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The
police
,
on
the
strength
of
what
he
said
to
Michaelis
,
that
he
"
had
a
way
of
finding
out
,
"
supposed
that
he
spent
that
time
going
from
garage
to
garage
thereabout
,
inquiring
for
a
yellow
car
.
On
the
other
hand
,
no
garage
man
who
had
seen
him
ever
came
forward
,
and
perhaps
he
had
an
easier
,
surer
way
of
finding
out
what
he
wanted
to
know
.
By
half-past
two
he
was
in
West
Egg
,
where
he
asked
someone
the
way
to
Gatsby
's
house
.
So
by
that
time
he
knew
Gatsby
's
name
.
At
two
o'clock
Gatsby
put
on
his
bathing-suit
and
left
word
with
the
butler
that
if
any
one
phoned
word
was
to
be
brought
to
him
at
the
pool
.
He
stopped
at
the
garage
for
a
pneumatic
mattress
that
had
amused
his
guests
during
the
summer
,
and
the
chauffeur
helped
him
pump
it
up
.
Then
he
gave
instructions
that
the
open
car
was
n't
to
be
taken
out
under
any
circumstances
--
and
this
was
strange
,
because
the
front
right
fender
needed
repair
.
Gatsby
shouldered
the
mattress
and
started
for
the
pool
.
Once
he
stopped
and
shifted
it
a
little
,
and
the
chauffeur
asked
him
if
he
needed
help
,
but
he
shook
his
head
and
in
a
moment
disappeared
among
the
yellowing
trees
.
No
telephone
message
arrived
,
but
the
butler
went
without
his
sleep
and
waited
for
it
until
four
o'clock
--
until
long
after
there
was
any
one
to
give
it
to
if
it
came
.
I
have
an
idea
that
Gatsby
himself
did
n't
believe
it
would
come
,
and
perhaps
he
no
longer
cared
.
If
that
was
true
he
must
have
felt
that
he
had
lost
the
old
warm
world
,
paid
a
high
price
for
living
too
long
with
a
single
dream
.
He
must
have
looked
up
at
an
unfamiliar
sky
through
frightening
leaves
and
shivered
as
he
found
what
a
grotesque
thing
a
rose
is
and
how
raw
the
sunlight
was
upon
the
scarcely
created
grass
.
A
new
world
,
material
without
being
real
,
where
poor
ghosts
,
breathing
dreams
like
air
,
drifted
fortuitously
about
...
like
that
ashen
,
fantastic
figure
gliding
toward
him
through
the
amorphous
trees
.
The
chauffeur
--
he
was
one
of
Wolfsheim
's
proteges
--
heard
the
shots
--
afterward
he
could
only
say
that
he
had
n't
thought
anything
much
about
them
.
I
drove
from
the
station
directly
to
Gatsby
's
house
and
my
rushing
anxiously
up
the
front
steps
was
the
first
thing
that
alarmed
any
one
.
But
they
knew
then
,
I
firmly
believe
.
With
scarcely
a
word
said
,
four
of
us
,
the
chauffeur
,
butler
,
gardener
,
and
I
,
hurried
down
to
the
pool
.
There
was
a
faint
,
barely
perceptible
movement
of
the
water
as
the
fresh
flow
from
one
end
urged
its
way
toward
the
drain
at
the
other
with
little
ripples
that
were
hardly
the
shadows
of
waves
,
the
laden
mattress
moved
irregularly
down
the
pool
.
A
small
gust
of
wind
that
scarcely
corrugated
the
surface
was
enough
to
disturb
its
accidental
course
with
its
accidental
burden
.
The
touch
of
a
cluster
of
leaves
revolved
it
slowly
,
tracing
,
like
the
leg
of
compass
,
a
thin
red
circle
in
the
water
.
It
was
after
we
started
with
Gatsby
toward
the
house
that
the
gardener
saw
Wilson
's
body
a
little
way
off
in
the
grass
,
and
the
holocaust
was
complete
.
After
two
years
I
remember
the
rest
of
that
day
,
and
that
night
and
the
next
day
,
only
as
an
endless
drill
of
police
and
photographers
and
newspaper
men
in
and
out
of
Gatsby
's
front
door
.
A
rope
stretched
across
the
main
gate
and
a
policeman
by
it
kept
out
the
curious
,
but
little
boys
soon
discovered
that
they
could
enter
through
my
yard
,
and
there
were
always
a
few
of
them
clustered
open-mouthed
about
the
pool
.
Someone
with
a
positive
manner
,
perhaps
a
detective
,
used
the
expression
"
madman
"
as
he
bent
over
Wilson
's
body
that
afternoon
,
and
the
adventitious
authority
of
his
voice
set
the
key
for
the
newspaper
reports
next
morning
.
Most
of
those
reports
were
a
nightmare
--
grotesque
,
circumstantial
,
eager
,
and
untrue
.
When
Michaelis
's
testimony
at
the
inquest
brought
to
light
Wilson
's
suspicions
of
his
wife
I
thought
the
whole
tale
would
shortly
be
served
up
in
racy
pasquinade
--
but
Catherine
,
who
might
have
said
anything
,
did
n't
say
a
word
.
She
showed
a
surprising
amount
of
character
about
it
too
--
looked
at
the
coroner
with
determined
eyes
under
that
corrected
brow
of
hers
,
and
swore
that
her
sister
had
never
seen
Gatsby
,
that
her
sister
was
completely
happy
with
her
husband
,
that
her
sister
had
been
into
no
mischief
whatever
.
She
convinced
herself
of
it
,
and
cried
into
her
handkerchief
,
as
if
the
very
suggestion
was
more
than
she
could
endure
.
S.
Wilson
was
reduced
to
a
man
"
deranged
by
grief
"
in
order
that
the
case
might
remain
in
its
simplist
form
.
And
it
rested
there
.
