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mind。 He was like a man who had served a term in prison or
had been to Harvard College or had lived for a long time with
foreigners in South America。 He was like a person who had
been somewhere that other people are not likely to go or had
done something that others are not apt to do。
Biff cocked his head to one side and said； 'Where are you
from？'
〃Nowhere。'
*Now； you have to be born somewhere。 North Carolina —
Tennessee—Alabama—some place。'
Blount's eyes were dreamy and unfocused。 'Carolina；' he said。
'I can tell you've been around；' Biff hinted delicately。
But the drunk was not listening。 He had turned from the
counter and was staring out at the dark； empty street。 After a
moment he walked to the door with loose； uncertain steps。
'Adios；' he called back。
Biff was alone again and he gave the restaurant one of his
quick； thorough surveys。 It was past one in the morning； and
there were only four or five customers in the room。 The mute
still sat by himself at the middle table。 Biff stared at him idly
and shook the few remaining drops of beer around in the
bottom of his glass。 Then he finished his drink in one slow
swallow and went back to the newspaper spread out on the
counter。
This time he could not keep his mind on the words before him。
He remembered Mick。 He wondered if he should have sold
her the pack of cigarettes and if it were really harmful for kids
to smoke。 He thought of the way Mick narrowed her eyes and
pushed back the bangs of her hair with the palm of her hand。
He thought of her hoarse； boyish voice and of her habit of
hitching up her khaki shorts and swaggering like a cowboy in
the picture show。 A feeling of tenderness came in him。 He was
uneasy。
Restlessly Biff turned his attention to Singer。 The mute sat
with his hands in his pockets and the half…finished glass of
beer before him had become warm and stagnant。 He18
would offer to treat Singer to a slug of whiskey before he left。
What he had said to Alice was true—he did like freaks。 He
had a special friendly feeling for sick people and cripples。
Whenever somebody with a harelip or T。B。 came into the
place he would set him up to beer。 Or if the customer were a
hunchback or a bad cripple； then it would be whiskey on the
house。 There was one fellow who had had his peter and his
left leg blown off in a boiler explosion； and whenever he came
to town there was a free pint waiting for him。 And if Singer
were a drinking kind of man he could get liquor at half price
any time he wanted it。 Biff nodded to himself。 Then neatly he
folded his newspaper and put it under the counter along with
several others。 At the end of the week he would take them all
back to the storeroom behind the kitchen； where he kept a
complete file of the evening newspapers that dated back
without a break for twenty…one years。
At two o'clock Blount entered the restaurant again。 He
； brought in with him a tall Negro man carrying a black bag。
The drunk tried to bring him up to the counter for a
drink； but the Negro left as soon as he realized why he had
been led inside。 Biff recognized him as a Negro doctor who
had practiced in the town ever since he could remember。
He was related in some way to young Willie back in the
kitchen。 Before he left Biff saw him turn on Blount with
a look of quivering hatred。
The drunk just stood there。
。Don't you know you can't bring no nigger in a place where
white men drink？' someone asked him。
Biff watched this happening from a distance。 Blount was very
angry； and now it could easily be seen how drunk he was。
'I'm part nigger myself；' he called out as a challenge。
Biff watched him alertly and the place was quiet。 With his
thick nostrils and the rolling whites of his eyes it looked
a
little as though he might be telling the truth。
'I'm part nigger and wop and bohunk and chink。 All of those。
'
There was laughter。
'And I'm Dutch and Turkish and Japanese and American。' He
walked in zigzags around the table where the mute drank his
coffee。 His voice was loud and cracked。
Tm one who knows。 I'm a stranger in a strange land。'
。Quiet down；' Biff said to him。
Blount paid no attention to anyone in the place except the
mute。 They were both looking at each other。 The mute's eyes
were cold and gentle as a cat's and all his body seemed to
listen。 The drunk man was in a frenzy。
。You're the only one in this town who catches what I mean；'
Blount said。 'For two days now 1 been talking to you in my
mind because I know you understand the things I want to
mean。'
Some people in a booth were laughing because without
knowing it the drunk had picked out a deaf…mute to try to talk
with。 Biff watched the two men with little darting glances and
listened attentively。
Blount sat down to the table and leaned over close to Singer。
There are those who know and those who don't know。 And
for every ten thousand who don't know there's only one who
knows。 Thaf s the miracle of all time—the fact that these
millions know so much but don't know this。 It's like in the
fifteenth century when everybody believed the world was flat
and only Columbus and a few other fellows knew the truth。
But it's different in that it took talent to figure that the earth is
round。 While this truth is so obvious it's a miracle of all
history that people don't know。 You savvy。'
Biff rested his elbows on the counter and looked at Blount
with curiosity。 'Know what？' he asked。
〃Don't listen to him；' Blount said。 'Don't mind that flat…footed；
blue…jowled； nosy bastard。 For you see； when us people who
know run into each other mat's an event。 It almost never
happens。 Sometimes we meet each other and neither guesses
that the other is one who knows。 That's a bad thing。 It's
happened to me a lot of times。 But you see there are so few of
us。'
'Masons？' Biff asked。
'Shut up； you！ Else 111 snatch your arm off and beat you
black with it；' Blount bawled。 He hunched over close to the
mute and his voice dropped to a drunken whisper。 'And how
come？ Why has this miracle of ignorance endured？ Because
of one thing。 A conspiracy。 A vast and insidious conspiracy。
Obscurantism。
'
The men in the booth were still laughing at the drunk20
who was trying to hold a conversation with the mute。 Only
Biff was serious。 He wanted to ascertain if the mute really
understood what was said to him。 The fellow nodded
frequently and his face seemed contemplative。 He was only
slow—that was all。 Blount began to crack a few jokes along
with this talk about knowing。 The mute never smiled until
several seconds after the funny remark had been made； then
when the talk was gloomy again the smile still hung on his
face a little too long。 The fellow was downright uncanny。
People felt themselves watching him even before they knew
that there was anything different about him。 His eyes made
a
person think that he heard things nobody else had ever heard；
that he knew things no one had ever guessed before。 He did
not seem quite human。
Jake Blount leaned across the table and the words came out as
though a dam inside him had broken。 Biff