Silently the Hindu mopped up the thick Beluchistan rug and slunk out of the room with a pile of broken glass in his hand. Blackhead was breathing more easily, his eyes sank into their deep sockets and were lost in the folds of sagged green lids.
He seemed asleep when Gladys came in wearing a raincoat with a wet umbrella in her hand. She tiptoed to the window and stood looking out at the gray rainy street and the old tomblike brownstone houses opposite. For a splinter of a second she was a little girl come in her nightgown to have Sunday morning breakfast with daddy in his big bed.
He woke up with a start, looked about him with bloodshot eyes, the heavy muscles of his jowl tightening under the ghastly purplish skin.
“Well Gladys where’s that rye whiskey I ordered?”
“Oh daddy you know what Dr. Thom said.”
“He said it’d kill me if I took another drink. … Well I’m not dead yet am I? He’s a damned ass.”
“Oh but you must take care of yourself and not get all excited.” She kissed him and put a cool slim hand on his forehead.
“Havent I got reason to get excited? If I had my hands on that dirty lilylivered bastard’s neck. … We’d have pulled through if he hadnt lost his nerve. Serve me right for taking such a yellow sop into partnership. … Twentyfive, thirty years of work all gone to hell in ten minutes. … For twentyfive years my word’s been as good as a banknote. Best thing for me to do’s to follow the firm to Tophet, to hell with me. And by the living Jingo you, my own flesh, tell me not to drink. … God almighty. Hay Bob. … Bob. … Where’s that goddam officeboy gone? Hay come here one of you sons of bitches, what do you think I pay you for?”
A nurse put her head in the door.
“Get out of here,” shouted Blackhead, “none of your starched virgins around me.” He threw the pillow from under his head. The nurse disappeared. The pillow hit one of the posts and bounced back on the bed. Gladys began to cry.
“Oh daddy I cant stand it … and everybody always respected you so. … Do try to control yourself, daddy dear.”
“And why should I for Christ’s sake … ? Show’s over, why dont you laugh? Curtain’s down. It’s all a joke, a smutty joke.”
He began to laugh deliriously, then he was choking, fighting for breath with clenched fists again. At length he said in a broken voice, “Don’t you see that it’s only the whiskey that was keeping me going? Go away and leave me Gladys and send that damned Hindu to me. I’ve always liked you better than anything in the world. … You know that. Quick tell him to bring me what I ordered.”
Gladys went out crying. Outside her husband was pacing up and down the hall. “It’s those damned reporters … I dont know what to tell ’em. They say the creditors want to prosecute.”
“Mrs. Gaston,” interrupted the nurse, “I’m afraid you’ll have to get male nurses. … Really I cant do anything with him. …” On the lower floor a telephone was ringing, ringing.
When the Hindu brought the bottle of whiskey Blackhead filled a highball glass and took a deep gulp of it.
“Ah that makes you feel better, by the living Jingo it does. Achmet you’re a good fellow. … Well I guess we’ll have to face the music and sell out. … Thank God Gladys is settled. I’ll sell out every goddam thing I’ve got. I wish that precious son-in-law wasnt such a simp. Always my luck to be surrounded by a lot of capons. … By gad I’d just as soon go to jail if it’ll do em any good; why not? it’s all in a lifetime. And afterwards when I come out I’ll get a job as a bargeman or watchman on a wharf. I’d like that. Why not take it easy after tearing things up all my life, eh Achmet?”
“Yes Sahib,” said the Hindu with a bow.
Blackhead mimicked him, “Yes Sahib. … You always say yes, Achmet, isn’t that funny?” He began to laugh with a choked rattling laugh. “I guess that’s the easiest way.” He laughed and laughed, then suddenly he couldnt laugh any more. A perking spasm went through all his limbs. He twisted his mouth in an effort to speak. For a second his eyes looked about the room, the eyes of a little child that has been hurt before it begins to cry, until he fell back limp, his open mouth biting at his shoulder. Achmet looked at him coolly for a long time then he went up to him and spat in his face. Immediately he took a handkerchief out of the pocket of his linen jacket and wiped the spittle off the taut ivory skin. Then he closed the mouth and propped the body among the pillows and walked softly out of the room. In the hall Gladys sat in a big chair reading a magazine. “Sahib much better, he sleep a little bit maybe.”
“Oh Achmet I’m so glad,” she said and looked back to her magazine.
Ellen got off the bus at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fiftythird Street. Rosy twilight was gushing out of the brilliant west, glittered in brass and nickel, on buttons, in people’s eyes. All the windows on the east side of the avenue were aflame. As she stood with set teeth on the curb waiting to cross, a frail tendril of fragrance brushed her face. A skinny lad with towhair stringy under a foreignlooking cap was offering her arbutus in a basket. She bought a bunch and pressed her nose in it. May woods melted like sugar against her palate.
The whistle blew, gears ground as cars started to pour out of the side streets, the crossing thronged with people. Ellen felt the lad brush against her as he crossed at her side.
