Chapter 23

           AbeNorthwasstillintheRitzbar,wherehehadbeensincenineinthemorning.Whenhearrivedseekingsanctuarythewindowswereopenandgreatbeamswerebusyatpullingupthedustfromsmokycarpetsandcushions.Chasseurstorethroughthecorridors,liberatedanddisembodied,movingforthemomentinpurespace.Thesit-downbarforwomen,acrossfromthebarproper,seemedverysmall—itwashardtoimaginewhatthrongsitcouldaccommodateintheafternoon.

           ThefamousPaul,theconcessionaire,hadnotarrived,butClaude,whowascheckingstock,brokeoffhisworkwithnoimpropersurprisetomakeAbeapick-me-up.Abesatonabenchagainstawall.Aftertwodrinkshebegantofeelbetter—somuchbetterthathemountedtothebarber’sshopandwasshaved.WhenhereturnedtothebarPaulhadarrived—inhiscustom-builtmotor,fromwhichhehaddisembarkedcorrectlyattheBoulevarddesCapucines.PaullikedAbeandcameovertotalk.

           "Iwassupposedtoshiphomethismorning,"Abesaid."Imeanyesterdaymorning,orwhateverthisis."

           "Whydinyou?"askedPaul.

           Abeconsidered,andhappenedfinallytoareason:"IwasreadingaserialinLibertyandthenextinstallmentwasduehereinParis—soifI’dsailedI’dhavemissedit—thenIneverwouldhavereadit."

           "Itmustbeaverygoodstory."

           "It’saterr-r-riblestory."

           Paularosechucklingandpaused,leaningonthebackofachair:

           "Ifyoureallywanttogetoff,Mr.