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"
Hello
,
Carry
,
"
said
Keogh
,
dragging
forward
a
stool
,
and
holding
his
fingers
close
to
the
stove
.
"
I
'm
glad
I
found
you
so
soon
.
I
've
been
looking
for
you
all
day
in
the
directories
and
art
galleries
.
The
free-lunch
man
on
the
corner
told
me
where
you
were
,
quick
.
I
was
sure
you
'd
be
painting
pictures
yet
.
"
Keogh
glanced
about
the
studio
with
the
shrewd
eye
of
a
connoisseur
in
business
.
"
Yes
,
you
can
do
it
,
"
he
declared
,
with
many
gentle
nods
of
his
head
.
"
That
big
one
in
the
corner
with
the
angels
and
green
clouds
and
band-wagon
is
just
the
sort
of
thing
we
want
.
What
would
you
call
that
,
Carry
--
scene
from
Coney
Island
,
ai
n't
it
?
"
"
That
,
"
said
White
,
"
I
had
intended
to
call
'
The
Translation
of
Elijah
,
'
but
you
may
be
nearer
right
than
I
am
.
"
"
Name
does
n't
matter
,
"
said
Keogh
,
largely
;
"
it
's
the
frame
and
the
varieties
of
paint
that
does
the
trick
.
Now
,
I
can
tell
you
in
a
minute
what
I
want
.
I
've
come
on
a
little
voyage
of
two
thousand
miles
to
take
you
in
with
me
on
a
scheme
.
I
thought
of
you
as
soon
as
the
scheme
showed
itself
to
me
.
How
would
you
like
to
go
back
with
me
and
paint
a
picture
?
Ninety
days
for
the
trip
,
and
five
thousand
dollars
for
the
job
.
"
"
Cereal
food
or
hair-tonic
posters
?
"
asked
White
.
"
It
is
n't
an
ad
.
"
"
What
kind
of
a
picture
is
it
to
be
?
"
"
It
's
a
long
story
,
"
said
Keogh
.
"
Go
ahead
with
it
.
If
you
do
n't
mind
,
while
you
talk
I
'll
just
keep
my
eye
on
these
sausages
.
Let
'em
get
one
shade
deeper
than
a
Vandyke
brown
and
you
spoil
'em
.
"
