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- Нил Гейман
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It
’
s
four
in
the
morning
,
and
he
finds
himself
drawn
to
a
hotel
and
casino
that
has
been
out
of
style
for
thirty
years
,
still
running
until
tomorrow
or
six
months
from
now
when
they
’
ll
implode
it
and
knock
it
down
and
build
a
pleasure
palace
where
it
was
,
and
forget
it
forever
.
Nobody
knows
him
,
nobody
remembers
him
,
but
the
lobby
bar
is
tacky
and
quiet
,
and
the
air
is
blue
with
old
cigarette
smoke
and
someone
’
s
about
to
drop
several
million
dollars
on
a
poker
game
in
a
private
room
upstairs
.
The
man
in
the
charcoal
suit
settles
himself
in
the
bar
several
floors
below
the
game
,
and
is
ignored
by
a
waitress
.
A
Muzak
version
of
"
Why
Can
’
t
He
Be
You
"
is
playing
,
almost
subliminally
.
Five
Elvis
Presley
impersonators
,
each
man
wearing
a
different
colored
jumpsuit
,
watch
a
late
-
night
rerun
of
a
football
game
on
the
bar
TV
.
A
big
man
in
a
light
gray
suit
sits
at
the
man
in
the
charcoal
suit
’
s
table
,
and
,
noticing
him
even
if
she
does
not
notice
the
man
in
the
charcoal
suit
,
the
waitress
,
who
is
too
thin
to
be
pretty
,
too
obviously
anorectic
to
work
Luxor
or
the
Tropicana
,
and
who
is
counting
the
minutes
until
she
gets
off
work
,
comes
straight
over
and
smiles
.
He
grins
widely
at
her
.
"
You
’
re
looking
a
treat
tonight
,
m
’
dear
,
a
fine
sight
for
these
poor
old
eyes
,
"
he
says
,
and
,
scenting
a
large
tip
,
she
smiles
broadly
at
him
.
The
man
in
the
light
gray
suit
orders
a
Jack
Daniel
’
s
for
himself
and
a
Laphroaig
and
water
for
the
man
in
the
charcoal
suit
sitting
beside
him
.
"
You
know
,
"
says
the
man
in
the
light
gray
suit
,
when
his
drink
arrives
,
"
the
finest
line
of
poetry
ever
uttered
in
the
history
of
this
whole
damn
country
was
said
by
Canada
Bill
Jones
in
1853
,
in
Baton
Rouge
,
while
he
was
being
robbed
blind
in
a
crooked
game
of
faro
.
George
Devol
,
who
was
,
like
Canada
Bill
,
not
a
man
who
was
averse
to
fleecing
the
odd
sucker
,
drew
Bill
aside
and
asked
him
if
he
couldn
’
t
see
that
the
game
was
crooked
.
And
Canada
Bill
sighed
,
and
shrugged
his
shoulders
,
and
said
,
‘
I
know
.
But
it
’
s
the
only
game
in
town
.
’
And
he
went
back
to
the
game
.
"
Dark
eyes
stare
at
the
man
in
the
light
gray
suit
distrustfully
.
The
man
in
the
charcoal
suit
says
something
in
reply
.
The
man
in
the
light
suit
,
who
has
a
graying
reddish
beard
,
shakes
his
head
.
"
Look
,
"
he
says
,
"
I
’
m
sorry
about
what
went
down
in
Wisconsin
.
But
I
got
you
all
out
safely
,
didn
’
t
I
?
No
one
was
hurt
.
"
The
man
in
the
dark
suit
sips
his
Laphroaig
and
water
,
savoring
the
marshy
taste
,
the
body
-
in
-
the
-
bog
quality
of
the
whisky
.
He
asks
a
question
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
Everything
’
s
moving
faster
than
I
expected
.
Everyone
’
s
got
a
hard
-
on
for
the
kid
I
hired
to
run
errands
—
I
’
ve
got
him
outside
,
waiting
in
the
taxi
.
Are
you
still
in
?
"
The
man
in
the
dark
suit
replies
.
The
bearded
man
shakes
his
head
.
"
She
’
s
not
been
seen
for
two
hundred
years
.
If
she
isn
’
t
dead
she
’
s
taken
herself
out
of
the
picture
.
"
