“it’spossible,”shesaid,andlookedtowardsthelake.“thisisaverypeacefulplace.onewouldthinkawriterwouldbehappyhere—ifawriteriseverhappyanywhere.”sheturnedtolookatme.“soyouwon’tbepersuadedtodowhatrogerasked.”

“there’snopointinit,mrs.wade.nothingicoulddo.i’vesaidallthisbefore.icouldn’tbesureofbeingaroundattherighttime.i’dhavetobearoundallthetime.that’simpossible,evenifihadnothingelsetodo.ifhewentwild,forexample,itwouldhappeninaflash.andihaven’tseenanyindicationsthathedoesgetwild.heseemsprettysolidtome.”

shelookeddownatherhands.“ifhecouldfinishhisbook,ithinkthingswouldbemuchbetter.”

“ican’thelphimdothat.”

shelookedupandputherhandsontheedgeofthechaisebesideher.sheleanedforwardalittle.“youcanifhethinksyoucan.that’sthewholepoint.isitthatyouwouldfinditdistastefultobeaguestinourhouseandbepaidforit?”

“heneedsapsychiatrist,mrs.wade.ifyouknowonethatisn’taquack.”

shelookedstartled.“apsychiatrist?why?”

iknockedtheashesoutofmypipeandsatholdingit,waitingforthebowltogetcoolerbeforeiputitaway.

“youwantanamateuropinion,hereitis.hethinkshehasasecretburiedinhismindandhecan’tgetatit.itmaybeaguiltysecretabouthimself,itmaybeaboutsomeoneelse.hethinksthat’swhatmakeshimdrink,becausehecan’tgetatthisthing.heprobablythinksthatwhateverhappened,happenedwhilehewasdrunkandheoughttofinditwhereverpeoplegowhenthey’redrunk—reallybaddrunk,thewayhegets.that’sajobforapsychiatrist.sofar,sogood.ifthatiswrong,thenhegetsdrunkbecausehewantstoorcan’thelpit,andtheideaaboutthesecretisjusthisexcuse.hecan’twritehisbook,oranywaycan’tfinishit.becausehegetsdrunk.thatis,theassumptionseemstobethathecan’tfinishhisbookbecauseheknockshimselfoutbydrinking.itcouldbetheotherwayaround.”

“ohno,”shesaid.“no.rogerhasagreatdealoftalent.ifeelquitesurethathisbestworkisstilltocome.”

“itoldyouitwasanamateuropinion.yousaidtheothermorningthathemighthavefallenoutoflovewithhiswife.that’ssomethingelsethatcouldgotheotherwayaround.”

shelookedtowardsthehouse,thenturnedsothatshehadherbacktoit.ilookedthesameway.wadewasstandinginsidethedoors,lookingoutatus.asiwatchedhemovedbehindthebarandreachedforabottle.

“there’snouseinterfering,”shesaidquickly.“ineverdo.never.isupposeyou’reright,mr.marlowe.therejustisn’tanythingtodobutlethimworkitoutofhissystem.”

thepipewascoolnowandiputitaway.“sincewe’regropingaroundinthebackofthedrawer,howaboutthatotherwayaround?”

“ilovemyhusband,”shesaidsimply.“notasayounggirlloves,perhaps.butilovehim.awomanisonlyayounggirlonce.themanilovedthenisdead.hediedinthewar.hisname,strangelyenough,hadthesameinitialsasyours.itdoesn’tmatternow—exceptthatsometimesican’tquitebelievethatheisdead.hisbodywasneverfound.butthathappenedtomanymen.”

shegavemealongsearchinglook.“sometimes—notoften,ofcourse—whenigointoaquietcocktailloungeorthelobbyofagoodhotelatadeadhour,oralongthedeckofalinerearlyinthemorningorverylateatnight,ithinkimayseehimwaitingformeinsomeshadowycorner.”shepausedanddroppedhereyes.“it’sverysilly.i’mashamedofit.wewereverymuchinlove—thewild,mysterious,improbablekindoflovethatnevercomesbutonce.”

shestoppedtalkingandsattherehalfinatrancelookingoutoverthelake.ilookedbackatthehouseagain.wadewasstandingjustinsidetheopenfrenchwindowswithaglassinhishand.ilookedbackateileen.forheriwasn’tthereanymore.igotupandwentintothehouse.wadestoodtherewiththedrinkandthedrinklookedprettyheavy.andhiseyeslookedwrong.

“howyoumakingoutwithmywife,marlowe?”itwassaidwithatwistofthemouth.

“nopasses,ifyoumeanitthatway.”

“that’sexactlythewayimeanit.yougottokisshertheothernight.probablyfancyyourselfasafastworker,butyou’rewastingyourtime,bud.evenifyouhadtherightkindofpolish.”

itriedtomovearoundhimbutheblockedmewithasolidshoulder.“don’thurryaway,oldman,welikeyouaround.wegetsofewprivatedicksinourhouse.”

“i’mtheonetoomany,”isaid.

hehoistedtheglassanddrankfromit.whenhelowereditheleeredatme.

“yououghttogiveyourselfalittlemoretimetobuildresistance,”itoldhim.“emptywords,huh?”

“okay,coach.somelittlecharacterbuilder,aren’tyou?yououghttohavemoresensethantotryeducatingadrunk.drunksdon’teducate,myfriend.theydisintegrate.andpartoftheprocessisalotoffun.”hedrankfromtheglassagain,leavingitnearlyempty.“andpartofitisdamnedawful.butifimayquotethescintillatingwordsofthegooddr.loring,abastardlybastardwithalittleblackbag,stayawayfrommywife,marlowe.sureyougoforher.theyalldo.you’dliketosleepwithher.theyallwould.you’dliketoshareherdreamsandsnifftheroseofhermemories.maybeiwouldtoo.butthereisnothingtoshare,chum—nothing,nothing,nothing.you’reallaloneinthedark.”

hefinishedhisdrinkandturnedtheglassupsidedown.

“emptylikethat,marlowe.nothingthereatall.i’mtheguythatknows.”

heputtheglassontheedgeofthebarandwalkedstifflytothefootofthestairs.hemadeaboutadozenstepsup,holdingontotherail,andstoppedandleanedagainstit.helookeddownatmewithasourgrin.

“forgivethecornysarcasm,marlowe.you’reaniceguy.iwouldn’twantanythingtohappentoyou.”

“anythinglikewhat?”

“perhapsshedidn’tgetaroundyettothathauntingmagicofherfirstlove,theguythatwentmissinginnorway.youwouldn’twanttobemissing,wouldyou,chum?you’remyownspecialprivateeye.youfindmewheni’mlostinthesavagesplendorofsepulvedacanyon.”hemovedthepalmofhishandinacircularmotiononthepolishedwoodbanister.“itwouldhurtmetothequickifyougotlostyourself.likethatcharacterwhohitchedupwiththelimeys.hegotsolostamansometimeswondersifheeverexisted.youfigureshecouldhavemaybejustinventedhimtohaveatoytoplaywith?”

“howwouldiknow?”

helookeddownatme.thereweredeeplinesbetweenhiseyesnowandhismouthwastwistedwithbitterness.

“howwouldanybodyknow?maybeshedon’tknowherself.baby’stired.babybeenplayingtoolongwithbrokentoys.babywantstogobye-bye.”

hewentonupthestairs.

istoodthereuntilcandycameinandstartedtidyinguparoundthebar,puttingglassesonatray,examiningbottlestoseewhatwasleft,payingnoattentiontome.orsoithought.thenhesaid:“señor.onegooddrinkleft.pitytowastehim.”heheldupabottle.

“youdrinkit.”

“gracias,señor,nomegusta.unvasodecerveza,nomás.aglassofbeerismylimit.”

“wiseman.”

“onelushinthehouseisenough,”hesaid,staringatme.“ispeakgoodenglish,not?”

“sure,fine.”

“butithinkspanish.sometimesithinkwithaknife.thebossismyguy.hedon’tneedanyhelp,hombre.itakecareofhim,see.”

“agreatjobyou’redoing,punk.”

“hijodelaflauta,”hesaidbetweenhiswhiteteeth.hepickedupaloadedtrayandswungitupontheedgeofhisshoulderandtheflatofhishand,busboystyle.

iwalkedtothedoorandletmyselfout,wonderinghowanexpressionmeaning“sonofaflute”hadcometobeaninsultinspanish.ididn’twonderverylong.ihadtoomanyotherthingstowonderabout.somethingmorethanalcoholwasthematterwiththewadefamily.alcoholwasnomorethanadisguisedreaction.

laterthatnight,betweennine-thirtyandten,icalledthewades’number.aftereightringsihungup,butihadonlyjusttakenmyhandofftheinstrumentwhenitstartedtoringme.itwaseileenwade.

“someonejustranghere,”shesaid.“ihadasortofhunchitmightbeyou.iwasjustgettingreadytotakeashower.”

“itwasme,butitwasn’timportant,mrs.wade.heseemedalittlewoolly-headedwhenileft—rogerdid.iguessmaybeifeelalittleresponsibilityforhimbynow.”

“he’squiteallright,”shesaid.“fastasleepinbed.ithinkdr.loringupsethimmorethanheshowed.nodoubthetalkedalotofnonsensetoyou.”

“hesaidhewastiredandwantedtogotobed.prettysensible,ithought.”

“ifthatisallhesaid,yes.well,goodnightandthankyouforcalling,mr.marlowe.”

“ididn’tsayitwasallhesaid.isaidhesaidit.”

therewasapause,then:“everyonegetsfantasticideasonceinawhile.don’ttakerogertooseriously,mr.marlowe.afterall,hisimaginationisratherhighlydeveloped.naturallyitwouldbe.heshouldn’thavehadanythingtodrinksosoonafterthelasttime.pleasetrytoforgetallaboutit.isupposehewasrudetoyouamongotherthings.”

“hewasn’trudetome.hemadequitealotofsense.yourhusbandisaguywhocantakealonghardlookathimselfandseewhatisthere.it’snotaverycommongift.mostpeoplegothroughlifeusinguphalftheirenergytryingtoprotectadignitytheyneverhad.goodnight,mrs.wade.”

shehungupandisetoutthechessboard.ifilledapipe,paradedthechessmenandinspectedthemforfrenchshavesandloosebuttons,andplayedachampionshiptournamentgamebetweengortchakoffandmeninkin,seventy-twomovestoadraw,aprizespecimenoftheirresistibleforcemeetingtheimmovableobject,abattlewithoutarmor,awarwithoutblood,andaselaborateawasteofhumanintelligenceasyoucouldfindanywhereoutsideanadvertisingagency.