I wouldn't have bet money on it. 'I don't imagine Kendall liked having him come to the bakery, either,' I said. 'That must have been the trouble. The guy had his feelings hurt.'
'You can't think of anything else?'
I shrugged. 'I don't know what it would be. How did you make out with Jake?'
Her eyes flashed. 'I don't want to talk about him.'
'Neither do I,' I yawned. 'In fact, I'd just as soon not talk at all. I think I'll take a nap.'
'Well,' she laughed, getting up. 'Here's my hat, what's my hurry, huh? But it's almost dinnertime, honey.'
'I'm not hungry,' I said.
'You could have something up here. Would you like to have me bring you up a tray in about an hour?'
'Well-' I frowned.
'It'll be all right. Kendall will be gone back to the bakery-you'd think the guy would move his bed over there-and Ruth will have plenty to keep her busy in the kitchen, I'll see that she does.'
I nodded. 'In about an hour, then.'
She left. I closed my eyes and tried to forget about Kendall, and the sheriff, and The Man and Fruit Jar and.
I was still trying an hour later when she pushed the door open and came in with the tray.
She had a glass half full of whiskey on it, covered up with a napkin. I drank it down, and began to feel hungry.
It was a good dinner-a beef stew with vegetables, and apple pie for dessert. Pay lay back on the bed while I ate, her hands clasped under the back of her head.
I drank the last of my coffee. I lay down crosswise on the bed with her, pulling her around in my arms.
'Carl-'
'That's me,' I said.
'Did you really mean what you said this morning? About us-me-going into New York?'
I reached the wallet out of my pocket, and took out two twenties. I tucked them into the front of her brassiere.
'Oh, Carl, honey,' she sighed. 'I can hardly wait.'
I told her where to meet me, a hotel on West Forty-seventh where the fix was in strong.
'I'll go in tomorrow afternoon,' I said, 'and come back late Saturday night. You come in Saturday morning, and come back here Sunday night. And don't forget to fix things up with your sister.'
'I won't, honey!' She sat up eagerly. 'I'll be very careful about everything. I'll tell Jake that sis sent me the money to come on, and-'
'All right,' I said. 'Just be careful, and let it go at that.'
She took the bills out of her brassiere, and smoothed them over her knee. Then, she folded them neatly and tucked them back between her breasts.
'Sweet,' she said, huskily, laying her head against my shoulder. 'You don't mind waiting, do you, honey?'
I didn't mind. I wanted it-who the hell wouldn't have-but I wasn't in any hurry. It was something that had to be done, the clincher to the bargain.
'It would do me good to mind?' I said.
'Yes,' she nodded. 'I'm not-well, I know I'm a long way from being what I should be-but here, well, to do it-to start off here in Jake's house… If you say so, I will but-'
'That's okay,' I said.
'You're not sore, Carl? You know what I'm trying to say?'
'I think I do,' I said, 'and it's all right. But I can't say how long it will stay that way if you don't beat it out of here.'
She looked at me teasingly, her head cocked a little to one side.
'Suppose I change my mind,' she said. 'Suppose I wake up in the night, and-'
I made a grab for her. She leaped back, laughing, and ran to the door. She pursed her lips; then she whispered, 'Good night, honey,' and slipped out of the room.
… I slept pretty good that night. Nothing out of the way happened the next morning. I got up around nine, after Kendall and Ruth had left, and fixed my own breakfast. I lingered over it, thinking Fay might join me, but she didn't. So! cleaned up the dishes, left for the railroad station.
The Long Island was outdoing itself that day. It was only an hour late getting into New York. I picked up the suit I'd bought and checked in at the hotel. At six o'clock I called The Man from a booth telephone. Then! strolled down to the Automat near Forty-second and Broadway and waited.
Fruit Jar drove up in front of the place at seven o'clock. I got into the Cadillac, and we headed for The Man's house.
8
You've heard of The Man. Everyone has. There's hardly a month passes that the papers don't have a story about him or you don't see his picture. One month he's up before some government investigating committee. The next he's attending a big political dinner-laughing and talking to some of the very same people who were putting him through the wringer the month before.
The Man is a big importer. He controls shipping companies, and distilleries, race tracks and jobbing houses, wire services and loan companies.
He's one of the biggest open-shop employers in the country, but it's not because he's opposed to unions. He's a charter member of two old-line craft unions, and he's supported their organizational drives, and he's got letters from some of the top labor-skates thanking him for his 'earnest endeavors in behalf of the American workingman.'
The Man controls race tracks-but he supports anti-racetrack legislation. He can prove that he's supported it, and you can't prove that he controls the tracks. He controls distilleries- but can you prove it?-and he supports temperance movements. He controls loan companies-controls the men who control them-and he backs anti-loan-shark laws.
The Man donated heavily to the defense of the Scottsboro boys. The Man went bail for bigwigs in the Klan.
No one has ever pinned anything on him.
He's too big, too powerful, too covered-up. You try to pin something on him, and you lose it along the way.
The Man lived in a big stone and brick house out in Forest Hills. He wasn't married, of course- although I don't know why I say of course-and the only servant around was the square-faced Japanese houseboy who let us in.
The boy took us into the library-drawing room where The Man was waiting. And The Man still stood beaming at me, shaking my hand and asking me about my trip East and saying how delighted he was to meet me.
'I'm so sorry! didn't get to talk to you before you went down to Peardale,' he said, in his soft pleasant voice. 'Not, I'm sure, that you need my advice.'
'I thought I'd better not lose any more time,' I said. 'The school term has already started.'
'Of course. Naturally.' He finally let go of my hand and waved me to a chair. 'You're here, now, and that's the important thing.'
He sat down, smiling, and nodded to Fruit Jar. 'Perfect, wouldn't you say so, Murph? We couldn't
