn’t Darlington. Was he an uncle? Was he an omnipotent man who had known everything all along and was now here to take his case? Or was he the devil?

“I believe she left before I could come here”, the professor continued. Apparently, Pat’s consternation had escaped his glance.

“Did Patricia invite you here?”, Pat murmured.

“Not really”, the Professor seemed quite matter-of-fact now. But then, he smiled and said,” Drink the wine, my boy”

Pat was transfixed into a limbo. Quite awkwardly, he found the circumstances of the situation resembling those of his first date with Patricia. In both cases, he didn’t know the next step, but kept taking it as if an invisible hand was leading him. He gulped the wine glass empty in one shot.

“What are you thinking, Pat?”, the Professor asked.

Wine had the strange power of disabling Pat’s lying faculties. He knew Patricia had exploited it several times. Did this man know about it too?

“Nothing, just about my first date with Patricia”, he uttered, and then realized he had uttered it.

The Professor placed his hat on the table and leaned back on the chair, wine glass in his hand, and spoke colloquially - “Tell me about it”