538
PARTISAN REVIEW
ance was altogether unkempt, wore no overcoat. He was dressed
in a shapeless sport suit, disfigured with spots, and a turtleneck sweater,
rust colored; which swathed him to the chin.
"Utambot wasn't free tonight," explained Martin, in reply
to a glance from his employer. "I've asked my pal Grandgil to take
his
place. He's all right. You've got nothing to worry about. And
not all tired out to begin with, either. He's in good shape."
The boss scrutinized with distrust the face of the curly-haired
man, whose tricky little eyes made anything but a good impression.
"He knows the ropes already," urged Martin. "We've even
worked together, before this."
"If
you know
him,"
grumbled Jamblier, "I have nothing more
to say. Let's not lose any time. You're late."
Followed by the two visitors, he made his way toward the
comer of the cellar, where the white cloths covered a shapeless form.
When the shroud had been removed, a hog was seen by the light of
the electric lamps. The animal had been cut into a dozen portions,
and these had been carefully reassembled, so that it seemed to be a
whole pig that lay there with yawning"stomach cavity, its entrails
gone. The
boss
stood back, and gave the two companions time to
make sure that the whole animal was there.
"He's a bird," admitted Martin. "How much does he weigh?"
"Just as he is, two hundred and fifteen pounds. A little more
than the one the d<l.Y before yesterday, but within twenty pounds of
it. Once divided between four valises, you'll hardly know the dif–
ference."
"That's what you think. It's easy to see that it isn't your job."
"Nonsense! Husky guys like you! Here, hand me a valise."
Martin made one step forward, but was in no hurry to open
the valise.
"Where is it to go this evening?"
"To Montmartre, Caulaincourt Street. The butcher will expect
you in the shop any time after midnight. Let's get going !"
Martin was still deliberating. Grandgil stood motionless a short
distance behind him, and considered the two men with an air of
calm indifference, but his small piglike eyes were smiling in a face
that resembled that of a curly-haired ram. Jamblier was growing
nervous again.
