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Dick
sat
exhausted
in
the
chair
nearest
the
door
.
During
three
nights
he
had
remained
with
the
scabbed
anonymous
woman
-
artist
he
had
come
to
love
,
formally
to
portion
out
the
adrenaline
,
but
really
to
throw
as
much
wan
light
as
he
could
into
the
darkness
ahead
.
Half
appreciating
his
feeling
,
Franz
travelled
quickly
over
an
opinion
:
"
It
was
neuro
-
syphilis
.
All
the
Wassermans
we
took
won
’
t
tell
me
differently
.
The
spinal
fluid
—
"
"
Never
mind
,
"
said
Dick
.
"
Oh
,
God
,
never
mind
!
If
she
cared
enough
about
her
secret
to
take
it
away
with
her
,
let
it
go
at
that
.
"
"
You
better
lay
off
for
a
day
.
"
"
Don
’
t
worry
,
I
’
m
going
to
.
"
Franz
had
his
wedge
;
looking
up
from
the
telegram
that
he
was
writing
to
the
woman
’
s
brother
he
inquired
:
"
Or
do
you
want
to
take
a
little
trip
?
"
"
Not
now
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
mean
a
vacation
.
There
’
s
a
case
in
Lausanne
.
I
’
ve
been
on
the
phone
with
a
Chilian
all
morning
—
"
