 Why does Rupert like Tangier?
One can't be too cautious about the people one meets in Tangier. It's quite a town, Tangier. King-size sidewalk cafes occupy three of the strategic corners on the Place de France. You can sit of a sunny morning and read the Paris edition of the New York Herald Tribune while getting your shoes done up like mirrors for thirty Moroccan francs which comes to about five cents at current exchange. Tangier is possibly the most cosmopolitan city in the world. In native costume you'll see Berber and Rif, Arab and Blue Man, and occasionally a Senegalese from further south. In European dress you'll see Japs and Chinese, Hindus and Turks, Levantines and Filipinos, North Americans and South Americans, and, of course, even Europeans—from both sides of the Curtain. In Tangier you'll find some of the world's poorest and some of the richest. The poorest will try to sell you anything from a shoeshine to their not very lily-white bodies, and the richest will avoid your eyes, afraid you might try to sell them something. A French girl went by with a poodle so finely clipped as to look as though it'd been shaven. Tapas at the Cafe de Paris are apt to be potato salad, a few anchovies, olives, and possibly some cheese.
 No one questions what he's doing in Tangier.
 Tangier is full of criminals and subversives of various sorts.  Tangier is right in the center of things.  No one questions what he's doing in Tangier.  The current exchange rate makes Tangier a cheap place to live.