406
PARTISAN REVIEW
tide turned at
.26Y4
and we barely missed. Never mind. Lard will go
back to last year's levels."
Maybe. But when? Wilhelm could not allow his hopes to grow
strong. However, for a little while he could breathe more easily. Late
morning trading was increasing. The shining numbers whirred on
the board and sounded like a huge cage of artificial birds. Lard fluc–
tuated between two points, but rye slowly climbed.
He closed his greatly earnest eyes and nodded his Buddha's head,
too large to suffer such uncertainties. For several moments of peace
he was removed to his small yard in Roxbury.
He breathed in the sugar of the pure morning.
He heard the long phrases of the birds.
No enemy wanted his life.
Wilhelm thought, I will get out of here. I don't belong in New
York any more; and he sighed like a sleeper.
Tamkin said, "Excuse me," and left his seat. He could not sit still
in the room but passed back and forth between the stocks and com–
modities sections. He knew dozens of people and was continually
engaging in discussions. Was he giving advice, gathering information,
or giving it, or practicing-whatever mysterious profession he practiced?
Hypnotism? Perhaps he could put people in a trance while he talked
to them. What a rare, peculiar bird he was, with those pointed shoulders,
that bare head, his loose nails, almost claws, and those brown, soft,
deadly, heavy eyes.
He spoke of things that mattered, and as very few people did this
he could take you by surprise, excite you, move you. Maybe he wished
to do good, maybe to give himself a lift to a higher level, maybe believe
his own prophecies, maybe touch his own heart. Who could tell? He
had picked up a lot of strange ideas; Wilhelm could only suspect, he
could not say with certainty, that Tamkin hadn't made them his own.
Now Tamkin and he were equal partners, but Tamkin had put
up only three hundred dollars. Suppose he did this not only once but
five times; then an investment of fifteen hundred dollars gave him five
thousand to speculate with.
If
he had power of attorney in every case,
he could shift the money from one account to another. No, the German
probably kept an eye on him. Nevertheless it was possible. Calculations
like this made Wilhelm feel ill. Obviously Tamkin was a plunger. But
how did he get by? He must be in his fifties. How did he support
himself? Five years in Egypt; Hollywood before that. Michigan. Ohio.
Chicago. A man of fifty has supported himself for at least thirty years.
You could be sure that Tamkin had never worked in a factory or in
an office. How did he make it? His taste in clothes was horrible, but
he didn't buy cheap things. He wore corduroy or velvet shirts from
Clyde's, painted neckties, striped socks. There was a slightly acid or
pasty smell about his person; for a doctor, he didn't bathe much. Also,
Dr. Tamkin had a good room at the Gloriana and had had it for about
a year. But so was Wilhelm himself a guest, with an unpaid bill at
present in his father's box. Did the beautiful girl with the skirts and
