The Ely miner., 1943-12-16

the Island and make taxi-drivers
and chauffeurs political bloc that
no party dares to ignore. At the
moment the car was careening ma
niacally across the narrow perilous
causeway out the Bayamon Road
from San Juan. On the right the
garbage dump smoked with evil
smelling pervasiveness. Beyond it,
in the shallow head of the bay, two
dredges pumped softly and monot-
onously, filling the murky oozing
swamp that stretched on the left Of
the road, making firm new land for
the U. S. Navy. It was dotted with
a couple of thousand oranges just
then, where truck had gone off
the road, and just behind it a station
wagon like Mr.. Taussig's had gone
like dive bomber motor-deep in
the mud, its rear wheels still going
around. A constant stream of khaki
colored Army trucks and open field
cars trundled noisily past it, and
private cars darting in and out, try
ing to pass what seemed to Mr..
Taussig to be an already solid line
into town.
An accident would be easy enough,
he thought-up in the hills where
there was no soft cushion of mud
and slime. He frowned. There were
certain complications he expected
and did not mind. He was used to
accidents when necessary, though he
preferred to avoid them. He was
even used to the emotional equa-
ton that women sometimes brought
In !. but not on the level that the
girl In Ito across the hall had pre-
sented. He was more used to the
kind of thing he was headed for
now.
The public car stopped on the side
OF the crowded road under an al
mond tree.
"-Caparra, senor.''
The driver pointed to a low she'd
like group of buildings just beyond
a rickety fence. They looked more
like subterranean mushroom sheds
than the ruins of the villa of Ponce
de Leon, the first governor, who
built his first capitol here four CEN
turies ago, before he abandoned it
and Puerto Rico to go on his search
for the Fountain of Youth, and found
instead Florida and death.
Mr.. Richard Taussig was only SUI
perfcially interested in the blue and
yellow tiles and in the story of the
Indian Cacique and the great Con-
quistadore who is still heard, and
even seen, clanking up the ghostly
stairs In his battle armor. He tipped
the caretaker enough to make him
remember him but not enough to
make him suspicious, and made his
way along the shaded road under the
Indian almonds and fiamboyants to
a roadhouse. There he drank bottle
of cool pale ale in the garden and
read his guide book. That was for
the record too, in case one was be-
ing kept. So far as he knew, no
one had followed him; but devious
ness and plausibility were a habit
as much as plan, and in the half
world that Mr.. Taussig operated in,
overconfdence was more dangerous
than wasted time.
81 can get to Rio Piedras-to the
University-out this way?"
He tipped the waiter and pointed
to the left fork of the road he had
come on. "And to the tuberculosis
Sanatorium on the way?"
The man nodded. "Si, senor.
Gracias, senor."
''If I walk along a public car will
stop for me?"
Isl, senor."
Mr.. Taussig set out, walking slow
ly. The road was less crowded than
the other branch. Nevertheless he
walked past the blue stucco house
set behind a great hedge of red and
pink hibiscus, because a cart load
ed with sugar cane was passing it
just then. When the road was empty
he turned back, went quickly
through the tall gate in the hedge
and closed it securely behind him.
Diego Gongaro's car stood in the
drive. Taussig glanced at his watch.
He had allowed himself forty-five
minutes to compensate for the tenn
peramental disregard of time that
was another complication Of the
Latin scene that irritated his pre-
else mind. He had not wanted to
arrive at the house of Diego Con-
garo's mistress until Gongaro was
there himself. He was disturbed
about her, just as he was disturbed
about Graciela. In fact, there were
too many women In all this altogeth-
er for his liking. All except little
Mrs. Porter. So far as he could
see, she was the one simple aspect
of his problem. His impulse had
been to go see her that morning,
but he had rejected it. It was best
to let the first move come from her.
He went up the steps, reached out
to ring the bell beside the IRON
grilled door, and stopped. From in
side he could hear loud and hysteri-
cal weeping. 1t stopped abruptly,
and woman's shrill voice cried out
in rapid Spanish:
"But why? Why, Diego? Why not
let all of that alone? Why endan-
ger yourself and me and your fam
lily? What is there to gain that"
She stopped as suddenly as she
had begun. A heavy chair moved,
there were sharp steps on the tiled
floor. Taussig stepped back, came
across the porch again, scraping his
rubber-soled shoes on the tile, and
rang the bell. In moment Diego
Gongaro came from an inner room
through the portiere made of col
ored glass beads and short lengths
of fine bamboo. He smiled cordial
ly as he opened the grill. Whether
he was unaware that his caller had
heard the end of the scene. or was