SEIZE TH E DAY
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he claimed to be, and all the gossip false. But was he a scientific man,
or not?
If
he was not, this might be a case for the district attorney's office
to investigate. Was he a liar? That was a delicate question. Even a liar
might be trustworthy in some ways. Could he trust Tamkin, could
he? He feverishly, fruitlessly sought an answer.
But the time for this question was past, and he had to trust him
now. After a long struggle to come to a decision, he had given him the
money. Practical judgment was in abeyance. He had worn himself
out, and the decision was no decision. How had this happened? But how
had his Hollywood career begun? It was not because of Maurice Venice,
who turned out to be a pimp. It was because Wilhelm himself was ripe
for the mistake. His marriage, too, had been like that. Through such
decisions somehow his life had taken form, And so, from the moment
when he tasted the peculiar flavor of fatality in Dr. Tamkin, he could
no longer keep back the money.
Five days ago, Tamkin had said, "Meet me tomorrow, and we'll
go to the Market." Wilhelm therefore had had to go. At eleven o'clock
they had walked to the brokerage office. On the way Tamkin broke the
news to Wilhelm that though this was an equal partnership he couldn't
put up his half of the money just yet; it was tied up for a week or so in
one of his patents. Today he would be two hundred dollars short; next
week, he'd make it up. But neither of them needed an income from the
market, of course. This was only a sporting proposition anyhow, Tamkin
said. Wilhelm had to answer, "Of course."
It
was too late to withdraw.
What else could he do? Then came the formal part of the transaction,
and it was frightening. The very shade of green of Tamkin's check looked
wrong; it was a false, disheartening color. His handwriting was peculiar,
even monstrous; the e's were like i's, the
t's
and i's the same and the
h's
like wasps' bellies. He wrote like a fourth grader. Scientists, however,
dealt mostly in symbols; they printed. This was Wilhelm's explanation.
Dr. Tamkin had given him his check for three hundred dollars.
Wilhelm, in a blinded and convulsed aberration, pressed and prf'ssed,
to try to kill the trembling of his hand as he wrote out his check for a
thousand. He set his lips tight, crouched with his huge back over the
table, and wrote with crumbling, terrified fingers, knowing that if
Tamkin's check bounced his own would not be honored either. His sole
cleverness was to set the date ahead by one day to give the green check
time to clear.
Next he had signed a power-of-attorney allowing Tamkin to specu–
late with his money, and this was an even more frightening document.
Tamkin had never said a word about it, but here they were and it had
to be done.
After delivering his signatures, the only precaution Wilhelm took
was to come back to the manager of the brokerage office and ask him
privately, "Uh, about Dr. Tamkin. We were in here a few minutes ago,
remember?"
That day had been a weeping, smoky one and Wilhelm had gotten
away from Tamkin on the pretext of having to run to the post office.
