cw.blackalibi-第30部分

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　　One　hundred　and　fifty　pesos。　If　there'd　only　be　a　few　more　nights　like　this；　she　could　cut　it　out；　chuck　the　whole　thing　overboard。　She　shrugged　off　her　jacket；　bet　it　fall　down　behind　her。　The　cot　gave　a　jolting　creak。　Suddenly　she　was　erect；　awake；　appalled。　Her　hands　were　pressed　flat　against　the　center　hollow　of　her　bosom。
　　Gone！
　　She　gave　a　choked　exclamation　that　carried　through　the　open　doorway　into　the　next　room。　Her　mother　stirred　in　there；　cabled　drowsily　in：　〃You　back；　Gabriebita？　What's　the　matter；　have　you　been　hurt？〃　They　didn't　call　her　Clo…Clo　here；　they　didn't　even　know　that　was　her　name。
　　She　found　her　shoes　again。　She　was　too　stunned　even　to　cry；　to　make　any　further　sound。　It　was　a　solar…plexus　impact。　All　she　could　do　was　breathe　heavily；　bike　when　she'd　finished　running　a　little　while　ago…
　　That　was　it！　That　run　from　that　car。　That　was　when　it　must　have　happened。　That　was　the　only　time　she'd　moved　fast　all　night；　fast　enough　to　lose　it；　anyway。　Her　stockings　had　e　down；　her　blouse　had　shifted　around　a　little。　It　must　have　worked　its　way　up　over　the　neckbine　and　fallen　out。
　　She　had　the　outer　door　open　now。　No　four　of　spades　could　have　stopped　her；　no　black　cat；　no　black　car。　Nothing　now。　Money；　security；　that　was　the　strongest　impulse；　that　was　stronger　even　than　fear　of　death。　Her　mother's　voice　sounded　again；　just　before　she　got　the　door　closed。　〃Are　you　going　out　again；　my　daughter？　Take　care　of　yourself；　it's　so　bate…〃
　　〃Just　for　a　minute。　Go　back　to　sleep；　I'll　be　right　back；〃　she　answered　inattentively。　The　breadwinner　had　no　time　for　fear　or　explanations；　let　her　dependents　do　the　worrying　for　her；　this　was　her　problem　and　she　had　to　solve　it　alone。
　　She　was　going　back　now　toward　the　inner　city；　fast；　all　weariness　postponed。　Walking　as　though　it　were　three　in　the　afternoon。　Her　mind　was　grappling　with　it。　She　had　a　good　mind；　she　would　have　had；　if　it　had　been　trained　at　all。　〃I　didn't　lose　it　when　I　went　spinning　around　the　table　there　at　the　Tabarin。　I　know　I　didn't；　because　I　felt　for　it　after　I　left；　and　it　was　still　in。　I　didn't　lose　it　sitting　with　La　Bruja；　her　hands　were　on　the　cards；　didn't　e　near　me。　It　was　when　I　ran　from　that　accursed　car；　then　and　then　only。〃
　　She　knew；　fortunately；　just　about　where　that　was。　He'd　e　up　to　her　just　past　Retiro；　and　she'd　run　all　the　rest　of　the　block；　up　to　the　next　crossing　at　San　Marco。　It　was　somewhere　along　that　stretch；　on　the　right…hand　side　of　Justicia。
　　Here。　It　began　from　here　on。　She　slackened；　began　a　pendulum…like　advance　along　the　nightblue　shadowed　sidewalk；　swinging　from　curbing　to　building　base；　from　building　base　to　curbing；　head　rigidly　inclined。　Every　unevenness；　every　slight　flaw　in　the　paving　blocks；　that　cast　a　deeper　shadow　than　the　rest　of　the　surface；　she　examined　by　bending　still　further　down　over；　or　even　testing　with　the　tips　of　her　fingers。
　　Minutes　went　by。　The　city　slept；　the　night　brooded；　the　broomlike　shuffle　of　her　feet；　back　and　forth；　and　forth　and　back；　was　the　only　sound　there　was。
　　The　curbing　veered　in　suddenly；　thrust　a　drop　under　her　feet。　She　looked　up　with　aching；　stiff　neck。　Already？　Had　she　reached　the　other　end　already？　Yes；　here；　here　was　where　the　car　had　stopped；　and　played　its　lights　upon　her。
　　Maybe　he'd　found　it。　But　he　hadn't　e　after　her。　He'd　stood　there　by　the　car　a　minute；　and　then　gotten　in　and　driven　off。　And　at　this　hour　hardly　anyone　was　about；　hardly　anyone　was　likely　to　have　passed　by　here　since。　It　must　be　still　someplace　around；　it　must　be。　Until　daylight；　until　the　first　early　risers　were　on　the　streets；　it　would　still　lie　where　it　had　fallen。　She　wouldn't　desist；　she　wouldn't　stop　booking　until　she'd　found　it。
　　She'd　made　one　plete　round　trip　to　the　San　Marco　corner　and　back　again；　when　hope　finally　gave　up　the　ghost。　When　she　finally　had　to　admit　that　it　was　useless　booking　any　more；　that　if　it　had　been　there　she　would　already　have　found　it　two　or　three　times　over。　She　wavered　helplessly　about　there　on　the　sidewalk　awhile；　crumbling　inside。　Then　the　tears　came。　Hot；　bitter　tears；　of　a　wrenching　intensity　that　those　who　lived　safely　could　never　know。
　　She　went　over　to　the　wall；　there　close　by　the　corner；　and　pressed　her　face　against　it；　under　the　overhanging　splint　of　her　arm；　heels　out　behind　her　and　clear　of　the　ground；　and　with　her　other　hand　she　beat　the　counterpoint　to　her　strangled　sobs　against　the　heartless；　unyielding；　prickling　stones。
　　The　whole　night　for　nothing。　All　those　smiles；　all　that　magnetic　current；　all　those　kilowatts　of　personality　consumed；　with　nothing　to　show　for　them。
　　The　sobs　stopped　first。　Then　the　intolerable　anguished　pounding　of　her　palm　slowed　to　little　pats；　died　away　at　last。　She　tried　to　console　herself　as　best　she　could。　It　had　been　something　for　nothing。　Now　she　was　no　worse　off；　at　least；　than　she　had　been　before　she　had　received　it。　It　wouldn't　work。　〃It　was　mine；〃　she　said　smotheredly　against　the　wall。　〃I　had　it。　Why　should　it　be　taken　away　from　me　again？〃
　　She　flung　her　shoulder　around　in　defiance；　turned　at　last　to　face　the　other　way；　still　propped　against　the　wall。　She　stared　in　glowering　dullness　out　at　nothing。　The　night　owed　her　a　return。　She'd　get　a　little　something　back；　no　matter　how　fractional　a　part　of　her　boss。　She'd　stand　here　until　she　did。　She　wouldn't　go　home　empty…handed。　The　fatal　middle…class　virtue　of　thrift。　Something　to　show　for　it；　if　it　was　only　a　half…peso　piece；　only　a　cadged　cigarette。　She　wouldn't　leave　this　spot　until　she　did。
　　Justicia　had　been　cut　ruthlessly　through　a　decrepit；　labyrinthine　part　of　the　town；　on　the　bias。　All　the　mobdering　little　lanes　and　abbeys　that　opened　out　upon　it；　opened　as　a　result　not　rectangularly　but　sbantwise。　At　the　corner　where　she　stood；　San　Marco；　running　in　to　join　the　newer　thoroughfare；　made　an　angle　so　acute　it　was　little　better　than　a　fifteen…degree　incision。　The　corner　of　this　wall　she　lounged　against　was　needle…pointed；　San　Marco　was；　not　around　the　corner　from　her；　but　directly　behind　her　back；　on　the　other　side　of　the　double…flanged　well。
　　Now　as　she　stood　there　in　the　blue　hour；　in　the　death　watch　of　the　night；　defiantly　determined　Upon　her　repense。　the　soft　crush　of　a　foot　upon　loose…packed　earth；　upon　imperfectly　bedded　small　stones；　reached　her　from　around　this　projection；　from　behind　her　own　back。　Somebody'　was　ing　along　there；　along　the　unpaved　margin　of　San　Marco；　about　to　turn　this　razor　corner　and　happen　upon　her。
　　Somebody；　and　no　matter　who　it　was；　she　wanted　something　of　the　night；　she　would　not　let　him　by　without　exacting　tribute；　to　repair　her　loss　and　assuage　her　shattered　self…esteem。　She　dried　her　eyes　by　stabbing　a　knuckle　into　them；　in　quick　succession。　She　opened　her　bag　and　started　to　redden　her　mouth　with　flurried　urgency；　the　smile　of　gamin　friendliness　with　which　she　intended　to　halt　him　in　another　moment　already　turning　up　its　corners　even　as　she　did　so；　for　the　loose　top　layer　of　tiny　stones　and　gravel　was　already　shifting　in　sight　of　her；　out　there　beyond　the　knifelike　corner；　like　sluggish　water　riding　outwards　from　an　impact　still　unseen；　the　cause　of　it　still　hidden　for　a　moment　more。
　　In　another　instant　they　would　be　face　to　face；　eye　to　eye。　She　could　already　have　reached　her　hand　explorativeby　backward　around　the　stone　screen　and　touched　him　as　he　sidled　up。
　　The　lipstick　dipped。　Her　smile　was　ready　now。　She　turned　it　up　toward　the　night；　eyes　half　lidded　with　expectancy。
　　
　　
　　They　had　taken　her　away　by　the　time　Manning　arrived；　at　seven　that　same　morning；　in　a　taxi。　The　flatiron　corner　of　San　Marco　and　Justicia　looked　dainty　in　early…morning　water　colors：　peach　pink　and　pastel　blue。　Pink　sunlight　in　the　faces　of　the　men　standing　around；　and　bight…blue　shadows　on　the　ground　behind　them。
　　There　was　one　other　color；　on　the　wall　on　the　Justicia　side：　as　though　somebody　had　been　careless　with　some　kind　of　overripe　fruit。
　　There　weren't　many　people　around。　A　country　Indian　on　his　way　to　early　market　with　a　basket　of　persimmons　on　his　head　seemed　to　have　bee　permanently　rooted　to　one　particular　spot　on　his　way　past；　stood　there　mouth　agape　in　inpre