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n't lose it sitting with La Bruja； her hands were on the cards； didn't e near me。 It was when I ran from that accursed car； then and then only。〃
She knew； fortunately； just about where that was。 He'd e up to her just past Retiro； and she'd run all the rest of the block； up to the next crossing at San Marco。 It was somewhere along that stretch； on the right…hand side of Justicia。
Here。 It began from here on。 She slackened； began a pendulum…like advance along the nightblue shadowed sidewalk； swinging from curbing to building base； from building base to curbing； head rigidly inclined。 Every unevenness； every slight flaw in the paving blocks； that cast a deeper shadow than the rest of the surface； she examined by bending still further down over； or even testing with the tips of her fingers。
Minutes went by。 The city slept； the night brooded； the broomlike shuffle of her feet； back and forth； and forth and back； was the only sound there was。
The curbing veered in suddenly； thrust a drop under her feet。 She looked up with aching； stiff neck。 Already？ Had she reached the other end already？ Yes； here； here was where the car had stopped； and played its lights upon her。
Maybe he'd found it。 But he hadn't e after her。 He'd stood there by the car a minute； and then gotten in and driven off。 And at this hour hardly anyone was about； hardly anyone was likely to have passed by here since。 It must be still someplace around； it must be。 Until daylight； until the first early risers were on the streets； it would still lie where it had fallen。 She wouldn't desist； she wouldn't stop booking until she'd found it。
She'd made one plete round trip to the San Marco corner and back again； when hope finally gave up the ghost。 When she finally had to admit that it was useless booking any more； that if it had been there she would already have found it two or three times over。 She wavered helplessly about there on the sidewalk awhile； crumbling inside。 Then the tears came。 Hot； bitter tears； of a wrenching intensity that those who lived safely could never know。
She went over to the wall； there close by the corner； and pressed her face against it； under the overhanging splint of her arm； heels out behind her and clear of the ground； and with her other hand she beat the counterpoint to her strangled sobs against the heartless； unyielding； prickling stones。
The whole night for nothing。 All those smiles； all that magnetic current； all those kilowatts of personality consumed； with nothing to show for them。
The sobs stopped first。 Then the intolerable anguished pounding of her palm slowed to little pats； died away at last。 She tried to console herself as best she could。 It had been something for nothing。 Now she was no worse off； at least； than she had been before she had received it。 It wouldn't work。 〃It was mine；〃 she said smotheredly against the wall。 〃I had it。 Why should it be taken away from me again？〃
She flung her shoulder around in defiance； turned at last to face the other way； still propped against the wall。 She stared in glowering dullness out at nothing。 The night owed her a return。 She'd get a little something back； no matter how fractional a part of her boss。 She'd stand here until she did。 She wouldn't go home empty…handed。 The fatal middle…class virtue of thrift。 Something to show for it； if it was only a half…peso piece； only a cadged cigarette。 She wouldn't leave this spot until she did。
Justicia had been cut ruthlessly through a decrepit； labyrinthine part of the town； on the bias。 All the mobdering little lanes and abbeys that opened out upon it； opened as a result not rectangularly but sbantwise。 At the corner where she stood； San Marco； running in to join the newer thoroughfare； made an angle so acute it was little better than a fifteen…degree incision。 The corner of this wall she lounged against was needle…pointed； San Marco was； not around the corner from her； but directly behind her back； on the other side of the double…flanged well。
Now as she stood there in the blue hour； in the death watch of the night； defiantly determined Upon her repense。 the soft crush of a foot upon loose…packed earth； upon imperfectly bedded small stones； reached her from around this projection； from behind her own back。 Somebody' was ing along there； along the unpaved margin of San Marco； about to turn this razor corner and happen upon her。
Somebody； and no matter who it was； she wanted something of the night； she would not let him by without exacting tribute； to repair her loss and assuage her shattered self…esteem。 She dried her eyes by stabbing a knuckle into them； in quick succession。 She opened her bag and started to redden her mouth with flurried urgency； the smile of gamin friendliness with which she intended to halt him in another moment already turning up its corners even as she did so； for the loose top layer of tiny stones and gravel was already shifting in sight of her； out there beyond the knifelike corner； like sluggish water riding outwards from an impact still unseen； the cause of it still hidden for a moment more。
In another instant they would be face to face； eye to eye。 She could already have reached her hand explorativeby backward around the stone screen and touched him as he sidled up。
The lipstick dipped。 Her smile was ready now。 She turned it up toward the night； eyes half lidded with expectancy。
They had taken her away by the time Manning arrived； at seven that same morning； in a taxi。 The flatiron corner of San Marco and Justicia looked dainty in early…morning water colors： peach pink and pastel blue。 Pink sunlight in the faces of the men standing around； and bight…blue shadows on the ground behind them。
There was one other color； on the wall on the Justicia side： as though somebody had been careless with some kind of overripe fruit。
There weren't many people around。 A country Indian on his way to early market with a basket of persimmons on his head seemed to have bee permanently rooted to one particular spot on his way past； stood there mouth agape in inprehension； poised to go on but forgetting to。 On the opposite sidewalk a street sweeper also stood looking on； resting on his broom of twigs。 Occasionally he would make a couple of passes with it； then stop and look on some more。 On a third…floor balcony on that same side a plump woman had e out to watch； but had brought her hairbrush with her and continued stroking her bong black glossy hair while she did so。 That was about all； the rest were all those whose business it was to be there。
Manning had not only not been informed this time； but could even tell he was somewhat persona non grata when he got out of the cab and joined them。 Robles glanced up； greeted him uncordially with： 〃You again？ We have work to do here。 Please； no more suggestions from the sidelines； if you don't mind！〃 And then he added； 〃What are you； a mind reader？ How did you know？〃
〃It's all over town already。 The milkman told the mozo that brings my morning coffee to me from across the street； and the mozo told me。 Who was it this time？〃
〃An habituй of the cafйs known as Clo…Clo A lady of the evening； poor creature。 Mendez here knew her。 Didn't you； Mendez？〃
Mendez dropped his eyelids disclaimingly。 〃Only in the line of duty。〃
Manning had caught sight of several small objects awaiting removal； which had been placed； meanwhile； on a sheet of newspaper spread out on top of an opened campstool。 〃Where does the lipstick e in？〃 he asked。
〃It was lying on the ground close beside her body。 It fell out of her handbag； I suppose； in the course of the death struggle。〃
Manning took a while。 Then finally he asked； 〃WThat else fell out？〃
〃Nothing else fell out。〃
〃Was the bag open or closed when it was found？〃
Robles was fair enough…and incautious enough…to hold one finger up for the benefit of those around him。 〃Ah。 He has made a good point there； the American。 The bag was still closed when we found it。 Therefore； it is true that the lipstick could not have fallen out； she must have removed it herself。〃 He waved his hand blandly。 〃However； it is just a detail； it has no bearing on the matter one way or the other。〃
〃Oh no； no bearing at all；〃 agreed Manning treacherously。 〃 Except to show that it was a man who waylaid her here on this corner。 She would not have rouged her lips for a quadruped； I believe？〃
Robles gave his arms a slight flip at his sides； said in an heroically restrained voice to those immediately around him； but excluding Manning as though he weren't there： 〃That again。 What did I do to deserve this hornet buzzing in my ears？ Mendez。 Gipriano。 Stand one on each side of him。 Each of you take an arm。 Yes； like that。 Now walk him over to that cab over there； put him in it； and see that it takes him back wherever it is he came from。〃
Robles wasn't kidding。 He was a little too white at the corners of the eyes and mouth to have been anything but serious。 It might have been； partly； the early hour of the day。
Neither； for that matter； was Manning。 〃Your theory must be pretty shaky；〃 he said witheringly； 〃if it can't stand a little honest difference of opinion。