cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第24部分

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he　old　man　discussed　mosquitoes　and　mosquito　control。　His　beloved　M。　Price　had　a　huge　smoke…spraying　machine　on　a　truck　that　made　the　circuit　of　the　theater　before　the　films　began　and　again　at　intermission；　but　Debierue　had　to　take　the　gloves　along　because　the　mosquitoes　were　so　fierce　on　his　walk　home。　She　told　him　about；　and　remended；　a　spray　repellent　called　Festrol；　and　I　was　repelled　by　the　banality　of　their　conversation。　But　with　his　mind　on　the　movies；　it　was　too　late　for　me　to　ask　him　any　final　questions　about　his　art。
　　I　pulled　over　in　the　driveway　short　of　the　ticket　window　and　waved　a　car　by。　I　gave　the　old　man　one　of　my　business　cards　with　the　magazine's　New　York　address　and　telephone　number；　and　wedged　in　a　parting　ment　that　if　he　changed　his　mind　about　letting　me　see　his　pictures　he　could　call　me　collect　at　any　time。　He　nodded　impatiently　and；　without　looking　at　the　card；　dropped　it　into　his　shirt　pocket。　We　shook　hands；　the　quick　one…up…and…one…down　handshake；　Berenice　gave　him　a　peck　on　his　beard；　and　he　got　out　of　the　car。　By　the　time　I　got　the　car　turned　around；　he　had　disappeared　into　the　darkness　of　the　theater。　Music　and　insane　woodpecker　laughter　filled　the　night　suddenly　as　I　turned　onto　the　highway。　Berenice　sighed。
　　〃What's　the　matter？〃
　　〃Oh；　I　was　just　thinking；〃　she　said。　〃We　held　him　up　too　long　and　now　he'll　have　to　wait　until　intermission　to　get　his　grape　snow　cone。〃
　　〃Yeah。　That's　tough。〃
　　
　　
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　　I　drove　into　Debierue's　private　road；　stopped；　and　switched　off　the　headlights。　Before　she　could　say　anything　I　turned　to　Berenice　and　said；　〃Before　you　say　anything　I'm　going　to　tell　you。　Then；　if　you　have　questions；　ask　them。　I'm　going　down　now　to　take　a　look　at　Debierue's　pictures。　He　said　he　had　painted　a　few；　and　now　that　I　know　there　are　pictures　in　his　studio　I　can't　go　back　without　one　for　Mr。　Cassidy'
　　〃Why　not？　He　doesn't　know　that　there　are　any。〃
　　〃I　made　a　deal。　And　even　if　I　decide　not　to　take　one　back；　which　I　doubt；　I　still　have　to　see　them　myself。　If　you　don't　understand　that；　you　don't　understand　me　very　well。〃
　　〃I　understand；　but　it's　dangerous…〃
　　〃With　Debierue　in　the　movies；　it's　safer　than　houses。　He　dropped　the　door　key　into　a　potted　plant　on　the　porch。　You　saw　him；　too；　didn't　you？〃
　　〃But　the　studio　is　stifi　locked；　and…〃
　　〃I　don't　want　to　get　you　involved　any　more　than　you　are　already。　But　I　want　you　to　stay　here　by　the　highway；　just　in　case。　Debierue　might　think　about　the　key　himself　and　e　back　for　it。　I　don't　believe　he　will；　but　if　he　does　you　can　run　down　the　road　and　warn　me　and　we'll　get　the　hell　out。　Okay？〃
　　〃I　can't　stand　out　here　in　the　dark　all　by　myself！　I'm　scared　and　there　are　all　these　mosquitoes　and　I　want　to　go　with　you！〃
　　〃We're　wasting　time。　It's　one　thing　for　me　to　be　a　housebreaker；　but　it's　something　else　for　you…as　a　schoolteacher。　There's　nothing　to　be　frightened　about…I'm　sorry　about　the　mosquitoes…but　if　you're　really　afraid　I'll　take　you　down　the　highway　to　a　gas　station。　You　can　lock　yourself　in　the　women's　room　till　I　e　back　for　you。〃
　　〃I　don't　want　to　lock　myself　up　in…〃
　　〃Get　out　of　the　car。　I　want　to　get　this　over　with。〃
　　〃Let　me　have　your　cigarettes。〃
　　I　handed　her　my　half…empty　pack；　not　the　full　one；　and　she　climbed　resignedly　out　of　the　car。　〃How　long　are　you　going　to　be？〃
　　〃I　don't　know。　That　depends　upon　how　many　paintings　I　have　to　look　at。〃
　　〃Don't　do　it；　James。　Please　don't　do　it！〃
　　〃Why；　for　God's　sake？〃
　　〃Because　Debierue　doesn't　want　you　to；　that's　why！〃
　　〃That's　not　a　reason。〃
　　〃I…I　may　not　be　here　when　you　get　back；　James。〃
　　〃Good！　In　that　case；　I　can　say　you　weren't　with　me　at　all　tonight　if　I'm　caught　and　you　won't　get　into　any　trouble。〃
　　Without　lights　I　eased　the　car　down　the　road；　but　turned　them　on　again　as　soon　as　I　was　well　into　the　pines　and　around　the　first　bend。　There　was　no　good　reason　not　to　have　taken　Berenice　with　me　except　that　I　didn't　want　her　along。　That　is；　there　was　no　rational　reason。　She　had　looked　rather　pitiful　standing　in　the　tall　grass　beside　the　road。　Maybe　I　thought　she　would　be　in　the　way；　or　that　she　would　talk　all　the　time。　Something。　。　。　。　It　might　have　been　something　in　my　subconscious　mind　warning　me　about　what　I　would　find。　As　soon　as　I　parked　in　front　of　the　house　I　considered；　for　a　brief　moment；　going　back　for　her。　I　got　out　of　the　car　instead；　but　left　the　headlights　on。
　　Because　of　the　rain…washed　air　the　few　visible　stars　seemed　to　be　light　years　higher　in　the　void　than　they　usually　were。　There　was　no　moon　as　yet；　and　the　night　was　inky。　In　the　black　swamp　beyond　the　house　a　lonesome　bull　alligator　roared　erotically。　This　was　such　a　miserable；　isolated　location　for　an　artist　to　live；　I　was　grateful　that　the　old　painter　had　a　place　to　go　every　night…and　not　only　because　the　house　was　so　easy　to　break　into。　If　I　had　to　live　out　here　all　alone；　I　too　would　have　been　looking　forward　to　seeing　the　Bowery　Boys　and　three　color　cartoons。
　　Debierue's　〃hiding〃　of　the　key　was　evidently　a　habitual　practice；　a　safeguard　to　prevent　its　loss　as　he　walked　to　and　from　the　theater　each　night。　I　doubted　that　the　idea　entered　his　head　that　I　would　return　to　his　empty　house　to　make　an　illegal　use　of　the　key。　But　I　didn't　really　know。　My　guilt；　if　any；　was　light。　I　felt　no　more　guilt　than　that　of　a　professional　burglar。　A　burglar　must　make　a　living；　and　to　steal　he　must　first　invade　the　locked　home　where　the　items　he　wants　to　steal　are　safeguarded。　I　meant　no　harm　to　the　old　artist。　Any　picture　I　took；　and　I　was　only　going　to　take　one；　Debierue　could　paint　again。　And　except　for　the　visual　impressions　of　his　paintings　in　my　mind…and　a　few　photos…I　would　take　nothing　else。There　was　no　reason　to　feel　guilty。
　　So　I　cannot　account　for　the　dryness　of　my　mouth；　the　dull　stasis　of　my　blood；　the　tightness　of　the　muscles　surrounding　my　stomach；　and　the　noticeable　increase　in　my　rate　of　breathing。　These　signs　of　anxiety　were　ridiculous。　The　old　man　was　sitting　in　the　drive…in　with　a　pair　of　headphones　clamped　to　his　ears；　and　even　if　he　caught　me　inside　the　house；　the　worst　he　could　do　would　be　to　express　dismay。　He　couldn't　hurt　me　physically；　and　he　would　hardly　report　me　to　the　police。　But　I　was　an　amateur。　I　had　never　broken　into　anyone's　house　before；　so　I　supposed　that　my　anxiety　stemmed　from　the　melodramatic　idea　that　I　was　engaged　in　a　romantic　adventure。　But　after　I　had　unlocked　the　front　door　and　let　it　swing　inward；　I　had　to　muster　a　good　deal　of　courage　before　I　could　force　my　hand　to　reach　inside　to　flip　on　the　living　room　lights。
　　The　light　ing　through　the　window　would　be　bright　enough　to　see　my　way　back　from　the　car。　I　switched　off　the　headlights；　and　returned　hurriedly　to　the　house　with　a　tire　iron　and　a　hammer　I　got　from　the　trunk。　But　as　it　turned　out；　these　tools　were　unnecessary。
　　The　only　barrier　to　the　studio　was　the　hasp　and　the　heavy　Yale　lock　on　the　door。　Once　broken　there　would　be　no　way　to　prevent　Debierue　from　guessing　that　I　had　returned。　But　if　the　artist　had　been　afraid　he　might　lose　his　house　key；　it　also　seemed　unlikely　that　he　would　take　the　studio　padlock　key　to　the　theater。
　　Switching　on　the　lights　as　I　searched；　I　made　a　hasty；　fruitless　examination　of　the　kitchen　before　moving　on　to　the　bedroom。　Two　keys　together　on　a　short　twist　of　copper　wire；　both　of　them　identical；　were　in　plain　view　on　top　of　the　highboy　dresser。　I　unlocked　the　padlock；　opened　the　studio　door；　and　flipped　the　row　of　toggles　on　the　wall。　The　boxlike　windowless　room；　after　hesitant　blue　white　flickers；　brightened　into　an　icy；　intense　brilliance。　There　were　a　dozen　overhead　fluorescent　tubes　in　parallel　sets　of　three　（two　blue　white　to　one　yellow）　flush　with　the　ceiling。　Under　this　cold　light　I　noticed　first　the　patching　of　new　brickwork　that　filled　the　spaces　where　two　windows　had　been　before；　despite　the　new　coat　of　white　enamel　that　covered　the　walls。
　　Blinking　my　eyes　to　accustom　them　to　the　intense　overhead　light；　I　closed　the　door　behind　me。　My　thumping　heart　was　prepared　for　the　impact　of　the　unusual；　the　unique；　for　the　miraculous　in　visual　art；　but　instead　of　wine　and　fish　I　di