The booth seemed suddenly hotter. I thought I was going to fall,
then inched myself to the exit, and outside breathed easier. Walk-
ing back to the circus, I tried not to recall the rest of what I had
read. But my memory beat me and the air in the midway became
as hot and stuffy as it had been in the booth.
This tattooing was a three-year job. It was done in small sec-
tions, because the subject could take only so many pricks at a
time. No man's skin is less sensitive than another's, and the tat-
tooist's needle is sharp.
I walked faster. I thought of the waterfalls in Japan, the coldest
in the world, it is said. The stream that comes straight from the
ice contains a curious fixing quality, so that between sessions the
volunteer was required to stand beneath it for hours. So Ulric
would have stood. He must have been in wild need of a career. ~
Glad to reach the normal atmosphere of Papa Gaudin's office, I
embraced Madame Gaudin warmly, held her from me and praised
the violet lace dress, and smiled to see her fat, comfortable, and
heavy breasted. But at once the vision of a silky black beard
leaped into my mind and would not budge. I asked for a straight
Scotch. Quick.
The American brought the brimming glass. I saw that he was
happy, the way only a performer whose ears still vibrate with the
thunder of the customers' applause is happy. I liked the way he
pulled the rug round Jacko's shoulders, where the ten-year-old lay
fast asleep on Madame's couch. Jules had been gentle, too.
I looked at Madame and saw her eyes flicker away from mine,
oddly and slyly. She knew I was thinking of Jules.
Now with the crack of his tongue, Papa had us all to business.
This cat man was good, he told me, nodding sagely. Good enough
to be exploited. Perhaps some articles, well-written, well-placed,
to titillate the public's interest. Did I know a man?
I did. Harry Learoyd. A clever journalist, a man who could
sense news before it was born, shape a story from almost nothing.
I said I'd find him and bring him to see the cats and the sandy
boy who worked them.
Learoyd wasn't difficult to trace. I only had to telephone six
bars and four clubs. Our negotiation was as quick. He asked
about a down payment and when I told him the notes were crack-
ling in my hand, he was my man. I arranged to take him in front
the following night.
We met in the foyer at the Olympic. I saw him first, a podgy
man bulging out of his collar. He said he didn't want to see the
whole of the circus, but only the cats, so I took him down the
midway. I thought it was safer than a neighborhood bar, which is
where he wanted to go.
He looked curiously at the booths that advertised the freaks
and seemed disappointed that they weren't showing themselves. I
explained that came later, when the midway was crowded. Then
he asked where they lived, where they slept, and I pointed out the
vans.
