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“Uh … I guess it would be a good and generous thing. But what about a doctor? Did a doctor see him?”

“Oh, yes. My cousin. He is not a
certificado
doctor, but he heals with injections. He works on the railway. He examined Señor Ball most carefully and determined that his head bone had not been shattered. He said that it had been such a great
golpe
, the Señor Ball had been hurled back into his childhood, and nothing could be done.”

“But has it not been very difficult?”

“Oh, no señor. He is not difficult in any way. Sometimes in his sleep he makes a great shout, but not often. He slept in my bed until it was decided I would become betrothed to Roberto, and since that time he has slept upon a pallet in our small shed where lived the two goats. We made a new place for the goats and made the shed very clean for Señor Ball.”

“Does he ever speak?”

“Never, señor. Except for the shouting of words I cannot understand in the night. When food is placed before him he will eat. He can be given any simple task to do and he will work until it is completed. He has worked very hard with my brother who is a cutter of wood. Behold.” She took Klauss’s slack hand and turned it over to reveal the thick crust of callus. “It is a strange thing,” she said, frowning. “He will do all things a man will do. He will eat and sleep and work and make the act of love. But to all these things he must be led as if he were a small child, and while he is performing these things, he seems far away. He is so little trouble I am distressed at my mother for not being willing to keep him.”

“And so you just … brought him back?” Greg said, repressing an impulse to beat his head on his desk top.

“He is now yours because I cannot keep him and my mother will not. I shall worry about him, señor. I hope there will be those who love him and who will care for him. But, señor, even in this condition, I have thought that he is better than before the great
golpe
.”

“What?”

“Before it happened, señor, he had very cold blood. He was a timid and unloving man who was terrified of women, and who wept as easily as a woman. I tried to make of him a man,
but he was alarmed by me for some reason. He was much more pretty then, of course.” She sighed heavily. “I have brought with him his things, everything not taken by the thief. It is all here in this bundle. Some big books and some tools of painting. And the clothing he was wearing. And, of course, his shoes. But I believe they are too small. He has walked long miles barefoot carrying heavy loads of wood, and his feet are now more wide and strong.”

Gregory looked at the sensuous, dazzling smile. He suspected that he should gather information for a much more detailed report. Perhaps he should have the Mexican police hold the girl for further investigation. He believed every word she said. There was a dazzling, transparent honesty about her. He obtained her address and wrote it neatly under her name, and told her that it was possible someone might have to come to see her and ask more questions, but he hoped it would not be necessary.

She opened the string bag and dumped the contents on his desk, folded the bag and put it in a pocket of the green coat. Gregory pulled one of the notebooks over. It was a loose-leaf notebook with an expensive leather binding. He opened it at random. The loose-leaf sheets were of heavy, creamy stock, covered with green single-spaced typing.

He read a few words and then suddenly bent closer to the sheet. His eyes widened and his jaw sagged. “Son of a gun!” he said.

“¿Qué dice, señor?”

“Nothing of importance, señorita. On behalf of my government, I wish to thank you for bringing Mr. Klauss to us.”

“Now I may go? I have here the return ticket for me alone on the bus, and twenty pesos given to me by my Roberto to buy for myself a present, but I have decided I will buy some small thing for him.”

“Yes, you may go now, señorita.”

She stood up and her smile faded. “I must be certain of one thing, señor. You will forgive me if I say that governments are often cruel and indifferent. I must have your word of honor that he will be cared for. I do not want to leave this place thinking that it is possible that when I am gone, you will push him out onto the street and forget him. He could not care for himself. It would be a cruel act.”

“I give you my word of honor that he will be taken care of, señorita.”

“I cannot ask for this, but I hope it is a loving care. For those who are hurt … and, señor, for everyone, loving care is a good thing. And a rare thing in a world of governments.”

She went over to Paul Klauss and put her hand lightly on his shoulder and bent over and kissed him on his unresponsive lips. “
Adiós, mi pobrecito
. I have done what I can. I leave you in sadness.
“Adiós
.
”

She smiled at Gregory and thanked him and left, closing the door softly behind her. Klauss turned slowly in his chair and looked toward the closed door. He made a low sound, a wordless sound of pain and question.

“We’ll take care of you from now on, fellow,” Greg said. He set an order of precedence in his mind. First arrange hospitalization and complete examination, with approval of the expenditure from embassy funds earmarked for such purposes. Contact the person or persons who had made the inquiry and advise them that Klauss had been found, and advise them of his condition. Inventory Klauss’s possessions, and have them packaged for locked storage. As he reached for his phone, he decided the final step could be delayed until he had made a more careful examination of the notebooks.

On that same Thursday in December, Mrs. Harvey Ardos remained at the George D. Insley High School after class to meet with the Decoration Committee in regard to planning the decoration of the gym for the Christmas Dance. She was, she was certain, the happiest bride in Kansas. Last week they had picked out a hilly, beautiful acre of land on the old Hadden Road. The disadvantage was that it was so far out of town, but they wanted privacy and a little room, and the eight hundred dollars they thought they could spare would buy a lot less land closer in.

This winter they would plan their house, plan it in such a way that, except for foundation work, they could build it with their own hands. There would be a big studio for Harvey, with north light. And a wonderful view. By spring they would have enough money for the foundation work and the first batch of construction materials. During the winter evenings they would plan a perfect house, and read the do-it-yourself manuals.

Harvey had a pretty good job driving a bread truck. He had
to leave early in the morning and cover a lot of miles each day, but the pay was good.

It had been such a lovely wedding …

“I guess we’re all here, Mrs. Ardos.”

“Oh. All here? Splendid. Now at our last meeting I think we decided on a tropical motif. Christmas in the Tropical Islands. Richard, will you please give your report on the sand situation, and then we’ll discuss the lovely palm tree Martha has made.”

On that same Thursday Parker Barnum completed his third week as partner and art director in the Dallas firm of Hilldane, Durling and Barnum. It had been Hilldane and Durling, a young firm with aggressive ideas and limited capital. Before he had settled on them, before he had made his intensive survey of the advertising agencies in the Dallas-Forth Worth area, Parker had long talks with Bitsy, and several long business conferences with Maggie and her husband. Maggie had been most generous in giving them the little gem of a house out near Richland Hill as a wedding present, and she was prepared to be equally generous with what he thought he would need to buy into an agency. But he insisted on its being handled in a businesslike way, with interest-bearing notes with due dates extending over a period of years. If the income he hoped for did not materialize, the loans could be paid back out of Bitsy’s inheritance, but he hoped it would not be that way.

Marty Hilldane and Jack Durling had been skeptical about it. He had taken them to lunch separately, and then together. They felt that his New York background, good as it sounded, would not be of much help in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. But in the end they agreed, the papers were drawn up, and Park purchased a one-third interest at a figure higher than he had planned.

On that Thursday in December, Park and Jack Durling said goodbye at the elevators to the executives from Janet Anne Shops, Inc., and walked from the conference room back to Park’s office. Jack came in with him and dropped into the chair beside the new blond desk.

“One hell of a workout, Park,” he said. “What’s your guess?”

“I don’t know. Except for Goldman, I’d say yes. The rest reacted. He didn’t give me a clue. And he’s the boss man. You did a hell of a good job of presentation, Jack.”

“Because I had something to present for once. The copy is
sound. And that art work is really terrific. Did you hear them grunt when I unveiled those sketches for the series of big boards?” He stood up. “So we sweat it out until tomorrow noon. I think they’ll go for it.”

“I’ll be in your office waiting for the call to come in.”

Jack turned in the doorway. “I guess it’s a little late to be saying this, Park. But I had a drink with Marty last night. We found we’ve both got over wondering whether we did the right thing. We just wish now you’d showed up a year ago.”

“Thanks, Jack. Thanks for telling me.”

A few minutes after Jack left, Bitsy phoned him. “I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap, woman.”

“Well, I was taking a nap, darling, but …”

“What’s the use of paying a doctor for advice?”

“Don’t be such a growly bear. Mary Jane phoned me. She got back from Hawaii last night. And she wants to stop by about six for a drink, so I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t work until all hours of the night again at that stinking place.”

“I can shake myself loose tonight. I was planning on coming home early. But I thought we weren’t going to do any entertaining until …”

“It’s just Mary Jane, and it’s important to her. She’s bringing along some fabulous sort of dreamboat she met out there for us to look over. She sounds sort of serious. I’m glad you’ll be home early. How did it go with Mr. Goldman?”

“I couldn’t tell. We’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I don’t see what the good is in owning part of a business when you work like some old spooky slave.”

“I am a spooky slave. Go take some more nap.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“How do you feel, darling?”

“I keep telling you that all day long I feel fabulously good. It’s just that going woops in the morning gets tiresome. All the time I have a beautiful old lazy kind of feeling.”

“Four months to go. There ought to be a faster way.”

She giggled. “Like that joke about the Martian.”

“Love you,” he said.

She made a small kissing sound in the mouthpiece. “Love you extremely much. Hurry on home, hear? Bye.”

After he hung up Park sat wearing a fatuous smile for a few moments, and then began to look over the sketches one of the kids had turned out, sketches of a little man for possible television
animation in the local area to advertise a local chain of appliance stores.

At five-thirty on that December Thursday when Barbara Kilmer came home from her factory job, her mother said, “Hello, dear. My, it’s getting dark so early. There’s another letter from him, Barbie. I put it in your room.”

She hurried upstairs after she had taken off her coat, and snatched up the letter, turned on her bed lamp, lay across her bed to read it. She read it slowly and carefully, half smiling as she did so. She sang softly to herself as she took her shower. When she was in her robe, she stretched out on the bed again and read it through.

“… a client who looks like he could be an older brother of Gloria Garvey. Quite a majestic type, who finds it necessary to keep informing me of how busy he is, how many other earth-shaking projects he has on the fire. Yet he does find time to pester me constantly about when he can see preliminary sketches. The curious shape of the available piece of land had me stymied for quite some time, but now I have a solution which pleases me, but will quite probably enrage him. Once I have finished this letter to you, I will go back to my sketches. When my work is going well it is like a disease with me. It becomes too enjoyable to set aside.

“Please write often, as you have been doing. I feel that I am coming to know you a little bit better with each letter, my darling. Your letters were so stiff at first. Now they are a delight, and more necessary to me than I can tell you.

“Things here are coming along far better than I dared hope. Strickland is working out very well. He is no Jenningson, of course, but he has the capacity to be. I had a good letter from Kurt yesterday. He is now working for a firm in Los Angeles, and living in a small apartment hotel. He says that he is in at nine and out at five, and that it is refreshing not to have to worry about whether or not the business as a whole is making a profit. He said that he has taken Mary out to dinner several times and, the last time, they both were willing to admit the possibility of eventually being together again. I hope so. He is half a man without her. And that sorry state of affairs is something I am now better able to understand, Barbara.

“I had thought of making a strong plea in this letter, asking you to permit me to fly up there over Christmas to see you.
But that would be a violation of our solemn pact. I can safely say that by Christmas, and from then on, I will be able to get away from here with very little advance warning. And so all I can do is tell you once again that I love you, and that I am waiting for you to set a date for me to come to you.”

And quite suddenly she knew when it would be. It would be in April, if she could wait that long.

On that Thursday in December, at noon, Gam Torrigan decided that the painting on which he had worked with sustained creative energy for the past fifteen days was finished. He had worked with polymer tempera and casein on a huge rectangle of quarter-inch untempered Masonite.

He leaned it against the front of the range cabin, in the cold watery sunlight. As he cleaned his equipment he would stop from time to time and go and glower at it from varying distances and angles. After he cleaned most of the stains from his hands, he stripped off his rough clothing and turned on the outside shower he had improvised. When he stepped under the icy gout of water, he pranced wildly and roared like a bear before he began scrubbing himself with yellow soap. His hair had grown long and his beard was untrimmed. In the middle of toweling himself, he went back to the picture and stood twenty feet from it, glaring at it, unmindful of the fifty-degree temperature and the chilly wind.