The next morning at breakfast, his sister said: “Who will be the lawyer on the other side of the case?”
“District Attorney. Why?”
She rang the bell and sent for fresh bread. Horace watched her. “Why do you ask that?” Then he said: “Damn little squirt.” He was talking about the District Attorney, who had also been raised in Jefferson and who had gone to the town school with them. “I believe he was at the bottom of that business night before last. The hotel. Getting her turned out of the hotel for public effect, political capital. By God, if I knew that, believed that he had done that just to get elected to Congress . . .”
After Horace left, Narcissa went up to Miss Jenny’s room. “Who is the District Attorney?” she said.
“You’ve known him all your life,” Miss Jenny said. “You even elected him. Eustace Graham. What do you want to know for? Are you looking around for a substitute for Gowan Stevens?”
“I just wondered,” Narcissa said.
“Fiddlesticks,” Miss Jenny said. “You dont wonder. You just do things and then stop until the next time to do something comes around.”
Horace met Snopes emerging from the barbershop, his jowls gray with powder, moving in an effluvium of pomade. In the bosom of his shirt, beneath his bow tie, he wore an imitation ruby stud which matched his ring. The tie was of blue polka-dots; the very white spots on it appeared dirty when seen close; the whole man with his shaved neck and pressed clothes and gleaming shoes emanated somehow the idea that he had been dry-cleaned rather than washed.
“Well, Judge,” he said, “I hear you’re having some trouble gettin a boarding-place for that client of yourn. Like I always say—” he leaned, his voice lowered, his mud-colored eyes roving aside “—the church aint got no place in politics, and women aint got no place in neither one, let alone the law. Let them stay at home and they’ll find plenty to do without upsetting a man’s lawsuit. And besides, a man aint no more than human, and what he does aint nobody’s business but his. What you done with her?”
“She’s at the jail,” Horace said. He spoke shortly, making to pass on. The other blocked his way with an effect of clumsy accident.
“You got them all stirred up, anyhow. Folks is saying you wouldn’t git Goodwin no bond, so he’d have to stay—” again Horace made to pass on. “Half the trouble in this world is caused by women, I always say. Like that girl gittin her paw all stirred up, running off like she done. I reckon he done the right thing sending her clean outen the state.”
“Yes,” Horace said in a dry, furious voice.
“I’m mighty glad to hear your case is going all right. Between you and me, I’d like to see a good lawyer make a monkey outen that District Attorney. Give a fellow like that a little county office and he gits too big for his pants right away. Well, glad to’ve saw you. I got some business up town for a day or two. I dont reckon you’ll be going up that-a-way?”
“What?” Horace said. “Up where?”
“Memphis. Anything I can do for you?”
“No,” Horace said. He went on. For a short distance he could not see at all. He tramped steadily, the muscles beside his jaws beginning to ache, passing people who spoke to him, unawares.
XXI
As the train neared Memphis Virgil Snopes ceased talking and began to grow quieter and quieter, while on the contrary his companion, eating from a paraffin-paper package of popcorn and molasses, grew livelier and livelier with a quality something like intoxication, seeming not to notice the inverse state of his friend. He was still talking away when, carrying their new, imitation leather suit cases, their new hats slanted above their shaven necks, they descended at the station. In the waiting room Fonzo said:
“Well, what’re we going to do first?” Virgil said nothing. Someone jostled them: Fonzo caught at his hat. “What we going to do?” he said. Then he looked at Virgil, at his face. “What’s the matter?”
“Aint nothing the matter,” Virgil said.
“Well, what’re we going to do? You been here before. I aint.”
“I reckon we better kind of look around,” Virgil said.
Fonzo was watching him, his blue eyes like china. “What’s the matter with you? All the time on the train you was talking about how many times you been to Memphis. I bet you aint never bu—” Someone jostled them, thrust them apart; a stream of people began to flow between them. Clutching his suit case and hat Fonzo fought his way back to his friend.
“I have, too,” Virgil said, looking glassily about.
“Well, what we going to do then? It wont be open till eight oclock in the morning.”
“What you in such a rush for, then?”
“Well, I dont aim to stay here all night. . . . What did you do when you was here before?”
“Went to the hotel,” Virgil said.
“Which one? They got more than one here. You reckon all these folks could stay in one hotel? Which one was it?”
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 lattice-work 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 salesrooms. They stood in the middle of the block, their suit cases in their right hands.
“I dont believe you was ever 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.
“Wait,” Virgil said.
“You can,” Fonzo said. Virgil took his bag and followed. He stopped while Fonzo opened the lattice gingerly and peered in. “Aw, hell,” he said. He entered. There
