He apologized for going off without contacting me and said he would explain in full in person.
On November 16th he phoned my hotel to arrange a meeting for the next day. And yet I did not think anyone could be so deliberately callous and cruel, so I set about keeping other appointments related to the book I wanted to write until I could find out what was going on with him. I had no idea what to do, and fluctuated between disappointment and fear that he was avoiding me because he had changed his mind about cooperating.
I wrote several little “blue pneus” during the days that followed, and still I did not hear from Beckett. In those days Paris had a system of pneumatiques, little blue messages that looked like telegrams and went through tubes all over Paris, to be delivered within the hour.
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