Virgil’s eyes were also a pale, false blue. He looked glassily about. “The Gayoso hotel,” he said.
“Well, let’s go to it,” Fonzo said. They moved toward the exit. A man shouted “taxi” at them; a redcap tried to take Fonzo’s bag. “Look out,” he said, drawing it back. On the street more cabmen barked at them.
“So this is Memphis,” Fonzo said. “Which way is it, now?” He had no answer. He looked around and saw Virgil in the act of turning away from a cabman. “What you—”
“Up this way,” Virgil said. “It aint far.”
It was a mile and a half. From time to time they swapped hands with the bags. “So this is Memphis,” Fonzo said. “Where have I been all my life?” When they entered the Gayoso a porter offered to take the bags. They brushed past him and entered, walking gingerly on the tile floor. Virgil stopped.
“Come on,” Fonzo said.
“Wait,” Virgil said.
“Thought you was here before,” Fonzo said.
“I was. This hyer place is too high. They’ll want a dollar a day here.”
“What we going to do, then?”
“Let’s kind of look around.”
They returned to the street. It was five oclock. They went on, looking about, carrying the suit cases. They came to another hotel. Looking in they saw marble, brass cuspidors, hurrying bellboys, people sitting among potted plants.
“That un’ll be just as bad,” Virgil said.
“What we going to do then? We caint walk around all night.”
“Let’s git off this hyer street,” Virgil said. They left Main Street. At the next corner Virgil turned again. “Let’s look down this-a-way. Git away from all that ere plate glass and monkey niggers. That’s what you have to pay for in them places.”
“Why? It’s already bought when we got there. How come we have to pay for it?”
“Suppose somebody broke it while we was there. Suppose they couldn’t ketch who done it. Do you reckon they’d let us out withouten we paid our share?”
At five-thirty they entered a narrow dingy street of frame houses and junk yards. Presently they came to a three storey house in a small grassless yard. Before the entrance a latticework false entry leaned. On the steps sat a big woman in a mother hubbard, watching two fluffy white dogs which moved about the yard.
“Let’s try that un,” Fonzo said.
“That aint no hotel. Where’s ere sign?”
“Why aint it?” Fonzo said. “ ’Course it is. Who ever heard of anybody just living in a three storey house?”
“We cant go in this-a-way,” Virgil said. “This hyer’s the back. Dont you see that privy?” jerking his head toward the lattice.
“Well, let’s go around to the front, then,” Fonzo said. “Come on.”
They went around the block. The opposite side was filled by a row of automobile sales-rooms. They stood in the middle of the block, their suit cases in their right hands.
“I dont believe you ever was here before, noways,” Fonzo said.
“Let’s go back. That must a been the front.”
“With the privy built onto the front door?” Fonzo said.
“We can ask that lady.”
“Who can? I aint.”
“Let’s go back and see, anyway.”
They returned. The woman and the dogs were gone.
“Now you done it,” Fonzo said. “Aint you?”
“Let’s wait a while. Maybe she’ll come back.”
“It’s almost seven oclock,” Fonzo said.
They set the bags down beside the fence. The lights had come on, quivering high in the serried windows against the tall serene western sky.
“I can smell ham, too,” Fonzo said.
A cab drew up. A plump blonde woman got out, followed by a man. They watched them go up the walk and enter the lattice. Fonzo sucked his breath across his teeth. “Durned if they didn’t,” he whispered.
“Maybe it’s her husband,” Virgil said.
Fonzo picked up his bag. “Come on.”
“Wait,” Virgil said. “Give them a little time.”
They waited. The man came out and got in the cab and went away.
“Caint be her husband,” Fonzo said. “I wouldn’t a never left. Come on.” He entered the gate.
