W.A. BRADLEY
5, RUE ST-LOUIS-en-L'ILE
PARIS-IVe

In the main ward of the great hospital Lafala lay like
a sawed-off stump and pondered the loss of his legs. Now more
vividly than ever in his life he visualized the glory and the
joy of having a handsome pair of legs.

Back in the native compounds of his backwoods again with naked
black youth, he was baptized in a flood of emotion re-tasting
the rare delight the members of his tribe felt always by the sight
of fine bodies supported by strong gleaming legs.

The older tribesmen appraised the worth of the young by the
shape of their limbs, Long legs and slender would make good
swimmers, Stout legs and thick, good carriers, Lithe and si-
newy were runners' legs. And long swinging monkey arms marked
expert climbers of palms and jungle trees.

The lads fancied the girls by the form of their legs, the
shape of hips and firmness of thighs in symmetrical motion
with coral-covered arms poised at oblique angles steadying burdens
on their heads.

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Lafala as a boy was proud of his legs participating in all childhood's leg play, running and climbing and jumping, and dancing in the moonlight in the village yard. He remembered lying down naked under the moon and stars while his playmates traced his image with pieces of crockery. And when they were finished they all held hands and danced around it singing: The Moonshine Kid." He remembered the fine shock of wading through the tall grass in the cool early morning after the hot night, the heavy dews bathing his naked skin...

As kid boy, the missionaries brought him from the bush to the town where they lived and taught. His legs were put in pants and soon, soon he learned among other things the new delight of legs... Legs like a quartette of players performing the passionate chamber music of life, Loud notes and soft, notes whispering like a warm breath, a long and noiseless kiss, flutes and viols joined in enchanting adventures, in ritual union, trembling and climbing together in the high song of life and leaving unforgettable sensations in the blood, in the brain,

Legs of ebony, legs of copper, legs of ivory moving mellowness in columns against his imagination...Dancing on the toes dancing on the heels, flat-footed dancing in the Arab way, Lafala's dancing legs had carried him from Africa to Europe, from Europe to America--

America...where legs were shown in tights... where, when he went to see the show of legs, he was shunted up into the nigger heaven of the gilded palaces as if being too near to legs

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in tights was unwholesome for him.

Legs...Feet that were accustomed to dig themselves into the native soil, into a lovely heap of leaves, in affectionate tufts of grass, were now introduced to luxuries of socks and shoes, beds of iron and sheets.

Lafala had gone on wandering impressionably from change to change like a heedless young pilgrim with nothing but his staff in his hand and playing variations on the march of legs. Come trouble, come worry, blue days without job, without food without love....Dance away... Think not of age, of accident, the festering and mortification of youth and poisoned worms corroding through the firm young flesh to the sepulchral skeleton. His dancing legs would carry him ever all.

Suddenly they were jerked off and there he lay helpless.

On an impulse of self-disgust Lafala had stowed away from Dreamport, leaving in the Bottoms pals and wenches, frustrated feelings and dark desire.

Dreamport; Port of the blazing sun, Port of the alluring breakwater--the bums' delight; Port of a thousand ships filling the harbour with warm sweaty activity giving sustenance to worker and boss, peddler and prostitute, pimp and bum, Port of the dim, damned Bottoms where the thick soum of life foams and bubbles and breaks in its own red syrup of passion and desire.

There Lafala had met the Negro wench, Aslima, She was called the tigress in the Bottoms. She was really Negroid, a burning brown mixed of Arab and Negro and perhaps other blood.

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It was a time exciting for Negroes, for the dark cry of Back
To Africa was in the air. Lafala was a son of black bush Africa
The missionaries had brought him out of the bush and and educated
him in the mission school of the town.

But Lafala had not remained a missionary credit. Soon after they
turned him loose from school, he shipped as a sailor boy. He reached
the lad of the missionaries and stayed there. Spent most of his
early youth in the lowest-down bottoms of European ports. Lafala had
been roaming aimless away from Africa for many years. And he too
was stirred by the cry to return. From long wanderings in strange
lands after strange fleshpots, yet remaining always a restless stran-
ger, he felt need of a return to native things--a native soil and
native flesh and peace.

Aslima was a strong striking girl with a face that seemed as
if it was chiselled out of hard brown wood into proud beauty. When
Lafala first saw her in Dreamport, she did not appear to him as
just one outstanding dark-brown girl among white in the Bottoms,
She seemed through his new emotions a rare symbol of the new vision
one native thing by which he would begin finding his way back, She
might surely understand. She did not, could not really belong to the
Bottoms, She was an alien like himself........

It was in such a state of mind that he approached Aslima when
he met her in a dancing den in the Bottoms. How fine it was to
stumble upon an admirable piece of Africa abroad! Maybe they could
start something together, something that might help them to realize
leaving the tepid air of the North for the warmth of the equatorial

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South, Lafala took it that Aslima would feel like him too.

But Lafala awoke from his short dream one morning to find that Aslima had taken all his material assets and left him with the vision.

An object of ridicule and an object of pity un the Bottoms, he had no desire to remain there and join the gang of dark drifters until his only suit was worn to rags, And so, disgusted and chagrin-ed, he had stowed away so soon as he found a convenient ship.

Lafala had hoped to escape detection in the gloomy blackness of the bunker. But they found him. He was locked up in a miserable place. It was very cold across the Atlantic. When the mess boy brought him food, Lafala tried to explain that he was freezing to death. But they could not understand each other. Lafala's native and his civilized tongue were foreign to the crew. And mess boy did not think Lafala's signs were serious enough to call an officer.

By the time the ship docked, Lafala's legs were frozen stiff. From the ship he was taken to the immigration hospital. There the doctors told him that they could save his life only by cutting off his legs.

Lafala passed out from hearing or feeling anything He had a confused vision of childish impressions of the bush country and then all was blank. When he came back to the reality of himself and his environment again his dependable feet were gone,

Oh that he had not been brought back from the state of
an oblivion in a strange land without home, without friends, without resources, without his greatest asset-- his faithful feet.
Why had the doctor saved him? He had often heard his ignorant

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compagnions say that hospitals were the final passage to the grave of poor and unknown persons. The black drifters were supenitiously afraid of hospitals. They said the doctors never had enough corps for laboratory work and would not worry about the life of a poor unknown beggar when a body was wanted for dissection.

All that talk was just so much bunk, he mused now. The doctors had been so assidious attending to him, the nurses so kind. Terrible attention and kindness, for what was he going to do with himself when he was better and discharged? With two crutches in his armpits down would he have to squat on the hard-hearted city pavement and beg, he who had gone so headlong proud through life?

Better he had not come back to this reality. Life was now behind him. In the future there was no hope, Peering, exploring the world that he saw, was a ball heavy with mist with no light or warmth.

Oh, God! He whinnied like a sick pony in a paddock and buried his face in the pillow, his stump of a body twitching under the long white night-shirt.

Lafala was in heaven. There were no black things there. The terraces were paved with gold and beautiful flowers of every hue spilled their scents everywhere. There were pretty woodlands with spotless pools where birds of the rarest tropical hues nested and were ever singing. The palaces were wonderful creations of marble and crystal and the latest thing in rich glass reflecting

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white the saints and angels in attitudes of heavenly voluptuousness. Lafala was transfigured beyond remembering what complexion he was, but his legs were all right there prancing to the lascivious music of heavenly jazz.

Oh, what a welcome there.....All the jazz hounds who raised hell in the mighty cities of earth were summoned here by the Almighty to welcome him. All the saints were strutting their stuff and the angels fluttering their wings for him, the centre of attraction. A beautiful angel child was floating toward him. What magnificent wings! Many were the birds that Lafala had known on earth, but none with wings like this argent gorgeousness. The angel child was coming to take him to the Prince of Heaven, certainly to the throne above all thrones in the Holiest of the holy places.

The wings were enveloping him. He was lifted up. The music now far away reached him as from a celestial broadcasting station On, on through heavenly space. Angel wings: Salvation. How comforting to be warmly folded.

A sudden stop. Arrival. Was that the Prince of Heaven bending down to welcome him ?

Lafala opened his eyes and saw a huge black face, yellow teeth in a badly-molded mouth, baring over him, Black things in heaven. Good God, And he was black too, a block of blackness in a hospital shirt. Why was he dumped down so violently upon the fact of himself and what did this other black want fooling over him?

He had never liked him although they were the only two Negroes in the ward. The other black patient irritated Lafala

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It seemed to Lafala that he was jealous of him because he was a favorite among the nurses and even the doctors took more than an ordinary interest in him.

Lafala was really handsome. A shining blue blackness, arresting blue eyes, a fine protruding forehead topped by a mat of closely-weaved black hair, Sometimes the nurses asked him to say something in his tribal language and one day he sang a little song of his people that they all liked. He was happy that he could do something to please them, Then suddenly he remembered his legs and was sad and tears stole down his face. He was very agitated and shivered thinking of the future. The nurse that always attended to him patted him gently and Lafala kissed her hand and held it against his cheek.......

The other black, whose cot was on the other side of the ward opposite Lafala observed them with a grin and later in the day when the nurse approached his cot to do something, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. She gave him a slap and cried: "Insolent nigger!" And he became very angry and morose.

"What did he want with his objectionable mug hanging over me? thought Lafala.

"I jest want to say bye-bye and good luck, ole fellah, 'caused they done told me I can't this shop today and although we ain't been no best a buddies--" he hesitated a little--"I ben thinking right hard ef I kaint do some'n' on the outside foh you."

"No, nothing. You know they are going to ship me back to the port I stowed away from as soon as I am better," Lafala replied impatiently.

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"But it's that there case o' youn'," the American black insisted. "You oughta get some good money with you laigs chopped off and throwed away like trash, I been thinking big about you' case as I done heared it told and I believe theah's good money in it."

"Money", sneered Lafala "I stowed away on the white man's boat. Do you think they're going to pay me for getting cold feet?"

"We got laws ovah heah can see about that better'n them in the woods you come out of, fellah," the American said with a friendly grin.

He told Lafala that there were lawyers in the nighty city who knew how to squeeze money out of all kinds of accidents. He made Lafala relate all the details of his stowing away, how he was discovered, how he was treated, the kind of cell in which he was locked up.....

"It was a toilet", Lafala said

"You mean a lav'try ?"

"No, a real W.C."

"But that aint possible in Gawd's kingdom. They wouldnt do that to a hog."

"They did it to me all right though, and they knew what they were doing too, for after they fed me they didn't think it was necessary to let me out to take the air."

The American shook his head with a ripe giggle.

"You nevah can tell what a white man will do. But all the same I'm going to take this business a yours to a white lawyer. I don't trust no nigger lawyers, They'll sell you out everytime,"

Lafala wanted to defend negro lawyers.

-Io-

The American Negro grinned." Race nothing in this heah hoggish scramble to get theah fellah wif the black hogs jest that much worser because them is way back behind. Ise gwina get you a go-getting Jew ofay what is bettah than a straight and take it from me that when him done get through fixing you up youse gwina have you a pair of legs to walk on and good dollars in you pocket."

"You think so" asked Taloufa, Lafala.

"I done think, I knows it."

Alone, Lafala wendered if anything would some from the talk of Black Angel. It was the first sign of hope for the future that he had seen, He had never before thought of gaining something from such a loss, never dreamed there was the slightest chance The hospital staff had avoided talking to him about the subject of his future. Doctors and nurses. "Poor boy" a doctor would ejaculate passing his cot. Sometimes he noticed a group of visiting doctors and internes and students talking with sympathetic glances towards his cot, He knew they had been told about his case. The nurses, even his nurse that called him "my boy", could not grant him that essentially feminine word of encouragement that always works such a miracle on the masculine mind. In their eyes, in their silence about his future he saw only pity, that terrible dumb pity that can sweep the fibres of feeling for a fine man or beast that has fallen from self-sufficiency into a hopeless case.

Now from the thought of the other black whom he had avoided as a fool, he saw himself again facing existence. Suppose the shipping company came across with something? A thousand dollars.

I wonder if they would give that much for a pair of black

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feet on the shelf--in a jar of alcohol perhaps, I could go back to one of those ports where all the seamen know me and open up a little pub. A little seamen's shelter without the chaplain and the hymns. Do something and make something and live again.

It would be ironical if by the intervention of his ignorant fellow black, whom he detested, he should find the way of good fortune, were it not overshadowed by the living irony of his macabre self in the hands of fate. But the surprising fact of himself was so terribly real that he felt that nothing in life could ever give him the fine moving shock of surprise again. Anything might be possible....God moves in a mysterious way....He might have repeated the missionaries' words. But he had lost the little religion he learned in the jungle in the crowd-damned marketplaces of the great world....

More light....More Knowledge.... Less God and to Hell with the Three in One, Better than the three-headed Holiness to beathaistic. Back to the terror of the bush gods, the thunder-bolt, the lightning-stroke, the gruesome reality of the leopard men, the medicine priests, the wild beasts near the lion, the leopard, the serpent dart, the hyena laugh moving the heart with the fear and filling it full of magic; the Religion of the high jungle......

Away from this modern mockery of sweet-burning incense and delicate tapers and beautiful prostration Before the living holy One of flesh and blood and bowels--away to the crude Fetish ?

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It was early afternoon, three days since the departure of Black Angel, Lafala lay speculating about the future, his thoughts alternating from sugar-sweet to sour between hope and doubt, when the Jew ofay appeared to him.

So warmly and heartily he shook Lafala's hand that pulled him right up off his butt of a self, and before Lafala confusedly thinking of showing some native warmth himself, was settled again his visitor had plunged into business.

Lafala had to rake up all his recent past to give precisely the details of his stowing away and he was deftly handled and steered into giving such details as could form the basis of a suit with favorable results. Lafala for instance, seemed to have a grievance against some individual of a little importance whom he said he had paid to project him if he were found.

" How much did you pay ? The lawyer asked.

" About five dollars."

"Five dollars. You expected protection for five dollars, Now listen to me. Don't ever mention that at anytime to anybody. What we are after is the company and no individual to spoil the

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sport. I'm going to tell you what to say and you must never say
nothing more than that to anybody. Get me? Right, And don't talk too
much about your case . You're in my hands now".

One hundred thousand dollars was what he intended to sue for,
the lawyer explained to Lafala. The shipping company would either
compromise or go to courts. In a case like his he told Lafala, it
wasn't necessary to get the judge and jury to think. It was straight
heart stuff. Poor African boy without any relatives to help him,
taken away from his people when he was so young he did not even re-
member them, without family, without country even, without legs.

He did not know how much he would get. Maybe not more than
ten thousand dollars. All depended on the company's lawyers and
the kind of fight they could put up, But it was better to ask for
a big sum.

Then the lawyer told Lafala that before he touched the case he
would have to sign a paper giving him half of whatever he obtained
as damages. Frankly he explained that he was not going to handle
his case for sympathy only, although he sincerely sympathised with
him. He was asking a half of any amount that was paid because he
was both prosecutor and lawyer. Lafala did not have the means
for the influence to procure a lawyer and in all such damage suits
lawyers' fees were enormous. He didn't want Lafala to think that
he was taking a mean advantage of him. All cases like his were
handled on a fifty-fifty basis. He would give Lafala two days to
reflect.

When the lawyer was finished, Lafala said: I don't need any
two days to make up my mind, Just give me that paper and I'll sign

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it right away."

The lawyer produced the paper stipulating that he should receive as a legal fee one-half of any payment that he obtained from a certain company for the less of Lafala's legs, Lafala signed,

The lawyer produced a little camera, made Lafala pull up his night shirt to show his stumps and photographed him.

Lafala had a photograph of himself before the accident, This the lawyer took.

The lawyer had visited Lafala on a Tuesday. On Saturday morning the nurse approached him smiling with a tableid in her hand. Lafala had achieved publicity. The tableid contained an account of his accident written in pointed modern sentimental sentences, and his two photographs. Under the first was printed Before---, under the lawyer's snapshot After---

That same evening another paper carried a pathetic story with the photographs of Lafala.

The next day the lawyer visited and cautioned him never at any time to talk to anyone about his ease unless he was present and that he should refer all interviewers to him.

Thus began a new outlook for Lafala. It was the first time that he had ever appeared in print and that impressed on his mind the assurance that out of his trouble he would win something tangible. His lawyer kept in close touch with him by visits and by correspondence. Twice he was visited by an official of the shipping company, but he refused to talk. Vigilantly his nurse stood by to see that he didn't. The lawyer had shrewdly seen and

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enlisted her sympathy.

She despised those foreigners who could treat any human being, even a black like that---locking him up in a water-closet until he was frozen.

One day the official came with the lawyer. The official tried to make out that Lafala might have had some disease of the feet. He couldn't freeze like that, he were in good health, for the ship had a fine heating apparatus.

Lafala
"What disease you think ?" Teleufa asked. "I was a dancing fool in the port I came from. You can go there and ask the gang"

The official left. The lawyer stayed for a while to talk with Lafala. He told Lafala that the newspaper stories had stirred up the officials and that they wanted to avoid further publicity and he was going to work them for a handsome compromise. A compromise was better than going to the courts. For a lawsuit of that kind was like a strike. The employers will go their limit to compromise a strike, but once it is on and the works dissipated, they don't care if the workers starve. So the lawyer told Lafala that his business was to work the publicity scare to milk the best settlement from the company. Better not to go to the courts where the company's big lawyers may start in to wear them down on legal points and a callous judge eut down the damages to nothing.

Lafala listened and thought his layer's argument was good.

During the long interval of negotiation a pretty friendship sprung up between Lafala and his lawyer. Lafala's spirit was lifted up and like a feather in limitless space, he felt himself floating

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in the realm of futurity. A desire for activity seized him again
and it found outlet in his nimble hands. He obtained some hemp and
vari-colored wool and began weaving girdles, the only clothing
that his tribeswomen used to wear when he was a boy in the bush.
The first one finished he presented to his nurse and she told him i
it was the nicest gift that she had ever had and it made her happy
to be a nurse. Lafala sent the second girdle to his lawyer with
a note by the hand of Black Angel who had been to see him.

Lafala wrote: "This is the only thing I remenber my tribes-
women wearing in the bushland when I was a kid. I began making them be-
cause I was so nervous wanting to do something, I remembered I
could make them and so I got the stuff and set to work. I hope
you like it. The wool is my own invention. They used to put the
color in with specially dyed straw."

The lawyer replied:

"The girdle is very pretty. My wife appropriated it at once. It carried me back to very ancient times. (Do you ever read the Old Testament ?) I mean the times when my people were also divided into tribes and wore girdles just as your People do today.

Our case is progressing nicely. It may seem a long time
getting done to you, but these legal affairs can't be got through
in a hurry. Don't worry. You're going to get all out of that com-
pany that I can possibly get for you. So give them time and keep
cheerful."

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### III.-

In the meantime Lafala was pronounced officially better and thus due to leave the hospital. In a sense he was not a patient only but technically also a prisoner held for disembarkation at the port that he had left clandestinely.

And one morning an official of the shipping company appeared in the ward and announced to Lafala that he had orders to ship him back to that port.

"And what about my case? Lafala asked.

"That will be settled on the other side".

"But the immigration officials--"

"They know all about it. You're discharged from the hospital and out of their hands now and we'll be getting into more trouble if we don't take charge of you and take you back where you stowed a away from."

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It was the international usage........

Lafala said he would like to see his lawyer.

"All right, we'll see that you do".

His little bundle of clothes was brought. He dressed and was lifted into a waiting taxi-cab and whisked away.

The nurse had stood by in helpless agitation. Frantically now she rushed to the telephone to call the lawyer, only to learn that he knew nothing of Lafala's being sent away. The lawyer got busy in a hurry. He got out an injunction to prevent Lafala's sailing before his case was settled. He looked up which of the company's ships was sailing and likely to take Lafala. He did not telephone the company's office, but sent someone to see, without asking, if Lafala was there. He was not, so the lawyer instituted a search and finally found the helpless block on the company's pier. He snatched him up and the game was won.

"I'll squeeze something more out of the company for this" he said, "or I'll get this straight into the papers. And when I get your money, I'll see that you don't go back to the port you stowed away from, for you never can tell what they might do to you there.

That night Lafala slept in the lawyer's apartment. The following afternoon he was at the lawyer's office when Black Angel walked in.

"See you looking better," Black Angel said, his features glowing with a large smile.

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"Feeling better too" Lafala grinned back.

"And you'll soon be walking bettah, so that the chippies meeting you in the street will jest think youse got a sprain a ankle."

"Why not take him up among your folks tonight and show him a good time. He needs it after so many months in the hospital", the lawyer said with a wink.

The lawyer advaneed Lafala some money. But Black Angel had money of his own and it appeared to Lafala that he was very much in the lawyer's confidence. Lafala was curious and Black Angel exploited that he was due to get his runner's reward from the lawyer, about five hundred dollars more or less, according to the final amount obtained in damages.

That evening Lafala's whole being became one full big beating heart as he renovated his rusty self in the Black Belt.

In the basement kitchen-and dining room of Black Angel's house a woman was preparing a feast for Black Angel and Lafala. It was a big dinner of celery soup, fricassé chicken and mashed potatoes. After the dinner Black Angel gave a party in his room for Lafala.

"Ise got a buddy working for a big bootlegger," he said, "and I'm gwine have him head tonight wif some good liquor. You can play the phonograph theah, if youse tired waiting befoh I git back,"

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Lafala cushioned his butt of a body in an old Morris chair and, biting off the point of a cigar, he lit it.

Black Angel returned with a brown girl and a bottle of gin. A little later his buddy appeared with two girls, a dark-brown with rouge in her cheeks that gave her an exotic maroon color and a lemon-colored one. He deposited a package on the chiffonier, which contained two bottles of gin and two bottles of wine,

"Gwina make a little cabaret a this hea\gh joint foh you special benefit," Black Angel assured Lafala.

The buddy made a strong punch. Black Angel started the phonograph.

"Don't think no affliction of you self that you kaint dance as we do" said Black Angel to Lafala. "Ef you kaint dance on the <u>on the</u> floor, you can dance in the bed."

While they were dancing somebody knocked on the door and another girl entered, a warm satin-skinned mahagony brown.

"One plus, gotta do some figuring," muttered Black Angel. He introduced the girl. And now Lafala had two girls, one on each side entertaining him when the others danced. He was the center of the show, with Black Angel and his buddy replenishing the glasses. He was pitied and praised and beamed upon and his stumps of legs were fondled and caressed as if they were honeysticks. It was a great evening for Lafala. Black Angel had taken care all right that the company should know that there was a fortune in Lafala's misfortune.....

Said Black Angel to the lawyer when they met again: "again, "I done gave him a sweet souvenir a high life, boss, and he sho'

.....

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will remember it all them days that he's gwine spend chasing them chimpangees when he scootles back to jungle-land."

IV. -

After his haphazard leave of absence, Lafala returned to his cot in new colors. His nurse welcomed him happily.

"You're lucky to have such a real person for a lawyer," she said. "He's square and working hard for you."

"Sure, but don't forget it's fifty-fifty," said Lafala, "and harder he works for me, the more he'll get for himself,"

"But there's more to it than that," she maintained, "he's human."

On a fine Spring day the rumor ran through the ward that Lafala had been awarded some thousands off dollars, The figure went up to fifty. Lafala had not yet heard directly from the lawyer, But although it was really a big sum, exceeding anything his imagination was capable of, he was less excited than the nurses and his fellow patients. He accepted the god-send with a

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primitive dignity that appeared like indifference,

His real excitement was reserved for the cork legs that he
was to get at the company's expense. He was eager to try himself
out in them. How would he look with a girl in the street ? He
might learn to dance with them and do the things that whole-legg
ed people did.

Lafala was sent to one of the best houses for artificial
limbs in New York to fit himself. He surveyed his stilted form
in the full-length mirrors and felt good. He shuffled with a stick.
He stepped. He felt that with a little more practice he would
soon hold his own with other promenaders. Nobody observing him
a little halting would think that it was more than a sprain.
At last the Negro newpapers caught up with Lafala and front-
paged him with a blast so big and so black that such permanent
front-pagers as the African pretender and his titled entourage
and all the other pretentious people of the moment were buried
beneath it.

The "Bellows Of The Belt" shouted:

AFRICAN\/ DAMAGES FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

But it was outdone by the "Circle" which ran:

AFRICAN LEGS BRING ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS

The African had conquered Aframerica with a whoop. Very
literary were the days that ensued for Lafala.

He received letters asking individual gifts and detailing
pitiful cases of persons who had been badly injured and received
no compensation. One letter came from a youth, accompanied by

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his photograph. He had written a book in which he had shown how
the Negro Problem could be eliminated by the negro himself by
means of psychic development.

"It would be wonderfully appropriate," he wrote to Lafala
"if a full-blooded African should be the instrument by which my
sublime opus was brought to light."

Another letter was from the President of the A.A.A.L.(African-American Association for African Leadership) asking Lafala to communicate with the association if he needed any intellectual assistance in the handling of his affairs.

Lafala

Taloufa showed some of the letters to the nurse and they
had an amusing time reading them.

"There'll be lots of people trying to get on te you",
said the nurse.

Lafala

"They won't find me easy working though, said Taloufa.
"After being amputated I'll know how to look out for every cent."

Lafala had more fun out of the letters when Black Angel
visited him, He read a number of them. There was one that made B
Black Angel exclaim: "Hot nuts ? Now tha's wench foh you : you"

The letter was from the directress of the Nubian Orphanage,
Black Angel explained to Taloufa that it was a notorious scandal that black babies were not made welcome in that orphanage.
They looked comically at each other and burst out laughing.

"You oughta make a little one just like you self and take
it ovah to that theah cullud lady as a cuntribulation," said
Black Angel.

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And now it developed that there were many formalities to go
through before the lawyer could touch the money.

Lafala had to be represented by some official. He did not
belong to any of the two or three dependent free states that
remain of the vast strange African land; he belonged to one of
the parcels and was therefore either a colonial subject or a
protected person. Some important white person in the big city
was entitled to represent Lafala formally. Meanwhile the com-
pany had informed the official of the impending payment to La-
fala and asked that it should be officially witnessed. A du-
plicate of the documents concerning the case was sent to the
official office.

The day arrived when was taken to the city to receive his
payment officially from the lawyer. The official was a rather
tall suave ready-made impressive type. He received the lawyer
coldly and in the manner of an elder unbending to a child.

The lawyer had his papers and Lafala's payment ready.
Lafala's share was about twenty thousand dollars. The lawyer
laid a cheque on the table. The official picked it up but stopp-\ped the signing of the papers. In drawing up the papers the
company's lawyers had put down a round sum amouting to about a
quarter of the payment, for the lawyer's fee, the rest of the
money going to Lafala. The lawyer had accepted it. It was a
catch for him and he did not relish the idea of prolonged ne-
gotiation over that particular point. There was the contract
with Lafala for the final settlement between them. But now
the official raised an objection to that.

-27-

The official said: "This man is entitled to more money."

"He's not," said the lawyer. "I made a fair agreement with him before I took up the case. Fifty-Fifty. Didn't I, Lafala?

Lafala did not reply. The words 'entitled to more money' were singing in his ears.

"That was not a fair agreement", said the official.
"You had him at an advantage. What else could he do but agree when he was lying on his back crippled?"

"Rather belated pity you're working up for the poor fellow now," sneered the lawyer. "I think he would have been glad to have just a little of that pity before I went to the hospital to see him. I've done for him more than any other lawyer would. I told him he could think it over before he signed the fifty-fifty agreement, and that if didn't suit, he could get another lawyer. I told him there was a legal Aid Society, only I didn't think it would help him much. I did my utmost for him. Got more money for him out of that company than anybody else could."

"That may be so", said the official, "but the company allotted you, fee and you can't have a half. I am here to protect this man, that's all. That's my duty."

"Protect him? Protect him? Good God? Why didn't you and your protecting kind protect him before he stowed away to get frozen on the ship? Why didn't you know, find out

-28-

about him before his kegs were sawed off? Why didn't you prevent
the company officials from kidnapping him away from the hospital?
Fine protection you all giveto these sort of people!

"I'm not here to listen to a lecture from you, Mr. Jew.
You did wring that money out of the company all right----- for
yourself. All I want is that you hand over the balance of the
money to me for this man".

"I will not? I am entitled to my full share. Talaufa Lafala,
we have an agreement between us. If you will stick to it and
stand by me, it's ok."

"But I don't think I can interfere now, since I'm in
official hands," said Lafala.

"Yes, you can. All you have to say is that you are willing
to stand by the terms of our original agreement. You know I
treated you straight from the very beginning, If you say you are
satisfied with our agreement and sign a paper to that effect ,
that will settle the whole difficulty."

But Lafala's mind was occupied with the official statement.
He was entitled to more money....more money meant more means for
him to realize easier living. He had signed a contract to obtain
the highest remuneration for his damaged self. That did not pre-
clude him from taking more than the lawyer considered his legi-
timate share--even at the lawyer's expense. It was pitifully
cheap of the lawyer to appeal to him. If the official said that
he was entitled to more, the official must be right. The official
must be right. The official was like a judge sifting and weigh-
ing the opinion and acts of the lawyer. Let the two big white

-29-

men battle it out over him. All he wanted was to come out
from under it whith what was left of his skin and that he could
possibly get.

"Well, Lafala, it's up to you now," said the lawyer.

"It's like this with me," said Lafala. You are a good lawyer, This gentleman is a big official. I am nothing, I put the case in your hands and you handled it fine. But now you bring me here and put me in the hands of this gentleman as my official representative, I'll have to follow the advice of this gentleman now. If I'm entitled to more money, I can put it to good use."

"But I did not bring you here---"began the lawyer.

"Can't you see it's useless arguing anymore," the official interrupted. "The man has made his decision, I am responsible for him now and all I want is that you pay over all his share of the amount the Company allotted to him."

The official voice was cold smooth and timbrefull as tempered old steel, the hands betrayed none of the ungenteel gestures of the lawyer and the eyes were full of the contempt of the aristocrat of a Great Tradition looking down upon the parvenu boulnder.

"I refuse to be done out of my share by you," cried the lawyer exitedly.

"Then it simply means that we will have to go to the courts to get it," said the official.

-30-

"You! You're in with the Company against us! against this poor crippled black man, the lawyer levelled his finger at the official." You can take the case to courts. I'll fight it on my original contract. You don't mean this man any good. You couldn't. You're a company man yourself, only the Company you work for is bigger than the one that maimed him. But you all belong to same big brotherhood,"

The official pointed to the door: "Now get out or I'll have you thrown out, you dirty ambulance-chaser".

"Thank you!" The lawyer bowed sardonically and stalked out.

V.-

It was four days since Lafala's difference with his lawyer, to be exact, Saturday after the midday meal. The dishes had been gathered from the patients and wheeled away. The cots were straightened out for the visiting hour. Round an unoccupied cot toward the farther end of the ward, a group came together to play cards.

Lafala sat on his cot, curiously caressing his corks preliminary to fixing them on for a walk, when Black Angel appeared to him.

-31-

Black Angel came with a grievance. When he put the lawyer on
to Lafala's case, he was made to understand he would receive
500 dollars if the suit were successful. But the Lawyer had
given him 250 dollars only. Black Angel told the lawyer that
that was a breach of their gentleman's agreement. The lawyer
referred him to Lafala. He would have paid Black Angel the
500 dollars if Lafala had not repudiated his contract before
his official representative. As it was, he was in trouble. He
was worried by the official threat of a lawsuit and that he
would get him suspended. He was going to fight, but he might
lose. Black Angel should ask Lafala to pay him the balance.

"I think I see work it," Black Angel said, "for all I did.
And you all should give it to me,"

"I haven't any money, Angel," said Lafala, "The official
man is taking care of it,"

"Sure but he'll pay me ef you tell'm to."

"God ? this money business is a bigger pain in the bore
than it was sawing off my legs," said Lafala.

"I understand how feel, fellah," said Black Angel.
I se a race man and I se with you alright against the lawyer
But I think I done earned what promise to me. You oughta put
the other half to this'ya."

Black Angel laid the lawyer's cheque for 250 dollars on
the cot.

-326

"Look here Angel," said Lafala, you opened up the way to heaven for me alright and I'm aiming to get there, but I got to look out for every step I take. I can't do this thing. I can't start paying out money like that. You got to be contemned with what you have."

"But you wouldn't mean to say I aint worf 500 dollars fohal I did "?

"But you wouldn't mean to say I aint worf 500 dollars fohal I did ?"

"Sure, but oh God : don't ask me to pay, Angel, I'm an amputated man, my feet laid on the shelf and I need all I can get to carry me along."

Black Angel got up pocketing the lawyer's check: "Alright fellah, Ise going then, but you'll aint treat me right."

VI.-

The water went green and the water came yellow and indigo
gray, mottled and foaming white. And up and down, over and over
Lafala went and came with the waves. He closed his eyes to shut
the sea outside, but it washed him clean and green inside. The
waves reared up and the waves reared down and also did Lafala.

-33-

God-oh, maybe I'm top-heavy, Lafala thought. Let me get my feet on and walk a little. So he raised his trunk from the bunk and adjusted his apparatus. But they merely helped him out on deck to hang on to the railing and whoop pathetically into the undulating sea. The waves roared up and the waves roared down and Lafala harassed, agitated, upside-down again and again found final refuge in the W.C.

Never, for many years seafaring had Lafala fallen into such a state. He remembered being a little upset the first time he went to sea, but he was soon all right. Since then how many voyages he had made from port to port, crossing and recrossing the Atlantic without ever getting sick? Because in spite of stop-over intervals of loose frolicking, his frugal way of living had inured him against the common indispositions of nice passenger folk.

But now Lafala, a passenger himself, at the Company's expense, first-class. And he was living up to it. He had decided to make good use of all that the Company was paying for. But his long disciplined body reacted against this sudden abuse. His bowels roared resentment against too much first-class food.

Thus, out of tune with the sea and the boat, Lafala was returning to the Dreamport of his fortune and unfortunate stowing away. Heedless of the warning of his lawyer, he had allowed the official to arrange his return, primarily because

-34-

the voyage was at the cost of the shipping company. But also.... like most human beings who desire to revisit the scenes of their sufferings and defeats after they have conquered the world, La-fala longed to return to Dreamport, even though his was a Pyrrhic victory. He longed again to see the Bottoms. He wanted to show himself (if she were still there) to Aslima.

-7-

Lafala, in a titillatingly carnal attitude, reclined in a corner of the Tout-va-Bien indulging a flirtation with La Fleur noire. It was the continental dinner interval and there were very few customers in the café. Lafala and la Fleur were going soft over a bottle of the sweet Italian wine, Spumanti, with words that were sweeter. What mattered it to them that it was eating time? If the restaurant were shut down before the desire for food became insistent, sandwiches or anything light would do for them; they were each respectively in such a honey and money freighted mood.

Since his return to Dreamport, Lafala had received, as it were, the freedom of that picturesque part of Dreamport known as the Bottoms. As a onetime Bottomist, it was a big thing for him to return to the old haunt with the statuet of a personage.

There is something of magic inherent in the possession of power through property in the Bottoms and the respect of the dwellers down there for that power is superstitious. The butchers, the grocers, the restauranteurs, the bistro owners--all the little proprietors down there are never the victims of robberies. There seem to be some sort of understanding between them and the banded Ishmaels of the Bottoms. Strangers only coming into the Bottoms are victi-mised and sometimes a messenger of the branch of a bank or municipal office located there. Such people do not belong....

-36-

Lafala had not returned spending his money thoughtlessly, yet he was highly esteemed. For he represented to the Bottom dwellers one of themselves who had managed to take something substantial out of the pockets of the high-and-mighty, even though he had to be amputated to obtain it.

His return was the talk of the Bottoms. The faces of his old pals days had nearly all disappeared. Except for an American black, who made his nest between the blocks down by the far end of the breakwater and was called Rock, and a Senegalese named Diup.

But the girls of Cat Row were still there with new faces among them and the girls always talked more than the boys anyhow. They all flocked down to the Tout-va-Bien and chattered around Lafala's unfortunate stowing-away and the fortune he derived from it.

Lafala was still under the spell of his flirtation with la Fleur when Aslima bounced into the Tout-va-Bien. Now it was the first time that Lafala had set eyes on the chief tning that had attracted him back to Dreamport. Aslima was away on a short love business when Lafala arrived, and she had just come back. But already she had heard the news. Aslima sized up the situation between Lafala and La Fleur and her mind began to work rapidly. There was the keest rivalry between La fleur and Aslima in the Bottoms and no words,much less love,was lost between them.

La Fleur was recognized as the queen of the Bottoms and Aslima as the tigress. La Fleur had been named La Fleur Noire, called La fleur and recognized as queen because she got away with things in a special way of her own.

Unlike Aslima she did not have a souteneur, Like all the rest of

-37-

the flowers of the Bottoms, La Fleur had absorbed the poison of that atmosphere. Yet while many had wilted and grown bloatedless, she had undergone a startling new flowering.

In contrast to Aslima, who was compact of untiring animal energy and full of an abundance of earthy sap in spite of the grinding waste of herself, La Fleur was small and straight and might have served for an excellent model for a new-style doll done in dark-brown wax.

A legendary growth had grown up around La Fleur. The most unusual was the incident involving a personage. The personage had gone sight-seeing through the Bottoms of Dreamport and noticed La Fleur in one of the bars. His interest was excited and his guide told him that she could easily arrange a rendezvous.

The guide enlisted the aid of the mistress of a sumptuous maison de rendezvous up in the swell part of the town and a big champagne dinner was organised to which La Fleur was invited as the guest of honor.

She was to be fed twenty-five dollars for entertaining and that was a munificent sum in foreign money and for that quarter. La Fleur did her utmost stuff for the party. Crêpe Marocain frocks were the fashion then and all the successful girls of the Bottoms were wearing them.

La Fleur had chosen a bright transparent pattern to drape herself, heightening the color of her face and her neck and her arms with rouge. She looked like a big-mouthed brown orchid

-38-

with crinkly edges. An automobile was sent to convey La Fleur from
the Bottoms. It was a princely banquet with the lady of the house
presiding and many pretty girls and La Fleur the only colored one.
The guide was there spruced up like a man about town with another
of his fraternity and a couple of friends of the personage. It was
fine eating and drinking. La Fleur was pleased with everything
except the personage.

He was a rubicund Nordic with an enormous paunch which domi-
nated the feast. When the personage stood up, the paunch ballooned
disgustingly against the victims in its vicinity, and when he sat
down it rested upon the banqueting table an obscene bag that any
occidental prick might have caused to burst disagreeably. Some of the
girls pressed their elbows gently into it and they all jazzed with
laughter.

But La fleur was not at all joyful visualizing the thing.
And when after the feasting was finished, a tango marched slowly
out of the pianola and the personage took her to dance pushing her
round and round the room with that panting paunch, she felt that
that was as far as she could go with it.

She could always intoxicate herself up to the point of easy
pleasantness to any paying party that measured up to her idea of
a human being, but she could not make-believe loving an enormous
paunch.

And so, soon after the ending of the tango, La Fleur excused
herself from the fine show and fled to the Bottoms. Later she

39

telephoned that too good feasting had made her unwell and unfit
to go through with the entertainment. Paunch was unconsolable
and Aslima was sent for to replace La Fleur.

Aslima went and the flagging entertainment went banging
over. But the following day La Fleur enticed Aslima into a card
game and won from her all that she had earned. All the monkey
species of the Bottoms got their tails up in high delight over
the practical joke. From the day Aslima consorted no more with
La Fleur as her greatest enemy, but La Fleur merely ignored her
and became Queen of the Bottoms.

Lafala gazed at Aslima with a sneaking smile playing on
his lips but defiant pride in his eyes that said: "Here I am come
back a bigger man than you ever dreamed of."

Unhesitatingly Aslima rushed the situation putting herself
between La Fleur and Lafala. She patted his cheeks, hugged him,
felt his feet and had him pull his trousers to show the corks.
She was sorry for him yet glad that he had come through so finely.

Lafala was fairly carried away by Aslima's hearty outburst
of enthusiasm; there was no mistaking the note. He invited her
to wine and she appropriated the seat on the other side of him and
clapped her hands for the waiter. Lafala ordered another bottle
of the Italian wine.

But La Fleur had stood up holding down her rage and trying
to induce Lafala to go saying she was hungry and that he too
ought to eat. She was quite confused about the situation. It
was the first time that Aslima had dared approaching so near to
her since the pulling of her claws the day of the famous card game

41

"It's alright," said Aslima.

"Then come on."

"No, get a taxi."

"It's not far."

"Never mind that. Get a taxi."

A taxicab was called and pair hurried off in it.

That night was a revelation to Lafala. He had returned to Dreamport to exhibit his new self, chiefly to Aslima. To taunt and pique and excite her. And he had staged a perfect comeback. But it had not worked the way he had imagined. He had convinced himself that it was solely that proud demonstration that was prompting him and eschewed any thought of sentimentality.

But now he felt that Aslima warm against him was no casual short time of love. She had something more than was usually found in the bottoms of his experience. Contrary to appearances, her individual fire had not been put out. It glowed red and burnt his flesh in her.

That could perhaps explain that strong deep interest he had felt for her that first time they met in Dreamport... But why should she care more for him *now* when he was a mutilated man and not *then* when he was a handsome strutter, the best dancer in the Bottoms? Oh it was his fortune! His fortune that had turned all the Bottoms into sycophants before him. And suddenly he was feeling miserably cold, when Aslima began fondling his knobs.

"Poor boy, darling boy," with something like sobbing down in her throat. "And so young, so young."

"That's a present from you," Lafala said maliciously. "That night with you. After you gyped me I didn't want to hang round

49

"Keep your shirt on," said Aslima, "and who're you kidding
with that open knife, yourself or me?"

She went on to relate that she had promised Lafala to go
with him. At present she was not accepting any money from him.
In fact, he received only pocket money from his official represent-
ative. His hotel bills were paid by the same person. She was
working into his confidence and waiting until he received his money
to leave Dreamport, when she would get away with a big sum...
(The ignorant gossip ran through the Bottoms that Lafala had return-
ed to Dreamport because it was the only place where he could be
legally paid the amount that had been awarded to him for damages
and that he was waiting the documents for the final settlement.)

"Fine!" Titin approved Aslima's scheme entirely. "You might
get enough out of him for us to buy a bar."

That was the high ambition of every Bottomist--a bar over
and under which passed a thousand schemes on which depended the
real prosperity of the Bottoms.

Titin believed in Aslima, as much as a tout could believe
in anybody. He had heard the story of the trick she had turned
on Lafala before he stowed away. That was before he bedame
Aslima's protector. It seemed like madness to him that Lafala
should take up with Aslima again and trust her. But he was just
like most of the Negroes of the Bottoms, no doubt, changeable as
like children. They could grow as terrible swift and dangerous as
fire with anger and then subside and altogether forget. They did
not seem to consider retaliation and revenge like a white man.

Titin began planning with Aslima the easiest way of a
successful raid on Lafala. Maybe she could induce him to go with

50

her to another town. Or drug him, get the cash and go into hiding.
The thing was to study out a plan that could not fail them.

The thought of the money turned Titin warmly amorous and
he suggested bed to Aslima. But she was as cold as her part of
the scheming and she denied him...

Nor did she tell Lafala of all that had happened. She
felt herself in an equivocal position--like an underworld heroine
in the moving pictures.... No, it was better she didn't complicate
things and perhaps rouse Lafala's suspicions. As it was they were
having a lovely lovetime.

When Titin saw La Fleur at the Tout-va-Bien that afternoon
he asked her before all the habitues if it was because business
was dull that she could spend her time spying on his woman. La
Fleur dared not reply and walked out of the bar in shame amid the
hostile murmurings of the habitues.

53

"Why, kid, if a chance had evah brushed anywhar near me in all mah
lifetime I'd grabbed it by the tail and nevah turned loose if it
carried me slap into hell. The chances in life aint moh'n a
lottery with a million trying and jest so much winning." Rock
held up his hands, his fingers apart.

"What about some wine, Lafala," asked Diup.

"I think you fellows got enough. However, one bottle of
ordinary and no more. I'm not going to spoil you for you ought
to pull out of this sort of life." Lafala talked with a mocking
smile. "And I don't mean to be foolish with the small allowance
they're giving me. Negroes spend too much. Always showing off
and spreading themselves big on nothing."

"What you say is alright, Mr. Lafala," said Rock. "Youse the
big boss. Come on," he called to the barmaid, "bring us that
bottle a wine on the boss. Bring it heah and le's drink to the
health of the United States of America, Gawd blastem with long
life and prosperity."

"Lets drink to Dreamport and forget America," said Diup.

"Fohget the biggest piece a business in Civilization"
cried Rock. "Couldnt no moh fohget it than mah staff in mah hand.
Why is only in that country theahs miracles still working. Now
tell me whar in any other part a Gawd's own wurl a jungle kid like
Lafala nor any other poah kid without backing and a pull coulda
gotten such a mess a money. Jest look at him setting pretty there
with two feets to him as good as any flesh and blood and the
slappiesr pair a shoes on them. Why anywheres else perhaps they
wouldn' a gived him a pair a pegs. He woulda been lucky to get
away with a long shirt like our fourth cousins in Africa wear and

56

and approached the bed. Now she was there with him. But between
them he saw the shadow of Titin and could not help saying: "Suppose
Titin should see us now!"

"Oh why bring up Titin now?" protedted Aslima. She laughed
and added: "But he wouldn't mind while he sees the money for it.
This is what he expects me to do, knows I'm doing all the time.
That's how we make our living."

"But you love him all the same more than any other man?"
said Lafala.

"I don't know about that. I'm here with you now doing more
and feeling more than I ever did for Titin."

"You can kid yourself alright, but you can't kid me," said
Lafala.

"I'm not trying to. Titin is my protector in the Bottoms,
so that I can carry on..... Maybe he loves me more than I love
him."

"Like a louse loves the body he's feeding off."

"Exactly," she agreed.

"Still, the girls are crazy about their protectors."

"Not all of them," said Aslima. "Some slaves are fools
enough to love their drivers, but not all."

"How is it La Fleur don't have a Titin?" asked Lafala.

"Because she's different from most of us," said Aslima.

"She don't care about males. She hates them. She only care for
her friend-- the Greek girl."

"Oh that's why she's so haughty-cold!" cried Lafala.

"She's a natural!"

57

"Too much talking," said Aslima. "Let's love."

"But Lafala lit a cigarette and said mockingly: "Aint much love in a half a body. When I was sound you turned me down."

"Don't start that again," said Aslima, "or I'll run out of this hotel as naked as I am."

She threw back the covers and leaned down and fondled and kissed Lafala's stumps. Then she straightened up to him again and taking the cigarette from his mouth, she took a whiff and threw it into a corner.

"You don't need a cigarette," she said, "take my mouth and everything I've got." And she gave him her mouth while fondling his stumps. "Maybe I wouldn't love you if you weren't amputated," she said.

In the morning Lafala attempted to give her a little sum of money, but she refused it again.

"Well, what do you want?" he demanded.

"Nothing."

"Nothing! That's a word that means everything," said Lafala. "It's easier to fool yourself than me. Now tell me what you want."

"What I want you can't give."

"How do you know? Tell me what it is."

"Well then, I'd like to go back to Africa with you. Finish with this Dreamport, this tiger-pose and Titin. I'd like to be your slave to take care of you. To be your woman, even one of your women, the way it is among us in Africa."

Lafala was dumbfounded. What did the girl mean? Could she really believe that there was any possibility of his taking her

59

touched.

"So I told you I wanted nothing," said Aslima.

"And I said that meant "everything", said Lafala.

She laughed and he joined her.

"But it _is_ nothing for what I want is impossible."

"Who knows?" he said.

"I asked for that because I knew it was impossible. Because you wouldn't believe that your feet had really touched me-- your lost feet. And that's why I come to you and give all of myself to show you I am sorry for your loss. But I'm happy too for your triumph."

"The impossible might be made possible," said Lafala drawing Aslima by her shoulder to him.

"Sure," said Aslima laughing. "See me quitting the Bottoms and going off with you to be a great lady. That would be a grand Afri can conte d'amour, as good as a Mille et Une nuits."

"I've read them." Have you?" asked Lafala.

"No, but I heard a lot of them at Fez. The storytellers used to come to the quarter and tell us. Wonderful stories! They were poor men and we used to feed them tea and cakes and give them a collection of money."

Lafala took Aslima's cheeks in both his hands.

"Mille et une Nuits--conte d'amour," he said. "What about faire l'amour?"

"Again?"

"Yes, again. Carry the night over into the day while were in the ripe mood."

"Perfect," she agreed.

61

her first beau. I saw them at the cinema the other night. Oh,
they were a scream."

"Maybe she is really xexxxy fool for him," said a white girl.
"Lafala is one handsome black man, even without legs."

"Don't fool yourself," said La Fleur, "you don't know Aslima.
When he was here the first time with his two sound feet, she didn't
love anything in him but the purse she snatched. And it isn't any
different now, He's waiting for his money and she's waiting too."

"He looks good to me now, too," the white girl laughed,
"better than the first time. Then he was nobody. Now he's somebody
He's got good clothes and good money. I could love him myself
without the feet."

"You might try your chance," said La Fleur. "I'm different
from you all. I couldn't pretend to love a man without feet. When
I fall for a man, it'll be a man who can hug me with his feet as
well as his hands."

"But you'll never really fall for a man whilst there's a
girl around!"

There was much laughter and a tout-in-making cried: "La
Reine, la Reine forever!"

Lafala was touched to the quick. He went from the w.c.
to the bar where Rock and Diup were standing with a group. He
ordered wine for all of them with a swaggering gesture. The
girl that had been defending him called to Lafala to give her a
drink and he told her to order what she wanted. Soon all the old
habitues were drinking at Lafala's expense. It was rather surpris-
ing because since his return, Lafala was not a carelessspender

63

La Fleur shrugged, a little embarrassed: "Don't pity yourself.
You're alright."

"I know that. It's the others who pity me or my gone feet."

"Well, if you don't have them, you got something else. If
you can't dance you can do something else."

"Sure thing. Like paying for champagne. Or better--invite
you to my hotel."

La Fleur shrieked happily: "You were going to once but changed
your mind for a cheaper party! But I'm not changed any. I feel a
little dearer from champagne."

"That's alright," said Lafala. "Money is nothing to me.
Forget about the price."

La Fleur giggling whispered to her girl friend: "African tea
tonight."

"Save the cream for us," her friend said.

"That goes without saying," replied La Fleur.

Lafala was preparing to leave with La Fleur when the mulatto
proprietor brought the bill.

"Chalk that up to my account," he said a little swaggeringly.

"It's a big one," the proprietor said.

"You worried?" asked Lafala.

"Never in my life, Grand Duke od Dakar."

"I'm not a Senegalese."

"What's the difference. You're branded one of them."

"One of us, you mean, Taller," and swinging the upper part
of his body as much as he could he followed La Fleur, exhibiting a
funny hobbling strutting.

They taxied to the hotel. Arriving, La Fleur threw her

64

gaudy Spanish shawl on the back of a chair and asked for the lavatory.

When she returned to the room, Lafala was in bed. La Fleur surveyed the make-up of the room: a bright-colored rug before the bed, a locked wardrobe, a large round table covered with a Turkish cloth, figured with vapid warriors. She glided to the window, drew aside the curtain and looked out. Racketeering cats were entertaining themselves on the roofs.

"The cats are at it on the housetops," La Fleur giggled joylessly.

"And the girls in the Bottoms," responded Lafala.

"It's the same life everywhere."

Covered up to the shoulders, Lafala's head stood conspicuously out among the white bed things, his bright eyes following La Fleur's movements like a curious tom cat.

La Fleur was graceful like a tropical lizard, a green *xx* lizard beautiful but cold-blooded amid the hot colors and sensations of the tropics. For a long while she examined Lafala's artificial legs, thrust her hands into them. Then she glanced speculatively at the black thing under the white sheet and smiled faintly.

"Here we are, all ready," said Lafala.

"All ready," La Fleur imitated him, but she showed no eagerness to undo her neat little sea-green frock. Instead she turned to the wardrobe with beauty pad, fooling with her face.

"Your color is all right," said Lafala.

"I know that," said La Fleur. "But I don't know if the color of your money is alright. I'd like to see it right there on the night table."

65

"It's alright."

"Where is it? I'll feel better with it in my stocking than
in your pocket."

"I haven't got any more than ten francs on me. You'll get it
Saturday when I draw my money."

"Me wait three days? I'm not on the credit system."

"Aslima waits and---"

"Don't mention the name of that no-count slut to me," cried
La Fleur. "You have some nerve bringing me here when you didn't
have money on you."

"Fukit! What's the difference. My credit is good. I get everything on the Bottoms on credit. Everybody is glad to give me credit."

"Except me. I'm not everybody, you dirty black block of
a swine."

"You don't mean that, do you?"

"I do. I mean more and I'll say more. Who're you to bring
me here to wait on your will and pleasure? This girl has turned
down better men than you. Men with sound legs. You think I'm like
Aslima in love with your stumps of feet because you've got money.
You're full of mess. You think you're such a nice cock."

And La Fleur flung abuse at Lafala. Loads and loads of
filth falling from her mouth and piling up mountain high until he
felt like one buried under the stinking heap.

"Now I know what you really are under the make-up," he said.
"You're nothing but filth, a sewer full of filth. You can get out.
I don't want you for nothing."

"The idea your bringing me here to waste my time," she said,

66

"I'm no Aslima."

"Aslima is worth thousand of you. I'd give any money for Aslima, but I wouldn't give one sou for you. Aslima has spunk but she isn't just w.c. You're nothing else."

"Don't, don't compare me with that Aslima!" cried La Fleur.

She had been the unchallenged queen of the Bottoms for so long that she could not bear up against the sudden challenge of the long-vanquished Aslima. The sound of her name was like the bark of a gun.

But it was Lafala's turn now and he belabored her with keen cruel words, his tongue stinging like a whiplash, until she felt beaten down by him. Her blood stirred a little. She forgot her girl friend and became curious about the covered stump.

"It's not my fault, she said. "You know this life as much as I do. It wasn't playing the game to bring me here without having the money ready."

"Enough! I don't want to hear any more. Just leave me in peace."

"You shouldn't have played me such a trick but since I'm here, I'll stay for the night."

It was late. She did not want to return to her girl friend at that hour, tricked and defeated. The room was nice too, spacious and in a better quarter than hers. She would like to sleep in it for a change and gratify her curiosity about that proud half a man who had tricked and humbled her a little.

But Lafala merely replied: "I don't want you to stay now."

La Fleur was humbled. She had capitulated. That was the end he had elaborately planned for. But he could not go the

69

Aslima explained to Lafala how she had quieted the suspicions
of Titin and of the schemes they had planned together against him.

"And he's such a poor actor, he gave himself away the minute
he saw me," said Lafala. "All these little touts have a little
ratty cunning, but no brains. That's what is wrong with them."

"But how can I trust you," Lafala turned suddenly against
Aslima. "How do I know whether you're really deceiving me or
Titin?"

Aslima shrugged: "You don't have to trust me. I didn't
ask you to. Nobody trusts anybody down here. And why should you
worry about "trust" and "deceit" when your money is safe in bonds?"

"Money! My money!" Lafala groaned. "Before I got it
they were after me for it. I am sick of it. Nobody thinks about
my lost legs. All that I went through. All they think of is my
money. Money!"

"Money is life," said Aslima quietly. "Frankly, I feel
sorry for your feet, but if you'd come back here amputated and
broken like a poor beggar, I would feel different toward you. I
would feel sorry for you but I couldn't love you. I like you
amputated because you're a strong man. You suffered alright, but
you pulled yourself through and conquered. It showed that you
had something big in you from the first. That you're different
from all the fool seamen who just mess about the Bottoms here
like pigs."

"So it's the money too with you. I thought you said you
didn't care about it?"

"I didn't care about taking a fee from you. But I respect
you because you're independent. Respect is better than love.

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no hope out of the Bottoms.

"We two unfortunates," Lafala said, pressing Aslima's arm.
They were suffused with an enveloping warmth for each other and
walked to the hotel in the cooling blue-white dawn.

72

- 11 -

The colored colony of Dreamport had gathered at its rendezvous bar, having, as it seemed, over its coffee and liqueurs, a white evening after the strenuous amusements of Sunday.

Only Diup and Rock had fed well and boozed much and were as usual amusing. They were really a pair of amusement fixtures, a kind of extra joke in the everyday life of the colony. With them was a West Indian named Zekle.

Just now Rock and Diup were competing in an exhibition of the latest thing in dancing — the split. They got the player piano going, and Rock shuffled around and flopped to the laughter of the customers. Diup followed suit. Between them they made many attempts, but could not achieve a split, and with Rock continually flopping and Diup crouching, they were each respectively like an active owl and a frog.

"This heah new one done got me beat," said Rock. "I done made all the new stunts in mah lifetime. Bunnyhug, Dogwalk, and all a them up to them heah new Charleston and Blackbottom, but this heah split sure got me beat."

"Wha youse trying to do ain't natural for you," said Zekle, the West Indian. "The split is a woman's business. God made them natural foht."

"Woman's business nothing," said Rock. "Theah ain't nothing a woman can do that I can't do. Ef you can't find a way, make one, says I."

"Now, just listen to you' nonsense," said Zekle. "That is pure dumbness and all what wrong with the wul today. Womens

73

trying so hard to do men's stuff and mens turning to doing women's stuff. God made man and woman to do different stuff. That's all!

"You ain't said a thing yet," said Rock. Gawd created man in his own image, as the parson preach it, and man made the wul to suit himself. Ain't nothing fix in life — no matter how you and Gawd talking. Come on split, let us ride."

And Rock and Diup started splitting again amid the cheering laughter of the habitués. Round and round they went flopping down and up, and once Diup went down and could not get up.

"Whasmat pardner, you done broke you' bone?" cried Rock, pulling him up.

"Wonder where name split come from?" said Diup. "It not no easy one."

"I guess it come straight outa banana split," said Rock. "Sure is American."

"What's that?" asked a Creole girl from Martinique, who spoke a little English.

"Banana split," repeated Rock. "American dessert. Sweet stuff. Full a rich cream. And this heah stunt is a banana splitter."

"I won't say "split" no American," said Diup, "but I sure banana is original African. That where it born and growed. I know banana from before it turn green."

"Ain't no such thing as a green banana, dusky. Banana is good and yaller."

"He-hai-i! He-hai-i! Diup laughed. "See how wise you are. You only know American banana. But I African, and black man know banana. Know banana — tree, root and trunk. African baby is born under banana tree, live in house covered with banana leaf, sleep

74

in banana made bed. We know banana when it first born white,
when it turn green, and then ripe and yaller as you know it. We
grow red banana which turn nice and black when it good and ripe.
We eat green banana, make banana flour, banana pudding, banana
bread."

"Dry up for Gawd's love." Rock cried. "Youse banana fool
like all African niggers. Wha's wrong with Africa is too much
banana. You got banana on the brain. Come on, let's do this
split for body exercise."

They started in again and soon Rock cried out: "I got
it, look! Jest sitting on it."

"But that not it," Diup protested. "You flat on your
rump."

"Jest sitting on it, jest sitting on it," repeated Rock
hilariously, and working his hands he began bumping himself around
until he was stopped by the entrance of two distinguished-looking
Negroes.

One of these personages to the Bottoms was not unknown
there. He was a dapper Senegalese of middle height. His clothes
were smart. He wore fawn-colored spats and gloves. He had a good
job in an office and was proud of it, and of his achieving it.
He was rather garrulously self-important, but was rather a nice
young man as revealed by his face, which was smiling and smooth
like a ripe blue-black star-apple.

The Senegalese cleimed a strain of Arab blood, and went
by the name of Boavun ben Falope. He visited the Bottoms at
intervals to mingle with the lot of his countrymen who lived
there. The proprietor of the Tout-va-Bien had quite an aversion

75

for him. The proprietor did not like colored persons who showed
any superiority over himself. Boavun ben Falope did have a
superior way of talking, but it was inoffensive, a little comical
like his composite make-up. The habitués of the place tolerated
him. They considered him quite droll.

His companion was from one of the Antilles. He was
taller than the Senegalese and brown. He was a public speaker
on a radical platform. He had been a student, having been sent
abroad on a scholarship. He had a bright clever mind, but had
not been a diligent student. Perhaps he had been too much of a
gallant to be diligent. The result was his getting failed after
years of student work and finding himself without money or place
or hope of anything suitable to his upbringing.

He was much more valuable and intelligent than the
examinations that failed him, and naturally felt himself wronged
by the system. He was ashamed to return home and face his people.
And so he had drifted along with such places as petty hotel clerk
or travelling agent, until he fell in with the radicals.

The Senegalese had met him at the new proletarian hall,
where he had just lectured on Negro Workers. Falope had seen an
announcement of the lecture in a local paper, and his interest
in any activity of Negroes had taken him there. He was surprised
to find himself the only black man in the audience. And so, after
the meeting, he introduced himself to the lecturer, whose name
was St. Dominique, and to the white organizer of the conference.

Falope demanded of the organizer why he had not advertised
the meeting among the Negroid colony of the Bottoms. All the
Negro workers of Dreamport lived in or frequented the Bottoms,

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and a meeting by one of them about them with none of them there seemed futile to Falope.

But the organizer replied that their aim was to reach intelligent people who were proletarian-minded. They were not interested in the Bottoms, because all the types down there were degenerates, pimps, triflers and idlers. White and black, they were all of them milling and rotting in the same pit. The organizer said that what was needed was an advance-guard of intelligent proletarian-minded Negroes, and said it was worth while to have Falope alone at the meeting, because he was worth more than all the blacks of the Bottoms.

Falope protested that he was not. He was not at all proletarian-minded. He worked in a large export firm that carried on a large trade with his country, and he believed in the solid order of things. Merely curiosity had brought him to the lecture, the same curiosity that took him to the Bottoms. He told the organizer that he was wrong about the Bottoms. There were some right straight hard-working white and black persons down there. And he mentioned Lafala who, he declared with a laugh, was worth over a hundred times more than he.

The lecturer, St. Dominique, got excited about Lafala's story as told by Falope, and wanted to meet him. And so Falope had brought him down to the Bottoms.

Falope introduced the lecturer to the proprietor of the Tout-va-Bien. The proprietor was very casual in his greeting. He did not want any new-idea political talk in his café. It might hurt his position in the Bottoms, where he had a good pull and police protection. He believed in the regular old-line politicians

77

only and the politics they spouted at election time. Good politics
that brought good business, for then the crowd drank plenty of
wine and beer....

St. Dominique told the proprietor about his lecture and
that he was sorry a notice had not been posted in his café. But
the proprietor said that he could not have posted the notice if
it had been brought, because his café was used for political
meetings by a branch of the dockers' Union which employed colored
men and which was controlled by the Democratic Republicans.

As Lafala was not at the Tout-va-Bien, Falope and St.
Dominique left the café to hunt him up.

"Say, who's the professor sort a fellah?" Rock asked the
proprietor, as soon as their backs were turned.

"He's a Back to Africa prophet," the proprietor laughed
colorlessly.

Rock poked his elbow into Diup's side: "Say, nigger, when
is you gwine back to Africa?"

"Same time you go America."

"I ain't got no kick gainst thie heah Dreamoht."

"What you need is a Workport."

"Any ole poht in this stormy wul is bettah for a nigger
than anywhars in Africa. For their ain't nothing for a nigger in
Africa but monkey nuts."

Diup laughed. "Monkey nuts must be fine. Lafala going
back there."

"If I had his pocket in mah pants," said Rock, "I'd be
right back in America right now."

"Why no stow away as he did and get yours?"

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prostitution due to the poverty and ignorance and youth of its
creatures, but that the thing itself was in the human blood,
congenital.

St. Dominique said there was a difference between pros-
titution among the poor, and prostitution among the vicious, for
the poor are trapped into it, while the vicious choose it. Lafala'
thinking of Aslima, agreed with St. Dominique.

"Vice is not class-conscious," said Falope, "but of
course it's nicer when it's gilded."

"You're very smart-talky," said St. Dominique, "but it's
not amusing to think of the misery of these places."

"There's more happiness in them than among us here,"
said Falope hilariously. And he suggested that St. Dominique
should visit one of the maisons d'amour.

St. Dominique had never been in one. During his univer-
sity days, he had met "petites amies," and he and his friends had
had them up in their garçonnières to amuse themselves. He had
never had the necessity to visit a brothel and had no real know-
ledge of the life of brothel folk. To his mind the petites amies
of the dances were different. They were free. Little Bohemian
friends of students. While the girls of the special houses were
slaves. Miserable, exploited slaves.

"Just to see what it's like," St. Dominique said. "Yes,
I'd like to see one of the places down here."

Falope went to an establishment whose proprietress he
knew well. It being Monday night, there were plenty of space and
time to spare. There were two middle-aged men for nine young
ladies and a slight-bodied pretty boy.

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The lady of the place was having coffee and cake when the young men entered. The room immediately brightened up to them. A lady entertainer, a tall woman slightly greying, opened an old piano, but a real one, and began a popular song. Falope introduced St. Dominique to Madame, the proprietress.

She was a stout well-fed person of a motherly aspect, and apparently might have been quite as contented managing a crèche.... Falope was persona grata with his comical air and free manners, joking and pinching the girls.

St. Dominique possessed all the attraction of aloof respectability, and soon a good-looking brunette, with jet black eyes that seemed strangely big from the artificially furbished lids, began playing strenuously with him, tickling his ribs and all the easily risible points.

Lafala looked on amused, now and then taking a sip of the beer that Falope had ordered. The girl sitting next to him was very quiet, for Falope was relating to the Mother of the flock a brief account of Lafala's accident, and she was listening.

Falope finished his story and went to sit with his friends. St. Dominique was in an embarrassing way. He said to Falope in a throaty voice full of dark excitement: "Are you going upstairs?"

"Why, no." Falope said. "And you don't have to go either. I just brought you here for the good of your imagination." Falope really lived his own intimate life up in the centre of the town. When he visited a maison d'amour, it was always with a group of his up-town friends when they craved the theatrical sensation of a tableau vivant.

81

"And aren't you?" St. Dominique asked Lafala with a queer eagerness in his throat.

Lafala gave a negative shake of his head. He preferred to defer action and was stimulated in his surroundings only in so far as he imagined himself being with the wantonly free-yielding Aslima — all free of cost without the bother of bargain. He had a pleasantly detached air about him, like a person who participates in a general party while glowing inwardly in anticipation of an intimate assignation.

The brunette kissed St. Dominique on the nape of his neck. He looked at Falope with a dumb appeal like a respectable dog who had strayed from his home and got caught in a trap. His hands were twitching. He had grown moist in the face from inside warmth and his eyes were just ready to weep with desire.

"What you looking at me like that for?" said Falope with a shrug and a grin. "I brought you here just to give you the right idea of these places. But if you feel like going upstairs, why don't you haul off along like a free man?"

Relieved and released, St. Dominique went like a flash. Lafala and Falope looked comically at each other and filled the room with a burst of hilarity.

"I think we savages have greater control over ourselves than our more civilized cousins," said Lafala.

"Well said," agreed Falope. "Although you say it in a bantering way, it's a fact. A savage lives in a small frame compared to the civilized person, and he limits his desires to fit himself into his frame. He is sure of what he wants and what he doesn't want, because his background is plain and simple."

82

He isn't tied up in a confusion of instinctive needs and intel-
lectual restraints, like the over-civilized person."

A little later, a bell rang and the pretty boy went upstairs. He returned and told Falope that St. Dominique needed twenty francs of him. Falope gave the boy the money.

"Broke?" Lafala asked.

Falope shrugged. "Maybe he isn't paid yet for the lecture or something. Proletarians are poor. Even the leaders."

When St. Dominique descended the stairs, he avoided the eyes of his companions as if he had done something disgraceful.

"Sit down awhile and have a beer or something," said Falope.

"No, I'm in a hurry. I must go," he said without looking at them. "I'll have that money for you at the hall to-morrow."

"Nobody's worrying about money. Let's go to the café. You must talk some more to Lafala. He's very intelligent, and interested in what you have to say." Falope spoke without the slightest idea of being satirical.

But St. Dominique replied: "But I'm not so intelligent." And he fairly ran out of the place.

"What's wrong with the man?" Lafala demanded.

Falope shrugged: "His civilized conscience."

"But what? He didn't do anything wrong. Is he ashamed because he borrowed money from you for a sweet piece?"

"Oh, no, it isn't the money. He feels conscience-stricken because he went upstairs. After talking so much, arguing against the thing, he just fell plump into it like a fat fruit. He feels bad doing it before us. It's not good proletarian discipline."

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"Temptation and the devil in hell?" cried Lafala. "Aren't proletarians flesh and blood like other people? Don't they eat and drink, use a bed and w.-c like other people?"

"Guess they wouldn't admit that. They're just as big hypocrites as their enemies. I laugh at all of them."

- 12 -

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Lafala had promised Falope to visit the Proletarian Hall the following afternoon. They were to meet in a Brasserie in the Main street of Dreamport.

Lafala arrived before Falope. While he was waiting, he noticed two men looking at him suspiciously through the impressive plate-glass window of the café. Presently they entered. Lafala thought that one of the men looked like one of the officers of the boat who had been involved in his stowing-away. But he was not sure; the man was in plain clothes. However, he was uncomfortably aware of still being watched and the object of comment, the men averting their eyes whenever they caught his.

A sudden fear seized Lafala. Undoubtedly some official or officials of the boat had been punished as a result of his accident and the settlement, and he was afraid of reprisals. He recalled the kidnapping incident in New York. Here in Dreamport he was right in the stronghold of the enemy country.

He was relieved when Falope arrived. But Lafala noticed that the two men followed them out of the café and the feeling of fear possessed him again.

They took a taxicab for the Proletarian Hall. The hall was designed as an assembly and recreation center for migratory international workers, chiefly seamen. It was a vast affair: lecture and reading room, theatre, bar and restaurant, offices, piano, phonograph, billiard-table. On the central wall as one entered was an enormous and stern photograph of Lenin, and on the right of him a smaller one of Karl Marx.

85

One of Trotsky used to be on the left, but had been relegated to the cellar. On another wall was a drawing of two terrible giants, one white, the other black, both bracing themselves to break the chains that bound them. Under the drawing was the exhortation: Workers, Break Your Chains!

All the walls were plastered with drawings and photographs of workers and workers' leaders from all parts of the world, Soviet Russia taking first place. There were piles of newspapers and pamphlets in every civilized language.

There were similar halls in other important ports. They began springing up sometime about the Year of Prohibition in the United States of America. They came as a challenge to the old-style seamen's refuge.....

St. Dominique was not there. That night he had to lecture in another town according to his itineracy. He had left a letter for Falope enclosing the twenty francs, with the Organising Manager.

That person was a very earnest soul of superior manners. He came from a solid middle-class family. He was a former army officer, but had given up his career on being converted to proletarian ideas. He was not in any worldly way ambitious. All he wanted was to devote his life to Service... given a place where he could serve the proletariat as faithfully as he had previously intended to serve the military.

His entourage called him "comrade," but the fact of his class status won him as much deference among them as it once did among non-class conscious workers.

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The manager was a nice person, full and overflowing with fraternal fellowship. And he was happy that even a black from the Bottoms - as he put it - could be interested in the new social truth.

"We are trying to help your people and you must show yourself worthy of being helped," the manager said to Lafala. He showed Lafala over the place, explaining its work thoroughly as he might to a private, without leaving him to imagine anything...

Lafala's being there with his yellow and white fellows was a symbol of the all-embracing purpose of the new social ideal. Lafala represented practically the lowest limb of the human race... the most backward people. The social science of Karl Marx was for all the peoples of the world. Marx was a Jew, but his wisdom was for Jew and Gentile alike. It was the ultimate hope of salvation for the most benighted of peoples — even negroes.

Lafala was gradually transported to another world as the manager talked and talked — the world of the missionaries of his childhood. And it seemed as if underneath the economic phrases and the social terminologies, he was listening to an old doctrine of salvation with new gods and priests. It was Karl Marx instead of Jesus. Das Kapital was a new Bible. Lenin stood in the light of St. Paul. Proletarian poets wrote hymns after the manner of Sankey.

It was religion. Religion offering a social millenium. And he couldn't believe any more. He got the old religion when he was a child in jungle Africa, but he had lost it trying to scramble through the missionaries' Europe and America. It didn't

87

seem to belong to the real struggle of life — didn't seem worth
while hanging on to, and hadn't cost him much to lose. To struggle
was real. He believed in that. And he could believe in a plan,
an Idea to make the Eternal Struggle of Man more humane. But his
simple mind could not visualize a millenium. Still he listened
attentively like a child.

Lafala and Falope left the hall and took a taxicab that
was waiting in the near-by square. As he was entering it, Lafala
saw the two men of the Brasserie sitting in the café on the corner.
He felt panicky.

"They're after me," he said to Falope. "They're after
me?"

"Who after you for what?" asked Falope.

"Two men in the café. They followed me from the Brasserie." Lafala explained to Falope about the two men watching him in the Brasserie.

"Oh, I know what it is!" said Falope. "It's being with
St. Dominique and going to the Proletarian Hall. They think
we're reds. Don't worry. As soon as they see where we live
and get their dope down, they'll leave us alone."

But Lafala was not at all convinced by Falop's plausible
explanation. He felt certain that one of those men was the officer
of the boat who was most mixed up with his stowing-away. He told
Falope how he had been kidnapped in New York, that his lawyer
had warned him not to return to Dreamport, but he had risked it,
because the passage back on the Company's boat was free, and
his desire to be in the Bottoms again was overwhelming and
irresistible. He was not sure whether the two men were company

88

detectives or political; but, whatever they were, he preferred
not to have them know where he was living.

Falope felt certain that the men were political secret
police. St. Dominique had told him of their trailing him in
Paris. He said they were present in disguise at every radical
meeting. It was ridiculous of Lafala to be afraid of the shipping
company now. They could have done all they wanted to him between
New York and Dreamport when he was again a passenger on their
boat. They could have kept him under surveillance on arrival
and traced him to his hotel.... But Lafala suggested that maybe
it was not the company itself but the officers who were involved
in the case seeking vengeance.

"Come on up to my place then, if you think they're
watching you," said Falope, "and afterwards we'll find some way
of dodging them."

"But Lafala thought of a better strategy. He got out
of the taxicab in a crowded square and mingled with the crowd...
That evening he did not show up at his hotel, nor at the Tout-va-
Bien, or any place in the Bottoms. Days passed, and he could
not be traced anywhere in Dreamport. He had vanished like a spook
in the air — completely vanished.