children of the whirlwind-第2部分

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　matter　of　the　portrait；　and　resumed　the　really　important　matter　which　had　brought　him　to　her。

〃Are　you　certain；　Maggie；　that　the　Duchess　hasn't　heard　from　Larry？〃

〃If　she　has；　she　hasn't　mentioned　it。　But　why　don't　you　ask　her　yourself？〃

〃I　did；　but　she　wouldn't　say　a　thing。　You　can't　get　a　word　out　of　the　Duchess　with　a　jimmy；　unless　she　wants　to　talkand　she　never　wants　to　talk。〃　He　turned　his　sharp；　narrowly　set　eyes　upon　the　lean　old　man。　〃It's　got　me　guessing；　Jimmie。　Larry　was　due　out　of　Sing　Sing　yesterday；　and　we　haven't　had　a　peep　from　him；　and　though　she　won't　talk　I'm　sure　he　hasn't　been　here　to　see　his　grandmother。〃

〃Sure　is　funny；〃　agreed　Old　Jimmie。　〃But　mebbe　Larry　has　broke　straight　into　a　fresh　game　and　is　playing　a　lone　hand。　He's　a　quick　worker；　Larry　isand　he's　got　nerve。〃

〃Well；　whatever's　keeping　him　we're　tied　up　till　Larry　comes。〃　Barney　turned　back　to　Maggie。　〃I　say；　sister；　how　about　robing　yourself　in　your　raiment　of　joy　and　coming　with　yours　truly　to　a　palace　of　jazz；　there　to　dine　and　show　the　populace　what　real　dancing　is？〃

〃Can't；　Barney。　Mr。　Hunt〃the　name　given　the　painter　at　his　original　christening〃asked　the　Duchess　and　me　to　have　dinner　up　here。　He's　to　cook　it　himself。〃

〃For　your　sake　I　hope　he　cooks　better　than　he　paints。〃　And　sliding　down　in　his　chair　until　he　rested　upon　a　more　comfortable　vertebra；　the　elegant　Barney　lit　a　monogrammed　cigarette；　and　with　idle　patience　swung　his　bamboo　stick。

〃You're　half　an　hour　late；　Maggie；〃　Hunt　began　at　her　again　in　his　rumbling　voice。　〃Can't　stand　for　such　a　waste　of　my　time！〃

〃How　about　my　time？〃　retorted　Maggie；　who　indeed　had　a　grievance。　〃I　was　supposed　to　have　the　day　off；　but　instead　I　had　to　carry　that　tray　of　cigarettes　around　till　the　last　person　in　the　Ritzmore　had　finished　lunch。　Anyhow；〃　she　added；　〃I　don't　see　that　your　time's　worth　so　much　when　you　spend　it　on　such　painty　messes　as　these。〃

〃It's　not　up　to　you　to　tell　me　what　my　time's　worth！〃　retorted　Hunt。　〃I　pay　youthat's　enough　for　you！。。。　Because　you　weren't　on　time；　I　stuck　Old　Jimmie　out　there　to　finish　off　this　picture。　I'll　be　through　with　the　old　cut…throat　in　ten　minutes。　Be　ready　to　take　his　place。〃

〃All　right；〃　said　Maggie　sulkily。

For　all　his　roaring　she　was　not　much　afraid　of　the　painter。　While　his　brushes　flicked　at；　and　streaked　across；　the　canvas　she　stood　idly　watching　him。　He　was　in　paint…smeared；　baggy　trousers　and　a　soft　shirt　whose　open　collar　gave　a　glimpse　of　a　deep　chest　matted　with　hair　and　whose　rolled…up　sleeves　revealed　forearms　that　seemed　absurdly　large　to　be　fiddling　with　those　slender　sticks。　A　crowbar　would　have　seemed　more　in　harmony。　He　was　unromantically　oldall　of　thirty…five　Maggie　guessed；　and　with　his　square；　rough…hewn　face　and　tousled；　reddish　hair　he　was　decidedly　ugly。　But　for　the　fact　that　he　really　did　work　though　of　course　his　work　was　foolishand　the　fact　that　he　paid　his　wayhe　bought　little；　but　no　one　could　beat　him　by　so　much　as　a　penny　in　a　bargain；　not　even　the　DuchessMaggie　might　have　considered　him　as　one　of　the　many　bums　who　floated　purposelessly　through　that　drab　region。

Also；　had　there　not　been　so　many　queer　people　coming　and　going　in　this　neighborhoodEads　Howe；　the　hobo　millionaire；　settlement　workers；　people　who　had　grown　rich　and　old　in　their　business　and　preferred　to　live　near　itMaggie　might　have　regarded　Hunt　with　more　curiosity；　and　even　with　suspicion；　but　down　here　one　accepted　queer　people　as　a　matter　of　course；　the　only　fear　being　that　secretly　they　might　be　police　or　government　agents；　which　Maggie　and　the　others　knew　very　well　Hunt　was　not。　When　Hunt　had　rented　this　attic　as　a　studio　they　had　accepted　his　explanation　that　he　had　taken　it　because　it　was　cheap　and　he　could　afford　to　pay　no　more。　Likewise　they　had　accepted　his　explanation　that　he　was　a　mechanic　by　trade　who　had　roughed　it　all　over　the　world　and　was　possessed　with　an　itch　for　painting；　that　lately　he　had　worked　in　various　garages；　that　it　was　his　habit　to　hoard　his　money　till　he　got　a　bit　ahead　and　then　go　off　on　a　painting　spree。　All　these　admissions　were　indubitably　plausible；　for　his　paintings　seemed　the　unmistakable　handiwork　of　an　irresponsible；　hard…　fisted　motor　mechanic。

Maggie　shifted　to　her　other　foot　and　glanced　casually　at　the　canvases　which　leaned　against　the　walls　of　the　shabby　studio。　There　was　the　Duchess：　incredibly　old；　the　face　a　web　of　wrinkles；　the　lips　indrawn　over　toothless　and　shrunken　gums。　the　nose　a　thin；　curved　beak；　the　eyes　deep…set；　gleaming；　inscrutable；　watching；　and　drawn　tight　over　the　haireven　Maggie　did　not　know　whether　that　hair　was　a　wig　or　the　Duchess'sthe　faded　Oriental　shawl　which　was　fastened　beneath　her　chin　and　which　fell　over　her　thin；　bent　chest。　There　was　O'Flaherty；　the　good…natured　policeman　on　the　beat。　There　was　the　old　watchmaker　next　door。　There　was　Black　Hurley；　the　notorious　gang　leader；　who　sometimes　swaggered　into　the　district　like　a　dirty　and　evil　feudal　lord。　There　was　a　Jewish　pushcart　peddler；　white…bearded　and　skull…　capped。　There　was　an　Italian　mother　sitting　on　the　curb；　her　feet　in　the　gutter；　smiling　down　at　the　baby　that　was　hungrily　suckling　at　her　milk…heavy　breast。　And　so　on；　and　so　on。　Just　the　ordinary；　uninteresting　things　Maggie　saw　around　the　block。　There　was　not　a　single　pretty　picture　in　the　lot。

Hunt　swung　the　canvas　from　his　easel　and　stood　it　against　the　wall。　〃That'll　be　all　for　you；　Jimmie。　Beat　it　and　make　room　for　Maggie。　Maggie；　take　your　same　pose。〃

Old　Jimmie　ambled　forward　and　gazed　at　his　portrait　as　Hunt　was　settling　an　unfinished　picture　on　his　easel。　It　had　rather　amused　Jimmie　and　filled　in　his　idle　time　to　sit　for　the　crazy　painter；　and；　incidentally；　another　picture　of　him　would　do　him　no　particular　harm　since　the　police　already　had　all　the　pictures　they　needed　of　him　over　at　Headquarters。　As　he　gazed　at　Hunt's　work　Old　Jimmie　snickered。

〃I　say；　Nuts；　what　you　goin'　to　do　with　this　mess　of　paint？〃

〃Going　to　sell　it　to　the　Metropolitan　Museum；　you　old　sinner！〃　snapped　Hunt。

Old　Jimmie　cackled　at　the　joke。　He　knew　pictures；　that　is；　good　pictures。　He　had　had　an　invisible　hand　in　more　than　one　clever　transaction　in　which　handsome　pictures　alleged　to　have　been　smuggled　in；　Gainsboroughs　and　Romneys　and　such　（there　had　been　most　profit　for　him　in　handling　the　forgeries　of　these　particular　masters）；　had　been　put；　with　an　air　of　great　secrecy；　into　the　hands　of　divers　newly　rich　gentlemen　who　believed　they　were　getting　masterpieces　at　bargain　prices　through　this　evasion　of　customs　laws。

〃Nuts；〃　chuckled　Old　Jimmie；　〃this　junk　wouldn't　be　so　funny　if　you　didn't　seem　to　believe　you　were　really　painting。〃

〃Junk！　Funny！〃　Hunt　swung　around；　one　big　hand　closed　about　Jimmie's　lean　neck　and　the　other　seized　his　thin　shoulder。　〃You　grandfather　of　the　devil　and　all　his　male　progeny；　you　talk　like　that　and　I'll　chuck　you　through　the　window！〃

Old　Jimmie　grinned。　The　grip　of　the　big　hands　of　the　painter；　though　powerful；　was　light。　They　all　knew　that　the　loud　ravings　of　the　painter　never　presaged　violence。　They　had　grown　to　like　him；　to　accept　him　as　almost　one　of　themselves；　though　of　course　they　looked　down　upon　him