Bond sat high up in the grandstand and through hired glasses watched Shy Smile’s owner eating soft-shell crabs.
The gangster was sitting in the restaurant enclosure four rows below Bond. Opposite him sat Rosy Budd forking down frankfurters and sauerkraut and drinking beer out of a stein. Although most of the other luncheon tables were occupied, there were two waiters hovering round this one and the maître d’hôtel made frequent visits to see that all was going well.
Pissaro looked like a gangster in a horror comic. He had a round bladder-like head in the middle of which the features were crowded together—two pinpoint eyes, two black nostrils, a pursed wet pink mouth above the hint of a chin, and a fat body in a brown suit and a white shirt with a long-pointed collar and a figured chocolat
