The Victim

7

“THE nerve of him, that damned clown!” said Leventhal fiercely. His high, thick chest felt intolerably bound and compressed, and he lifted his shoulders in an effort to ease his breathing. “Ruined! I’ll ruin him if he comes near me. What a gall!”

The letter to Mary was crumpled in his hand. It was impossible to send it like this. He would have to get another envelope and stamp, and for a moment this inconvenience grew overwhelmingly into the worst consequence of the scuffle. He tore the letter open, crushed the envelope, and threw it over the balustrade. Nunez had gone into the house and he was alone on the stoop. His glance seemed to cover the street; in reality he saw almost nothing but was only aware of the featureless darkness and the equally featureless shine of bulbs the length of the block.

Then his anger began to sink. He drew in his cheeks, somberly enlarging his eyes. The skin about them felt dry and tight. To think up such a thing! The senselessness of it perturbed him most of all. “Why me?” he thought, frowning. “Of course, he has to have someone to blame; that’s how it starts. But when he goes over everybody he knows, in that brain of his, how does he wind up with me?” That was what was puzzling. No doubt the Rudiger business had a bearing on it; for some reason it caught on, and worked on a deeper cause. But that alone, out of hundreds of alternatives, had snagged.

In a general way, anyone could see that there was great unfairness in one man’s having all the comforts of life while another had nothing. But between man and man, how was this to be dealt with? Any derelict panhandler or bum might buttonhole you on the street and say, “The world wasn’t made for you any more than it was for me, was it?” The error in this was to forget that neither man had made the arrangements, and so it was perfectly right to say, “Why pick on me? I didn’t set this up any more than you did.” Admittedly there was a wrong, a general wrong. Allbee, on the other hand, came along and said “You!” and that was what was so meaningless. For you might feel that something was owing to the panhandler, but to be directly blamed was entirely different.

People met you once or twice and they hated you. What was the reason; what inspired it? This Allbee illustrated it well because he was too degenerate a drunk to hide his feelings. You had only to be yourself to provoke them. Why? A sigh of helplessness escaped Leventhal. If they still believed it would work, they would make little dolls of wax and stick pins into them. And why do they pick out this, that, or the other person to hate — Tom, Dick or Harry? No one can say. They hate your smile or the way you blow your nose or use a napkin. Anything will do for an excuse. And meanwhile this Harry, the object of it, doesn’t even suspect. How should he know someone is carrying around an image of him (just as a woman may paste a lover’s picture on the mirror of her vanity case or a man his wife’s snapshot in his wallet), carrying it around to look at and hate? It doesn’t even have to be a reproduction of poor Harry. It might as well be the king of diamonds with his embroidery, his whiskers, his sword, and all. It doesn’t make a bit of difference. Leventhal had to confess that he himself had occasionally sinned in this respect, and he was not ordinarily a malicious person. But certain people did call out this feeling. He saw Cohen, let us say, once or twice, and then, when his name was mentioned in company, let fall an uncomplimentary remark about him. Not that this Cohen had ever offended him. But what were all the codes and rules, Leventhal reflected, except an answer to our own nature. Would we have to be told “ Love!” if we loved as we breathed? No, obviously. Which was not to say that we didn’t love but had to be assisted whenever the motor started missing. The peculiar thing struck him that everything else in nature was bounded; trees, dogs, and ants didn’t grow beyond a certain size. “But we,” lie thought, “we go in all directions without any limit.”

He had put the letter in his pocket and he now took it out and debated whether to climb up to the flat for a stamp and envelope, or to try to buy them in a drugstore. He might not be able to obtain a single envelope. He did not want to buy a box of stationery.

Then he heard his name called and recognized Harkavy’s voice.

“Is that you, Dan?” he said looking down the stairs at the dim, tall figure on the sidewalk. The shifting of the theater lights across the way made his vision uncertain. It was Har-kavy. There were two women with him, one holding a child by the hand.

“Come down out of the clouds,” said Harkavy. “Are you asleep, or something, on your feet?”

Nunez returned to his deck chair. His wife was in the window, resting her head on the sash.

“Do you go into a trance when the little woman is away?”

Harkavy’s companions laughed.

“Dan, how are you?” said Leventhal, descending. “Oh, Mrs Harkavy, so that’s you?”

“Julia, Julia, too.” Harkavy pointed at his sister with his cigarette holder.

“Julia, Mrs Harkavy, glad to see you both.”

“And my granddaughter Libbie,” said Mrs Harkavy.

“Oh, this is your girl, Julia?”

“Yes.”

Leventhal tried to make out the child’s features; he saw only the vivid pallor of her face and the reddish darkness of her hair.

“Very active, Libbie,” said Harkavy. “A little too energetic, at times.”

“Oh, she runs me ragged,” Julia said. “I can’t keep up with her.”

“It’s the food you give her. No child should have so much protein,” said Mrs Harkavy.

“Mother, she doesn’t get more than others do. It’s just her nature.”

“We came to call on you,” Harkavy said to Leventhal. “But it looks as if you’re stepping out.”

“I have a couple of errands,” said Leventhal. “I was going to send a wire.”

“We’ll walk you to Western Union, then. Are you wiring Mary? I suppose you want her back already.” Harkavy smiled.

“Daniel, it’s not a thing to joke about, if a couple is devoted,” his mother said. “It’s nothing to ridicule. These days when marriages are so flimsy it’s a real pleasure to see devotion. Couples go to City Hall like I might go to the five-and-dime to buy a hinge. Two boards on a hinge, and clap, clap, clap, that’s a marriage. Wire your wife, Asa, it’s the right thing and it’s sweet. Never mind.”

“It’s my brother I’ve got to send the wire to, not Mary.”

“Libbie, come here to me, here!” Julia furiously exclaimed, pulling the child’s arm. “I’ll tie you in the middle with strings!”

“Oh, your brother?” said Mrs Harkavy.

Leventhal flushed, inexplicably. “Yes, it was his boy I called Julia about. My nephew.”

“Did you get hold of the doctor?” Julia asked. “Doctor Denisart, mother.”

“Oh, he’s a fine doctor, Asa; his mother is a lodge sister of mine and I’ve known him since he was a boy. You can have confidence in him. They gave him the very best education. He studied in Holland.”

“Austria, mother.”

“Abroad, anyway. His uncle put him through. He was in jail afterwards, the uncle, for income taxes, but that wasn’t the Denisarts’ fault. They used to send him pheasant to Sing Sing and they say he was allowed to have card parties in his cell. But they really learn in Europe, you know. That’s because their slums are worse; they get complicated cases in their clinics. Our standard of living is so high, it’s bad for the education of our doctors.”

“Why, who says so?” said Harkavy, looking at his mother with interest.

“Everybody. Why, all the medical books Papa used to bring home from the salesroom were full of European cases — Frâulein J. and Fraulein K. and Mademoiselle so and so. The best medical education is foreign.”

“And how is your nephew?” Harkavy said.

“They took him to the hospital today.”

“Oh, very sick, does that mean? I’m sorry to hear it,” said Julia.

“Very.”

“But you can depend on Doctor Denisart. He’s a fine young man — brilliant. I’ll talk to his mother tomorrow. He’ll take more interest in the case.”

“I’m sure he’d do his best without being spoken to,” said Julia. They were walking, and she pressed her daughter’s head to her side.

“Influence is a good thing,” Mrs Harkavy said. “You mustn’t forget it. If you don’t use it, you’re left behind in the race of the swift. Everything depends on it. Of course, the doctor would do his best because of his ethics and so on, but if I talk to his mother he’ll pay special attention to the case and do his very best. People are bound not to take things too much to heart, for their own protection. You’ve got to use influence on them.”

“Take it up with Mrs Denisart, then. It can’t hurt,” said Harkavy.

“I will.”

“Dan,” said Leventhal, drawing his friend behind, “do you remember a fellow called Allbee?”

“Allbee? Who? What’s his last name?”

“Allbee is his last name. Kirby Allbee. We met him at Williston’s. A big man. Blond.”

“I suppose I could remember him if I put my mind to it. I have a pretty good memory.”

They had come to the telegraph office, and Leventhal, standing at the yellow pine counter, wrote out a message to his brother entirely forgetting the sharp words he had intended to use. When he came out, he took Harkavy aside.

“Dan, could we have a private conversation for a few minutes?” he said.

“Why, I should say so. What’s the matter, old fellow? Wait a minute. Let’s ditch the women.”

Mrs Harkavy, Julia, and Libbie were waiting at the corner.

“Ladies, excuse us,” said Harkavy with a pleased smile, fitting a cigarette into his holder. “Asa wants to talk over something with me.”

“I’ll see Mrs Denisart for you tomorrow. Don’t you worry,” Mrs Harkavy said.

Leventhal thanked her, and he and Harkavy crossed the street.

“Now what’s the trouble, did you get into a scrape?” asked Harkavy. “You know you can trust me. It’s safe to tell me anything. You can bank on it. Anything you confide in me will never come back to you through a third party, not any more than if you whispered it in the confession box. So let’s have it.”

“There’s no secret to keep. It’s nothing like that.” Glancing at his friend, he hesitated, dissatisfied. Would it be worthwhile to explain the whole matter to Harkavy? He was warmhearted and a sincere friend, but he frequently put emphasis on the wrong things. He was already on the wrong track, suspecting a scrape. He probably meant an intrigue, a scrape with a woman. “It’s this Allbee,” Leventhal said. “He’s been giving me a headache. You must remember him. He made fun of your singing one night at Williston’s. You and that girl. Sure you can recall him. He worked at Dill’s…”

“Oh, him. That bird.” It seemed to Leventhal that Harkavy listened more gravely, though perhaps it was his own wish to have something so troubling to him taken seriously that was behind this impression. He described his first meeting with Allbee in the park. When he told him how amazed he was at Allbee’s spying, Harkavy murmured, “Well, isn’t that the limit? Isn’t that disagreeable? Nervy. Disagreeable.”

“I thought you wouldn’t forget how he went for you over that song.”

“Oh, no, I have him definitely placed now. So that’s the man?” He drew his head back with a restrained rearing motion and, from the stretching of his clear eyes, Leventhal saw that a connection of the utmost importance had been established in his mind.

“Dan, do you know any facts about him that I don’t?”

“What do you call facts? It depends. I think so. I mean, I’ve heard. But was he around again? Let’s have the rest of it.”

“What have you heard?”

“You tell me first. Let’s see if it’s all one piece. Maybe it isn’t. It may not be worth bothering about — loony all of it, and we ought to tie a can to it?”

He would not speak, and Leventhal hurriedly set forth all that Allbee had done and said, and, despite his haste and his eagerness to find out what Harkavy knew, he interrupted himself from time to time to make scornful, almost laughing comments which in his heart he recognized to be appeals to Harkavy to confirm the absurdity, the madness of the accusations. Harkavy, however, did not respond to these appeals. He was sober. He continued to say, “Disagreeable, disagreeable,” but his manner did not give Leventhal much comfort.

“He makes out a whole case that I’m responsible for his wife and everything…!” said Leventhal, his voice rising nearly to a cry.

“His wife? That’s far-fetched, far-fetched,” said Harkavy. “I wouldn’t listen to stuff like that.”

“You think I do? I’d have to be crazy too. How could anybody? Could you?”

“No, no, I say it’s far-fetched. He’s overstraining the imagination. He must have a loose screw.” Harkavy twisted a finger near his head and sighed. “But the story went round that he was canned, and then I heard that he couldn’t get another job. They canned him at quite a few places before.”

“Because of drinking…”

Harkavy shrugged. His face was wrinkled and he was half turned away from Leventhal. “Maybe. He wasn’t in good anywhere, as I heard it, and he was just about running out of breaks when he got the job with Dill’s.”

“Who told you that?”

“Offhand I don’t recollect.”

“Do you think there’s a black list, Dan? When I talked over that Rudiger thing with you, you laughed at the idea.”

“Did I? Well, I don’t believe in such stuff in general.”

“All right, here’s proof. You see? There is a black list.”

“I’m not convinced. This man of yours wasn’t steady, and the word got around. It just got to be known he wasn’t reliable.”

“Why did he lose the job at Dill’s? It was because he boozed, wasn’t it?”

“Why, I can’t say,” Harkavy replied, and Leventhal thought that he looked at him anxiously. “I haven’t got the inside information on it. As it came to me, the reason was different. In these cases, though, you get all kinds of rumors. Who knows? The truth is hard to get at. If your life depended on getting it, you’d probably hang. I don’t have to tell you how it is. This one says this, and that one says that. Y says oats, and Z says hay, and chances are… it’s buckwheat. Nobody can tell you except the fellow that harvested it. To the rest it’s all theory. Why? He was skating on thin ice and he had to skate fast, faster and faster. But he slowed up… and he fell through. As I see it…” Harkavy himself was discontented with this explanation; it was obviously makeshift. He faltered and his glance wandered. He had, unmistakably, information that he was trying to hold back.

“Why did he lose the job? What do they say?”

“There’s no ‘they’.”

“Dan, don’t try to give me the runaround. This is something I won’t rest easy about till I know. It’s no trifle. You must tell me what they say.”

“If you don’t mind, Asa, there’s one thing I have to point out that you haven’t learned. We’re not children. We’re men of the world. It’s almost a sin to be so innocent. Get next to yourself, boy, will you? You want the whole world to like you. There’re bound to be some people who don’t think well of you. As I do, for instance. Why, isn’t it enough for you that some do? Why can’t you accept the fact that others never will? Figure it on a percentile basis. Is it a life and death matter? I happen to have found out that a young lady I always liked said I was conceited. Perhaps she didn’t think it would get to me, but it did. Too bad people everywhere don’t know what I’m really like. Or you. It would be a different universe. Things are too subtle for me; I have to knock along on common sense. What about this girl? I know she has reasons that she doesn’t understand herself. All I can say is, ‘Lady, God bless you, we all have our faults and are what we are. I have to take myself as I am or push off. I am all I have in this world. And with all my shortcomings my life is precious to me.’ My heart doesn’t sink. Experience has taught me to expect this once in a while. But you’re so upset when somebody doesn’t like you, or says this or that about you. A little independence, boy; it’s a weakness, positively.”

“I want you to tell me,” Leventhal persisted. “I’ll stick to you till you do. Considering what I’m being blamed for, it’s natural that I should want to find out.”

Harkavy gave in to him. “Williston thought you made trouble for this fellow when you went to Dill’s and you acted up. He kind of hinted that it was intentional.”

“What? Williston says that? Did he say that?”

“Well, something like it.”

“How could he? Is he such an idiot?” Pale, his lips tight, making a great effort to hold back his anger and the unaccountable fear that filled him, Leventhal put his hand to his throat and stared frowningly at Harkavy. He said loudly, “And did you stand up for me?”

“Naturally I said he was mistaken and did all I could. I told him he was wrong.”

“You ought to have said that I came to you immediately with the whole story about Rudiger. You even thought that it might be rigged up, that Allbee and Rudiger wanted to make a fool of me and it was hatched out by the two of them. Did you bring that up?”

“No, I didn’t take the trouble.”

“Why not!” He swiftly clenched his fist as though catching at something in the air. “Why not!” he demanded. “It was your duty if you’re a friend of mine. Even if you didn’t know the facts you should have defended me. And you did know the facts. I told them to you. You should have said it was a slander and a lie. If anybody repeated such a lie to me about you, you’d see how fast I’d take him up on it. It’s not only loyalty but fairness. And how did he know what I did at Dill’s? Why were you such a stick? Were you afraid to hurt his feelings by contradicting him?”

“I was not,” said Harkavy. His marveling eyes took Leventhal in, but he answered quietly. “I didn’t think it would benefit you if I argued with Williston. I just said that he was wrong.”

“My friend!”

“Yes, if you ever had one. I am your friend.”

“He might have asked me, before he said a thing like that, given me a chance to defend myself. He’d rather take that drunk Allbee’s word for it. Where’s their Anglo-Saxon fairness.. fair play?”

“It’s hard for me to understand Williston’s side of it. I had an idea he was pretty level.”

“Is it so hard?” Leventhal said bitterly. “I told you why Allbee said I was out for revenge. And if Williston believes that I went to Dill’s to make trouble, he must think what Allbee does, all around.”

“Who, Williston? Oh, you’re way off, boy, way off.”

“Oh, am I? Well, you don’t know what it’s all about, I can see that. Williston is too nice a fellow, you mean. Talk about being innocent! Talk about a man of the world! Any child knows more about these things than you do, Dan. If he has it in him to think it was that insult… the insult to you, too, Dan, come to think of it. If that’s what he believes…”

“Williston is a nice fellow,” said Harkavy. “Remember, he was nice to you.”

“I do remember. What makes you think I don’t? That’s exactly it. That’s what makes it so bad, horrible. That’s the evil part of it. Of course he helped me. So now if he wants to believe this about me he has the right? Can’t you see how it stacks up?” He groped. “Certainly he helped me.”

“You can be sure he doesn’t know what your Mr Allbee is up to and wouldn’t like it if he did. Regardless. I mean that he couldn’t believe that he says… that you ruined him. The man is off his trolley, sleuthing after you like that. He’s disturbed in his mind. Haven’t you ever seen such a case before? It’s very pitiful. It happened in the family. My father’s sister got strange during the change of life — said all the clocks were warning her to look out, look out, look out. Oh, she was just off. It was a calamity. She claimed that somebody was stealing out of her mailbox, taking letters. Oh, all kinds of things. I couldn’t begin to tell you. Well, obviously that’s the kind of case you’re up against. It’s disagreeable, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about. She started telling people that she was Krueger the match king’s widow, though my uncle was still living. Sometimes she said Cecil Rhodes, not Krueger. My grandfather fought in the Boer War. Where else could she have gotten that? She went to an institution, poor thing. How those ideas get into their heads only Heaven knows.”

Leventhal nodded inattentively. He could only brood over Williston. How could Williston believe that of him? Was it possible to know him and yet think him capable of deliberately injuring someone? For a reason like that? For any reason, even strict self-defense? He could not have imagined and carried out such a plan. Leventhal was deeply roused. He turned away from Harkavy, wrinkling up his eyes. Willis-ton had helped him. He was indebted to him. Would he deny it? Harkavy had in his way rebuked him for seeming to forget it. He had not forgotten. But it was only natural to ask how much he owed Williston and how far gratitude should be expected to stretch. He had used the word “evil” a while ago, and what had given rise to it was a feeling that Williston had made the accusation under an influence against which he could not help himself. If he was ready to believe that he was such and such a person — why avoid saying it? — that he would carry out a scheme like that because he was a Jew, then the turn he always feared had come and all good luck was canceled and all favors melted away. He looked hopelessly before him. Williston, like himself, like everybody else, was carried on currents, this way and that. The currents had taken a new twist, and he was being hurried, hurried. His heart shrank and he felt faint for a moment and shut his eyes.

“I’ll get it from him straight,” he muttered, recovering himself a little. “I won’t take somebody else’s word for it. That would be doing what he did.” He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his face.