gs.earthabides-第16部分

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　thought。　〃Yes；　Fifth　Avenue　makes　a　beautiful　corpse。〃　
　　A　few　pigeons　fluttered　up　at　Rockefeller　Center；　disturbed　now　by　the　sound　of　a　single　motor。　At　Forty…second　Street；　yielding　to　a　whim；　he　stopped　the　car　in　the　middle　of　Fifth　Avenue　and　got　out；　leaving　Princess　shut　up。　
　　He　walked　east　on　Forty…second　Street；　the　empty　sidewalk　ridiculously　wide。　He　entered　Grand　Central　Terminal；　and　looked　in　at　the　vast　expanse　of　waiting…room。　
　　〃Waugh！〃　he　called　loudly；　and　felt　a　child…like　pleasure　as　an　echo　came　reverberating　back　from　the　high　vault；　through　the　emptiness。　
　　He　wanderedd　back　to　the　street；　and　a　revolving　door　caught　his　eye。　He　pushed　against　it　idly；　and　found　himself　in　the　lobby　of　a　large　hotel。　Flanked　by　huge　chairs　and　davenports；　the　lobby　led　on　to　the　desk。　
　　Standing　just　inside　the　door；　he　had　a　moment's　idea　of　approaching　the　desk　and　entering　into　an　imaginary　conversation　with　the　reservation…clerk。　He　had　telegraphed　from…well；　Kansas　City　would　be　a　good　place。　Yes；　and　his　reservation　had　been　confirmed！　What　were　all　these　excuses　now？　But　the　insane　notion　faded。　With　a　thousand　rooms　empty　and　the　poor　clerk　gone…who　knew　where？…the　joke　was　not　very　funny。　
　　At　the　same　time　also　he　noticed　something　different。　Over　all　the　chairs　and　davenports　and　cigarette…stands　and　marble　floors　lay　a　distinct　layer　of　gray　dust。　
　　Perhaps；　not　being　a　housekeeper；　he　had　not　previously　noticed　dust；　or　perhaps　this　place　was　particularly　dusty。　No　matter　which！　From　now　on；　dust　would　be　a　part　of　his　life。　
　　Back　at　the　car；　he　slipped　it　into　gear；　crossed　Forty…second　Street；　and　continued　south。　On　the　steps　of　the　Library　he　saw　a　gray　cat　crouched；　paws　stretched　out　in　front；　as　if　in　caricature　of　the　stone　lions　above。　
　　At　the　Flatiron　Building　he　turned　into　Broadway；　and　followed　it　clear　…to　Wall　Street。　There　they　both　got　out；　and　Princess　showed　interest　in　some　kind　of　trail　which　ran　along　the　sidewalk。　Wall　Street！　He　enjoyed　walking　along　its　empty　length。　With　a　little　observation　he　diskovered　that　there　was　some　grass；　weeds　rather；　showing　green　here　and　there　in　the　cracks　of　the　gutter。　He　remembered　the　family　story　that　an　early　Dutch　settler；　one　of　their　ancestors；　had　owned　a　good　farm　in　this　vicinity。　His　father；　when　the　bills　were　high；　used　to　say；　〃Well；　I　wish　we　had　held　on　to　that　farm　on　Manhattan　Island；〃　Now　Ish　could　take　the　land　back　for　all　that　anybody　cared。　Yet　this　wilderness　of　concrete　and　steel　and　asphalt　was　the　last　place　where　anybody　would　really　care　to　live　now。　He　would　trade　that　Wall　Street　farm　for　any　ten　acres　in　Napa　Valley；　or　even　for　a　small　er　of　Central　Park。　
　　He　walked　back　to　his　car；　and　drove　south　on　Broadway　still；　the　little　distance　to　the　Battery。　There　he　gazed　across　the　expanse　of　the　lower　Bay　toward　the　ocean。　This　was　the　end　of　the　road。　
　　There　might　be　munities　left　in　Europe　or　South　America　or　on　some　of　the　islands；　but　he　could　not　go　to　find　out。　Right　here；　doubtless；　his　Dutch　ancestor　had　e　ashore　some　three　hundred　years　ago。　Now　he；　Ish；　had　rounded　the　full　circle。　
　　He　noticed　the　Statue　of　Liberty。　〃Liberty！〃　he　thought　ironically。　〃At　least；　I　have　that！　More　than　anyone　ever　thought　of；　when　they　put　the　lady　up　there　with　her　torch！〃　
　　Close　to　the　shore　of　Governor's　Island　a　large　liner　was　beached。　She　must　have　been　run　aground　at　high　tide；　and　now　at　low　tide　she　loomed　up　far　above　the　water；　canted　at　a　crazy　angle。　Secretly　infected　before　leaving　Europe；　before　long　with　passengers　and　crew　alike　dead　and　dying；　that　ship　must　have　made　desperately　for　port…for　a　port　which　itself　had　strangely　ceased　to　send　out　signals。　No　tugs　came　out　to　meet　her。　Perhaps　a　dying　boatswain　on　the　bridge　lacked　even　the　crew　to　drop　an　anchor；　and　with　dimming　eyes　merely　steered　her　toward　the　mudbank。　There　she　would　rest；　and　doubtless　the　waves　would　wash　up　mud　against　her　obstructing　bulk；　and　in　a　century　she　would　be　almost　indistinguishable…the　rust…covered　center　of　a　little　island　with　trees　growing　up　around　her。　
　　Going　on；　Ish　swung　off　through　the　East　Side；　struck　a　noisome　area　again　at　the　great　center　of　Bellevue　Hospital；　turned　west　and　found　the　same　difficulty　around　Pennsylvania　Station　and　the　adjoining　hotels；　and　finally　went　north　on　Eleventh　Avenue。　He　turned　into　Riverside　Drive；　and　noticed　that　the　sun　was　getting　low　over　the　smokeless　smokestacks　of　the　Jersey　shore。　He　was　just　wondering　where　he　should　spend　the　night　when　he　heard　a　voice　calling　out；　〃Hi；　there！〃　
　　Princess　burst　into　a　frenzy　of　barking。　Stopping　the　car；　he　looked　back；　and　saw　a　man　emerging　from　the　entryway　of　an　apartment　house。　Ish　got　out　to　meet　him；　leaving　the　barking　Princess　in　the　car。　
　　The　man　advanced　with　outstretched　hand。　He　was　pletely　conventional…looking；　well　shaved；　wearing　a　tropical　worsted　suit；　with　even　the　coat　on。　He　was　middle…aged　and　overweight；　with　a　smiling　face。　Ish　half　expected　him　to　break　into　the　conventional　shopkeeper's　greeting　〃Well；　sir；　what　can　I　do　for　you　today？〃　
　　〃Abrams　is　the　name；〃　he　said；　〃Milt　Abrams。〃　
　　Ish　fumbled　for　his　own　name…it　was　so　long　since　he　had　thought　of　it。　Introductions　over；　Milt　Abrams　took　him　inside。　They　went　into　a　pleasant　apartment　on　the　second　floor。　A　blond…haired　woman；　about　forty；　well　dressed；　almost　smart…looking；　was　sitting　at　a　cocktail　table；　and　there　was　a　cocktail　shaker　before　her。　〃Meet…the　Mrs。；〃　said　Milt　Abrams；　and　from　the　way　he　hesitated；　Ish　knew　that　the　Mrs。　merely　covered　up　his　embarrassment。　The　catastrophe　would　scarcely　have　spared　a　husband　and　wife；　and　there　had　been　no　opportunity　for　any　ceremony　since。　Milt　Abrams　was　obviously　conventional　enough　to　let　this　worry　him　even　under　the　circumstances。　
　　The　Mrs。　looked　at　Ish　with　a　smile；　possibly　at　Milt's　disfort。　〃Call　me　Ann；〃　she　said。　〃And　have　a　drink！　Warm　martinis；　that's　all　I　can　offer　you！　Not　a　scrap　of　ice　in　New　York　City！〃　In　her　own　way　she　was　as　typical　a　New　Yorker　as　Milt。　
　　〃I　tell　her；〃　said　Milt。　〃I　keep　on　telling　her；　not　to　drink　that　stuff…warm　martinis　are　poison。〃　
　　〃Think　of　it；〃　said　Ann；　〃spending　a　whole　summer　in　New　York　City…and　without　a　scrap　of　ice！〃　Nevertheless；　she　seemed　to　have　overe　her　dislike　of　warm　martinis　sufficiently　to　have　got　on　the　outside　of　several　of　them。　
　　〃Here；　I'll　offer　you　something　better；〃　said　Milt。　Opening　a　cupboard；　he　displayed　a　fine　shelf　of　Amontillado；　Napoleon　brandy；　and　selected　liqueurs。　〃And；〃　he　added；　〃they　don't　call　for　ice。〃　
　　Obviously；　Milt　was　a　natural　connoisseur　in　liquor。　The　bottle　of　Chateau　Margaux　that　he　produced　for　dinner　was　further　proof。　
　　Chateau　Margaux　over　a　meal　of　cold　canned　corned　beef　was　not　perhaps　all　that　could　be　wished；　but　the　wine　was　plentiful　enough　to　produce　in　Ish　a　slight　and　happy　befuddlement。　Ann　was　definitely　befuddled　by　this　time。　
　　The　evening　passed　pleasantly　enough。　They　played　cards　by　candlelight…three…handed　bridge。　They　drank　liqueurs。　They　listened　to　records　on　a　tinny…toned　portable　phonograph　which　had　the　great　advantage　of　not　needing　electric　power；　but　of　being　wound　up　by　hand。　They　talked…as　you　might　talk　on　any　evening。　〃That　record　scratches。。。。　I　haven't　won　a　finesse　yet。。。。　Let　me　have　another　glassful。〃　
　　It　was　a　kind　of　make…believe。　You　pretended　there　was　a　world　outside　the　windows；　you　were　playing　cards　by　candlelight　because　that　was　a　pleasant　thing　to　do；　you　did　not　trade　reminiscences　or　talk　of　what　you　might　think　anyone　would　talk　about　under　such　circumstances。　And　Ish　realized　that　this　was　proper　and　right。　Normal　people；　and　Milt　and　Ann　seemed　to　be　certainly　normal；　did　not　concern　themselves　much　with　either　the　distant　past　or　the　distant　future。　Fortunately；　they　lived　in　the　present。　
　　Yet；　as　the　cards　were　dealt　and　played；　by　incidental　remarks　here　and　there；　Ish　put　together　a　great　deal　of　the　situation。　Milt　had　been　part…owner　of　a　small　jewelry　store。　Ann　had　been　the　wife　of　someone　named　Harry；　and　they　had　been　prosperous　enough　to　spend　summers　on　the　coast　of　Maine。　The　only　work　for　pay　that　Ann　had　ever　done　had　been　to　sell　perfume　in　one　of　the　more　exclusive　shops；　as　a　kind　of　lark　during　the　Christmas　rush。　Now　the　two　of　them　occupied　a　fine　apartment；　vastly　better　than　even　Harry　had　been　able　to　provide。　The　electricity　had　failed　immediately；　because　the　dynamos　which　supplied　New　York　had　been　steam…driven；　the　water　supply　remained　apparently　at　normal；　and　this　prevented　any　sanitary　problem。　
　　Actually　they　were　marooned　on　Riverside　Drive。　Being　ordinary　New　Yorkers　they　had　never　owned　a　car；　and　so　neither　of　them　could　drive。　Automobiles　were　mysteries　to　them。　Since　all　public　transportation　had　now　disappeared；　they　were　left　wholly　afoot；　and　neither　was　of　an　age　or　temperament　or　physique　to　enjoy　walking。　Broadway；　with　its　still　well…stocked　food…　and　liquor…stores；　formed　their　practical　eastern　limit；　the　River　lay　to　the　west；　they　wandered　up　and　down　the　Drive；　perhaps　half　a　mile　north　and　south。　That　was　their　world。　
　　Within　these　narrow　limits　they　did　not　think　that　anyone　else　was　living。　As　to　what　might　be　happening　in　the　rest　of　the　city；　they　had　not　as　much　idea　as　Ish。　To　them　the　East　Side　was　as　far　off　as　Philadelphia；　Brooklyn　might　as　well　be　Saudi　Arabia。　
　　Once　in　a　while；　indeed；　they　had　heard　cars　go　by　on　Riverside　Drive；　and　on　rare　occasions　they　had　seen　one。　They　had　been　wary；　however；　about　approaching　any　of　the　cars；　because　from　loneliness　and　a　sense　of　helplessness；　a　fear　had　e　upon　them；　and　they　had　a　land　of　bug…a…boo　terror　about　roving　gangsters。　
　　〃But　everything　was　getting　so　quiet　that　I　really　wanted　to　see　someone。　You　weren't　driving　fast；〃　said　Milt　almost　diffidently；　〃and　I　saw　you　were　alone；　and　didn't　look　bad；　and　had　an　out…of…town　license。〃　
　　Ish　started　to　say　that　he　would　give　them　his　pistol；　but　checked　himself。　Firearms　were　as　likely　to　create　as　to　solve　difficulties。　In　all　probability　Milt　had　never　fired