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tinkled the glass pendants of the little Japanese pagoda on the
table。 He had just awakened from a nap and had smoked his
night cigar。 He thought of Blount and wondered if by now he
had traveled far。 A bottle of Agua Florida was on the
bathroom shelf and he touched the stopper to his temples。 He
whistled an old song； and as he descended the narrow stairs
the tune left a broken echo behind him。 Louis was supposed to
be on duty behind the counter。
303
But he had soldiered on the job and the place was deserted。
The front door stood open to the empty street。 The clock on
the wall pointed to seventeen minutes before midnight。 The
radio was on and there was talk about the crisis Hitler had
cooked up over Danzig。 He went back to the kitchen and
found Louis asleep in a chair。 The boy had taken off his shoes
and unbuttoned his trousers。 His head drooped on his chest。 A
long wet spot on his shirt showed that he had been sleeping a
good while。 His arms hung straight down at his sides and the
wonder was that he did not fall forward on his face。 He slept
soundly and there was no use to wake him。 The night would
be a quiet one。
Biff tiptoed across the kitchen to a shelf which held a basket
of tea olive and two water pitchers full of zinnias。 He carried
the flowers up to the front of the restaurant and removed the
cellophane…wrapped platters of the last special from the
display window。 He was sick of food。 A window of fresh
summer flowers—that would be good。 His eyes were closed as
he imagined how it could be arranged。 A foundation of the tea
olive strewn over the bottom； cool and green。 The red pottery
tub filled with the brilliant zinnias。 Nothing more。 He began to
arrange the window carefully。 Among the flowers there was a
freak plant； a zinnia with six bronze petals and two red。 He
examined this curio and laid it aside to save。 Then the window
was finished and he stood in the street to regard his
handiwork。 The awkward stems of the flowers had been bent
to just the right degree of restful looseness。 The electric lights
detracted； but when the sun rose the display would show at its
best advantage。 Downright artistic。
The black； starlit sky seemed close to the earth。 He strolled
along the sidewalk； pausing once to knock an orange peel into
the gutter with the side of his foot。 At the far end of the next
block two men； small from the distance and motionless； stood
arm in arm together。 No one else could be seen。 His place was
the only store on all the street with an open door and lights
inside。
And why？ What was the reason for keeping the place open all
through the night when every other cafe in the town was
closed？ He was often asked that question and could never
speak the answer out in words。 Not money。304
Sometimes a party would come for beer and scrambled eggs
and spend five or ten dollars。 But that was rare。 Mostly they
came one at a time and ordered little and stayed long。 And on
some nights； between the hours of twelve and five o'clock； not
a customer would enter。 There was no profit in it—that was
plain。
But he would never close up for the night—not as long as he
stayed in the business。 Night was the time。 There were those
he would never have seen otherwise。 A few came regularly
several times a week。 Others had come into the place only
once； had drunk a Coca…Cola； and never returned。
Biff folded his arms across his chest and walked more slowly。
Inside the arc of the street light his shadow showed angular
and black。 The peaceful silence of the night settled in him。
These were the hours for rest and meditation。 Maybe that was
why he stayed downstairs and did not sleep。 With a last quick
glance he scanned the empty street and went inside。
The crisis voice still talked on the radio。 The fans on the
ceiling made a soothing whirl。 From the kitchen came the
sound of Louis snoring。 He thought suddenly of poor Willie
and decided to send him a quart of whiskey sometime soon。
He turned to the crossword puzzle in the newspaper。 There
was a picture of a woman to identify in the center。 He
recognized her and wrote the name—Mona Lisa—across the
first spaces。 Number one down was a word for beggar；
beginning with m and nine letters long。 Mendicant。 Two
horizontal was some word meaning to remove afar off。 A six…
letter word beginning with e。 Elapse？ He sounded trial
combinations of letters aloud。 Eloign。 But he had lost interest
There were puzzles enough without this kind。 He folded and
put away the paper。 He would come back to it later。
He examined the zinnia he had intended to save。 As he held it
in the palm of his hand to the light the flower was not such a
curious specimen after all。 Not worth saving。 He plucked the
soft； bright petals and the last one came out on love。 But who？
Who would he be loving now？ No one person。 Anybody
decent who came in out of the street to sit for an hour and
have a drink。 But no one person。 He
THE HEART IS A LONELY HtTNTER
305
had known his loves and they were over。 Alice； Madeline and
Gyp。 Finished。 Leaving him either better or worse。 Which？
However you looked at it。
And Mick。 The one who in the last months had lived so
strangely in his heart。 Was that love done with too？ Yes。 It
was finished。 Early in the evenings Mick came in for a cold
drink or a sundae。 She had grown older。 Her rough and
childish ways were almost gone。 And instead there was
something ladylike and delicate about her that was hard to
point out。 The earrings； the dangle of her bracelets； and the
new way she crossed her legs and pulled the hem of her skirt
down past her knees。 He watched her and felt only a sort of
gentleness。 In him the old feeling was gone。 For a year this
love had blossomed strangely。 He had questioned it a hundred
times and found no answer。 And now； as a summer flower
shatters in September； it was finished。 There was no one。
Biff tapped his nose with his forefinger。 A foreign voice was
now speaking over the radio。 He could not decide for certain
whether the voice was German； French； or Spanish。 But it
sounded like doom。 It gave him the jitters to listen to it。 When
he turned it off the silence was deep and unbroken。 He felt the
night outside。 Loneliness gripped him so that his breath
quickened。 It was far too late to call Lucile on the telephone
and speak to Baby。 Nor could he expect a customer to enter at
this hour。 He went to the door and looked up and down the
street。 All was empty and dark。
'Louis！' he called。 'Are you awake； Louis？'
No answer。 He put his elbows on the counter and held his
head in his hands。 He moved his dark bearded jaw from side
to side and slowly his forehead lowered in a frown。
The riddle。 The question that had taken root in him and would
not let him rest。 The puzzle of Singer and the rest of them。
More than a year had gone by since it had started。 More than a
year since Blount had hung around the place on his first long
drunk and seen the mute for the first time。 Since Mick had
begun to follow him in and out。 And now for a month Singer
ha